Nothing's going to go wrong, Josh told himself as he stepped forward towards the waiting Black Hawk. A man he assumed was Adams was beckoning him forwards with impatient movements of his arms. He wasn't quite as Josh had expected: he was shorter and stouter, with greying hair, and with a thick layer of fat bulging over the waistband of the trousers of his black suit.
But I'm back with my own tribe, reckoned Josh. Within
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the hour, I'll be part of the Regiment again.
'Are you Josh Harding?' said Adams.
Josh climbed on board the Black Hawk. The moment his feet left the ground, the machine soared upwards. The roar of the rotor blades through the open doors felt like it was splitting open his eardrums, and the swirling dust clogged his lungs and hurt his eyes.
He could feel his spirits lifting as the huge blades of the chopper lifted it high into the sky. Support. Backup.
'That's me,' shouted Josh.
'Then get to the back of the bloody chopper,' Adams shouted back.
Josh started to walk to the back of the helicopter. The machine swayed noticeably in flight and he had to hold on to its metal walls to steady himself.
He looked down the length of the chopper. At the back were two military policemen, sitting with their weapons held ready^Like Adams, they were wearing headphones so that they could talk to each other over the roar of the Black Hawk's engine.Their expressions were sombre. Glancing back towards Adams, Josh could see the signature breast pocket bulge of a man carrying a handgun in a shoulder holster.
'Why the policemen?' said Josh, looking at Adams.
'Because you're under bloody arrest.'
Josh blinked. No, he told himself. I must have misheard. It must have been the noise of the Black Hawk. He must have said something else.
'I don't . . . WhatV *
'You're under arrest,' snarled Adams.'Now sit bloody still.'
'What the fuck for?' shouted Josh.
'Insubordination,' said Adams. 'Disobeying orders. Then desertion. They'll court-martial you. And from what I hear about you, I hope they bring back the sodding firing squad.'
Josh's gaze roamed through the Black Hawk. The pilot was sitting at the controls, taking the machine up above the desert.
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Both of the MPs were gripping their standard-issue Heckler Koch MP5 sub-machine guns. They'll shoot me if they're told to, and won't even think twice about it, Josh thought.
Adams was still to the back of him, now hunched down on one of the metal seats that lined the interior of the Black Hawk.
'It's not bloody true,'Josh snarled.
'Save your whingeing for the court martial, Harding,' snapped Adams.
'The power failures, the blackouts, the attacks -- there's going to be more of them,' said Josh. 'I'm the only man who can stop them.'
'I've told you to shut it.'
'I'm the only man who can stop it,' shouted Josh, his voice raw with anger. 'Can't you bloody understand that?'
Adams looked towards the MPs. One of them looked at Josh, his finger poised on the trigger of his MP5. 'You're under arrest,' he barked. 'You'll have your chance to defend yourself
'There's going-to be a catastrophe.'
'I don't care,' shouted Adams.'You're a British soldier. Just follow the bloody orders.'
'The orders are fucking stupid.'
'Doesn't make any difference,' snapped Adams.'You follow them all the same. You break them, you deserve whatever shit gets thrown at you.'
Josh looked out of the chopper's door. The air was rushing past at three hundred miles an hour. Darkness had already fallen, but the Black Hawk was equipped with electronic guidance. It could probably find its way back to LA without a pilot, never mind without any light.
A river: Gazing downjosh could just make out its twisting contours. He started racking his brains, trying to dredge up whatever memories he could. A river from Arizona, running west. The Colorado. It had to be. If the pilot was tracking
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that, at some point they were going to hit the Hoover Dam. A dam meant a lake.
Josh smiled inwardly. A lake. That meant a man could jump from a helicopter and have a chance of surviving.
Maybe only a one in ten chance. But it was still something.
I have to escape, he told himself. I have to. Not to save myself. But if I don't get to Luke soon, then Azim or one of his thugs will get to him first. Then the whole world will be in trouble.
Josh started to make his calculations. The helicopter door was open. The Black Hawk was designed for close-quarter military contacts, designed to put down fresh troops and pick up casualties in a hurry, which was why it was usually flown with a side door open. They were flying at about two thousand feet, snaking their way across the open countryside. Josh was sitting on one of the bucket seats, across from tlje doorway, not far from where the MPs were sitting.
Josh stood up and walked towards Adams. He could feel the two MPs tracking him with their stares. 'You're making a bloody mistake,' he said.
'What?' shouted Adams, straining to hear him above the noise of the Black Hawk's engine.
'I said you're making a bloody mistake,' said Josh, not bothering to raise his voice.
'What?'
Adams leaned forward, trying to catch Josh's softly spoken words.
You're mine.
With a sudden swift movement, Josh thumped him in the chest with his left hand. In the same instant, his right hand whipped down and grabbed the gun from beneath Adams's jacket. It was a simple Glock 19, a gun that Josh was familiar with. He gripped it tight, jabbing the barrel against Adams's right ear.
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'Hold bloody still,' he shouted at the two MPs. 'Hold bloody still or I shoot.'
Both men froze, staring hard at Josh.
'Hold your fire,' said Adams, speaking into his mouthpiece so that the two MPs could hear him on their headphones. Glancing from the side of the chopper, Josh could see that they were now flying over Lake Mead. I just have to get to Luke, he repeated to himself. I just have to get to Luke before Azim does.
He grabbed Adams by the scalp, yanking hard on his greying hair. With the Glock still pressed against the man's ear, Josh dragged him down to the front of the Black Hawk. The pilot was staring back at him. A man of twenty-four, twenty-five, Josh couldn't help admiring the way he was holding the Black Hawk on a rock-steady course despite the fracas. 'Take her down,' snapped Josh. 'Take the bloody thing down.'
'You're making it worse for yourself, man,'Adams shouted.
'I'll be the judge of that,' roared Josh, tugging harder on the man's hair.
'Just put the gun down, Harding. I'll make sure you get a fair hearing.'
Josh ignored him, looking back towards the pilot. 'Just bring the fucking thing down,' he growled.
'Don't,' barked Adams.
The pilot held the Black Hawk steady on its progress across the lake.
They're trying to outsmart me, thought Josh. They know I can't bring this bird down while I'm holding a gun on Adams. I'm buggered.
Unless . . .
Josh fired once, then twice. The bullets smashed into the Black Hawk's control panel. A shower of sparks flew out of it, spitting up into the pilot's face. Now Josh jammed the
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pistol back against Adams's head. Already he could feel the chopper starting to sway and swerve through the air as the controls jammed, then died.
Josh glanced at the altimeter.
Now we're going down. Fast.
Sixteen hundred yards. At one hundred, I jump.
Josh could feel the Black Hawk start to plummet. It was as if his legs had collapsed beneath him. His heart was jumping up into his throat. The pilot was wrestling desperately with the controls, trying to regain control of the machine.
'You're a fucking madman, Harding,' shrieked Adams. 'You're going to die.'
'At least we'll all go together,' shouted Josh.
One thousand one hundred yards.
The lake was so close that Josh could almost smell it.
The two MPs tried to stand up, but as the Black Hawk lurched through its descent they were thrown back down again.
'Finish him,' yelled Adams. 'Finish the fucker.'
Five hundred and fifty yards.
One of the guards was holding his MP5 straight in front of him, trying to point it straight at Josh, but the Black Hawk was swaying violently as its descent gathered speed. The nose was starting to turn down as the aircraft hurtled faster towards the black, icy waters of the lake.
Two hundred and ten yards. ^
A burst of gunfire rattled against the metal walls of the machine. Amid the violent motion, it was impossible for the guard to maintain his aim.
Josh glanced towards the open door.
A hundred and sixty yards.
He let go of Adams and kicked back, compressing all his strength into his calf muscles to give himself maximum lift.
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His body started to arc through the air towards the open doorway. A churning vortex of air was swirling just outside.
The air hit Josh hard, first in the face, then in the chest, thumping the wind from him and making it almost impossible to breathe. For a second it seemed as if he was hurtling horizontally, flying level with the Black Hawk. He could hear the sound of gunfire behind him. One bullet, then two, then three.
Nothing hit.
Suddenly he could feel himself falling at a terrifying velocity. The Black Hawk was high above him. The swirling wind started to spin him around. His head was dizzy, and it was hard to keep his eyes open against the rush of oncoming air.
He flung his arms and legs wide, maximising the surface area of his body. Slowly he could feel himself starting to get control. His body was stable, his spreadeagled state buffering him from the full impact of the rushing air. Up above, he could see the Black Hawk starting to bank, turning hard as it continued to descend rapidly.
Josh put all his strength into trying to hold himself steady. But there was nothing he could do about the accelerating speed of his fall. And in a few seconds he was going to hit the water.
Below him he could see its icy blackness.
*
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TWENTY-ONE
Monday, June 15th. Night.
In the last seconds of the fall, Josh had arched his body into a smooth diving position, his arms stretched out in front of him and his hands clasped together. His head had been tucked just behind the arms, slightly bowed so that the first impact from the water would come on the crown: the skull there was the thickest lump of bone in the body, designed that way by evolution to protect the brain, and if you had to take a hard blow that was the best place to take it. He had held his legs together behind him, as straight as poles.
The perfect diving position.
It had made no difference.The impact had been a moment of shattering terror. As first his hands, then his head and his shoulders had sliced into the water, he'd felt as if every bone in his body had suddenly been pulverised.
The pain hit him first, rippling up through him in wave after wave. He lost control of his muscles.Then the icy cold of the water numbed his body, freezing the blood in his veins. His breathing stopped, and if felt as if his heart had stopped beating.
For a moment, Josh was convinced that he was dead. It seemed unimaginable that he could survive any more punishment.
Then the motion stopped. A splitting headache was throbbing inside his skull. Josh could feel that he was no longer moving. The water was still swirling around him, and a
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1
strong underwater current had started to catch hold of him, dragging him forwards.
He was probably thirty feet below water, he reckoned. Slowly, he started to kick his legs. They responded lazily at first. There was little strength left in his muscles to fight against the current. He tried again, harder this time. Both legs started to move and Josh could feel his body start to move.
It had been impossible to take a proper mouthful while he'd been in free fall. Now he was desperately short of air.
I just hope I've landed close to the shore. Even if I get to the surface in time, I haven't the strength to swim very far.
Josh kicked hard, using his arms to help drag himself back up to the surface. He opened his eyes. The water was fresh and clean, but it still took a moment to adjust his vision. He looked straight up. He could see something moving. A shallow wave. The surface.
Then his head broke through. Josh opened his mouth, taking great lungfuls of air.The oxygen filled his chest, hitting his bloodstream and instantly clearing his splitting headache.
Alive.
The word sent a jolt of exhilaration through him. He looked quickly around the dark, choppy waters of Lake Mead. About three hundreds yards ahead of him he could see the massive wall of the dam that had created the lake. The current was dragging the water slowly towards it, allowing the Colorado River to continue its journey towards the coast. To the north, reckoned Josh, was Nevada. To the west, California. And safety? he wondered bitterly to himself. That probably wasn't in any direction at all.
Now, straight ahead of him, he could see the Black Hawk crash into the water. A huge wave rolled out as the machine was sucked down. It was at least a mile away, but through the dark night air Josh could still hear the shouts as the crew jumped out. And then he could see a dinghy starting to move away from the crash site.
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It's a massive lake, he told himself. They've little chance of finding me.
Josh started swimming. He reckoned it was a good two hundred, two hundred and fifty yards to the closest shoreline. A pebbled beach and some conifer trees were all he could make out.
The shoreline was a national park, and it must be close to midnight by now. There shouldn't be anyone around. Just the occasional bear.
But I've got to move, Josh told himself, because in a few minutes Adams will have half the American army out here looking for me.
He swam furiously, dipping his head below the surface of the water and surfacing only when he had to for air.
If I can keep my strength, I can do this, Josh told himself. I just have to believe.