"Great! What kind of rounds we got? Any AP?"
"'Fraid not, Boss. Couldn't find anything down there but HE."
"Never mind. At least we'll shake the bastards up. Gimme a hand here."
Together, they prepared the first grenade, screwing a cylinder containing the rocket propellant into the warhead section, then snapping the complete round into the launch unit's muzzle. Mac snapped off the warhead's nose cap and pulled the safety pin. Murdock hefted the weapon to his shoulder.
"You ever fire one of these things, L-T?"
"In training, sure. Exotic Weapons 101. Anyway, if a terrorist can learn how to use the thing, how tough can it be?"
"Remember your back-blast." Mac slapped Murdock on top of his helmet. "You're go!"
The lead BMP was almost all the way across the bridge now, less than thirty yards away and grinding slowly toward the front gate. If they could kill it while it was still on the bridge, the enemy assault would be stopped cold… at least for as long as it would take Chariot and Achilles to reach the castle.
Murdock squeezed the trigger. A jolt flung the grenade clear of the muzzle, and then the igniter caught and the rocket-propelled round swooped toward the target with a hiss, but lower than Murdock had expected. It struck the stonework of the bridge with a flash and a bark of thunder. Rock and shattered concrete cascaded into the ravine, but the BMP kept coming, untouched, clearing the near side of the bridge. "Shit!" Murdock said.
"Back to summer school for you, L-T. Duck and move!" Together, they scurried on hands and knees further to the right, keeping below the line of parapet openings. An explosion ripped through the ancient stonework, throwing both SEALs flat. Looking back over his shoulder, Murdock saw that the BMP's 73mm round had slammed into the parapet just below where he and Mac had been hiding.
The BMP slewed off the road and kept coming. The gun barked again, striking just below the last impact. Rocks showered into the bailey. Clearly, the latest in sixteenth-century fortifications weren't going to last long against an AFV.
"Shit!" Murdock said. "They're gonna come straight through the wall!" He opened the mike to his Motorola. "Okay, all Alexanders, all Alexanders, off the walls. Fall back to the tower, everyone! We'll make our stand there! Move it!"
"Can we manage another shot?" Mac wanted to know.
"I think so. He's close, but I think so."
"Okay," Mac said, screwing the propellant onto a second grenade. "Let's try that again, shall we? Allow for the rocket's dip this time."
"Yes, teacher." RPG rounds had a curious dip to their trajectory, the result of being kicked clear of the muzzle before the rocket ignited, and at close range it could result in the projectile striking considerably lower than the aim point. Murdock hefted the weapon to his shoulder once more, peering through a parapet firing slot. The BMP was so close to the wall now that he couldn't get a clear shot and still stay under cover.
"I'll have to hop, pop, and drop, Mac."
"Shit, L-T. They'll nail you."
"Where's your hog?"
"Left it at the tower. I couldn't carry all this shit and a sixty-gun too."
"I'll just have to do it fast, then."
"Let me."
"Negative. Here goes."
In one smooth motion, Murdock rose, aimed, and fired. This time the round swooped down from the battlements, leveling off just before it struck the ground and slamming into the BMP's left side, below and a little in front of the turret. The fireball enveloped the front half of the vehicle; the blast jolted it to the right.
Gunfire from the woods exploded around him. Chips flew from the top of the parapet, and something stung his cheek. He dropped behind the safety of the ramparts as the second BMP's coaxial gun opened up, sending a line of dazzling green tracers searing overhead with a curious snapping sound. Another machine gun joined in. A third BMP had just joined the fight, and the topmost stones on the rampart shattered and sprayed beneath that hosing of 7.62mm rounds.
"Move!" They scrambled clear as another 73mm round slammed into the wall, searching for the troublesome snipers.
"A for the day," Mac cried as they dropped flat once again, further down the parapet walk. "You dropped that one right in the commander's seat!"
"We're not going to get another shot from up here," Murdock said. "Let's pull back to the tower."
"Roger that. You okay? Your face is bleeding."
"Just a sting. Piece of stone, I think."
"We got two more rounds here."
"We'll save 'em for when they come through the wall. Come on."
"You know, Skipper, that we're in a world of shit. The choppers won't be able to come in with an army camped right outside our front door."
"Yeah. It's gonna be up to the flyboys now."
Major Peter K. Selby keyed his microphone. "Alexander, Alexander, this is Night Rider. Do you copy? Over."
The AC-130 gunship had flown across Albania at treetop level. Now it was above Lake Ohrid at ten thousand feet, banking into its left-hand turn to bring the weaponry packed into its port side to bear.
"Alexander, this is Night Rider. Do you copy? Over."
"Night Rider, Alexander!" a voice called back. "Seems like you're always riding to our rescue! Over!"
"Shoot, is that Nomad?"
"Affirmative, Night Rider. Different call sign, same problem. We're inside the fort on the hill. We got some bad guy Injuns coming at us from the northwest. Think you can do something about that?"
Selby was studying the infrared sensor screens. The landscape below was ablaze with heat; the main gate of the castle was burning, the fireball lighting up the surrounding walls. A tracked AFV was burning just outside the wall, and he could see the engine heat from several more vehicles along the road leading to the castle.
The main road, however, was packed with military vehicles, trucks and jeeps mostly, loaded with troops, but there were some more tracked vehicles as well.
"Alexander, this is Night Rider. Confirm your ID with a flash, over."
"Roger, Night Rider." An IR beacon strobed from the castle tower.
"Okay, Alexander, we have you. Confirm your position inside the castle walls."
"Roger, Night Rider. That is affirmative."
"Alexander, it looks like we have a number of vehicles on the main road by the lake, approximately regimental strength. You want 'em boxed, or you want 'em on the run?"
There was a moment's delay. When Alexander came back on the air, it was a different voice. "Night Rider, this is Alexander, Charlie Oscar. The faster those people run, the better. Our real problem is going to be the head of the snake."
"We copy that, Alexander. Stand by."
Standard procedure for taking down a column confined to a road like the one below was to disable vehicles at both the front and the rear of the column, trapping those in between for a leisurely and thorough kill later. Alexander's CO — that's what the "Charlie Oscar" meant — was telling him to leave an escape route. Hit the head of the column hard enough, and maybe most of the hostiles would turn around and head back to Ohrid.
"Sergeant Zanowski, we'll be taking the targets from south to north. Not too close. We don't want to bounce any inside the compound."
"Yes, sir."
Selby reached for an intercom switch. "Colonel Carlotti," he said. "We have Alexander on-line, positive identification."
"Very well. Permission to fire."
"Gunners, this is Selby. Stand by. We have firing command. Set, Sergeant?"
"Locked in, Sir," The sensor operator said, reaching for the armament safeties.
"Punch it!"
Night turned to day as fire rained from the sky, a lightning bolt, save that this bolt was ruler-drawn straight, and where it touched the earth beyond the castle walls, it erupted in blazing fire. Trees whipped back and forth beneath the touch of that hot breath, then cracked and fell, trunks splintered by lethal hail.