Targets of Opportunity (1993) (47 page)

Something flashed in the distance and caught his attention. Smoke was rising from the general area of Alpha-29. Jimenez was about to call the airfield when Allison's voice exploded in his headphones.

"Rudy, we're under attack! How far away are you?"

"Five minutes, if the engine holds together." He could feel the vibrations becoming more violent. "We won't be able to provide any cover fire."

"We're being overrun--everyone is evacuating the base," Allison yelled over the crackle of gunfire. "Land next to the cargo plane!"

Jimenez was horrified. If the UH-34 held together long enough to reach the airfield, would he be forced to land in the middle of the enemy troops?

He started a shallow descent to gain some speed. -I've got the field in sight."

"Hurry, Rudy! We can't hold on much longer!"

The odor of the overheated engine was beginning to sting his nostrils. "We're almost there!"

"I'm signing off, Rudy," Allison exclaimed, and crawled back to the overturned table. She stared Spencer in the eye. "Cap, we aren't leaving them."

Nick Palmer swung around at the same time another mortar round exploded next to the building. "It may not be our choice to make." She gave him a quizzical look. "What do you mean?"

Nick saw Lex Blackwell glance at him. "Allison, when the last perso
n t
he pilots can see is on that airplane, they're going to be shoving the throttles through the instrument panel . . . trust me."

"He's right," Lex added, and flattened himself on the floor when a round ricocheted through the room. "They aren't gonna be takin' roll call."

Chapter
FORTY-THREE

Brad studied the Spartan interior of the lumbering helicopter, noting that everything was buzzing from the continuous vibration. The shaking fuselage was even rattling the machine gun and ammunition belt. If the engine blows, I hope this thing can autorotate.

He watched Elvin Crowder speak into his lip mike. The crew chief swore over the loud banging and turned to Austin.

"They're retreatin' from the strip."

Brad experienced a pang of fear. It seemed that somehow they were not destined to make it to safety. "Our security troops are pulling out?"

Crowder checked his sidearm. "Everyone is jumpin' in the plane and haulin' ass." His face reflected a degree of disdain. "If they cut and run 'fore we get there, I'm gonna do some serious ass-kickin'."

A new rhythm to the vibrations developed into uncontrollable shaking. A moment later, the screaming engine thrashed itself apart in a series of violent explosions.

Jimenez immediately reacted to the loud explosions and pushed the collective down to neutralize the rotor-blade pitch angle. With the pitch flat, the main rotor blades would aerodynamically continue to spin during the emergency descent. The autorotating blades would provide the pilot with some degree of control during the descent and flare to land.

If the collective was held in the normal flying position after an engine failure, the rotor blades would rapidly slow and fold upward. A
t t
hat point, the helicopter would have the same flying characteristics as a bowling ball.

Brad felt the deck cant downward at the same time he heard the sound of the wind whipping around the cabin door. He let his head sag for a moment, then gripped the sides of the bulkhead in preparation for an emergency landing. The irony of two crash landings in one day consumed him while the helicopter autorotated toward Alpha-29.

"Is everyone ready?" Nick Palmer asked when the withdrawing security men momentarily halted the advancing Pathet Lao forces. The C-123 was on the runway and a number of the CIA troops were making a stand thirty yards from the transport.

Spencer glanced at Allison, who was crouched beside him next to the shattered door. "Wait until I reach the first foxhole before you run for it. We'll give you as much cover fire as we can . . . so don't hesitate.
"

She nodded and inched toward the door. "There's no time like the present."

A thunderclap of noise shook the building and knocked a clipboard off Spencer's desk.

"Here goes," Lex Blackwell muttered, and charged through the hole in the wall. Spencer waited a few seconds and dashed through the opening.

"Go!" Nick told Allison when the small-arms fire began to decrease.

She rose and darted through the door while Palmer poured a long burst of fire into a line of enemy soldiers crossing the stream.

When Allison disappeared into the ground near the tents, Nick sprinted toward the foxholes in the midst of another mortar attack. Twelve feet from the first hole, Palmer was blown off his feet by an explosion that nearly leveled the Quonset hut.

Rudy Jimenez tightly gripped the collective and breathed deeply. He talked to the helicopter, coaxing as much distance as he could from the silent machine.

"Elvin, when we land, I'll get Chase out," Jimenez looked at Mitchell's lifeless body, "and you take care of Austin.
"

"Are we gonna make the strip?"

"It'll be close," Rudy answered calmly. "Man the gun and give us everything you've got."

"I'm locked on it now."

From his current altitude, Jimenez was unsure if he could reach the airfield. He ignored the streaks of tracers in his path and concentrated on stretching the autorotation as far as possible. Come on, baby. You can do it. . . .

A blazing streak of fire ripped chunks of dirt into the air as Palmer tumbled into the foxhole. He landed on top of Blackwell, knocking both of them on their backs.

Lex scrambled to his knees and looked at Nick. "Are you okay, partner?"

Palmer groaned, then blinked his eyes and swallowed hard. "I can't hear you."

After checking Nick for wounds, Blackwell grabbed him by the shoulders and helped him to a sitting position.

The gunfire was continuous as the security teams slowly backed toward the C-123.

Lex sneaked a glance over the rim of their shelter. "You've still got all your parts, but your rifle is about twenty feet out in the boonies."

Unsteady and dazed, Palmer propped himself on one knee and carefully rose to peer above the pit. "There they are," he shouted, pointing to the descending helicopter.

"Cap," Blackwell yelled to the adjacent foxhole. "Are you and Allison ready to go?"

"Yes," Spencer shouted over the gunfire and booming concussion
s t
hat buffeted the compound. "We've got the helo in sight!"

"Let's wait--" Lex ducked when a round blew dirt across the top o
f h
is head. "Let's wait until the helo hits the ground--then go for it!" "Okay," Spencer hollered above the din of noise.

Nick shook his head in an attempt to clear the ringing sound. He gingerly cast a glance over the embankment, then snatched Blackwell's M-16 out of his hand.

"What the--"

Palmer opened fire, killing two men clad in black near the remains of the hangar. When they dropped their AK-47s, Nick noticed something else. "Oh, God . . ."

Lex looked and spotted the twisted bodies of Hank Murray and one of his technicians. They had been blown outside the hangar and were lying next to the fuel dump.

Palmer absently handed the rifle back to Blackwell while they watched the approaching helicopter. Under the circumstances, there would be no way to retrieve all the bodies.

With infinite patience, Jimenez skillfully guided the powerless helicopter straight at the cargo plane. He caught a glimpse of billowing white smoke as the pilot cranked the second engine. Relief swept over him when he saw the propellers settle into a steady idle.

"Brace yourselves!" Rudy cautioned over the intercom while he pulled pitch to slow their descent. He could hear Crowder's M-60 spewing a steady stream of fire.

Without warning, a continuous burst of tracers slammed into the stricken helo. Jimenez swore and stomped on the tail-rotor control pedals when the helicopter started to swivel. I'm going to have to dump it!

Palmer grimaced when he saw the UH-34's tail rotor blades chewed off by the intense machine-gun fire. Without directional control, the fuselage was beginning to rotate around the axis of the main rotor blades. Nick and Lex watched in horror as Jimenez tried to salvage the landing.

Blackwell sucked in his breath. "I hope they make it."

"He's too fast," Nick declared, using body English to align the fuselage with the direction of flight.

The helicopter slammed into the ground near the cargo plane and bounced across the taxiway. The struts and wheels flew in different directions as the helo slid to a halt with a wrenching tear of metal. The jarring impact had collapsed the main rotor blades and severed the tail-rotor pylon.

With sheer determination, Brad crawled from the crumpled wreckage and reached back to help Crowder through the crushed entrance.

"I'm okay," the crew chief grunted as he struggled free. "Let's get Rudy and Chase!"

Austin rose and went to the sliding window at the side of the cockpit. He and Crowder lowered Chase Mitchell to the ground while Jimenez leaped out the other side entrance.

"They're out," Palmer yelled to Spencer when he saw the four me
n w
ere clear of the demolished helicopter. "Cap, you and Allison take off!"

"We're going!" Spencer replied as he and Allison crawled out of their refuge. They sprinted toward the transport while Blackwell fired the last rounds in his rifle.

"Let's go," Lex said when the M-16 stopped firing.

Palmer jumped up and over the embankment, then dashed after Blackwell as rounds kicked dirt up a yard in front of him. Nick could see that the cargo plane was being riddled by small-arms fire. The CIA men were holding their own, but if the Pathet Lao regrouped and charged, they would overwhelm the outnumbered Americans.

Brad hobbled behind Jimenez and Crowder while the two of them carried Mitchell's inert body toward the idling C-123. He saw Allison and Spencer racing for the airplane, followed by Nick and Lex.

Then it happened. A hail of gunfire cut Allison's legs out from under her and she awkwardly tumbled to the ground.

Time and space seemed to slow as Brad ran toward her, limping as fast as he could. Spencer turned back and Brad waved him toward the cargo plane, then dropped next to Allison. She was moaning softly and trying to shove herself to her feet.

"Allison," Brad's voice cracked, "don't try to move!"

"Brad," she coughed, "I can't get--"

Ignoring the heavy gunfire, he scooped her up and felt the blood run down his arm. "Hold on to my neck."

She raised one arm and clasped his neck. "Brad . . .
"

"Just a few more yards," he gasped while he limped toward the C-123. He saw Spencer turn and run toward him.

A staggering blow knocked Brad off balance, and his wounded leg buckled under him. He stumbled twice before they collapsed in a heap.

Brad pushed himself to his hands and knees, then stared in shock and disbelief at Allison. She had taken the brunt of the rounds that had ripped into the two of them. "Allison . . . oh, God, Allison."

He tried to lift her, but fell back when his limbs failed to respond to the sensory inputs. Brad saw a blurred image of Nick and Lex, then the dark settled over him.

Palmer and Blackwell, with assistance from Spencer, carried Allison and Brad into the airplane. They heard the distinct sound of bullets impacting both sides of the fuselage.

"Easy," Nick said as the three men, with the help of Crowder and
Jimenez, gently placed Brad and Allison on the flight deck next to Chase Mitchell.

When the last soldier leaped through the door, the cargo pilots fire-walled the big radial engines and released the brakes. The airplane leaped forward and slowly gathered speed in a hail of gunfire.

Three-quarters of the way down the runway, the Provider shuddered from the concussion of a mortar shell that exploded near the right wing.

Just as the aircraft rotated, a small-arms round penetrated the fuselage and struck a soldier next to Blackwell.

The pilots kept the plane low, accelerating as they raised the landing gear and flaps. With a sudden lurch, the C-123 pitched up in a steep, climbing turn to clear the rising hills.

After five minutes, the pilots leveled the battered airplane and reduced power. The right engine was smoking and running rough, but they kept it going in order to expedite getting the wounded to Vientiane.

Gunny Rodriguez lay mortally wounded near the rear entrance to the cargo bay. He had been the last person to board the battle-damaged airplane.

Brad opened his eyes when Lex and Nick moved him to a long bench seat. Vaguely he became aware of where he was when he heard Palmer speak to Blackwell. He also heard the cries and groans from the severely wounded soldiers.

"Brad." Nick leaned closer and carefully examined his friend's eyes. "How are you feeling? Do you want something for the pain?"

Austin had never seen Nick Palmer's face look so pale and full of sorrow.