Callsign: King II- Underworld

Pierce felt a moment of apprehension when he spied the approaching Humvee, but quickly reasoned that King had somehow utilized his military connections to get some assistance from the troops in the area.

When the truck finally stopped in front of him and two soldiers climbed out, their rifles at the ready, he realized his mistake. One of the men stalked over to where he and De Bord were waiting and addressed the sergeant.

“What’s the story here?”

De Bord seemed a little confused by the turn of events. “Ah, this is one of the hikers we picked up. We got separated from the rest during the attack.”

“You were at FOB Apache?” There was a hint of awe in the soldier’s voice. “We didn’t think anyone survived.”

“Yeah, it was pretty bad,” De Bord remarked.

Pierce sagged in disappointment as he realized that King was not accompanying the soldiers, and worse, that he was now evidently a prisoner again.

“I better call this in,” the soldier said. He turned to his companion. “Take the civilian into custody. We need to get back ASAP.”

A third soldier, occupying the roof turret of the parked Humvee suddenly shouted: “Sergeant! We’ve got another truck rolling up.”

Pierce reflexively followed the gunner’s line of sight, but could only make out a dust cloud and a dark speck moving against the terrain.

“What the hell? There’s not supposed to be anyone else out here.” The sergeant in charge climbed into the truck and started talking into the radio, but the remaining soldier advanced on Pierce.

“He’s really moving!”

The gunner’s shout seemed only to add to the confusion, and for a few more seconds, all the soldiers, including De Bord, seemed paralyzed by indecision. That was all the time the driver of the approaching Humvee needed to close the gap.

The vehicle, outfitted with a canvas-covered cargo area, drove right up alongside the others steering straight toward Pierce and the others, as if it meant to run them down. At the last instant, Pierce was yanked away, in front of the parked Humvee, while De Bord scrambled in the other direction.

Amidst the confusion, the passenger door of the still rolling vehicle flew open, and Pierce found himself staring at the familiar face of Nina Raglan.

“Get in!”





28.


Sokoloff spat out a curse in Russian, along with a mouthful of dirt, as he watched the Humvee pull away. This job just kept getting worse.

The roar of a machine gun punctuated the sentiment. The turret gunner had opened up with his M240B and Sokoloff saw white tracers arc across the desert in pursuit of the retreating vehicle. It looked like a few of the rounds found their mark, but the Humvee continued picking up speed, and a few moments later, vanished around the edge of a hillside.

As the gun fell silent, Sokoloff heard some shouting and realized the words were directed at him. He looked up and found the sergeant in charge of the group standing over him. “Come on! In the truck! Let’s…”

Sokoloff saw the change in the man’s eyes, saw his lips continue moving to form a word even after his voice had trailed off.

“You aren’t De—”

Sokoloff jammed the muzzle of his carbine under the soldier’s chin and squeezed the trigger.

He was up and moving before the man’s body hit the dirt, dashing to the idle Humvee. The violence of his actions took the remaining soldiers completely off guard. The sergeant died from a contact shot to the forehead, the radio handset still pressed to one ear and a confused look on his face. The gunner, possibly unaware of anything that had transpired since the other Humvee’s escape, flinched a little when he heard the shot, but the tight confines of the circular turret opening made it impossible for him to see what was going on inside his own vehicle, much less respond when Sokoloff shoved his carbine up under the soldier’s body armor and fired off several more rounds.

With brutal efficiency and indifference, Sokoloff hauled the bodies of his latest victims out of the truck and left them on the desert floor, just as he had done earlier with the two-man patrol back on the hiking trail—the real Sergeant De Bord and another young man whose name he hadn’t bothered to learn.

He then climbed back into the Humvee and started the engine. There was yet more killing to be done before the night was through.





29.


As they rounded a turn in the ravine, the incessant crack of 7.62 mm rounds on the truck’s frame ceased immediately, but King still had to shout to be heard over the roaring engine.

“Anyone hit?”

Pierce and Nina, crowded together in the footwell on the passenger side, both signaled that they were all right.

“Hang on!”

King drove like a man possessed. Another encounter with the Army was the last thing he had expected, and it added one more variable to an already complicated equation. He checked the side mirror, but with the hillside in the way, it was impossible to know if the soldiers were giving chase. He assumed they were.

Pierce, still panting from the burst of excitement, disentangled from Nina. “You guys aren’t going to believe the night I’ve had.”