Victor O'Reilly - The Devil's footprint

Reiko Oshima felt a surge of optimism and passed the order to prepare for action to her new command. The enemy, whoever they were, had every reason to believe that, in the middle of this vast empty space, no one would ever think of one long-abandoned airstrip among dozens built by the oilmen more than a decade ago.

Unfortunately for them, Reiko Oshima had scouted Arkono airstrip as a possible base for Yaibo only a year back and she knew the strip and the surrounding terrain intimately. She was also, she considered, getting to know her enemy.

The Arkono strip was not an obvious choice, but it would do – which made it a strong possibility. Other units were fanning out to cover other locations.

The black silhouette of the Funnel showed up in the distance, and Fitzduane thought of Calvin and how nice it would be to be able to check the valley and its environs from the air before entering their confines.

For all they knew, the valley now contained hostiles waiting to shoot them up. It was a near-perfect choke point. Nearly a kilometer wide on the way in, it narrowed to less than a hundred meters as it approached the airstrip. The Funnel was well-named.

He banished wishful thinking and focused entirely on the task at hand. He had a feeling he was missing some obvious move or precaution. He checked his watch and ran through the plan of the final stages of the exfiltration and the various contingencies and options. There was something there, he was sure of it, but what?

He switched to the Team Rapier radio net and pressed the transmit button. There was now less than twenty minutes to go before the pickup time, and they had reached the stage when speed was more important than running silent. "Rapier Team, this is Shadow One. Deactivate super traps and increase to sixty."

The diamond-shaped fighting group of four Guntracks surged ahead as the sound-suppression units were deactivated. The increased speed would be hell for the wounded, but the alternatives would be a great deal worse.

There was a sudden flash from the sky as the Mi-4 Hound turned on its infrared searchlight and swooped to try to see what this mysterious enemy consisted of. Reports had suggested armed jeeps, but no one seemed quite sure, and the armored column desperately needed more intelligence.

"Bomburst!" said Fitzduane, and instantly the four vehicles spread in four directions. "Shadow One will take it."

Heavy machine-gun fire arched up at the helicopter from three Guntracks while Shadow One halted and Al Lonsdale aimed a Starburst surface-to-air missile.

Green tracer and rocket fire from the helicopter plowed into the ground around the fleeing Guntracks, but the small black vehicles were extremely hard to hit. They were very fast and changed direction constantly, and clouds of smoke and dust confused the issue.

The helicopter's infrared searchlight showed up in Lonsdale's night-vision goggles like an arrow pointing toward a target.

Seconds later the searchlight vanished as machine-gun fire from the ground blew it apart, but he could still see the big machine through the Starburst's six-power sights.

Shoulder-launched surface-to-air missiles were not foolproof, and the pilot knew that the Stinger, to give the example he was most familiar with, could be outmaneuvered under some circumstances and that its range was limited. However, in this case the Mi-4 Hound's pilot was more scared of the known threat of Reiko Oshima than of the unknown; and he had been ordered to find out what they were up against or not come back. And he was also up against a missile that did not need a heat source to make a hit. The Starburst was optically guided by a low-power laser beam.

He did his duty. He had just finished describing one of the strange black tracked vehicles that he had caught in his infrared searchlight for a brief moment when the missile's proximity fuse ignited near the fuselage and slammed a shower of tungsten cubes into the fuel tank and rotor blades.

A fireball blossomed in the sky.

That bloody woman! the pilot thought before his world exploded.

"Re-form," said Fitzduane urgently. "Loose Deuce. Move! Move! Move!"

The four Guntracks of Team Rapier re-formed in two teams of two, with one Guntrack on the right set back to its partner. It was a formation that would have been familiar to fighter pilots. The vehicle in front covered threats to the front. The Guntrack set back covered threats to the rear.

They had lost time in terrorist encounter with the helicopter. They had now increased the speed to one hundred kilometers an hour. Across the rough shale and rock of the ground, this was a grueling speed even with air suspension. Weapons accuracy was affected. It was difficult – almost impossible – to use some of the advanced vision equipment because of the vibration. The engine noise had risen to a crescendo, and regularly the vehicles left the ground and hurtled through the air as they hit an undulation or a fissure.

For the wounded, it was agony. Fitzduane knew this and remembered what it had been like for him and the pain and sense of helplessness, and he hated what he was doing.

Through his night-vision goggles, he could see a glow ahead of him but to the left. His brain tired, he thought at first it might be the dawn and he was surprised because it seemed too early, and then he realized what he was seeing.

The glow was moving, and it must be coming from a column of vehicles heading for the entrance to the Funnel.

They were in a race, and the enemy column, although almost certainly slower, was sufficiently ahead of them for it to get there first.

He felt sick and then, for a brief moment, blindly angry, and then there were things to do and very little time for emotion.

"Shadow One to Eagle Leader," he said.

"Come in, Shadow One," said Kilmara. The sound quality was good. They were close.

Fitzduane could almost see the two Hercules C130 Combat Talons in their matte-black camouflage hurtling at contour-following height over the harsh terrain. The pilot and copilot and navigator would be wearing night-vision goggles and faces would be tired and strained from the long flight. There would be the steady throb and whine of turboprops. There would be the jolts and shocks that came from flying so close to the ground you were virtually in ground effect.

"Eagle Flight, what is your firepower status?" said Fitzduane.

"Both aircraft configured for Guntrack evacuation, so weapons load minimized," said Kilmara.

Fitzduane felt a sinking feeling and then realized that ‘minimized’ was a relative term in special-forces aviation. These people felt nervous if they did not have some serious firepower up their sleeve.

"Both aircraft have two GECAL fifties for ground suppression and other toys for the air," continued Kilmara, "but they do not have gunship status and are tasked for evac. I do not want to risk the evac, but state your thinking."

"We will only be evacuating three – I repeat THREE – Guntracks," said Fitzduane. "Shadow One will be staying on ground as tail-end Charlie. Accordingly, only one aircraft will need to land. Suggest second EAGLE adopt a ground suppression role. We have heavy company from the east."

Wait one, Shadow One," said Kilmara. He switched to the second Combat Talon and talked to the Bear. In less than a minute he was back to Fitzduane.

"Eagle Leader will land to evac," Kilmara said, "and Eagle Friend will carry out ground suppression. He can handle up to armored personnel carriers, but tanks could be a problem. Eagle Friend awaits your instructions. Please advise how crew of Shadow One plans to evac. I presume Skyhook."

"Affirmative on Skyhook," said Fitzduane. "But we will need maneuvering space. There are people down here who do not have our best interests at heart."