Pompeii's Ghosts (A James Acton Thriller, #9) (33 page)

He
turned back to face their target, a blip on his display below them as they
dropped at over 100 miles per hour toward the ground in broad daylight. He
would have preferred a night drop but that would have wasted at least twelve
hours that they didn’t have. If there were survivors, and they were being
moved, their trail would go cold extremely quickly.

And that
assumed they hadn’t been taken on the second plane or simply murdered when they
had hit the ground. Even if they had been shot, recovering their bodies was
still something he felt was a necessity, especially after everything he had
been through with BD and Niner. And even the professor.

“Jumper
One, Jumper Three. I’m seeing ground activity, over.”

Red
activated the zoom on the HUD and spotted what Spock was talking about. The
airfield was clearly visible below them, the crashed plane large on the
enhanced display, but what looked like ants now were rapidly growing into humans,
dozens if not more scrambling over the wreckage, along with a couple of dozen
vehicles including transport trucks.

“Looks
military to me,” said Jimmy. “Must be the Sudanese.”

“Looks
like someone was hoping to collect some pay dirt,” observed Atlas, “otherwise
they’d have reported finding the aircraft.”

Red had
to agree. “If our people are down there, they’re in Sudanese hands now unless
they were moved.”

“I’m not
sure which I prefer.” It was Spock who voiced all their concerns.

Suddenly
Atlas pointed out the obvious. “The second plane is gone!”

“That’s
good,” said Red. “That means the gold is almost definitely gone, so the
Sudanese will have no reason to kill any survivors. They’ll be able to claim it
was a rescue mission.” He surveyed the area surrounding their target. “Let’s
land north-west of the target so the sun is in their eyes.” He glanced at his
altimeter that was rapidly counting down to two thousand feet. “Deploy in
three… two… one… Deploy!”

He
pulled the cord, deploying his chute and felt his entire body jerk upward, the
sensation merely an illusion as he was still dropping though far more slowly,
terminal velocity no longer in the equation. He checked for a good chute then
grabbed his toggles, orienting himself with his chosen landing zone. He looked
around and found the others dangling under good chutes, all angling toward him.

His
altimeter was already showing less than one thousand feet, still dropping
rapidly though now at a survivable speed. A glance over his shoulder showed the
airfield in the distance, far enough away that he hoped no one would spot them,
but not too far so they wouldn’t have to walk for several hours to get there.

His HUD
beeped and he returned his attention to the ground as it rushed toward him.
Flaring his chute, he killed his forward momentum and hit the ground,
collapsing his knees and rolling onto his side. Quickly gaining his balance, he
pulled in his chute as quickly as he could, it now too easy to spot. In less
than a minute he was rushing toward their target, the others following him as
they stripped off their jump gear. Dropping at the side of a low hill, they all
began digging, burying their equipment. Red wasn’t too concerned about it being
found, as long as it was after they had departed. It was all civilian gear,
none of it traceable.

“Everyone
good?” he asked the others.

Nods and
grunts from the rest confirmed their status as he pulled out his phone,
launching the map application. He pointed out their heading. “We’re about three
klicks from the airport. Let’s move!”

As they
jumped to their feet, Red suddenly stopped, holding up his fist. He cocked an
ear. “Weapons fire,” he whispered as he tried to get a bearing on it.

Atlas
pointed left of their intended destination by a good forty-five degrees.
“Sounds like it’s coming from over there.”

Red
zoomed in on the satellite shots of the area. “There’s a town that way, but too
far to hear gunfire from. There’s a pretty shitty looking road though that goes
around that hill. It splits off from the main road.”

Jimmy
was leaning in, eyeing the screen. “Looks like the main road is pretty shitty
as well.”

“If I
were moving hostages, I’d take them in the back way,” said Spock.

Red
nodded. “We can’t ignore it.” He pointed to Atlas and Jimmy. “You two head for
the airport, see if any of our people are there. We’ll see if we can track down
that gunfire.”

They
split off, Red and Spock sprinting toward what could be nothing, and with the
looks of the hard landscape that surrounded them, possibly in the completely
wrong direction.

And as
they ran, a question nagged at him.

If
the hijackers left on the other plane, then who has the survivors?

Part of
him wanted to ease up, to head for the safer bet of the airport, it not making
any sense that the survivors, if there were any, would be transported somewhere
else.

Then a
plausible explanation popped in his head, sending a surge of speed to his legs.

What
if they escaped during the chaos after the crash?

Hamashkoraib, Sudan

Acton stepped out from behind the curtain, relief attained. Niner
was at the window with the Brit, one on either side, continuing to observe the
guards. There had been a commotion outside almost an hour ago and the sounds of
at least two vehicles departing had been heard. What it meant, they had no idea,
but the behavior of their guards had changed. The disciplined rounds they had
been making had slowed then eventually stopped, with a group of them now
huddled nearby, talking in whispers.

“Did he
just say what I think he said?” asked the Brit.

Niner
nodded. “I think so.” He turned to the room, specifically Reese. “It looks like
they’re planning on taking the women.”

Reese immediately
paled, looking at Acton. The Chinese observer, Lee Fang showed no emotion, but
Acton was sure she must be terrified at the prospect, the stories of what
happened to women in this part of the world well known he was sure to all of
them.

He just thanked
God Laura wasn’t here.

He held
out his hand for Reese and she walked toward him, taking it. He put himself
between her and the door. “We can’t let this happen,” he said.

“Agreed,”
said Niner. He pointed at Reese and Lee. “Get to the back corner.” Lee moved
reluctantly, her partner pushing her toward Reese and Acton who had already
retreated behind the curtain. “We need two men on the door. Pull the first gun
in, shut the door on the rest, disarm the first, and maybe we’ve got a fighting
chance. Let them come in after we’ve got a weapon, take out as many as we can,
and maybe we get lucky. If we can at least stall them until their leadership
gets back, that might be enough.”

“You’re
sure they’re gone?” asked Acton.

Niner
shook his head. “No, but when those vehicles left, the guys left behind
immediately slacked off. I’m guessing whoever is here now doesn’t hold any sway
over them, or just doesn’t care.”

“Here
they come,” whispered the Brit, still at the window. The two Italians took up
positions on either side of the door, the Frenchman and Niner on either wall,
ready to pounce, the rest forming a human shield around the two women.

Acton
was still holding Reese’s hand, her grip viselike, her body shaking noticeably.
The sound of the door being unlocked from the outside caused Reese to yelp. He
glanced at her then positioned himself directly in front of her, using his free
hand to gently move Lee Fang farther out of sight, the proud warrior not happy
about having to be protected like this, but even her fierce demeanor seemed
shaken, cooperating completely with Acton’s attempt to shield her.

The door
was kicked open, one of the guards stepping in boldly, grinning gums revealed
as his AK-47 led the way into the room. The Italian behind the door reached
forward, grabbing the butt of the rifle and shoving it toward the floor, the
barrel flipping harmlessly toward the ceiling as he then proceeded to bear hug
the man, pulling him back behind the door as the Frenchman rushed forward,
shoving the door closed. The Brit stepped forward, wrenching the weapon from
the startled man’s hands then tossed it to Niner who immediately checked the
weapon and dropped to a knee, aiming at the door.

The
Italian let his arms slide up and within moments he had the man’s head trapped in
his arms, squeezing hard. He pushed the man’s head down, knocked his feet out
from under him, and the snap of the spine almost seemed to echo through the
room. The Italian tossed the body into the corner as the Frenchman holding the
door let it open. Shots erupted from the liberated AK-47, tearing new holes in
the first two men through the door. The second Italian grabbed one of the
bodies, yanking it through the door, liberating him of his weapon and tossing
it to the Chinese observer who dropped and opened fire. Several shots were
fired randomly into the room, most hitting the ceiling, others tearing through
the wood door, then nothing, shouts of what Acton assumed were “Retreat!”
filling the air.

The
bodies were quickly pulled inside and disarmed then searched, several weapons
and magazines liberated when the sound of vehicles arriving outside caused
Acton to suddenly have hope.

Something
hit the ground, rolling into the center of the room from outside. Acton’s eyes
immediately focused on it but for a moment his brain refused to accept what it
was.

“Grenade!”
yelled the Brit as he spun from the window. The Frenchman jumped forward,
diving on the grenade, covering it with his body as the Brit did the same,
landing squarely on top of the Frenchman. Acton spun, shoving Reese to the
floor as Lee Fang’s partner did the same to her, both men jumping on top of the
women to protect them from the blast.

The
delay was interminable, time slowing with the adrenaline rush, to the point
where Acton began to wonder if it were a dud or if the idiot outside had
forgotten to pull the pin. He turned his head to look at the human shield
protecting them, his mind thinking they would be okay, when there was a muted
explosion, both bodies lifting from the floor several inches, the dirt floor
vibrating horribly.

Reese
screamed in horror as the Brit rolled off the Frenchman, moaning in pain, but
alive, at least for now.

The
Frenchman however wasn’t moving, and judging by the massive amount of blood
spreading out from under him, he was mercifully dead.

Niner
pointed at the bodies of their enemy. “We need to block the window!” One of the
Italians and Niner grabbed the body of one of the dead captors and shoved him
into the window frame, ass first, effectively blocking the window from any free
throws from outside, but not a carefully pushed through weapon. The liberated
weapons were trained on the door and the window as shouting outside erupted
then suddenly silence.

“Americans!”

The
voice was from the other side of the door. It sounded like it was a good
distance from the now shredded wood, as if the owner didn’t trust he wouldn’t
be shot.

He
repeated his shout. “Americans! I want to talk!”

The
Brit, still lying on his back, blood seeping through his shirt, turned his head
to Niner. “I think he’s talking to you, mate.”

Niner
frowned, approaching the door but staying out of the line of fire from both
sides. “What do you want?”

“It’s
over! If you do not surrender, we will kill you all!”

Niner
looked around the room, his eyebrows climbing slightly. “Are you the one in
charge?”

“Yes.”

“You
don’t seem to be.”

There
was a pause. “I was gone when my men attacked you.”

“So you’re
back
in control?”

“Yes.”

Niner
looked around the room, his eyes resting on Reese and Lee. “You know why we
resisted?”

“Yes,
they were after your women.”

“And you
guarantee their safety as a man of honor?” Niner shrugged as the words came
out, his expression one of “worth a try”.

“Yes, I
swear to Allah himself.”

“Are we
seriously considering this?” asked one of the Italians, his voice a harsh
whisper.

Niner
shook his head, lowering his own voice. “They just have to toss one grenade
against that door, then another half dozen will follow and we’re all dead.
Hopefully this guy takes his god seriously.” He looked about. “I don’t see that
we have many options here, but I’m open to suggestions.”

It was
Reese that stepped forward. “I don’t want anyone else dying because of me,” she
said, her voice cracking as her eyes darted between the pool of blood
surrounding the dead Frenchman, and the wounds on the Brit. “No one.”

“I
agree,” said Lee Fang, stepping out into the open once again. “No one should
die because I am a woman.”