Arctic Storm Rising by Dale Brown (readera ebook reader .TXT) 📗

bright-colored clothes favored by local women. Obediently,she turned the head of her beast around and disappeared down the other side again. Apparently satisfied, the watcher sankback on his haunches.

“Crap,” Flynn muttered. Somebody out there was definitely controlling access to this area—making it off-limits to any butable-bodied young men. That almost certainly spelled trouble. Turning quickly, he half trotted, half slid back down the dune’sloose slope.

He found White supervising his team’s activity near the tail of the wrecked C-130.

“What is it this time, Captain?” the gray-haired intelligence officer snapped in exasperation. “I thought I made it clearthat this is my bailiwick, not yours.”

With an effort, Flynn controlled his temper. “We may have bigger problems than jurisdictional squabbles, Mr. White,” he saidevenly.

“Such as?” the other man asked skeptically.

Rapidly, Flynn ran through his observations and his reasoning. “It’s likely this aircraft was deliberately brought down here,either by a missile or a bomb. And my bet is that whoever’s responsible is gathering a force to finish the job,” he concluded.“Which means we’re all in the crosshairs.”

“And you’re basing this remarkable theory solely on the absence of women and children watching us work?” White said in disbelief. “For God’s sake, man, get a grip. The nearby clans are primitive herdsmen. They’re also devout Muslims. So it’s hardly surprising that they’re discouraging their wives and young children from mingling with armed infidels like us—especially since as far as they know we’re recovering the mangled victims of an air crash.” His lip curled slightly. “I suggest you calm down. The last thing any of us need is for you to go off half-cocked and provoke some unfortunate incident.”

With that parting shot, he waved a hand in dismissal. “Consider your concerns noted, Captain. Now, if you don’t mind, I haveserious work to do.” Then he turned away to confer with one of his paramilitary contractors who’d been planting demolitioncharges.

It took almost every ounce of self-control Flynn possessed to stop himself from just hauling off and decking the black opsteam leader. Instead, he took a deep breath, spun on his heel, and headed toward the landed HH-60W at a rapid clip. If, ashe suspected, shit was about to get real here, he needed to make sure Dykstra, Kasper, and the others were clued in and alert.

He came around the tail section of the C-130 and saw the gray-painted helicopter sitting peacefully on its landing gear. Thesoles of Bill Wade’s boots were visible through the open side doors. While they were grounded, the flight engineer had someequipment panel popped up to run a routine maintenance check. But Dykstra and Kasper weren’t hanging out near the cockpit,where he’d expected to see them.

Instead, the two pilots had moved off a few yards nearer to the edge of the massive sand dune—ostentatiously positioning themselves between the bird and some of the white-robed tribesmen who were now drifting closer down the slope while talking loudly and exchanging broad, cheerful gestures. Both Dykstra and Kasper had their hands on the M4A1 carbines slung from their battle gear. They were very carefully not pointing them at the locals. Yet. But they were clearly focused on any possible threat from the men approaching the helicopter.

Which was why neither of them had noticed the tribesman in bulky robes coming around the other side of the Jolly Green II’sfuselage. Unlike the others, this man was anything but casual in his movements. He was walking slowly, but very deliberately,toward the helicopter’s open cabin.

That is so not good, Flynn thought, feeling abruptly cold despite the bone-dry heat. He increased his pace to intercept the tribesman. “Alsalam ealaykum ya sidiqi. Hal yumkinuni musaeidatuk bashi’an?” he called out politely in Arabic. “Peace be upon you, my friend. Can I help you with something?” The local Teda clans hadtheir own Nilo-Saharan language, Tedaga, but he didn’t speak it. And Arabic was the de facto lingua franca throughout NorthAfrica.

Surprised, the robed man swung toward him and stopped. “Ah, la. Ah, no,” he said hesitantly. “Shukrana jazila. Ana jidi. Thank you. I’m fine.”

Fine, my ass. Flynn could hear that the tribesman’s voice was slurred. He’d also gotten close enough to see that the other man’s pupilswere dilated. The son of a bitch was drugged, he realized. Bad. Bad. Very bad. His right hand dropped to the Glock 19 pistolhe carried in a chest rig on top of his armor. “‘Akhraj min hna! Alan!” he snapped. “Get out of here! Now!”

The tribesman’s eyes widened in sudden panic. He fumbled at the opening to his robe, pawing for something inside.

Flynn caught a split-second glimpse of wires and a bulky vest. He reacted instantly. With his left forearm, he slammed theother man’s hands aside. And in that same action, he drew his pistol, slid his finger inside the trigger guard as he swungit on target, and fired twice. Both 9mm rounds hit the tribesman squarely in the face, tore through, and exploded out theback of his skull. Already dead, the would-be suicide bomber dropped to his knees and then slumped to the ground.

With the ear-splitting crack of the two shots he’d fired still ringing in his ears, the world around Flynn seemed to blur into slow motion as adrenaline flooded his system. He slid the Glock back into his chest holster and grabbed his M4A1 carbine instead.

Through the HH-60W’s open door, he could see Bill Wade looking back over his shoulder at him in stunned surprise. On the otherside of the helicopter, Dykstra and Kasper were doing the same thing, caught completely off guard by the sudden eruption ofviolence.

Beyond them, the group of white-robed men who’d been ambling down the sandy slope had also frozen in their tracks. But theywere no longer smiling. Instead, their expressions were taut, with their eyes narrowed and intent—the look of men determinedto kill.

“Hostiles! On the dune!” Flynn yelled as he sprinted forward at an angle to get a clear shot. “Take cover and engage, forChrist’s sake! This is an ambush!”

Now the remaining tribesmen were grabbing the weapons they’d hidden under their robes, awkwardly