Defender: Intrepid 1 Read online

  “They may not be coming ashore to fight, Mike,” Garrett replied. “But we’re lucky to have them on hand to drag us out of this shit.”

  Fredericks noticed the time and wondered how Morgan was going getting the last lot of evacuees out of Pallarup. He hadn’t worked with Morgan before, and while his arrival had been unexpected, he seemed dependable and not afraid of getting his hands dirty. That meant a lot in Fredericks’s book.

  “Where the hell is Morgan with that last load?” he grunted.

  Suddenly, a blast like a thunderclap cut through the bedlam of the street battles and lifted the foundations of the hotel, sending Fredericks and Garrett instinctively flat on their guts. With the shockwave capped by an impenetrable umbrella of black smoke and low-lying cloud, the report of the blast flashed across the city for what seemed like minutes. A succession of huge explosions immediately followed and the two men knew that the target was just a few blocks from their position.

  “The army’s finally bringing some mortars down on the rebel headquarters,” Fredericks yelled.

  “This just gets better and better,” Garrett said. Down by the dockyards, less than two miles away, local government troops had somehow reorganized and unleashed a mortar fire mission upon the rebel stronghold in the center of the capital.

  “Mike, I bet you’d rather be living the life of a ranger up in the Yukon or somewhere right now. You’re always on about it. Am I right?” Garrett asked, throwing some much-needed levity at Fredericks, spread-eagled on the rooftop as they were, sheltering for their lives. “Writing out infringements for campers not following the rules, helping bears out of traps.”

  Another barrage hammered the rebels.

  “Maybe I would,” Fredericks lied, knowing he wasn’t quite ready for that yet.

  “Bollocks, me ol’ mate,” Garrett jibed.

  “I’ve been offered a security consulting job in Vancouver, you know. Corporate gig. Even that sounds pretty damn good to me right now.” Fredericks grimaced. “No amount of money is worth this.”

  “Ah, but we don’t do it for the money. We’re just too bloody stupid to do anything else.” Garrett laughed as explosions continued to cascade around their hotel.

  “You’re right there. You’re older than me, so you should know better.” Fredericks grinned. “But I’m catching up, in case you hadn’t noticed, and am getting far too old for this shit.” Checking through the binoculars again, Fredericks silently chastised himself, for the thousandth time, for the boyish spirit of adventure, which, at the age of forty-one, he had yet to outgrow. “One of these days you’re going to get yourself killed.” He could still hear his wife’s words echoing from that day just a year ago when, standing half in, half out of their front door, kit bag and backpack at his feet, waiting for a cab, she had finally told him she wouldn’t be there when he got back. Maybe Marie was right. Maybe it was time to grow up. Fredericks still missed her, badly. Perhaps, if he made it through this one and committed to staying home, she might reconsider.

  Looking out over Cullentown, the situation was worsening. Home was just another distant memory. “We’re running out of time,” Fredericks said coolly.

  “We need to get our people out of this hotel and down to the extraction point now,” replied Garrett.

  “OK, Ad. I’ll stay here and you go on ahead, as planned. Take a couple of lads from your crew and set up a reception point by the helipad where the Marines are getting established at the beach. I’ll get things sorted here and will start sending people down to you within the next thirty minutes. Alright?”

  “You got it,” Garrett replied without hesitation. He was glad to be finally moving out. They knew what had to be done. It had been planned for weeks. “What about Morgan?”

  “He’ll be fine,” said Fredericks. “I’ll wait for him here. You get young Zeke to organize a couple of Land Rovers to ferry the sick, lame and lazy down to the beach. The rest’ll have to go on foot. I won’t send anyone off to you without an armed escort. We’ve got sixty-seven in all, including kids, to be evacuated, and more coming in with Alex on the chopper. So, Zeke’ll have to keep things moving pretty slick.”

  “Do you think he can handle it?” asked Garrett, concerned about the newest member of the team, Ezekiel “Zeke” Martinez, the 26-year-old communications wizard they referred to as “The Boy”. He was inexperienced with the intricacies of evacuation ops. “I haven’t got time to stick a set of training wheels on him.”

  The mortar attack against the rebels continued. Piercing explosions punctuated their planning. The two remained flat on their bellies as they spoke.

  “He’ll have to handle it,” Fredericks yelled over the explosions. “Let’s check the manifests downstairs. Once you’ve spoken with the Marines at the beach, contact me on VHF and let me know when their choppers will be ready to start flying people out to the ship.”

  With a final glance across Cullentown, Garrett and Fredericks headed for the stairs.

  Garrett had already been there, done that. He’d fought the IRA, the Argies and the Taliban. He knew that he and the boys had their work cut out for them now. Their mission may have started out as routine, but from here on in it could go pear-shaped – a potential bloodbath all the way back to the boat. Maybe Fredericks was right. Maybe they were both getting too old for this shit.

  No, he thought. Old Freddo was just getting soft.

  “Make sure your guys have plenty of ammo, Ad. They’re going to need it,” Fredericks yelled to Garrett as he followed him downstairs from the roof. “We don’t want any bastard getting killed because they were stupid enough to run out.”

  “Believe me, ammo is the one thing I will make sure we got plenty of!”

  Zeke Martinez came sprinting down the corridor toward them, out of breath, holding out a radio handset to Fredericks.

  “Mike!” he called, still running.

  “What’s up, Zeke?” replied Fredericks, walking straight to him.

  “It’s Morgan. He’s on the radio, man. Inbound from Pallarup. Doesn’t sound too good.”

  CHAPTER 27

  “How much time we got left?” Morgan asked, his eyes fixed upon the rapidly approaching, low-lying sprawl of Cullentown dead ahead.

  “If you’d asked me ten minutes ago, I would have said about ten minutes!” Kruger answered. “Remember that tiny leak we started off with? Well, it’s now a flood. Our fuel’s been pouring out back there for twenty minutes and we’re losing oil. She’s handling like a bitch.”

  “Sorry I asked.”

  “We’re flying on fumes, Alex,” said Kruger. “My gauges said we were dry thirty miles back.”

  “So, how come we’re still up here?”

  “Don’t ask me. Act of God. Miracle. Call it what you like. We should have fallen out of the sky ages ago.”

  “Great. If you’ve got any more good news, keep it to yourself. I’m going to try Mike again. Let him know we’re inbound. Maybe he can put his hands on a net.”

  With a deadpan expression, Morgan flicked the switch on his headset to call forward to Fredericks at the hotel.

  “Alpha Two, this is Alpha One. Over.”

  “Alpha One, this is Alpha Two. Got you loud and clear. Where the hell are you? Over.”

  “Had a bit of trouble leaving Pallarup, but we’re about ten miles out from your location now. Heading in from the south. You ready to receive us? Over.”

  “Roger, we’re ready here but be prepared for more trouble when you arrive. We’re in the middle of a shitfight.” Fredericks briefed Morgan on the situation in Cullentown including an update on the extraction out to the warship. The street battles were raging, and the injured helicopter was heading into the middle of it all.

  “Understood,” replied Morgan when Fredericks finished. Christ! Out of the frying pan and into the bloody fire. This job had been a disaster from the beginning, and from his perspective, there was very little to show for it other than his suspicions. “We’ve got another set of problem
s up here, Mike. Fuel lines have been shot to shit. We’re flying in on the smell of an oily rag. Steve isn’t even sure if we’ll make it. We may have to ditch. Roger, so far? Over.”

  “Roger. Go ahead. Over.”

  “We have a casualty. Sewa has a Priority Two gunshot wound to the lower leg. Ari’s patched him up, but he’s lost a lot of blood. We’ll need medics and a stretcher on landing, too. Got that? Over.”

  “Yeah, I got it. Any more? Over.”

  “Just one other. Turner somehow broke his jaw when he was trying to get on board.” Morgan smiled. “He’s been out for a while, but he’ll come good eventually. He’ll need some assistance on landing. Over.”

  “Thank God for small mercies, I guess. Just get your ass back here, ASAP. I’ll mark the rooftop with an orange marker panel facing due south. Once you’ve spotted it, I’ll marshal you in. Over.”

  “This is Alpha One. Roger that. I’ll see you soon. Out.”

  The flashing red lights of the instrument panel still gripped those inside the helicopter. Clawing at already fractured nerves, the unrelenting insistence of the blood-red pulse was frightening. The terrified passengers crammed in the cargo hold of the Puma were losing control, and a sort of group hysteria overcame them. Ari was trying to calm them, but they wouldn’t have it. Even over the howl of the engines, Morgan couldn’t stand it any longer.

  “Shut up, the lot of you,” he roared from the cockpit. “This bullshit won’t get us anywhere.”

  The group fell silent.

  “I need you to start thinking about getting off this chopper the moment Steve finds a spot to put her down.” Morgan looked across at Stanley, huddled in at the back of the pack, helping his wife Lynnie, the cook at Pallarup, check the splints Ari had applied to Sewa’s shattered leg.

  “John, Sewa gets off first. You and Bob take him as soon as we land. I’ve already called and there’ll be a stretcher waiting. And get someone to help Turner, OK?”

  “Got it.” Stanley held up a thumb to confirm that he understood.

  “Ari, you go with Sewa and stay with him and the others all the way to the ship.” He didn’t wait for a reply. He couldn’t have her hanging around in the middle of the firefight. It was too dangerous. Whoever she really was, Morgan suddenly wanted her as far as possible from danger as soon as he could arrange it, and he didn’t have time to argue about it.

  Morgan addressed the rest of the evacuees, giving them all a task to concentrate on. “The rest of you, make room at the door for Sewa. When we get there, move quickly and follow Mike Fredericks’s directions to the letter. There’s no time to mess about. You all got that?” Morgan received nervous but encouraging nods and grunts of acknowledgment from all. “Good. It’s going to be rough when we get there. So we’re not out of the woods for a while yet. Are you all with me so far?” More nods. “Right. There’s a fight going on in Cullentown between the army and the rebels – we’re flying straight into it. The only safe place for us to land is on the roof of the Francis Hotel.” His voice was hoarse from dehydration and the effort of yelling over the engine noise. “As soon as you’re off the chopper, you’ll be led downstairs and we’ll go straight to the beach. The US Marines will meet us there and start flying us out to their ship.” There was a spontaneous round of applause and cheering. “It’s just like I told you back at Pallarup during our practice sessions, OK?”

  “Alex,” Kruger cut in eagerly. “Start getting them ready. We’re two hundred yards out from the hotel. I can see Mike’s marker panel.” Kruger stabbed a finger at a bright orange, two-yard square panel being held aloft by a couple of Chiltonford’s locally recruited guards. “We can’t waste any time.”

  “Right.” Morgan crawled back into the cargo hold, placing his hands on the heads of the others to steady himself as he struggled through to the door. His chest was on fire with the pain of his sudden movement. He grimaced and faltered, grabbing at his ribs. Ari was beside him in a second.

  “Alex, they’re probably broken. You have to let me check you out as soon as we touch down.”

  “Ari, you’re an angel, believe me,” he replied, his breathing labored. “But have a look outside. There isn’t going to be time. Once we’re all safely onboard that ship, though, you can check me out as much as you like.”

  “Plenty of TLC for you, mister!” She forced herself to smile, although genuine concern was written all over her face.

  Below, the rich green and brown carpet of mangrove swamps and inlets lying to the south of Cullentown raced past. Kruger pushed the stricken chopper as hard and as low as he dared to get them over the hotel before the fuel ran out. He fixed his gaze on the hotel, then the marker panel. There was Fredericks. They were closing fast. Kruger aimed the big chopper straight for the roof.

  Morgan gripped the release handle of the closed port-side door and wrenched it wide open. The wind struck, whipping the collar of his faded shirt up against his face and blowing Ari’s fine blond hair back in a trail behind her.

  “God! You look spectacular,” he shouted in her ear, with a tense grin.

  “Don’t push it, Morgan,” she yelled above the din. “I’m not sure I’ve actually warmed to you yet. Get us out of here and we’ll see.”

  “Jesus, you Red Cross types are hard work!” Morgan smiled as she turned from him to help the others prepare for the landing.

  Morgan spotted a silver memory stick peeking out of Turner’s shirt on the end of a black cord. Bingo! He took three awkward steps between the evacuees and tore the stick from the still unconscious Turner in one deft movement, pocketed it, then returned to the door. With everybody huddled together, preparing to land under such stress, no one noticed.

  Hanging out of the door, searching again for the marker panel, Morgan’s eyes fell upon the hordes of government and rebel troops. There were firefights everywhere, throughout the streets and buildings to the north of the hotel. The skyline was a test pattern of smoke and fire pierced by the occasional sheer white flash of an explosion, an RPG or mortar round punching a path through the whole mess. For as far as he could see, people and soldiers were scampering like ants in every direction. They were flying straight into the center of hell.

  With relief, Morgan caught sight of the American Wasp-class amphibious assault ship, USS Kearsarge, sitting beyond the harbor in the distance – a man-made, fortified island refuge. Six of her MH-53E Sea Dragon helicopters were at that moment charging across the ocean to the predesignated evacuation point at the beach, where he could see hundreds of expatriates converging to make their escape to freedom and safety. The cavalry was coming – he could almost hear the bugles.

  Suddenly the pitch of the engine noise changed dramatically. They were over the roof of the hotel. Kruger was attempting to land.

  “Hand me that rifle,” Morgan screamed over the din. “Everybody standby!”

  CHAPTER 28

  “Get that stretcher over here!” Fredericks bellowed.

  Two guards jumped into action immediately and were crouched at his side with the stretcher as the Puma prepared to touch down.

  “As soon as you’ve got the wounded man strapped onto that stretcher, I want you to wait for all the others to hit the stairs, and then follow them down. Don’t get ahead of them or you’ll block the route and slow everyone down. You get me?”

  “Yes, sir,” came the shouted reply.

  “Good. The medics will meet you downstairs. Miss Halls is with the patient, so take your lead from her.” Fredericks slapped the men reassuringly on their backs and then moved in closer to where Steve Kruger was trying to land the chopper.

  “Come on, Steve,” Morgan yelled from the cargo hold, “put this bloody thing down!”

  Kruger had selected “wheels down” but was getting no greens on the board.

  “I can’t. The landing gear’s not responding! I’ll have to hover and try to sort it out while you get ’em off.”

  Four feet from touchdown, Alex Morgan leapt from the door. Fredericks was
at his side in a flash. Morgan clapped Fredericks on the back by way of greeting.

  “Let’s get ’em moving, Mike. They’re all pretty messed up, so if we don’t keep them going they’ll lose it completely and we’ll never get them out of here. They’ve been through the ringer today.”

  “It looks like you have, too,” Fredericks replied. “What’s wrong with the chopper? Why won’t he land?”

  “Landing gear’s screwed. Ari’s bringing Sewa off first.”

  “How is he?”

  “Not good.”

  “What about Turner? Was it you?”

  “I wish, but I think big John Stanley nailed him just as we were getting out of Pallarup.”

  “Couldn’t have happened to a nicer asshole.” Fredericks grinned.

  “Agreed,” Morgan replied. “Come on, mate. Let’s get on with it.”

  Kruger bounced the chopper down hard upon the roof, and Ari jumped out with Stanley and another man, hauling Sewa clear and onto the stretcher. Then Fredericks and Morgan began dragging the others off, instiling them with a sense of urgency, and confidence that they would be safe as long as they did exactly as they were told, exactly when they were told. With the first half of the evacuees off the chopper in less than twenty seconds, Fredericks led them straight for the stairs and down to the hotel lobby. Morgan stayed on the roof and continued to get the others off, directing each one to follow the stream of evacuees now racing away behind Fredericks. Within a minute, all were off. Turner was staggering along with the help of a couple of men, clutching his jaw, and Ari was disappearing down the stairs leading Sewa’s stretcher party.

  As Morgan raced the last evacuee clear of the chopper, a powerful wind ripped across the rooftops from the south, and with the controls all but useless now, the Puma was hurled straight upward with a devastating whoosh. Kruger struggled at the dead controls to stabilize her as the treacherous winds swept angrily across the rooftop. Helpless, Morgan turned to watch as once again the big chopper was abruptly lifted and thrown aside, completely clear of the hotel.