Don Pendleton - War Tides

McCarter shrugged. “Guess we won’t find that out until we take a look-see.”

The warriors agreed on their approach and moved toward the chopper in a sweep-and-cover maneuver they had practiced hundreds of times before. Much of the smoke had dissipated and they could see the crumpled shape of the chopper clearly as they approached. When they were close enough, Hawkins could make out the emblem of the Namibian flag on the side, a red stripe running diagonally from the left bottom corner, bordered by white with a green triangle in the lower right and blue triangle in the upper left. Within the blue field was the image of a sun.

Encizo checked a pulse at the neck of the pilot, who sat motionless in the cockpit, and then shook his head at McCarter.

Manning made a quick inspection of the chopper, and after a time said, “Sikorsky CH-53G. I remember these babies when I trained with the GSG-9. Probably surplus purchased from the German Bundeswehr after the Cold War ended.”

“That pilot,” McCarter said to Encizo. “What nationality?”

“Hard to tell for sure but he looks Middle Eastern.”

McCarter nodded. “Yeah, they’re bloody IUA, all right. Only question is, how did they get hold of military equipment?”

“Maybe they stole it,” Hawkins offered.

“Would’ve been some kind of report on that, don’t you think?”

“Maybe there was,” Manning said. “Maybe we just didn’t know about it.”

McCarter frowned. “Well, whatever the explanation is, we better head out to see if we can catch up to James and Matombo. They ought to have at least a half hour on us.”

And with that, they headed for the remaining SUV.

CALVIN JAMES HADN’T LIKED the idea of separating from his unit, and he especially despised trading combat action for this baby-sitting detail on Matombo. But like every professional in Phoenix Force, James did his job and he knew how to follow orders. Whether he liked it or not, he had a responsibility to pick up his share of the risk but he also had a responsibility to work as part of a team. That team took its orders from leader David McCarter, and there was no room for negotiation in that sense.

Fortunately, the attack had come when they weren’t too far from Lüderitz, and it took less than a half hour before they found themselves entering the eastern fringes of the city. Lights twinkled and a chill south Atlantic breeze blew across the Namib Desert coast. Like most seaports, Lüderitz had known prosperity greater than the less hospitable cities inland. Its origins as a trading post and fishing village lacked fanfare, but the discovery of diamonds in 1909 changed the fortunes of its citizenry. The one stigma had been the rocky and shallow floor of the harbor, effectively preventing the entry of larger seacraft. However, this had increased the appeal of the port for historical tourist value and its prime, seaside real estate in both the commercial and residential sectors.

“Would you like me to show you to the waterfront district?” Matombo asked.

“What’s there?” James asked.

“This is where the medical center is located.”

James thought it over and shook his head. “I’d rather not until my team’s reassembled.”

“You do not operate alone.” Matombo’s voice implied it was merely an observation.

“Sort of,” James replied, keeping his eyes on the winding, narrow road glowing in the headlights. “We take individual paths when mission parameters dictate it.” James cast a glance at Matombo. “Like keeping you alive. But as a habit, no, we don’t like to operate independently. Our teamwork is what makes us most effective.”

Matombo cleared his throat. “I will say that while I disagree with your deception, your friends seem to be men of good character. Such a trait is considered admirable and honorable in my country.”

James nodded appreciatively. “Thanks. We like to think so, too.”

They rode the remaining distance to their hotel in silence. The Lüderitz Seaport Hotel occupied a prime seaside location with a stunning view of the Atlantic. In other circumstances it would have been a paradise for the getaway vacationer, but James somehow had trouble getting comfortable. Matombo had arranged for an entire block of rooms adjoining one another where the doors separated three two-room suites. Fortunately, Lüderitz was in its off-season and the hotel was all but completely vacant.

Once James had unloaded the gear from the vehicle, he attempted to contact McCarter by secured satellite phone.

The Phoenix Force leader answered midway through the third ring. “Yeah?”

“You’re clear?” James said with an audible sigh.

“Right-o and no casualties. At least, nobody friendly. You’re at the hotel?”

“Roger that.” James looked over his shoulder at Matombo, who was digging busily through the portable refrigerator for a complimentary drink. “Our digs are pretty nice, although I don’t think we’ll be here much to enjoy them.”

“All the best vacation spots seem to get taken up by mission-minded blokes like us,” McCarter joked.

James chuckled. “It’s our lot in life.”

“That it is, mate.”

“Instructions?”

“Hold tight until we get there. I’d say we’re no more than ten minutes out.”

“Understood. Dr. Matombo wanted to show me straight to the medical clinic but I figured I’d wait up for you. Didn’t feel right going it alone.”

“That’s a good call. And, James?”

“Yeah, chief.”

“I didn’t give that to you with the idea of a shit detail in mind. You were the best man for the job under the circumstances.”

“Aw, shucks, you say the sweetest things, boss.”

“Just keep your eyes open. Matombo’s our only decent connection right now and his credentials should go a long way to getting cooperation from the locals. He’s a key asset and that’s why I want you watching his back.”

“Got it.”

“Stay frosty and we’ll see you shortly.”

The click of the call disconnecting wasn’t as loud as the one James heard coming from the slightly open window. The curtain billowed inward and James caught the flicker of light on metal. The Phoenix Force warrior shouted a warning at Matombo even as he dived for the doctor, who stood at a nearby table with a pocket-size bottle of liquor in one hand and a tumbler filled with ice cubes in the other.

The sudden chatter of autofire was followed a heartbeat later by the shattering of that tumbler in Matombo’s grip. James caught just a glimpse of Matombo’s surprised expression before he tackled the physician, saving him from a maelstrom of hot lead buzzing the space they occupied a millisecond earlier.

James felt one round tear through his shirt and the burn of a graze. The Phoenix pro landed on top of Matombo, and then rolled them both together until they were behind the moderate cover of the bed. James ordered Matombo to stay down as he reached beneath his shirt on his right flank and produced a Colt M-1911 A-1 pistol. James didn’t like the thought of firing blindly without confirming his backstop but the tattered curtain and continuous weapons fire offered a viable target. The firing ceased just a moment before James triggered three rounds, aiming for what he estimated as center mass.

The curtain barely wisped with the passage of the 185-grain .45-caliber slugs, but the tormented squeal outside the window left little doubt to their effect. James got to his feet and pressed the attack by sprinting across the room and diving out a second window he’d noticed open on check-in. James landed catlike, crouched and aimed his pistol down the walkway. The gunman he’d shot lay on the ground, body still twitching. James heard footfalls behind him and spun in time to see a second attacker level a machine pistol at his hip and spray the area with rounds. James rolled into the cover of a rocky outcropping, the beginning of massive rocks bordering the sea.