last, the soldier had summoned his colleague with a wild jerk of his hand, and together they had watched the figure head off down the valley before trying in vain to report the full measure of what they had seen to their superiors.
Shahim had heard the helicopters long before he saw them and bolted for cover. Hiding there, he had seen the choppers hove into view and had instantly seen that they were not transports but attack helicopters, and that they were flying in a search pattern, flaring along ridges and valleys this way and that. Their path was too close to his, their timing to coincidental. They were on his trail.
Also unbeknownst to Shahim, Jennifer, and the still unconscious Jack Toranssen, an eagle-eyed satellite above them had also spotted his hair-raising progress across the desert, and its report had gone to a wholly different command team in the US. But they were a long way away, and in no position to offer him any assistance yet anyway.
Navigating more slowly now, moving from cover to cover, Shahim carried his injured cargo ever farther away from the path that they had been taking. Away from the helicopters that were probing the very route of his intended escape. His plethora of sensors also searched; they searched the wavelengths, listening for information about the men that hunted him. The first reports of the ground forces came through not fifteen minutes before he heard their throttled report. Not much more than dune buggies with a machine-gun emplacement behind its driver’s seat, the buggies went where even a jeep or Humvee would hesitate. A team of them were spreading out in a grid from the point where the three fugitives had last been spotted. And they were moving fast. He couldn’t tell how many there were exactly, or their exact paths, but his every route was now being covered by keen eyes and ears, and his chances of evading them completely were getting slimmer by the moment.
But he was resourceful and quick of mind, and he managed to make it another twenty kilometers before he was spotted again. The radio signal from the buggy was like a flare in his mind. They were zeroing in. All priorities changed. He must find shelter. He must find cover. He must prepare for the battle he could no longer avoid.
The village was little more than a collection of huts, and most of those deserted. The families had headed to the city ahead of the disease that was clearly sweeping amongst them. The first had fallen ill within a day of the virus being dropped, the rest could not know that they were also fatally infected. Maybe in the city they would inadvertently catch the antigen from one of the inoculated. Maybe it would work in time to save them. But probably not. Whether they survived or not, they would never know the source of their death or that their government was hunting one of the sources of their salvation.
Amongst these huts Lord Mantil darted, laying Jack gently down in one and leaving Jennifer to tend to him, and then going in search of anything that might save them. Some kind of transportation. But there was none. The donkeys and camels had been taken to the city, bearing the ill on their forgiving backs. There were no weapons to speak of. He did not want to kill all these people hunting them, but his choices were narrowing. He heard the radio reports, he knew they were closing in. Helicopters and armed dune buggies were converging on him. It was just a matter of time.
“Listen,” he said to Jennifer, “I am going to go out and meet them. At the moment they can have no way of knowing how many of us there are. You must stay here, and you must wait. I will try and keep them away from here. I can move faster alone, and I can withstand a fight better without you than I can if I am carrying you. If you are with me I will not be able to protect you from the firepower they are bringing. I cannot know how long it will take me to get back here, and I must leave Major Toranssen in your hands until I
Shahim had heard the helicopters long before he saw them and bolted for cover. Hiding there, he had seen the choppers hove into view and had instantly seen that they were not transports but attack helicopters, and that they were flying in a search pattern, flaring along ridges and valleys this way and that. Their path was too close to his, their timing to coincidental. They were on his trail.
Also unbeknownst to Shahim, Jennifer, and the still unconscious Jack Toranssen, an eagle-eyed satellite above them had also spotted his hair-raising progress across the desert, and its report had gone to a wholly different command team in the US. But they were a long way away, and in no position to offer him any assistance yet anyway.
Navigating more slowly now, moving from cover to cover, Shahim carried his injured cargo ever farther away from the path that they had been taking. Away from the helicopters that were probing the very route of his intended escape. His plethora of sensors also searched; they searched the wavelengths, listening for information about the men that hunted him. The first reports of the ground forces came through not fifteen minutes before he heard their throttled report. Not much more than dune buggies with a machine-gun emplacement behind its driver’s seat, the buggies went where even a jeep or Humvee would hesitate. A team of them were spreading out in a grid from the point where the three fugitives had last been spotted. And they were moving fast. He couldn’t tell how many there were exactly, or their exact paths, but his every route was now being covered by keen eyes and ears, and his chances of evading them completely were getting slimmer by the moment.
But he was resourceful and quick of mind, and he managed to make it another twenty kilometers before he was spotted again. The radio signal from the buggy was like a flare in his mind. They were zeroing in. All priorities changed. He must find shelter. He must find cover. He must prepare for the battle he could no longer avoid.
The village was little more than a collection of huts, and most of those deserted. The families had headed to the city ahead of the disease that was clearly sweeping amongst them. The first had fallen ill within a day of the virus being dropped, the rest could not know that they were also fatally infected. Maybe in the city they would inadvertently catch the antigen from one of the inoculated. Maybe it would work in time to save them. But probably not. Whether they survived or not, they would never know the source of their death or that their government was hunting one of the sources of their salvation.
Amongst these huts Lord Mantil darted, laying Jack gently down in one and leaving Jennifer to tend to him, and then going in search of anything that might save them. Some kind of transportation. But there was none. The donkeys and camels had been taken to the city, bearing the ill on their forgiving backs. There were no weapons to speak of. He did not want to kill all these people hunting them, but his choices were narrowing. He heard the radio reports, he knew they were closing in. Helicopters and armed dune buggies were converging on him. It was just a matter of time.
“Listen,” he said to Jennifer, “I am going to go out and meet them. At the moment they can have no way of knowing how many of us there are. You must stay here, and you must wait. I will try and keep them away from here. I can move faster alone, and I can withstand a fight better without you than I can if I am carrying you. If you are with me I will not be able to protect you from the firepower they are bringing. I cannot know how long it will take me to get back here, and I must leave Major Toranssen in your hands until I
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