David Golemon - Ancients

"Damn! It's an ambush!" Jack said as he clenched his teeth. "They were expecting Dutton to have air cover!"

Everett followed Jack's lead and focused on the vehicles.

"SAMs!"

"Those Eagle pilots are sitting ducks," Collins said as he dropped his glasses and reached for the radio on his belt. He turned to the frequency that the expedition used and hit the Transmit button.

"American aircraft, this is friendly asset on the ground to the south. Abort your attack run, I repeat, abort your run, we have mobile SAMs tracking you from--"

Collins stopped talking because he knew he was too late to save the Americans as four brown-painted missiles left their launch platforms.

The two F-15s screeched in low and the lead pilot targeted the first Cobra in line. He was about to fire his 20-millimeter cannon into the thin armor of the attack chopper when his threat receiver started going crazy. The American pilot was too late. As he started to abort his attack and two SAMs apiece tore into their airframes.

Major Dutton, in his anger, actually forgot where he was for the briefest of moments and stood as the American aircraft disintegrated right before his eyes. As he cursed the trap that had been set, his body jerked as ten 20-millimeter rounds tore through his body. The stream of death reached out toward the mosque and the remnants of the Special Forces team.

"Ryan!" Jack called as he stripped his pack away, opened it, and pulled out several extra clips of ammunition for his Beretta. "Get over here."

Everett anticipated Collins's order and started stripping away all his unnecessary gear. He reached into his pack and pulled out an MP-5 with a folding stock. He took out a bandolier of ammunition and slung it around his neck. Then, as Ryan approached, he tossed him his pack.

"Weapon and ammo only," Everett said as he placed a magazine into the MP-5 and charged the handle, chambering a round.

"Damn, what in the hell did I miss?"

Jack reached into his pocket, pulled out his small transmitter, and hastily broke off the plastic cover that protected the red button inside. He pushed the button until it clicked and then tossed it away. He chambered a round into his Beretta and then looked at Ryan and Everett.

"We have a quarter mile to cover. I don't know if the doc is still alive, but I know Will must already be inside of whatever Leekie found in the tower's base. We have one goal: make sure these bastards do not get the diamond. Ready ... Go!"

The three men broke and ran toward the mosque.

Four additional mobile SAM vehicles arrived and took up station behind the same dune that had hidden the first four. A Land Rover broke free from the group of trucks. The small vehicle headed for the mosque and the attackers did not see the three Americans break and run for the site below. They kept to the backside of the dunes as they ran.

The Land Rover was equipped with a .50-caliber machine gun that was perched on the top, and a gunner started firing at the few men left inside the mosque's walls. The two Cobras kept swooping in and firing streams of 20-millimeter rounds into the piles of rubble.

The four-wheel-drive SUV stopped only fifty feet outside the walls and the gunner continued to fire into the ruins. One Special Forces sergeant stood and loosed a full magazine at the Coalition vehicle and managed to drop the gunner, while the rest of his bullets ricocheted off the Rover's armored skin and glass. A circling Cobra fired its remaining rockets and killed the sergeant before he could take cover again.

The vehicle slowly started to advance when the return fire from the mosque fell off to nothing. Three men jumped out and ran for cover. One of the Cobras took up a hovering position a hundred feet over the mosque and covered the ground team as they cautiously approached.

Suddenly, the last remaining Green Beret stood and arrogantly aimed a small tube at the hovering Cobra. The Stinger let loose with a screech as it left the launcher. The three men fired at the man who stood bravely watching the missile's exhaust trail as it tracked the Coalition's Cobra.

The Cobra pilot turned as soon as his missile-warning system lit up. He popped chaff and flares in an attempt to escape. However, the distance was far too short and the Stinger was fast. The small but powerful missile made impact on the engine housing on the starboard side and tore through into the engine itself. The warhead detonated and blew the engine and rotors entirely free of the airframe. The attack chopper simply fell one hundred feet into the largest section of the mosque and exploded.

The three Coalition men ducked the flying debris and then quickly recovered. The first man to fire took a quick and terrible vengeance for their downed pilot. He fired and struck the last of Major Dutton's ground team. The man fell through the tower doorway and lay dead in the sand. The three men stood and waved the second Cobra in to safeguard them as they checked the ruins for survivors.

Collins, Everett, and Ryan saw the Green Beret attack on the Cobra as they neared the last dune before they had to break cover.

"Good for him," Everett said as he saw the chopper explode.

The three men slowed and then slid into the sand as they came to the edge of last dune. Jack looked around and saw the last of the three attackers enter the tower base. He grimaced as he heard shots fired and screams of men as they were shot down in cold blood.

"Goddammit!" Jack said as he ducked back. "Dutton should have known better. With the mosque around them, they could have held off a brigade for half a damn day. We've got to take out that last Cobra."

"The only way we can do that is have a bunch of bullets shot at us."

"I've got to take the Land Rover; we need that fifty-cal."

"If we had just one damn grenade," Everett said.

"Mr. Ryan, you're the fastest. If I take out the fifty-gunner from here, can you sprint the distance before another takes his place?"

Ryan was breathing heavily and it wasn't just because they had run a quarter of a mile. He was frightened.

"No; I would have to start before you take a shot. It won't take long for someone to pop up and start shooting at us again. I'll run, and when he turns to fire I'll take him out. That will give me about twenty yards to cover and the time I need."

Collins looked at the small navy pilot and nodded.

Everett shook his head and tossed Jack the MP-5. He knew that Ryan had never lacked for balls, but what made him so convincing was that he was always scared to death. Scared men got the job done.

"Don't be shy about wasting ammo, flyboy--empty a full magazine of nine-mil through that sunroof of theirs," Everett said, and then he pulled out his own Beretta.

"Right," Ryan said as he looked at the colonel. "Don't miss, or my boat-surfing days are over."

Collins was silent as he extended the retractable stock and then wrapped the MP-5s shoulder strap around his forearm. He raised the rear site and adjusted for distance. Then he placed the stock into his shoulder.

"Okay, Colonel," Ryan said, taking three deep breaths. "Do some of that black-operations stuff you're famous for," he said as he suddenly burst free of the dune and ran as if the devil himself were chasing him.

As luck would have it, Ryan broke cover just as the remaining Cobra turned and gained a better vantage point. That was where his luck ended. The gunner on the top of the Land Rover must have had excellent instincts for danger, because before Ryan had taken five steps the gunner started turning the heavy weapon his way. To Ryan it was as if everything went into surreal slowness as he awaited the large-caliber rounds to hit his small body and tear it apart.

Jack kept both eyes open as he aimed. In his peripheral vision he saw the long barrel of the .50-caliber turn in Ryan's direction. Collins took a breath and then allowed half of the air out. Then he sighted again, taking his time. The sight was center-lined on the man's throat. Jack figured that the MP-5 would bolt up at the split-second discharge of the bullet, so he accounted for recoil and pulled the trigger.