Enemy Mine (21 page)

Reaching down, Kathy gripped the child’s hand. “Come on, Sophie, we’re taking you home!” Kathy raced forward, her head down as she pulled the little girl toward the open door behind the cockpit. The wind punched at them, and Kathy held up her hand to protect her eyes. The little girl was close at her side as they struggled forward. Mac sat in the right-hand seat—the pilot’s seat—and had on a military helmet.
As Kathy lifted Sophie aboard, she saw two flak vests, one small and one large, lying on the metal deck in front of them.

Diving inside, she quickly slid the door shut and locked it. The cabin wasn’t large, and she was on her knees. She hooked her thumb between the two seats in the cockpit to let Mac know he could take off.

First things first. Gasping for breath, with sweat dribbling into her eyes, Kathy shakily pulled the smaller flak vest off the deck and put it around Sophie. There was a net cargo seat against the armored wall at the rear of the bird. She hoisted Sophie into it and pulled the nylon straps across her small body, buckling her in as tightly as possible. Kathy’s hands shook so badly she could barely get the closures fastened and locked.

Leaning forward, her mouth near Sophie’s ear, she yelled, “No matter what happens, Sophie, stay in this harness, okay? It’s going to be a rough ride. Just hang on, okay?” She patted the girl’s shoulder. Sophie’s eyes were huge, but she had a fearless look in them as she nodded her head in understanding.

Kathy grinned and turned. She grabbed the other flak vest and quickly put it on with trembling fingers. Adrenaline was running full bore through her now. Giving Sophie a last reassuring pat on the knee, Kathy pivoted just as Mac powered up for takeoff. The noise was deafening, and the bird shook. The Blackhawk broke contact with the earth, throwing Kathy backward.

As he brought the chopper at a steep climb out of the jungle, Kathy scrambled to her hands and knees and made her way forward into the cockpit. She saw a sec
ond military helmet sitting on the copilot’s seat. After grabbing it, she crouched between the seats so she wouldn’t continue to be thrown around. Mac made several sharp, banking maneuvers to try and escape the sights of the Black Sharks no more than three miles away.

Once she’d climbed into the left seat, Kathy donned the helmet, strapped it on and positioned the mike close to her lips. She plugged in the connection.

“You hear me?” she demanded as her hands flew with familiar ease over the nylon harness system. She was soon strapped in tightly to her seat. They were on a rough ride and she knew it.

“Roger, I hear you loud and clear.”

“I’m Blackhawk qualified, Coulter.”

He glanced over at her in surprise, then grinned. “You’re just a bundle of surprises, you know that? Then be my copilot. I need a weapons officer. Can you handle that?”

“Shoot fast. Shoot straight. Load often. In my sleep, Coulter,” Kathy said, smiling wryly. The Blackhawk rapidly gained altitude as the jungle fell away. Altitude was their safe haven, in one respect. The more height they gained, the more room they had to maneuver if they were chased or cornered. Her hands flew across the console in front of her as she switched on the bird’s array of weapons.

“Watch our six,” Mac warned, his gaze pinned to the horizon ahead of them. “We’re making a run for Dodge. The moment the Black Sharks see us, they’re gonna come after us.”

“I’m on it,” Kathy said, intently studying the heads
up display. The green HUD screen was five inches by five inches and resembled a television.

The helo was shaking and straining. The blades beat heavily to gain precious altitude in the turgid, humid air. Helos never climbed fast in high humidity like this. Kathy wished it was drier since it would mean a faster climb. She also wished she had a pair of aviator glasses like Mac wore to combat the bright sun.

“You got another pair of glasses around, Coulter?” she demanded.

“Yeah, side pocket.”

“You’ve thought of everything.” Kathy reached down into the nylon net pocket on the right side of her seat. There they were. She quickly took them out of the case and slipped them on; it was better than pulling down the half-face black shield of the helmet. The heat of the sunlight coming through the cockpit windows made her feel like a sponge. She quickly saw that Mac hadn’t turned on the air-conditioning yet. Normal checklists were thrown out the door on an emergency liftoff like this. Usually a copilot took care of such details.

“Mind if I cool us down?” she asked, reaching across and flipping on the switch.

“Not at all. Thanks…”

Kathy studied the HUD and switched it to radar mode. So far, the Black Sharks were otherwise engaged. Twisting around, she checked on Sophie. The flak jacket was huge for her and she looked tiny in it. After giving her a smile and a thumbs-up, she saw Sophie smile and return the gesture.

Kathy turned back and looked at Mac. His jaw was
hard, his expression harsh and focused. “Where’s Dodge?” she asked him. “You got a plan where you’re taking us?” He was headed away from Cuzco, and Kathy knew there were no major airports in the direction they were flying. Her heart pounded hard in her chest. She gulped and tried to steady her breathing.

“Yeah, I got a plan. We’re heading straight for the safest place in this region—the Black Jaguar Squadron. I want you to set the radio to a special frequency that lets them know we’re friend, not foe.” He pointed to the radio console.

“Roger, give me the frequency,” Kathy ordered. When he did so, she turned the radio to that frequency. Instantly, Mac began the call to them.

“Black Jaguar. Black Jaguar, this is King’s Ace. Over. Do you read? This is King’s Ace. I am initiating Operation Emerald. Repeat—Operation Emerald. Confirm you have received this request. We are heading in your direction and we need any help you can throw our way. We have four Black Sharks, repeat, four Black Sharks at the Garcia villa and they are going to be coming after us. This is a mayday. Mayday. We need your help and protection. Over.”

“Oh, shit! Here they come!” Kathy cried as four specks suddenly appeared on her radar screen. They had been spotted! Her heart rate soared.

“Roger, just keep the chaff handy. We’re gonna need it,” Mac growled.

Kathy frowned and checked out the chaff dispensers, devices designed to confuse incoming missiles. Normally a Seahawk had two, but on this one there were six,
which was fine with her. Chaff could make the difference between them surviving a missile attack or not.

Mac went back to making the emergency call to the BJS. Operation Emerald was a secret code for help. It meant we are a friendly in your territory and we need your Apaches to fight for us so we can reach your base safely.

Mac held his breath. He saw Kathy’s hands flying across the console, preparing and activating their array of weapons. But they were no match for a Black Shark. Not in the least.

Come on, answer me! Answer me!
His nostrils flared as he waited to hear a response from the supersecret base located inside one of these conical mountains. Mac had the exact coordinates of their location in his head. It was his only safe place if everything went to hell in a handbasket. Well, today it had gone there.

Every second felt like years. He compressed his lips and felt the trickle of sweat down his temples beneath the helmet he wore. Glancing to his left, he saw Kathy continue to work the weapons systems like a pro. What a surprise she was! A U.S. Marine Seahawk pilot! Any other time he’d have laughed over the absurdity of it all; how well she’d cloaked her true identity from him. Never in a million years would he have guessed her to be a Marine Corps pilot!

“King’s Ace, this is Black Jaguar Base, we read you loud and clear. We are initiating Operation Emerald. Can you give us your location once more?”

Relief tunneled through Mac. He saw that the Black Sharks were speeding rapidly toward them. They were
faster because of their double axial blades. Quickly, he gave the latest flight coordinates. “Black Jaguar, I say again—we are in trouble. The four Black Sharks are less than ten miles away and rapidly gaining on us.”

“Roger, King’s Ace. We are in emergency mode here and getting every available Apache into the air to come and meet you. Be aware that Cobra Two is only ten miles from you in the direction you need to go. We’ve already let them know and they are heading your way. Over.”

“Roger, that’s good news.” But it wasn’t near enough. The Apache and Black Shark combat helicopters were basically the two biggest junkyard dogs in the world and an even match for one another. There were four enemy Sharks pitched against one Apache coming to their rescue, and the firepower wasn’t sufficient to turn the tide in their favor.

“Please switch your radio to Cobra Two’s frequency. We’ll be on it, as well, and keep you updated on the other Apaches coming to your aid, King’s Ace. Over.”

“Roger and thanks.” Mac dialed in the new frequency. “Cobra Two, this is King’s Ace. Do you read me?”

One Apache was flying at top speed to intercept and try to protect them. Mac was afraid. He tried not to let it show in his voice. More than anything, he wanted to take Sophie home to her family—alive. And dammit, he wanted to meet Kathy Lincoln, or whoever she really was, in a place where they could finally reveal their true identities to one another—because he had fallen in love with her.

“H
EY
!” W
ILD
W
OMAN
crowed in her best Montana drawl, “We are
finally
gonna get four of those Black Sharks all in one place, at one time. Hell’s bells! It’s time to do ’em all in! Yippee!” She flew the Apache at hightailin’ speed toward the escaping Blackhawk known as King’s Ace.

Snake, who was in the upper seat behind her pilot friend, hurriedly typed in the data commands to her weapons computer. Her dark brown brows fell. “Dude, it’s one of us against all them, in case you’re ignoring that minuscule piece of info. One Apache against four of those bastards.”

Chortling, Wild Woman pulled the dark visor down over her eyes and continued to scan the clear blue skies around them. “One Apache can take four of ’em on and win!” She reached out and patted the console in front of her. “This dog’ll hunt, sister.”

“Your cinch is loose, girlfriend,” Snake muttered. “I got ’em painted on the HUD. See ’em? See that Blackhawk? He’s redlining it for all he’s worth.”

“What’s that favorite saying of yours? Don’t drop your gun to hug a grizzly bear? A Blackhawk, even
armed, isn’t able to go up successfully against a Shark. Yeah, I got ’em painted on my screen. Arm our missiles. I want to put a few of them up those good ol’ Russki boys’ asses.”

“Humph. Before they put one up ours…” Snake quickly flipped several switches to arm the missiles and rockets. The Apache screamed toward the fray, flying at ten thousand feet. “You gonna climb, Wild Woman? Let’s get some more air between us and those dudes. They’re all low level, running at about five angels, five thousand feet. Arrogant enough to think no one else is around to stop them from doing what they’re doin’, so they aren’t looking for us. Best to come at ’em high and from out of the sun.”

“Good plannin’, Snake. We’re gonna make their day.”

Grimly, Snake looked up, her eyes narrowed. “If you take all of ’em on, you’ll think you’ve been in a sack with a couple of bobcats.”

“Bring ’em on,” Wild Woman said. “We can whip our weight in wolves
and
bobcats.”

“I hate it when you get into this kind of mood.”

Giving a wicked cackle, Wild Woman said, “PMS is a wonderful thing.” She laughed loudly.

A grudging grin pulled at Snake’s mouth. “You’ll get no argument outta me. Put a bunch of PMS women into combat and they will annihilate the enemy in the blink of an eye. It’s our secret weapon.”

“Roger that, Snake.” Wild Woman took the Apache in a steep ascent, the blades cutting aggressively through the air. The vibration shook the cockpit. Grinning evilly, Wild Woman said, “Dude, I have waited years for
this little window of opportunity to show up! Those Sharks are always hangin’ around between the mountains to jump us, because they know we can’t detect their signature on our radar. This is one time they’re in the open. Yessiree, this is gonna be an old-fashioned Montana turkey shoot, and I can hardly wait to get ’em!”

“Cowboys and Indians,” Snake grunted, her gaze on the HUD and their targets. “And I’m an Indian.”

“Half Navajo and half German. Hell, I’m half Cheyenne. My gawd, what a Heinz variety mix!” Wild Woman yelled. “But I like you, anyway, Snake.”

“Thanks—I think.” A sliver of a grin curved the corners of Snake’s mouth.

“Just think, Snake, it’s usually the cowboys showin’ up to protect the settlers from the evil ol’ Indians. Now it’s reversed—we Indians are gonna save the day for that poor settler being chased by the bad guys.”

“Hey, that Blackhawk’s really clawin’ at the sky.”

“The dude flying it is an ATF agent, according to intel I just received,” Wild Woman noted. “But I’m sure he’s ex–U.S. Army by the way he’s haulin’ ass with that bird. Those are combat maneuvers.”

“Yeah, well, he’d better put extra fire under that bird’s butt because the Sharks are closin’ in on him like vultures on a carcass.” Wild Woman frowned. “When are the other three Apaches coming, Snake? You heard from base yet?”

Shaking her head, her friend said, “They’re rollin’ them out to the lip right now.” The base was forty miles away from the air-to-air combat about to take place. Snake could imagine the claxon bell clanging harshly
throughout the cave complex, the race of the crews and pilots toward the Apaches that were being pushed out on the lip of the cave for takeoff.

“Then it really is us against them.”

Snake rolled her eyes. “Has reality just landed on you with both feet?”

Wild Woman snorted. “Feathers are gonna fly shortly and it sure as hell isn’t gonna be off
our
bird.”

“Yeah, right. Well, we’ll do what we can. Our first priority is to keep that Blackhawk from getting blown out of the sky. They’re VIPs.”

“Roger, I hear you.” The growl of the Apache engine deepened as the blades seized the air and found purchase. At twenty thousand feet Wild Woman leveled the bird off and, redlining the screaming engines, sent it hurtling forward.

“Cobra Two, this is King’s Ace, over.”

Wild Woman’s blond brows shot up. “Damned if that ain’t a woman’s voice, Snake. Or am I hearin’ things?”

“You’re not hearin’ things. You fly, I’ll take the coms.” Snake switched to the channel. “King’s Ace, this is Cobra Two, over.”

Kathy tried to keep her voice low and modulated even though her heart thundered like a freight train. Mac was forcing the Blackhawk as high as it could go without draining away too much forward speed. Climbing was a delicate balancing act, one Mac accomplished with great skill as the Sharks came up fast behind them. Just hearing the calm, soothing tone of another woman’s voice at the other end of the radio helped Kathy think they might have a chance of living through this.

“Cobra Two, we’re heading toward the BJS coordinates. Right now we need some help. The Sharks are almost within missile range of us.”

“Roger, King’s Ace, we understand. We’re at twenty angels and redlining it. We will be within range of you in…five minutes. Over.”

Five minutes was a lifetime to her. “Roger that.” Kathy gulped and twisted around to peer out of the cockpit. She saw four black dots on the horizon, coming closer and closer. “Tell us you have more than one Apache coming?”

Kathy heard the woman pilot give a husky laugh. “That’s a roger, King’s Ace. Three more rolling out as we speak. For a little while, though, it’s just little ol’ us against the four of them. We consider that an even fight. We want you, however, to take whatever evasive action you need to. Does the pilot know this area at all?”

“Roger, he does. Over.”

“Good. Tell him to play hide ’n seek around the mountains ahead of him. Sharks have damn good radar but they cannot penetrate mountains to see where you’re hiding. So tell him to head for the hills slightly east of where you are presently. BJS is in that direction, anyway. If you can get behind a mountain, they can’t shoot at you. Do you copy? Over.”

“Roger, I copy. Good advice, Cobra Two, thanks. I’ll tell him. Out.”

Kathy turned to Mac, who had heard the entire conversation, she knew. “Well?”

“Yeah, good idea in theory.” Mac nodded his head toward the horizon. “Those are lava mountains. They’re
shaped like loaves of French bread standing on end, and are covered with orchids, bromeliads and other jungle brush. They’re roughly one quarter to half a mile in circumference—not large, but big enough for us to hide behind if shot at. The problem is getting there before the Sharks do.”

Looking around, Kathy said, “Well, heading for them beats the hell out of being a target in the middle of this blue sky.”

A sour smile pulled at Mac’s mouth. Sweat trickled nonstop beneath his arms as he tensely held the controls and mentally urged the Blackhawk to move faster. “Yeah, I roger that. Is Sophie harnessed in?”

“Yes, she’s good to go.”

“Flak jacket on, right?” Mac couldn’t risk turning to look.

“Roger.”

“Okay, we’re gonna have to start jinxing around when they start throwing lead at us. Hang on….”

“I know that.” Kathy watched the HUD intently. The Sharks were now within range. “They will throw missiles at us.” She got ready to pop the trigger on the first chaff dispenser.

“How did this Blackhawk end up with six dispensers of chaff and not the standard two?” she asked Mac.

Chuckling, he answered, “Garcia wanted more insurance. He had them built in.”

“Damn insightful of him.”

“Roger that.”

Most missiles and rockets were heat seekers. They would follow anything that was hot, like an engine.
Chaff, when released from the fuselage of a helo, would act as a heat decoy, drawing the weapons after them instead of the bird. At least, that was the theory. Throat dry, her eyes slits, Kathy watched and waited.

There was a sudden beeping sound in her helmet. “One of ’em has acquired us as a target,” Kathy rasped, her finger hovering over the chaff switch.

“Roger.” Instantly, Mac banked the helo to one side, then the other. He didn’t want to lose much altitude. If the Sharks ever worked him down to the level of the forest canopy, there’d be no more maneuvering room. Even here they’d be an easy target to knock out of the sky, like shooting ducks in a barrel. No, he had to not only maintain altitude, but try to inch upward.

Every time Mac banked the Blackhawk, though, it slowed his forward speed, which meant the pursuing Sharks would get closer that much faster.
Damn!
If only that Apache would get here! Mac knew that, for the next five minutes, it was their game to win or lose.

“Missile fired!” Kathy snapped.

“Chaff!”

“Fired!” She flipped the switch. Jerking her head to the left, craning her neck, she stared out the cockpit window, watching two arcing smoke trails leave the Blackhawk. The brightly lit chaff glowed more brilliantly than the sun. Would the missile follow it and not them? The straps of the harness bit deeply into her shoulders as Mac banked the bird again. The beeping in her helmet got louder and louder as the stalking missile approached. Tearing her gaze from the sky and the
glowing chaff now arching below them, she watched the green HUD screen, her eyes wide with fear.

The air turbulence was rough. As the sun warmed the jungle, creating updrafts of hot air, the ride became brutal. Mac swung the bird violently into a left bank, and the engines whined from the strain. An explosion erupted a hundred feet below them, and Kathy gripped the seat. A shock wave from the explosion hit them, and the Blackhawk shuddered.

Mac rode out the explosion as the bird was thrust upward fifty feet. He quickly moved the rudders and controls to stabilize the floundering helo. The missile had hit the chaff! But he didn’t have time to cheer, for another beep sounded in his helmet. A second missile was being fired at them!

“Number two on the way,” Kathy told him grimly. They had six rounds of chaff to release, and that was it. She knew the Sharks probably carried four or six missiles apiece—way more than they could evade this way. The pounding of the blades thumped through her. Mac wrestled with the bird. They’d lost five hundred feet in altitude. Again he swung the helo in a side-to-side motion to try and evade their pursuers.

“Chaff!” Mac said.

“Fired!” Kathy flipped the switch. There was a timing element to releasing chaff. Too soon and it wouldn’t catch the attention of the speeding, heat-seeking missile. Too late and the missile would pass it up for the engine heat of their helo. Up ahead, Kathy could see the loaf-shaped mountains drawing closer and closer. Oh, if only they could reach them!

Another explosion. Again, below them. The Blackhawk was thrown upward by the blast.

“Shit!” Kathy yelled as she was slammed hard against the left side of the fuselage. The Blackhawk bobbled, out of control. That explosion had been close! Too close! They’d be lucky not to get hit by shrapnel.

Kathy watched the HUD, heard yet another beep in her helmet. Dread filled her. “They’re throwing another missile at us.”

“Cobra Two, this is King’s Ace. Where the hell are you?” Mac snarled into the radio.

“We’re one minute from joining your dance, King’s Ace. You’re doing fine. We’re stalking them from above. Just keep doing what you’re doing. Over.”

One minute. One friggin’ minute!
“Yeah, roger that,” Mac growled, frustration etched in his voice.

Kathy quickly flipped the switch for the third round of chaff. “Chaff fired!”

The beep became faster and louder. The third missile was hunting them in earnest! She glanced at the altitude indicator, they had lost another thousand feet.
Damn!
Mac was doing what he could, but there was only so much to work with….

Another beep. “Damn, they’re throwing a fourth missile at us!” Kathy cried.

Mac nodded and kept his focus on their escape. All he wanted to do was get to the mountains, which he could use as a safety net of sorts. Air turbulence jarred them like a dog shaking to get rid of fleas. Grinding his teeth, Mac gripped the controls and tried to ride out the huge air pockets. But every time they hit one, it slowed
their forward speed a little more. And in this run for safety, every mile per hour counted.

“Chaff fired!” Kathy flipped the switch. Two missiles came at them. She saw them streaking toward them on the HUD. Her eyes widened as the chaff arced away from the Blackhawk. Would both missiles follow it? Oh, God, if they didn’t…She touched her parched throat in a nervous motion.

Two explosions rent the air. The Blackhawk groaned, flailed and shuddered as the blast waves, one right after the other, hit them. Cursing softly, Mac worked the controls. The harness kept him from being slammed around. He heard Kathy give a cry, her hand going up against her drawn visor to protect her eyes. Seeing the red welts of fire and the black smoke venting upward past the chopper, he realized just how close they’d come to dying.

Another beep began.

“Next to the last chaff,” Kathy announced. Sweat trickled down the sides of her face, and her breath came shallow and fast. The mountains loomed ahead. Gaze glued to the HUD, she saw the missile approaching.

“Chaff fired!” she cried, trying to prepare for the blast.