Day of Decision by Don Pendleton

Author:Don Pendleton
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Worldwide Library
Published: 2013-12-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHT

Shakir had double-crossed them. He was with the opposition. McCarter knew this was always on the cards when dealing with go-betweens. It was an acceptable risk, but when it did happen that did little to ease the anger.

“You have to give up,” Shakir yelled. “Now.”

The thick smoke billowed, isolating the Briton and Hawkins from the rest of the team. McCarter swung around and checked to their right. It looked clear. He was aware their options were being reduced quickly. Combat wasn’t a static situation. Movement between combatants was liable to sudden, unexpected change, and the trick was in being able to flow with those changes.

“T.J., with me,” he called.

Hawkins responded without question, tracking McCarter while still keeping an eye on the converging opposition.

They cleared the immediate area, stepping into an open area of flatland streaked with snow. On the far side a line of ragged stone, man-high, enclosed the area. McCarter preferred to view the rocks as a possible line of cover. A gust of wind came sweeping in and dragged some of the drifting smoke between McCarter and Hawkins and the advancing opposition. The Briton yelled to Hawkins to make a direct line for the rocks. There was no telling how soon the enemy might appear from the smoke, but they had to make the best use of that time in their effort to avoid confrontation in such an open piece of the terrain.

They were yards from the rock, boots pounding the ground, breath gusting from their lungs, when armed figures stepped into view from their intended cover. McCarter counted at least six, with autorifles held ready. Shakir was still in the lead. They had anticipated McCarter’s move and had blocked it.

The Briton had to fight back the temptation to put a shot through the man’s grinning face. He held back. Now wasn’t the time. But he wasn’t going to forget.

Other armed men came out of the smoke, converging on the Phoenix Force pair. Behind them the rattle of autofire told them the rest of the team was putting up strong resistance to the appearance of Shakir’s men.

“Son of a bitch,” Hawkins said bitterly.

“My thoughts exactly, mate,” McCarter said, lowering his weapon. “T.J., don’t give them the satisfaction. They need us alive. If they didn’t, we’d be dead already. Leave it alone.” Under his breath he added, “For now.”

Into his mike he said, “Withdraw, team. They’ve got us cold. That’s an order. No point all of us catching it.”

Hawkins aimed the muzzle of his M-16 A-2 toward the ground. He did it with a great deal of reluctance. Like McCarter, he was a man who hated giving in to the enemy. It went against his nature, but despite that he was able to see the other side of the coin. Any resistance at this moment in time would only get him killed, with the chance that McCarter might be included. Hawkins wouldn’t allow that to happen.

“This I don’t like, boss,” he whispered.

“How do you think I feel? Holding up my hands to these miserable bastards isn’t doing my image much bloody good.

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