Matthew Reilly - Area 7

windshield. "I think it was them."

Schofield peered out through the forward windshield.

Hovering above the water in front of their sinking helicopter,

partially obscured by the veil of wind-hurled sand--and flanking the anchored South African bipod--were the two remaining Air Force Penetrators.

the super stallion sank with frightening speed.

Water gurgled up through the access hatch, expanding

outward as it rose up into the cargo hold, pulling the rear end

of the chopper down into the lake.

As more water rushed into it, the helicopter dropped

lower in the water. Within a minute, the rear loading ramp

fell below the waterline and from that moment on, water

came flooding in through the wide rear opening.

Up in the cockpit, Schofield and Book II were standing

ankle-deep in water when abruptly the entire chopper tilted

sharply skyward.

"Any risky ideas now?" Book II shouted, grabbing for a

handhold.

"Not a one."

The Super Stallion continued to sink slowly, rear end

first.

With the Football still hanging from his side, Schofield

looked out through the cockpit's forward windshield.

He saw one of the Penetrators approach Gunther

Botha's bipod. It hovered directly in front of the tiny rivercraft,

like a gigantic menacing vulture.

Schofield saw Botha stand in his pod and face the

black Air Force helicopter—waving. With his arms flailing,

he looked like a tiny pathetic figure beseeching an angry

bird-god.

Then, without warning, a Stinger missile shot down

from the right-hand wing of the Penetrator, trailing a dead straight finger of white smoke.

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Matthew Reilly

The missile hit Botha's pod and blasted it out of the water.

One second Botha was there, the next he was gone, replaced

by a frothing circle of ripples.

Kevin's pod, however, remained intact--severed

cleanly from Botha's by the missile impact.

His pod and the cracked remains of the bipod's crossbeam just bobbed in the water under the steely gaze of the

hovering Penetrator.

from his position inside the sinking super stallion,

Schofield blanched.

They'd just killed Botha!

Holy shit

His Super Stallion was now three-quarters underwater--

its entire rear section underneath the surface. Only its domelike

glass windshield and the tip of one of its rotor blades

still protruded above the waterline.

Water began to lap up against the outside of the windshield.

The entire rear cargo hold was now filled with encroaching

dark-green liquid--water that wanted to rise into

the cockpit, and devour the whole helicopter.

The chopper sank further.

Through the green-tinged waves slapping against the

windshield, Schofield saw the Air Force Penetrator swing in

above the half-destroyed bipod and lower a rescue harness

down to Kevin.

"Ah, damn it," he said aloud.

But the Super Stallion just continued to sink--down

and down--and the last thing Schofield saw before the

windshield was completely covered over by lapping green

water was the image of Kevin being hauled up toward the

Penetrator on the harness and being pulled into the rear section

of the attack helicopter's three-man cockpit.

Then the windshield was covered over completely-and

Schofield saw nothing but green.

area 7 271

the two air force penetrators were well aware of who

was inside the Super Stallion.

Their calls to "Looking Glass" on- a designated alternate

frequency had gone unanswered for the last few minutes. Indeed,

it was a transponder trace on the Super Stallion that

had led them to this crater--where they had found Botha

and the boy.

The two Penetrators hovered above the sinking Super

Stallion, watching it founder, watching it drown.

Inside the lead Penetrator sat Python Willis, the commander

of Charlie Unit. He gazed intently at the sinking

Super Stallion, making sure it disappeared beneath the

waves.

The Super Stallion's cockpit went under, followed by the tip of its rotor blade--the last remaining part of the helicopter

above the waterline.

A legion of bubbles rose instantly to the surface as

every ounce of air inside the sinking helicopter was replaced

with water.

The two Penetrators waited.

The Super Stallion disappeared into the inky green

depths of the lake, trailing multiple lines of bubbles.

Still Python Willis waited--until the bubbles stopped

coming, until he was sure that there could be no air whatsoever

inside the sunken helicopter.

After a few minutes, the water surface became calm.

Still the two Penetrators waited.

They lingered another ten minutes, just to be absolutely

certain that nobody came up. If anyone did, they would finish

them off.

Nobody came up.

At last, Python made the decision and the two Penetrators

wheeled around in the air and headed back toward

Area 7.

No one could have stayed under that long, not even

Matthew Reilly

inside an air pocket. The air in a pocket would have gone bad

by now.

No.

Shane Schofield--and whoever else was in that Super

Stallion with him--was now, without a doubt, dead.

gant, mother, juliet and the president were still on

Level 4, in the semi-darkened observation lab. Hot Rod

Hagerty and Nicholas Tate were also still with them.

"We should move," Gant said.

"What are you thinking?" Mother asked.

"No. What are you doing, Sergeant Gant?" Hot Rod

demanded.

"We shouldn't stay here," Gant said.

"But this is a perfectly good hiding place."

"We should keep moving. If they're searching for us,

and we stay in the same place, they'll eventually find us. We

should move at least once every twenty minutes."

"And where exactly did you learn this?" Hagerty asked.

"It's in the training manual for Officer Candidate

School," Gant said. "Standard evasive techniques. Surely

you read it at some point in your career. Besides, there's

something else I'd like to check out--"

Hagerty went red. "I will not be spoken to like that by a sergeant--"

"Yes. You will," Mother stepped up to Hagerty. At six four, she towered over him. She nodded over at Gant: "Because that little chickadee is smarter and cooler in a combat

situation than you'll ever be. And, for your information, she

ain't gonna be a sergeant for long. Soon she's gonna be an

officer. And I'll tell you something, I'd put my life in her

hands before I put it in yours."

Hagerty pursed his lips. "Right. That's--"

"Colonel Hagerty," the President said, stepping forward,

"Sergeant Gant has saved my life twice this morning--on

Matthew Reilly

the train downstairs and then on the platform. In

both instances, she was decisive and cool-headed in a situation

that would have brought many other people unstuck. I

am happy to trust my safety to her judgment."

"Fucking-A," Mother said. "The power of estrogen, man."

"Sergeant Gant," the President said. "What are you

thinking?"

Gant smiled, her sky-blue eyes gleaming.

"I'm thinking we do something about that transmitter

attached to your heart, sir."

IN HIS STERILE WINDOWLESS ROOM ON THE SECOND-TO-BOTTOM floor of the Pentagon, Dave Fairfax was still hard at work decoding the intercepted telephone conversations that had come

out of United States Air Force Special Area (Restricted) No. 7.

Having decrypted the incoming and outgoing messages

in Afrikaans, Fairfax was pretty pleased with himself.