Уильям Дитц - Battle Hymn

Because he’s wearing armor, Mac told herself, as the Mexican went for his sidearm. The pistol was halfway out of its holster when Mac put three bullets into the man’s head. There was a thump as the body hit the floor. “Mexican officer down,” Mac said into the boom mike. “I’m going to drag him out of sight.”

“Roger that,” Lyle replied. “We have the package, and we’re on the way.”

Mac hurried to tow the officer around to the other side of the counter. There were three entry wounds, but no blood. The receptionist saw the body and attempted to scoot away from it. The phone rang. “Front desk.”

“Yes,” a male voice said. “I heard a noise… Like a firecracker going off in the next room. Is everything all right?”

That was when Mac felt a sense of shock. The man on the phone was her father! Should she hang up? Or try to bullshit him? The answer was obvious. Mac had never been able to bullshit her father. Mac put the receiver down.

Now Mac faced a difficult decision. Bo Macintyre was an important target. Should she order the team to abduct him? Or failing that, to kill him? The possibility was tempting, in spite of the emotions involved. But, Mac concluded, going after her father would threaten the Ramos abduction. How long would it be before someone discovered the bodies in the pickup or behind the hedge? When that occurred, all hell would break loose. Her decision was made.

Bo was sitting on the edge of his bed, staring at the handset. The bitch had hung up on him! First the muffled thud from the room next door, then this. What did it mean? Nothing, most likely. And he wanted to sleep. But could he sleep? Or would he lie there, wondering about the noise?

Bo stood and crossed the room to where his pants were draped over a chair. After pulling them on, he grabbed his keycard and a SIG SAUER P226 off the dresser. With the pistol in his hand, Bo opened the door and stepped out into the hall. The first thing Bo noticed was that the soldier who had been stationed outside of Ramos’s suite had disappeared. And general’s door was ajar. The reason for that was obvious. The lock had been blown!

Bo raised the SIG, held it in the approved two-handed grip, and pushed his way in. The bathroom was empty. A light was on in the room beyond. And the only person present was the brunette that General Ramos had been sleeping with. She’d been gagged and bound with zip ties. Her big brown eyes looked at him beseechingly, and she made moaning sounds.

Bo had no interest in freeing the woman. Someone else could handle that. His mind was on the snatch. Had it been carried out by Union forces? Hell yes, it had… Hence the blown lock and the zip ties. But why ? Because Ramos was a high-ranking officer, that’s why.

But unbeknownst to them, the Mexican was something else as well… Ramos was one of the few people who knew about the plan to give a chunk of the United States to Mexico in return for that country’s help.

Would Ramos tell them? Hell yes, the weak-kneed, polo-playing son of a bitch would spill his guts in return for a martini. And if Sloan made the news public, it would serve to rally the North and raise doubts in the South. The Confederacy had no intention of honoring the deal with President Salazar. But Stickley couldn’t say that, nor could she talk about the plan to conquer Mexico and Central America. What she could do, however, was come after the plan’s author… And that meant him .

Bo swore and hurried out of the room. It wasn’t over yet… The Union’s special ops team couldn’t get out by helicopter. Not with the Confederate Air Force protecting the Mexican troops. That meant the bastards would be forced to use surface transportation. Bo entered his room, grabbed his cell phone, and thumbed a contact.

The phone rang four times before Colonel Hiram Roston picked it up. And no wonder given how early in the morning it was. “I don’t know who you are,” Roston growled. “But you’d better have one helluva good reason for waking me up.”

“I do,” Bo assured him. “We have a problem. A BIG problem, and you’re going to solve it.”

FRANKLIN, LOUISIANA

After leaving the hotel, the Green Berets took turns carrying Ramos and followed the edge of the parking lot, back to the point where the van was parked. After being injected with a powerful sedative, Ramos had gone out like a light.

The van was running when the team arrived, and there were plenty of hands to help. Once Ramos was stashed in the back, the team piled in. “Okay,” Mac said as she slid in next to Carter. “Take 90 west toward Lafayette. And don’t speed… The last thing we need is to get crosswise with the police. Hunt… get on the horn. Tell Kingpin that we have the package, and we’re headed home.”

They were on Highway 90 by then. Mac could see a backup ahead and flashing lights in the distance. Had there been an accident? Was roadwork under way? Or was she looking at a military checkpoint? There was no way to be sure, and they couldn’t afford to take any chances. “Get us off the highway,” Mac said. “And I mean now .”

“There isn’t any exit,” Carter replied.

“Then make one,” Mac said. Carter looked to the right. Because she was wearing night-vision gear, Carter could see the ditch next to the highway, the field beyond, and the transmission tower in the distance. “I’ll have to jump the ditch,” Carter said. “Or try to. Get ready.”

By letting the car in front of her pull ahead, Carter was able to create some running room. Tires screeched as she stomped on the accelerator, the Chevy took off, and landed hard.

But the rear wheels were in the ditch. And all they did was spin. “Everybody out!” Lyle ordered. “Timms… Wynn… Grab the general. We need to haul ass.”

Mac felt a sense of foreboding as she jumped to the ground. Everything had gone reasonably well up to the point where the exfil began. Now it was as if something had changed. But what ?

They were jogging across the field when Mac heard the roar of helicopter engines and saw geysers of dirt leap up all around, as an Apache helicopter passed over them. Sergeant Orney went down and stayed down. Mac rushed to his side, and Hunt arrived seconds later. A huge chunk of meat was missing from Orney’s left thigh, blood was spurting, and she could see bone. Mac felt a sinking sensation as Hunt produced a tourniquet and went to work. Could the team carry two men? And still escape?

The Green Beret attempted to smile but produced a grimace instead. “No worries… I have this.” The .22 was in his hand, and Mac was just starting to react as Orney brought the barrel up under his chin. There was a pop, and his head fell to one side. Lyle had arrived by then. He winced. “Follow me… They’re coming back!”

The three of them began to run. The others were up ahead. Trying to escape was pointless, or that’s how it seemed, as the gunship began its second run. Then something unexpected occurred. In order to get a better angle on the fugitives, the pilot attempted to fly under the power lines that ran across the field but failed to give himself enough room. A rotor clipped a wire. The results were spectacular.

As the Apache started to tilt, its blades cut three lines, and caused electricity to arc, even as the ship hit the ground. The impact was followed by a muffled explosion, and the equivalent of a funeral pyre, as flames shot up into the air. There was no time in which to stop and stare.