Clive cusslers dark vect.., p.29
Clive Cussler's Dark Vector, page 29
Yan dove deep, evading bullets that left bubble trails in the gin-clear liquid. Reaching the bottom, she ducked in behind the casing of the nearest server.
Up above her, Guānchá and his men were kicking furiously, trying to turn and shoot and avoid being killed at the same time. One of them slumped suddenly, rolling over facedown in the water. Blood trailed from his body as his weapon slipped from his hands and sank to the bottom. Yan swam from her position, racing to pick it up.
With the pistol in hand, she swam to the entrance of the cave. She surfaced in the shadows. Thoughts of killing Guānchá and Emmerson’s other men raced through her mind. First, they had to deal with CIPHER’s gunmen.
She looked around, spotting them near the rocks by the generator. She aimed at the rumbling device and pulled the trigger several times. Fuel spilled, a fire broke out. One of the men moved to get away.
He didn’t get far. Guānchá shot him in the back.
His partner took a different tactic, kicking the burning machine off the rocks and into the pool of water.
It released a cloud of steam when it crashed in the water and spread burning fuel across the surface.
The fire raced toward Yan’s position. She dove back under, swimming downward once again. This time a bullet grazed her arm, cutting the wetsuit and slicing her skin.
The cold salt water soothed it, stinging at first and then numbing the injury. She looked up as a quick chattering sound reverberated as one of the submachine guns went to work.
The cave fell silent. The battle was over.
Surfacing cautiously, Yan-Li looked around for other signs of danger. She found none. If ever she was going to attack her captors, this was the moment.
The water swirled behind her. A long, bony hand touched her shoulder and Guānchá pulled her around to face him. He spat out his regulator as his free hand reached for her pistol.
“I’ll take that,” he said, wresting the gun from her grasp. “You get to work loading the machines on the floats.”
The weapon had been a fleeting chance, nothing more. Her better odds lay with NUMA. She would do her job loading the servers and getting them ready to be towed out to the submarine. She planned to work slowly, giving them every possible minute to arrive.
CHAPTER 59
NUMA OPERATIONS ROOM,
WASHINGTON, D.C.
Back in Washington, Rudi Gunn, Anna Biel and a pair of staffers sat in the NUMA operations room watching the mission unfold in real time. On one screen, they saw images from the Phantom’s drone. On a screen next to it, they had a wider view encompassing the island and the waters around it that came from an NSA satellite transiting the area.
For the better part of twenty minutes, the room had been utterly quiet with only the hum of the ventilation system and the occasional scratch of a pen on paper breaking the silence.
The mission had been going off without a hitch. Until everything fell apart all at the same time.
The drone video showed flaring explosions rupturing the quiet night. Gunfire tracers could be seen flying through the jungle in multiple directions. The rapid back-and-forth audio between Kurt and Joe gave them the play-by-play account.
But that wasn’t the worst of it.
On the satellite screen, a flashing icon appeared to the west of the island.
“What is that?” Rudi asked, squinting at the image.
“The satellite is picking up a new heat source entering the area,” the NSA staffer said. “Type or origin unknown, but the course is confirmed. It’s heading for the island.”
The flashing red dot continued forward, a red line trailing out behind it showing the direction from which it had come.
“Too fast to be a ship,” Rudi said.
“Direct the satellite to zoom in,” Anna said.
The staffer redirected the cameras, tightening the focus on the new intruder. The island vanished. The lines representing Emmerson’s ship and the Phantom vanished. All that remained on-screen was the sea and the newly discovered threat.
Up close, the image resolved into a pair of distinct and familiar outlines.
“Helicopters,” Rudi said.
A recognition code appeared beneath the two images as the NSA’s system matched the infrared signatures with recognized patterns from its catalog.
“Mi-26 Halos,” Anna said, reading aloud the subtitle.
“Russian heavy-lift helicopters,” Rudi noted. “Where did they come from? There aren’t any Russian ships in the area.”
The NSA staffer tapped away at his computer searching the NSA database. “The most likely point of origin is a spot on the Vietnamese coastline, a rural area one hundred and sixty miles to the west.”
This complicated matters. “ETA for the helicopters?” Anna asked.
“Eight minutes,” the NSA staffer said.
“What’s the countdown on those charges?” Rudi asked.
The NUMA staffer gave him the bad news. “Fifteen minutes and change.”
Anna looked at Rudi. It was still technically NUMA’s mission, but the executive branch would prefer to avoid an international incident. “I’m not interested in blasting two fully crewed Russian helicopters out of the sky today.”
Rudi understood. A lot of bad things happened in the clandestine world, but in general the operators were professionals. We didn’t kill their people if it could be avoided and they didn’t kill ours. It’s just how the game was played.
Rudi looked at the NUMA staffer. “Put me in touch with Joe.”
A few buttons were pressed. A line was opened.
“Joe, this is Rudi. There are two Russian helicopters inbound to pick up the stolen servers. Do everything in your power to keep them from landing and loading.”
* * *
—
Joe sat in the command seat of the Phantom, listening to Rudi’s order and mulling over his options. He briefly considered leaving the Phantom and swimming to reset the timers on the explosives. But as he studied the footage from the drone, he could see a group of CIPHER’s men assuming a defensive position around the dock while the telescoping crane dipped its beak into the water to lift the first of the servers from the harbor.
At the very same time, Kurt was trapped in the jungle, caught in the cross fire between CIPHER’s and Emmerson’s people.
Keying his microphone button, he called out to Kurt. “What’s your status?”
“Trying not to get blown up or shot,” Kurt replied. “But I’m pinned down with zero chance of getting across the island.”
Two problems, one solution, Joe thought. “Ping me your location. I’m sending the drone.”
“What for?” Kurt asked, following through on Joe’s request.
“Air superiority,” Joe said, tapping the drone’s command console and ordering the craft to perform its automated landing sequence a few yards from Kurt’s position.
The drone moved toward Kurt and began descending. “I trust you still have explosives left,” Joe said. “If you can spare a couple, I should be able to scare off the Russians and make a path for you to get across the island and over to the bay.”
“Sounds great,” Kurt said. “If you can drop me a cold beer while you’re at it, I’ll put you in for a commendation.”
“Sorry,” Joe said. “No beverages on this flight. But I can give you some intel on where the shooting is coming from.”
Joe paused to check the visual. The infrared view showed two dozen men spread out in various spots. Some of them between Kurt and the water, others between Kurt and the ridge that ran down the center of the island. “Assuming you want to go straight across, I’ll have to chase some of the newcomers out of your way.”
“In case you forgot, that drone is unarmed,” Kurt said.
“For the moment,” Joe said. “Get three charges ready. Set the timers for thirty seconds, forty seconds and five minutes. Load the short-fused charges in the left claw and the long fuse in the right. Don’t mix them up.”
“Thirty, forty and five minutes,” Kurt repeated, “left to right. What, exactly, are you planning to do?”
“I’m going to blast a path through the forest with the first two,” Joe said. “And then I’ll use the last one to scare off our visitors from Moscow.”
Joe watched on the monitor as the drone approached Kurt’s position. It buzzed some foliage, using its cameras to find a level spot and touching down five feet from where Kurt had taken cover.
Kurt’s frame appeared on camera. Moving quickly, he attached the charges to the gripping claws that hung beneath the body of the drone.
While Kurt attached the charges, Joe toggled the screen to the satellite feed from Washington. The Russian helicopters were proceeding on course. They were either unaware of the firefight or under orders to continue on despite the obvious combat.
“Charges are set,” Kurt said. “Get this thing airborne.”
Joe took command of the drone and ordered it to climb away from Kurt’s position. It rose up slowly, heavier now and less maneuverable. For a moment, the whisper-quiet blades were a definite detriment.
“Come on, baby,” Joe said, urging the machine skyward. “Just a little higher.”
As it cleared the trees, someone began shooting at it. Joe saw tracers off to the right and immediately pushed the control stick to the left.
Moving away from the combat zone, the drone continued to climb while the number of seconds on the timer continued to drop.
Joe turned the drone back toward the attacking group. He brought it in on the flank of the battlefield, weaving back and forth and hitting the release button on the left claw as the timer hit twenty-seven.
The two charges fell, the drone rolled to the right and sped off. The first charge erupted in the jungle, louder and brighter than the earlier explosions. The thermite spread across the tree line, setting fire to palm fronds and bushes while sending the nearby combatants running away from the scene.
The second charge went off ten seconds later, chasing anyone with sense even farther along.
“Coast is clear,” Joe said. “Keep the blast zones to your right and you’ll be unimpeded all the way to the top.”
* * *
—
Kurt was already on the move. He swung wide, avoiding the flames and the acrid odor of the burning thermite. Emerging from the foliage, he raced onto the rocky slope and up toward the crest.
Having thirty pounds less to carry helped him make the ascent, but he no longer had enough explosives to blow up all the servers even if he found them.
Scaling the last twenty feet, Kurt came out on the top of the ridge and paused. The half circle of the bay shimmered in the moonlight a hundred feet below. It was an oddly tranquil sight, considering the war taking place on the far side of the island.
Crouching down and moving cautiously, Kurt scanned the water, looking for any sign of activity. Not a single boat marred the surface of the bay nor were there vessels of any type out beyond the reef where the breakers were crashing.
Kurt was not dissuaded. The Vector units had to be nearby. There was simply no other place left on the island to hide them.
CHAPTER 60
Down in the grotto, Yan and her team had attached a float to each of the servers, inflating the bags until the big octagonal machines were in a state of neutral buoyancy. They came off the sand and hung motionless as she adjusted the volumes of air.
One had too much buoyancy and kept rising toward the surface. Another continued to sag since its yellow bag had sprung a small leak.
She dragged the process out, even suggesting they look for the two missing units, as they’d only found six of the eight machines. Guānchá vetoed that idea and his patience for anything but swift progress was soon spent. Yan decided not to risk antagonizing him and got things started.
Using raw muscle power, she and her people maneuvered the units into position and pulled them across the cave and into the tunnel. They may have been weightless, but they remained bulky and hard to move.
The first two were the most difficult. Yan directed them herself, taking them through the tunnel to the bay outside. The airbags proved adept at snagging the roof of the tunnel while the servers themselves liked to twist as they emerged from the exit, scraping the walls, their ends banging on the loose rocks.
Once they reached the bay, things got easier. Using towropes, they were linked to a pair of the powered sleds. After testing the security of the arrangement, Yan sent them onward and then returned to the cave.
With more space to maneuver, they guided the rest of the machines out one by one.
With the last of the servers out in the bay, Yan hooked up the second train. This one had four cars; four servers pulled by two sleds. It would be slower than the first, all part of her effort to delay things and create more time for help to arrive.
She climbed on the right-hand sled and put one of her people on the left-hand machine. Everyone else, Guānchá and Emmerson’s men included, would have to swim.
CHAPTER 61
Back in the Phantom, Joe was busy piloting the drone. He saw that the Russian helicopters were now over the harbor, preparing to land and take on the servers. He noticed that CIPHER’s people had lifted the Vector units out of the water with the telescoping crane, where they’d been placed on wheeled dollies.
Joe checked his watch. The explosives that the drone was carrying still had a full minute to cook. He suddenly wished he’d asked Kurt for less time.
By now, the first helicopter was moving toward the dock. As it closed in, the Phantom’s frequency-hopping scanner picked up radio chatter between the Russian pilots and CIPHER’s people on the ground. The back-and-forth was rapid, clipped and tense. It gave Joe an idea.
He switched his transmitter to the Russian frequency and began to speak. “Russian helicopters approaching Badger Island,” he said, trying to sound vaguely Chinese. “You are approaching sovereign territory of the People’s Republic. Turn around immediately. Do not land or take on cargo.”
“Who is this?” a laughing Russian voice replied. “You sound about as Chinese as my babushka.”
Joe looked at the drone video. The helicopters were coming in with lights blazing. He had forty seconds before the drone’s charge would detonate.
“Turn around immediately,” Joe said. “This is your final warning.”
“I’m sorry, Amerikanskiy,” the Russian said. “We are taking your computers and there’s nothing you can do to stop us.”
“We’ll see about that,” Joe said.
He took over control of the drone and buzzed the dock as if he were on a strafing run. Some of CIPHER’s people fired at the drone, others dove for cover.
After overshooting the dock, Joe turned the drone around and brought it back in for a second run. This time he aimed for the servers, hoping to blow them off the dock and back into the water. As the timer hit five seconds, he released the last of the charges.
By chance, it skipped off the boom of the telescoping crane and detonated in the air above the dock instead of between the octagonal cylinders.
The blinding flash lit up the harbor. Plenty bright to get the Russians’ attention.
The lumbering helicopters broke off their approach, scattering in opposite directions. One flew off to the south and the other to the north, both climbing and making evasive maneuvers.
Joe was disappointed that he hadn’t hit the target, but he hoped the fiery blast might be enough to get the Russians to abandon the attempt.
He watched as the helicopters circled around out in the distance. After what he could only assume was a conversation implying court-martials and free accommodations in Siberia if the pilots didn’t retrieve the cargo, the helicopters began approaching the dock once more.
“Very impressive, Amerikanskiy,” the Russian said, far less jovial now. “Let’s see you do that again.”
Joe only wished he could. He was out of explosives, but he still had the drone.
He sent it racing toward the lead helicopter, aiming for the cockpit and switching on the spotlight in the nose.
The first pass took the pilot by surprise. The pilot broke formation, before circling back around.
Joe’s second attempt at playing chicken was less effective. The big helicopter remained steadfastly on approach and Joe was forced to turn the drone away or watch his only weapon splatter against the armored windscreen like a plastic bug.
As he swung wide, the Russians opened fire, unleashing a punishing stream of 7.62mm shells from a four-barreled rotary gun mounted on the side.
Joe immediately climbed and curled over the top of the helicopter, saving the drone from destruction but well aware that he wouldn’t likely get that lucky again.
The lead helicopter continued toward the dock, reaching the far end as CIPHER’s men pushed the first server toward it.
“Do not take on that cargo,” Joe called out. “It’s been booby-trapped and will explode long before you reach home.”
This time there was no response.
“Listen to me,” Joe said. “I’m a pilot myself. I’m trying to warn you, do not load anything aboard your craft.”
Silence told him it was useless. So Joe sent the drone on a suicide run, racing for the dock and the men pushing the server along on the wheeled cradle. He aimed for the group on the right side, coming in head high.
Three of the four men dove out of the way. The last one held his position but ducked. The cart skewed in their direction after they stopped pushing.
“Enough of this,” the Russian shouted over the radio.
When Joe turned the drone back around, it was obliterated by a hail of bullets from the mini-gun.
Joe could no longer see the battlefield. But he could see the timer on the computer screen. He’d fibbed a little about the countdown. “I’d get away from that container if I were you,” he called out. “You have three . . . two . . . one . . .”
Up above her, Guānchá and his men were kicking furiously, trying to turn and shoot and avoid being killed at the same time. One of them slumped suddenly, rolling over facedown in the water. Blood trailed from his body as his weapon slipped from his hands and sank to the bottom. Yan swam from her position, racing to pick it up.
With the pistol in hand, she swam to the entrance of the cave. She surfaced in the shadows. Thoughts of killing Guānchá and Emmerson’s other men raced through her mind. First, they had to deal with CIPHER’s gunmen.
She looked around, spotting them near the rocks by the generator. She aimed at the rumbling device and pulled the trigger several times. Fuel spilled, a fire broke out. One of the men moved to get away.
He didn’t get far. Guānchá shot him in the back.
His partner took a different tactic, kicking the burning machine off the rocks and into the pool of water.
It released a cloud of steam when it crashed in the water and spread burning fuel across the surface.
The fire raced toward Yan’s position. She dove back under, swimming downward once again. This time a bullet grazed her arm, cutting the wetsuit and slicing her skin.
The cold salt water soothed it, stinging at first and then numbing the injury. She looked up as a quick chattering sound reverberated as one of the submachine guns went to work.
The cave fell silent. The battle was over.
Surfacing cautiously, Yan-Li looked around for other signs of danger. She found none. If ever she was going to attack her captors, this was the moment.
The water swirled behind her. A long, bony hand touched her shoulder and Guānchá pulled her around to face him. He spat out his regulator as his free hand reached for her pistol.
“I’ll take that,” he said, wresting the gun from her grasp. “You get to work loading the machines on the floats.”
The weapon had been a fleeting chance, nothing more. Her better odds lay with NUMA. She would do her job loading the servers and getting them ready to be towed out to the submarine. She planned to work slowly, giving them every possible minute to arrive.
CHAPTER 59
NUMA OPERATIONS ROOM,
WASHINGTON, D.C.
Back in Washington, Rudi Gunn, Anna Biel and a pair of staffers sat in the NUMA operations room watching the mission unfold in real time. On one screen, they saw images from the Phantom’s drone. On a screen next to it, they had a wider view encompassing the island and the waters around it that came from an NSA satellite transiting the area.
For the better part of twenty minutes, the room had been utterly quiet with only the hum of the ventilation system and the occasional scratch of a pen on paper breaking the silence.
The mission had been going off without a hitch. Until everything fell apart all at the same time.
The drone video showed flaring explosions rupturing the quiet night. Gunfire tracers could be seen flying through the jungle in multiple directions. The rapid back-and-forth audio between Kurt and Joe gave them the play-by-play account.
But that wasn’t the worst of it.
On the satellite screen, a flashing icon appeared to the west of the island.
“What is that?” Rudi asked, squinting at the image.
“The satellite is picking up a new heat source entering the area,” the NSA staffer said. “Type or origin unknown, but the course is confirmed. It’s heading for the island.”
The flashing red dot continued forward, a red line trailing out behind it showing the direction from which it had come.
“Too fast to be a ship,” Rudi said.
“Direct the satellite to zoom in,” Anna said.
The staffer redirected the cameras, tightening the focus on the new intruder. The island vanished. The lines representing Emmerson’s ship and the Phantom vanished. All that remained on-screen was the sea and the newly discovered threat.
Up close, the image resolved into a pair of distinct and familiar outlines.
“Helicopters,” Rudi said.
A recognition code appeared beneath the two images as the NSA’s system matched the infrared signatures with recognized patterns from its catalog.
“Mi-26 Halos,” Anna said, reading aloud the subtitle.
“Russian heavy-lift helicopters,” Rudi noted. “Where did they come from? There aren’t any Russian ships in the area.”
The NSA staffer tapped away at his computer searching the NSA database. “The most likely point of origin is a spot on the Vietnamese coastline, a rural area one hundred and sixty miles to the west.”
This complicated matters. “ETA for the helicopters?” Anna asked.
“Eight minutes,” the NSA staffer said.
“What’s the countdown on those charges?” Rudi asked.
The NUMA staffer gave him the bad news. “Fifteen minutes and change.”
Anna looked at Rudi. It was still technically NUMA’s mission, but the executive branch would prefer to avoid an international incident. “I’m not interested in blasting two fully crewed Russian helicopters out of the sky today.”
Rudi understood. A lot of bad things happened in the clandestine world, but in general the operators were professionals. We didn’t kill their people if it could be avoided and they didn’t kill ours. It’s just how the game was played.
Rudi looked at the NUMA staffer. “Put me in touch with Joe.”
A few buttons were pressed. A line was opened.
“Joe, this is Rudi. There are two Russian helicopters inbound to pick up the stolen servers. Do everything in your power to keep them from landing and loading.”
* * *
—
Joe sat in the command seat of the Phantom, listening to Rudi’s order and mulling over his options. He briefly considered leaving the Phantom and swimming to reset the timers on the explosives. But as he studied the footage from the drone, he could see a group of CIPHER’s men assuming a defensive position around the dock while the telescoping crane dipped its beak into the water to lift the first of the servers from the harbor.
At the very same time, Kurt was trapped in the jungle, caught in the cross fire between CIPHER’s and Emmerson’s people.
Keying his microphone button, he called out to Kurt. “What’s your status?”
“Trying not to get blown up or shot,” Kurt replied. “But I’m pinned down with zero chance of getting across the island.”
Two problems, one solution, Joe thought. “Ping me your location. I’m sending the drone.”
“What for?” Kurt asked, following through on Joe’s request.
“Air superiority,” Joe said, tapping the drone’s command console and ordering the craft to perform its automated landing sequence a few yards from Kurt’s position.
The drone moved toward Kurt and began descending. “I trust you still have explosives left,” Joe said. “If you can spare a couple, I should be able to scare off the Russians and make a path for you to get across the island and over to the bay.”
“Sounds great,” Kurt said. “If you can drop me a cold beer while you’re at it, I’ll put you in for a commendation.”
“Sorry,” Joe said. “No beverages on this flight. But I can give you some intel on where the shooting is coming from.”
Joe paused to check the visual. The infrared view showed two dozen men spread out in various spots. Some of them between Kurt and the water, others between Kurt and the ridge that ran down the center of the island. “Assuming you want to go straight across, I’ll have to chase some of the newcomers out of your way.”
“In case you forgot, that drone is unarmed,” Kurt said.
“For the moment,” Joe said. “Get three charges ready. Set the timers for thirty seconds, forty seconds and five minutes. Load the short-fused charges in the left claw and the long fuse in the right. Don’t mix them up.”
“Thirty, forty and five minutes,” Kurt repeated, “left to right. What, exactly, are you planning to do?”
“I’m going to blast a path through the forest with the first two,” Joe said. “And then I’ll use the last one to scare off our visitors from Moscow.”
Joe watched on the monitor as the drone approached Kurt’s position. It buzzed some foliage, using its cameras to find a level spot and touching down five feet from where Kurt had taken cover.
Kurt’s frame appeared on camera. Moving quickly, he attached the charges to the gripping claws that hung beneath the body of the drone.
While Kurt attached the charges, Joe toggled the screen to the satellite feed from Washington. The Russian helicopters were proceeding on course. They were either unaware of the firefight or under orders to continue on despite the obvious combat.
“Charges are set,” Kurt said. “Get this thing airborne.”
Joe took command of the drone and ordered it to climb away from Kurt’s position. It rose up slowly, heavier now and less maneuverable. For a moment, the whisper-quiet blades were a definite detriment.
“Come on, baby,” Joe said, urging the machine skyward. “Just a little higher.”
As it cleared the trees, someone began shooting at it. Joe saw tracers off to the right and immediately pushed the control stick to the left.
Moving away from the combat zone, the drone continued to climb while the number of seconds on the timer continued to drop.
Joe turned the drone back toward the attacking group. He brought it in on the flank of the battlefield, weaving back and forth and hitting the release button on the left claw as the timer hit twenty-seven.
The two charges fell, the drone rolled to the right and sped off. The first charge erupted in the jungle, louder and brighter than the earlier explosions. The thermite spread across the tree line, setting fire to palm fronds and bushes while sending the nearby combatants running away from the scene.
The second charge went off ten seconds later, chasing anyone with sense even farther along.
“Coast is clear,” Joe said. “Keep the blast zones to your right and you’ll be unimpeded all the way to the top.”
* * *
—
Kurt was already on the move. He swung wide, avoiding the flames and the acrid odor of the burning thermite. Emerging from the foliage, he raced onto the rocky slope and up toward the crest.
Having thirty pounds less to carry helped him make the ascent, but he no longer had enough explosives to blow up all the servers even if he found them.
Scaling the last twenty feet, Kurt came out on the top of the ridge and paused. The half circle of the bay shimmered in the moonlight a hundred feet below. It was an oddly tranquil sight, considering the war taking place on the far side of the island.
Crouching down and moving cautiously, Kurt scanned the water, looking for any sign of activity. Not a single boat marred the surface of the bay nor were there vessels of any type out beyond the reef where the breakers were crashing.
Kurt was not dissuaded. The Vector units had to be nearby. There was simply no other place left on the island to hide them.
CHAPTER 60
Down in the grotto, Yan and her team had attached a float to each of the servers, inflating the bags until the big octagonal machines were in a state of neutral buoyancy. They came off the sand and hung motionless as she adjusted the volumes of air.
One had too much buoyancy and kept rising toward the surface. Another continued to sag since its yellow bag had sprung a small leak.
She dragged the process out, even suggesting they look for the two missing units, as they’d only found six of the eight machines. Guānchá vetoed that idea and his patience for anything but swift progress was soon spent. Yan decided not to risk antagonizing him and got things started.
Using raw muscle power, she and her people maneuvered the units into position and pulled them across the cave and into the tunnel. They may have been weightless, but they remained bulky and hard to move.
The first two were the most difficult. Yan directed them herself, taking them through the tunnel to the bay outside. The airbags proved adept at snagging the roof of the tunnel while the servers themselves liked to twist as they emerged from the exit, scraping the walls, their ends banging on the loose rocks.
Once they reached the bay, things got easier. Using towropes, they were linked to a pair of the powered sleds. After testing the security of the arrangement, Yan sent them onward and then returned to the cave.
With more space to maneuver, they guided the rest of the machines out one by one.
With the last of the servers out in the bay, Yan hooked up the second train. This one had four cars; four servers pulled by two sleds. It would be slower than the first, all part of her effort to delay things and create more time for help to arrive.
She climbed on the right-hand sled and put one of her people on the left-hand machine. Everyone else, Guānchá and Emmerson’s men included, would have to swim.
CHAPTER 61
Back in the Phantom, Joe was busy piloting the drone. He saw that the Russian helicopters were now over the harbor, preparing to land and take on the servers. He noticed that CIPHER’s people had lifted the Vector units out of the water with the telescoping crane, where they’d been placed on wheeled dollies.
Joe checked his watch. The explosives that the drone was carrying still had a full minute to cook. He suddenly wished he’d asked Kurt for less time.
By now, the first helicopter was moving toward the dock. As it closed in, the Phantom’s frequency-hopping scanner picked up radio chatter between the Russian pilots and CIPHER’s people on the ground. The back-and-forth was rapid, clipped and tense. It gave Joe an idea.
He switched his transmitter to the Russian frequency and began to speak. “Russian helicopters approaching Badger Island,” he said, trying to sound vaguely Chinese. “You are approaching sovereign territory of the People’s Republic. Turn around immediately. Do not land or take on cargo.”
“Who is this?” a laughing Russian voice replied. “You sound about as Chinese as my babushka.”
Joe looked at the drone video. The helicopters were coming in with lights blazing. He had forty seconds before the drone’s charge would detonate.
“Turn around immediately,” Joe said. “This is your final warning.”
“I’m sorry, Amerikanskiy,” the Russian said. “We are taking your computers and there’s nothing you can do to stop us.”
“We’ll see about that,” Joe said.
He took over control of the drone and buzzed the dock as if he were on a strafing run. Some of CIPHER’s people fired at the drone, others dove for cover.
After overshooting the dock, Joe turned the drone around and brought it back in for a second run. This time he aimed for the servers, hoping to blow them off the dock and back into the water. As the timer hit five seconds, he released the last of the charges.
By chance, it skipped off the boom of the telescoping crane and detonated in the air above the dock instead of between the octagonal cylinders.
The blinding flash lit up the harbor. Plenty bright to get the Russians’ attention.
The lumbering helicopters broke off their approach, scattering in opposite directions. One flew off to the south and the other to the north, both climbing and making evasive maneuvers.
Joe was disappointed that he hadn’t hit the target, but he hoped the fiery blast might be enough to get the Russians to abandon the attempt.
He watched as the helicopters circled around out in the distance. After what he could only assume was a conversation implying court-martials and free accommodations in Siberia if the pilots didn’t retrieve the cargo, the helicopters began approaching the dock once more.
“Very impressive, Amerikanskiy,” the Russian said, far less jovial now. “Let’s see you do that again.”
Joe only wished he could. He was out of explosives, but he still had the drone.
He sent it racing toward the lead helicopter, aiming for the cockpit and switching on the spotlight in the nose.
The first pass took the pilot by surprise. The pilot broke formation, before circling back around.
Joe’s second attempt at playing chicken was less effective. The big helicopter remained steadfastly on approach and Joe was forced to turn the drone away or watch his only weapon splatter against the armored windscreen like a plastic bug.
As he swung wide, the Russians opened fire, unleashing a punishing stream of 7.62mm shells from a four-barreled rotary gun mounted on the side.
Joe immediately climbed and curled over the top of the helicopter, saving the drone from destruction but well aware that he wouldn’t likely get that lucky again.
The lead helicopter continued toward the dock, reaching the far end as CIPHER’s men pushed the first server toward it.
“Do not take on that cargo,” Joe called out. “It’s been booby-trapped and will explode long before you reach home.”
This time there was no response.
“Listen to me,” Joe said. “I’m a pilot myself. I’m trying to warn you, do not load anything aboard your craft.”
Silence told him it was useless. So Joe sent the drone on a suicide run, racing for the dock and the men pushing the server along on the wheeled cradle. He aimed for the group on the right side, coming in head high.
Three of the four men dove out of the way. The last one held his position but ducked. The cart skewed in their direction after they stopped pushing.
“Enough of this,” the Russian shouted over the radio.
When Joe turned the drone back around, it was obliterated by a hail of bullets from the mini-gun.
Joe could no longer see the battlefield. But he could see the timer on the computer screen. He’d fibbed a little about the countdown. “I’d get away from that container if I were you,” he called out. “You have three . . . two . . . one . . .”
