2:20 a.m.
"Randall, what are they doing?" Fernandez asked.
"Still moving, Sarge. Gotta be on foot, slow as they are going."
They were in the truck, running with the lights off, and the vehicle found every pothole in the dirt road, bouncing them around like Ping-Pong balls. Toni kept one hand on the wooden frame mounted on the back, the other hand on her kris kris handle. She had shoved the sheath into her belt when they'd gotten on the helicopters, although she didn't know how much luck it was bringing her at the moment. handle. She had shoved the sheath into her belt when they'd gotten on the helicopters, although she didn't know how much luck it was bringing her at the moment.
Could be worse. She could be dead.
"Same direction as before?" Fernandez asked.
"Yep."
"Get us in front of them, Butler, half a mile or so, then shut it down."
"You have a plan?" Toni asked.
"Not really. The colonel's GPS unit is going somewhere at foot speed. If it's still attached to the colonel and he's free, he'll probably like a ride. If he's been captured and is being taken out to be shot or something, then he probably won't be too unhappy to see us. Either way, we need to know-hold on a second, somebody is calling. Go ahead."
"Sergeant Fernandez, this is Martin. Beta Team is at the rendezvous-except for Colonel Howard and Lieutenant Winthrop."
"What happened to them?"
"I don't know, Sarge. They went into the package's room and then things got real quiet. We could hear them talking, but couldn't make out what they were saying through the closed door. After a while, the colonel told us to take off."
"Did he give a reason?"
"Negative. All he said was, he was doing some kind of negotiation."
"Copy, Martin. Hold your ground as long as you can. We're going to collect the colonel and the lieutenant now. See if you can shoo away anybody who comes nosing around until we get back."
"Affirmative, Sarge."
Fernandez looked puzzled. "Doesn't make any sense."
"When we find Howard, we'll get him to explain it," Michaels said.
2:25 a.m.
"Where are we going?" Howard asked. The brush around the little trail was thick, still radiating damp heat from the day. You couldn't see two feet into the forest, and could barely see the trail, even with flashlights.
"Not too much further," Platt said. "A half mile or so. I have my ride stashed up ahead. We get there, Hughes gives me the bank code, I check it out using the laptop, we go our separate ways."
Platt saw Winthrop and Howard exchange quick looks.
"Well, in your shoes, I don't reckon I would much trust me neither. But I got nothing to gain by killing anybody here. And you got your guns and all, right? You get your big-time thief and most of the money back, I get paid what I'm owed and I'm gone, you don't never see me again. I'll even shut off my little surprises, once I'm safely out of here. Now don't that sound like a good deal all the way around? Except for fat boy here, but we don't really care what he thinks, do we?"
Howard didn't say anything, but what he was thinking was, Dammit, Gridley, we're about out of time here. Move your ass Dammit, Gridley, we're about out of time here. Move your ass!
2:30 a.m.
"This doesn't make any sense," Michaels whispered to Toni. "That's Hughes, in the white pajamas, and I'm pretty sure the big guy behind him is Platt, wearing some kind of disguise."
"Yeah, and Howard and Joanna both have their pistols out, but it doesn't look like they are in charge."
"The big guy's carrying a grenade in one hand, that's why," Fernandez said. "Probably already armed. That's who is in charge, and that's why they don't plug him. He falls, the grenade goes boom boom. Jesus, it's dark out here. I wish we could use the spookeyes."
"Why can't we?" Michaels asked.
"Flashlights will cause cutouts, they shine in our direction. Safety feature, otherwise it's like looking into the sun."
"Hostage scenario," Toni said. "You have an SOP for this, don't you?"
"Yes, ma'am-only not one set up to cover being in a foreign jungle with enemy troops breathing down our necks and our ride about to take off. Standard negotiations for hostage situations are based on psychology-and hours or days to work. We don't have the time."
Michaels, Toni, and Fernandez were in the bushes fifty yards ahead of the quartet moving toward them. The rest of Alpha Team was spread out behind the four on the trail.
"What do we do?" Toni whispered.
Fernandez said. "Look for an opportunity. Push comes to shove, we take the bad guy down and hope for minimal casualties."
"How much danger are Howard and Winthrop in, given the suits they are wearing?"
"Some," Fernandez said. "They will surely pick up damage, cuts, but the armor will stop most of a low-yield explosive shrapnel. It's the guy in the PJs and the big brown guy who are gonna get shredded for sure."
Toni said, "No great loss-except that Hughes might have left us some electronic bombs of his own. We can't let him die until we know for sure he didn't. And if he did, maybe it was Platt who set them up, if there are any. Can we afford to let both of them die? Don't we need at least one of them alive?"
"Yeah," Michaels said. "But the clock is ticking. We don't move, everybody dies." At that moment his virgil vibrated.
It was Gridley. "Got 'em, Boss. Every last one of them."
"Good work, Jay," Alex said. "And just in time." Disconnecting, he looked around him. "Jay did it. Get ready to get our people out of there now." He stood and stepped out of the bushes.
"Alex, don't-!" Toni began.
Too late.
"Hold it right there, asshole!" Michaels yelled.
Behind him, Fernandez said to Toni, "I'll flank right, Commander, go left!"
The four people moving up the path stopped.
"Who the hell are you?" Platt said. "Get out here where I can-oh, hello! You're the Net Force honcho, aint'cha? What you doin' out here in the jungle, desk boy? Come to see how real men play?"
Howard made his move-he leaped, grabbed the hand holding the grenade, and squeezed it tight in both of his. "Shoot, Winthrop, shoot!"
Startled, Joanna pointed her pistol and fired, but Platt spun, swung the colonel around one-handed like swinging a small child, and the bullet from Joanna's pistol spanged spanged! off the colonel's back armor.
A beat later, another bullet from somewhere boomed and whistled past, not hitting anything Michaels could see.
Jesus! Everybody dancing around wouldn't leave Fernandez or Toni a clear shot, Michaels knew. And if bullets started bouncing off armor, no telling where they might go-or who might catch one in an unprotected spot.
"Cease fire!" Fernandez yelled. He must have realized the danger too.
Things went into slow motion...
-Platt pulled a knife from his belt even as he danced around in a circle with Howard holding on to his other hand- -Michaels ran toward the two struggling men, moving as if his feet were mired in thick mud- -Platt slashed at Howard's arm and drew blood- -Michaels got to the wrestling men, saw Platt grin, turn the knife in his direction, and cut at him, forcing Michaels to jump back- -Platt turned back to Howard, raised the knife to Howard's throat, to a gap in the armor. Slow, oh, so, slow...
"Adios, black boy," Platt said. He didn't even raise his voice.
Michaels's gun was still in its holster; he was the only one close enough to shoot and hit Platt. He pulled it, fired without aiming-he couldn't miss this close-but Platt saw him reach, spun Howard around, and once again the bullet hit the colonel's armor- Damn- "John!"
-Michaels turned, saw Toni. She had already tossed something at Howard- -the kris kris- Reflexively, Platt batted at the thing he saw twirling in toward him, missed, but that meant his knife was away from Howard's throat- -Howard let go of the grenade hand, snatched the wavy-bladed knife from the air, turned, twisted into Platt, stabbed as Platt stabbed- -Platt snarled as his knife hit Howard's armor and skidded off- -The kris kris's point slipped between Platt's ribs, the blade sinking in until the hilt almost touched the center of the big man's chest- Platt moaned, blew out a breath, stabbed again, hit more armor. The knife actually dug in a little-then the blade snapped in half.
"Fuck," Platt said. He fell to his knees, dragging Howard down with him, pulling the kris kris from Howard's grasp. from Howard's grasp.
Hughes screamed, "Jesus, Jesus, don't shoot me! Don't shoot me! Please!"
Platt toppled to the side, and when he did, he let go of the grenade.
-The grenade- Michaels dropped the gun, dived, rolled, came up with the bomb, and threw it into the trees to his left. He hoped like hell none of the troops had circled back into that area, or that it didn't hit a tree and bounce right back- "Down!" he yelled. "Down, down-"
He dropped.
Howard was still on his feet, staring at Platt.
One... two... three...
Boom!
The grenade went off, and metal sleeted through the trees and bushes, punching holes in leaves and bark.
Something burned along Michaels's arm. He frowned. What-!
A long time passed, a couple of thousand years, Michaels figured. Toni grabbed him, and he realized he was still alive. His ears rang.
He hugged her with his good arm, and watched his other arm bleed from the shrapnel gash on it. It didn't hurt, but it was putting out what seemed a goodly amount of red.
"Don't shoot!" Hughes said. He started to blubber, big tears streaming.
"Shut up," Howard said quietly.
Hughes shut up.
Howard moved to stand next to Michaels, holding his own arm, which was also bleeding. "Commander. You okay?"
"Yep. You, Colonel?"
"Better, now. Nice of you to drop by."
"We were in the neighborhood."
They looked down at Platt, who was still breathing. Platt said, "Damn. I can't believe it. A nigrah nigrah..."
Howard didn't say anything.
Platt stared at Howard. "I hate this fuckin' country," he said. "Kilt by a goddamned nigrah nigrah-"
Platt's last breath escaped and he collapsed.
Howard stared off into the forest. "He was right about the Germans."
"Excuse me?" Michaels said.
"I'll tell you about it later, Commander."
Behind them, Joanna Winthrop and Julio Fernandez were locked in a tight embrace.
"Well," Michaels said, "I hate to break this party up, but it would be a good idea for us to take our leave now."
"Amen, Commander. Amen."
Michaels bent, and with some difficulty, pulled the kris kris from Platt. He wiped it off on the man's shirt, then gave it back to Toni. "I think you are right, Toni. This is definitely a lucky thing to have around." from Platt. He wiped it off on the man's shirt, then gave it back to Toni. "I think you are right, Toni. This is definitely a lucky thing to have around."
"Let's go, people! We got a helicopter to catch!"
They went.
EPILOGUE.
Saturday, January 22nd, 8 a.m. Washington, D.C.
In his own bed, Michaels woke up slowly and rolled from his right side onto his back. The left arm was still little sore, but the medic had used skinstat glue and bonded the six-inch-long gash into a thin line they said would leave minimal scarring. A nice conversation piece at informal parties, they'd told him. Not everybody nearly gets blown up by an antique hand grenade.