the cargo hook, and take it down to the ground. Once you’re in position wrap the cargo straps around the rock. I threw some down there a minute ago.”
“It’s a meteorite,” Palmer insisted primly. “And I’ll thank you to remember that!”
“Yeah, right,” Guiscard grinned, as his friend disappeared over the side. “So it’s a flying rock…. Big deal.”
Thanks to a spot mounted on the back of the Mog Palmer could see the reddish meteorite quite clearly. The first task was to pull some of the debris away from the iron so he could access it. Once that was accomplished it was time to wrap cargo straps around the iron and attach the cargo hook.
Having tugged on the arrangement to make sure the straps would hold, Palmer looked up to where his friend was waiting, and opened his mouth to speak. But that was when he heard the cloth-ripping sound of automatic fire. Then came the roar of a powerful engine, as the speeding Land Cruiser blew past Damya, and skidded to a stop some fifty-feet from the Mog.
Palmer thought he counted five men as the doors opened and the Tuaregs piled out with weapons raised. There was no explaining how the brigands had been able to repair the tires in such a short period of time, or
ever
for that matter, but there was no time to ponder the mystery as Palmer drew the Beretta PX4 semi-auto Guiscard had loaned to him.
Whoever had been at the wheel of the Toyota had been stupid enough to leave the 4 X 4’s headlights on. So the bandits were backlit as they advanced toward the Mog firing three round bursts as they came. Palmer, who was crouched behind the Mongo Iron, took careful aim. The pistol jumped in his hands and brass arced away as one of the thieves fell. But the steady blam, blam, blam of the pistol was only part of a cacophony of noise as the bandits fired their assault weapons. Guiscard opened up with an AK-47 of his own, and Palmer heard an insistent ping, ping, ping, as bullets found the Mog and began to punch holes through the truck’s sheet metal.
***
Meanwhile bandit chieftain Basel Naravas saw a man fall, swore as he realized the way he and the rest of his men were backlit, and fired at the man with the pistol. The big rock that was sitting in front of the foreigner took two hits, and geysers of dirt and gravel jumped into the air, as the pistoleer rolled into the dark shadow cast by the Mog.
Now it was apparent that rather than being competitors, as Naravas had assumed them to be, it seemed the would-be Mog thieves were the truck’s original owners. That surprised the Tuareg, since he had very little respect for outsiders, but there was no opportunity to consider the matter further as someone attacked from behind.
***
Even though he heard it coming, Damya could scarcely believe his eyes, when the Toyota Land Cruiser roared past him! How was such a thing possible? The tracker didn’t know, but fired anyway, hoping for a lucky hit. But most of his bullets flew wide as the 4 X 4 bounced down the road. That left the Tuareg with no choice but to run after it.
Damya was in good shape for a man his age, and with no need to be subtle about it, was free to run pell-mell up the track as a firefight broke out ahead. Which meant there was no one to see or stop the scout as he came charging out of the darkness firing from the hip. Two men were thrown forward as his bullets hit them from behind and a third began to turn.
But Naravas was only halfway around when Palmer triggered two shots, both of which struck the bandit, and knocked him onto his back. Then, with the Beretta still clutched in both hands, Palmer made his way forward to check each body. There were five of them—all dead. Guiscard had joined him by that time and stood with his assault rifle at the ready. “Let’s load the iron and get the hell out of here,” Palmer said. “Before even more of the bastards arrive!”
The suggestion made sense. So Guiscard hurried to lift the Mongo Iron up onto the truck bed as
“It’s a meteorite,” Palmer insisted primly. “And I’ll thank you to remember that!”
“Yeah, right,” Guiscard grinned, as his friend disappeared over the side. “So it’s a flying rock…. Big deal.”
Thanks to a spot mounted on the back of the Mog Palmer could see the reddish meteorite quite clearly. The first task was to pull some of the debris away from the iron so he could access it. Once that was accomplished it was time to wrap cargo straps around the iron and attach the cargo hook.
Having tugged on the arrangement to make sure the straps would hold, Palmer looked up to where his friend was waiting, and opened his mouth to speak. But that was when he heard the cloth-ripping sound of automatic fire. Then came the roar of a powerful engine, as the speeding Land Cruiser blew past Damya, and skidded to a stop some fifty-feet from the Mog.
Palmer thought he counted five men as the doors opened and the Tuaregs piled out with weapons raised. There was no explaining how the brigands had been able to repair the tires in such a short period of time, or
ever
for that matter, but there was no time to ponder the mystery as Palmer drew the Beretta PX4 semi-auto Guiscard had loaned to him.
Whoever had been at the wheel of the Toyota had been stupid enough to leave the 4 X 4’s headlights on. So the bandits were backlit as they advanced toward the Mog firing three round bursts as they came. Palmer, who was crouched behind the Mongo Iron, took careful aim. The pistol jumped in his hands and brass arced away as one of the thieves fell. But the steady blam, blam, blam of the pistol was only part of a cacophony of noise as the bandits fired their assault weapons. Guiscard opened up with an AK-47 of his own, and Palmer heard an insistent ping, ping, ping, as bullets found the Mog and began to punch holes through the truck’s sheet metal.
***
Meanwhile bandit chieftain Basel Naravas saw a man fall, swore as he realized the way he and the rest of his men were backlit, and fired at the man with the pistol. The big rock that was sitting in front of the foreigner took two hits, and geysers of dirt and gravel jumped into the air, as the pistoleer rolled into the dark shadow cast by the Mog.
Now it was apparent that rather than being competitors, as Naravas had assumed them to be, it seemed the would-be Mog thieves were the truck’s original owners. That surprised the Tuareg, since he had very little respect for outsiders, but there was no opportunity to consider the matter further as someone attacked from behind.
***
Even though he heard it coming, Damya could scarcely believe his eyes, when the Toyota Land Cruiser roared past him! How was such a thing possible? The tracker didn’t know, but fired anyway, hoping for a lucky hit. But most of his bullets flew wide as the 4 X 4 bounced down the road. That left the Tuareg with no choice but to run after it.
Damya was in good shape for a man his age, and with no need to be subtle about it, was free to run pell-mell up the track as a firefight broke out ahead. Which meant there was no one to see or stop the scout as he came charging out of the darkness firing from the hip. Two men were thrown forward as his bullets hit them from behind and a third began to turn.
But Naravas was only halfway around when Palmer triggered two shots, both of which struck the bandit, and knocked him onto his back. Then, with the Beretta still clutched in both hands, Palmer made his way forward to check each body. There were five of them—all dead. Guiscard had joined him by that time and stood with his assault rifle at the ready. “Let’s load the iron and get the hell out of here,” Palmer said. “Before even more of the bastards arrive!”
The suggestion made sense. So Guiscard hurried to lift the Mongo Iron up onto the truck bed as
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