02 The Hunted by David Michaels

Author:David Michaels [Michaels, David]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Brent loved how politics affected military operations.

When he’d earlier needed Close Air Support, he couldn’t get the time of day, but now, after Dennison had had some time to throw her weight around and negotiate her way up and down the pipeline, an old UH-60 Blackhawk came whomping toward them. They’d be picked up and whisked at high speed back into the chase.

The Snow Maiden, Chopra, and Hussein were on bicycles and riding toward the coast.

Dennison had had to repeat that.

Bicycles? There was the Snow Maiden’s connection to the Tour de France, the cousin who’d been murdered. But bicycles ?

Dennison had explained that all the roads had been flooded with people trying to flee to the coast and cross over to France. The Snow Maiden’s escape was actually quite clever and much faster than any attempt by car.

A keen-eyed intelligence analyst with his face glued to a satellite feed had, however, picked up the group of three pedaling southward.

Easy prey? Hardly.

Worse, getting back in the air wouldn’t go by the numbers, as Lakota confirmed. “Our ride’s got a Russian on his tail. Looks like another Howler.”

“All right, you talk in our ride, and I’ll get us to put some fire on that Howler,” Brent said, still jogging through the forest.

He reached the road and the pair of trucks where the others had already climbed aboard and were waiting for him. He signaled to both drivers: Take us back up the road, to where a large clearing would serve as the landing zone.

They tore off, the engines revving, Brent’s driver cursing under his breath, a habit it seemed. It took just five minutes to reach the zone, where Brent ordered his team to fan out, away from the trucks—all but Daugherty and Heston. He put those operators on the fifty-caliber guns. Then he told the two British drivers and gunners that they didn’t have to stay, that his men would take out that Howler, and thank you very much for allowing us to borrow your nice toys.

“You think I can stand here and turn over my equipment to a Yank? Hell no!” hollered Brent’s driver. He ordered his gunners back to their weapons.

“I’m sorry, but I’m not giving you a choice.”

“Bloody hell, I know that. So rest assured, we’ll get the job done. You put your boys on the bird as well. We’re in the fight now.”

Brent snorted. “Not worried about drawing fire?”

“I think they should be,” said the driver, tipping his head toward the oncoming choppers. “Let’s go hunting.”

Finally, Brent smiled. “Thanks.”

“Yeah, yeah, just get ready.”

Brent jogged away as his people set up along a slight mound, all lying prone, weapons trained at the two dark blips appearing over the distant tree line. The team had packed relatively light, not expecting to face armor or aircraft, and Brent longed for a nice Zeus, a fire-and-forget missile launcher that would certainly give the Russians pause—much more so than a pair of fifty-caliber guns.

Brent dropped down beside Thomas, who’d been given a rifle by Lakota.

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