“What the hell….” Then Turner saw the figure’s face. “Johnny Wareagle?” he said in amazement.
“With regards from the spirits, Sergeant.”
“I thought you were dead.”
“Only for a time.”
Chapter 32
McCracken kept the Hind-D low, beneath the reach of air defense radar which was constantly watching for out-of-place and potentially dangerous aircraft with no registered flight plan. It was well over two hundred miles from Colorado Springs to Pamosa Springs and Blaine figured he could cover that easily in just over an hour.
Blaine insisted on leaving the colonel bound and gagged in the Hind’s hangar to further promote his cover. Metcalf reluctantly agreed after pointing McCracken in the direction of the airstrip he had already reserved. By the time anyone realized something was wrong, Blaine would already be over Pamosa Springs.
He had spent two months of his life learning everything there was to learn about the Hind-D before activating the Nicaraguan operation. Then escape had been his only goal. Today’s mission was considerably more complicated.
He spent the balance of the flight refamiliarizing himself with the setup of the Hind’s cockpit. It was designed as a three-person aircraft but had been outfitted to allow one man to both fly it and operate its weapon systems in the event of an emergency. The English labels Metcalf had stuck over the Russian ones made life much easier in this respect, for at least on this flight Blaine wouldn’t have to guess which button was which. Extremely sophisticated weapons counters gave him precise data on his laser-guided air cannons and his rocket and missile launchers. He had ninety of the .27-millimeter missiles remaining, and well over half the ammo left in his air cannons, which followed the line of his eyes once the guidance system rigged into his helmet was activated. He would save the full complement of six antitank missiles for the generator gun.
His greatest concern at this point was how to make all this technology work for him. His target, of course, was the guarded gulley where the generator gun was set up. But with heavy artillery at either end of the town, a direct attack was impossible. High in the air, at a standard altitude, the guns would chew him to pieces. But if he …
Blaine swallowed hard. His only hope lay in doing the unexpected, however dangerous it might be. A low-altitude run would significantly reduce the effectiveness of the gun batteries while exposing him to potential destruction from ground level. It was a chance he could live with, though. Come in and take them by surprise. Knock out the main gun batteries and the generator gun was his.
McCracken shifted uneasily in his seat. The Hind could be controlled either by wheel or joystick, both containing firing buttons for the air cannons. He would have to launch missiles and rockets with his free hand when required, leaving him only one hand for all the rest of the controls. As Pamosa Springs drew closer, Blaine practiced the procedure again and again without engaging the weapons systems. According to his instruments he was barely five minutes from the town. The Hind’s controls felt smooth and easy, tight as a sports car.
The San Juans came up fast and Blaine had to climb substantially to rise over them, keeping the Hind’s bottom precariously close to their tips. The gunship obeyed his commands with immediate grace, bucking just a bit as if aware of what lay over the next ridge.
Guillermo Paz was quite proud of himself. All things considered, he had stabilized matters in Pamosa Springs so brilliantly that his few failures were certain to be overlooked in the face of his undeniable success. The last of the townspeople had been herded into the church, which was wired and ready to blow. That would keep his captives still while his guards at the gulley would easily fend off any assault the escaped mayor and sheriff might put together.
Paz stood proudly erect in the center of Main Street with one hand on his hip and the other stroking his mustache affectionately. His men saluted as they passed and Paz genially saluted back. All in all things were going to turn out pretty damn well. Soon the death beam would be fired and Paz would be among the only witnesses to actually see it.
The shallow whining sound confused him at first. It sounded like a chain saw echoing in the stiff wind. Then it grew louder. With a shudder Paz realized what it was and at the same time knew it couldn’t be. It couldn’t be! His eyes scanned the sky.
The Hind-D roared out from the cover of the mountains. Paz’s eyes locked on it as it dropped to tree level. He knew it must be the one he had lost in Nicaragua, knew it had been flown here to be used against him. And its pilot had planned his strategy well. He was coming in beneath the range of his main guns.
Paz could see the air cannon chambers turning an instant before the clack-clack-clack reached his ears. The Hind’s first spray bore into the area of his first gun battery, clanging sharply against steel where it connected and kicking dust up where it didn’t.
The Hind came in still lower. You’re crazy, Paz wanted to scream at the pilot, but this flier knew exactly what he was doing Paz realized as he watched the steel bird drop straight for him. He dove to the ground behind the cover of a jeep as the first sound of cannon fire came. It shattered the jeep and sent pieces of metal showering down on Paz. A small group of his men who had roared into the street at the first sign of fire had their frames torn apart by the warship’s huge bullets.
Paz crawled out from behind the burning jeep and made for the armory, prepared to defend the generator gun himself if that’s what it came to. He wouldn’t fail now.
He couldn’t.
McCracken had picked out Paz as soon as he cleared the ravaged front gun battery. He cut back the warship’s speed to steady his aim and might have hit Paz with his next burst. He wasn’t sure. Of the other men who had rushed into the street with their rifles ready, there was no question. McCracken saw their punctured corpses as he came round for his second pass, amazed at the accuracy of his air cannon fire.
Halfway to the second gun battery, he turned his attention to the thick barrels struggling for a bead on him from the foothills on the town’s western perimeter. He estimated they could not possibly sight down on him before he was over and past them. Instead, they should have anticipated their fire ahead for the gulley as he soared over it. They were opening the door for him, and damned if he wasn’t going to move right on through it.
McCracken fired a rocket and one of the truck-mounted guns exploded in a wall of flames. He followed up immediately with a barrage from the air cannons. This gained him the advantage he needed as he swept over the battery and climbed over the hill on the other side of which was the gulley.
The guards on the hill pelted him with rifle fire as he soared close, but the armor-piercing shells made barely a dent in the Hind’s reinforced steel carcass. He drove the big bird past the gulley to facilitate a turn. He wanted to come straight over his target with plenty of time to assure himself of accurate missile launches. He figured he could fire three times before having to pull up again and three should finish the generator gun for good.
Blaine brought the Hind around and was chilled as he gazed downward. From this angle, the generator-gun complex had the look of a massive turret with an exposed barrel poking upward. It was of vast size, a dome encased in dusty gray steel. It amazed him that such an impregnable defense could have been erected so swiftly.
Blaine gulped down air as he punched in commands to the missile-targeting computer. Finger on the firing button now, one hand steadying the wheel.
He had asked for only one chance. He was about to get it.