He flung himself off the scooter as another mortar round hit less than twenty feet from him. The impact again shook the earth, and the concussive force of the explosion sent him tumbling painfully along the rough terrain.
When he rose, covered in dirt, a pain stabbed through his leg. He felt around his thigh and his hand came away wet and reddened.
When he hustled back and looked down at the scooter his spirits sank. The front wheel was shattered. He looked up ahead of him. Still miles and miles to go. It would take him forever on foot. The boat would be long gone.
He looked behind him. They were still coming.
Well, Robie thought, this is it. But he wouldn’t go down without a fight.
He pulled his pistols from their holsters and made sure they were fully loaded. He started running, but his bad leg made it difficult. Still, everything about his job was difficult, so he forced the pain from his mind and just sucked it up.
He had covered about two painful miles when he heard it.
The whump-whump was a familiar sound to him.
The North Koreans had called in air support.
Well, that was smart. And also the end of the road for him.
He looked to the sky and saw the darkened silhouette of the chopper. There were no running lights on the bird and he wondered why. He expected a searchlight to start probing the ground for his location.
Instead, his earwig crackled.
“Agent Robie, this is Lieutenant Commander Jordan Nelson of the United States Navy in the chopper. We understand you might need some assistance.”
“That’s a roger.”
“We’ve been tracking you via the electronic location signal you’re wearing, but can you give us your precise coordinates, sir?”
Robie looked at the illuminated device on his wrist and reeled off his exact position to Nelson.
The chopper immediately circled and then came down closer to the ground in an opening among the trees.
Nelson’s voice came on the earwig again. “Afraid you’re going to have to make a skid grab, sir. We can’t land properly here.”
“On my way.”
Robie hustled across the open ground to where the chopper was hovering about six feet off the dirt.
Nelson’s voice said warningly, “We’ve got bogies on your six and four at ten meters. We have to go, sir. Right now.”
The North Koreans had made up a lot of ground. Maybe they had moved the trucks and gotten vehicles through. And now the chopper was acting like a beacon for them. None of it was good.
Bad wheel and all, Robie ran like he never had before. This was his absolute last chance.
Three feet from the chopper, with incoming fire slicing through the air, he jumped and his hands smacked against the left skid of the bird. He immediately wrapped his legs around the skid and held on with all his strength.
“Go! Go!” he screamed into his headset.
The chopper shot vertically with such speed that Robie’s stomach felt like it had been left back on the ground.
With rifle rounds still pinging all around them, the chopper cleared the trees, banked hard to the left, shot across the sky, and righted itself, and then the pilot slammed the throttle forward.
As they raced west across the darkened sky, the chopper’s side door slid open and a helmeted man peered down at him. He shouted, “Would you like to ride in the first-class section, sir?”
“If you’ve got room,” Robie shouted back. “Coach kind of sucks.”
The chopper’s winch was deployed and a weighted cable was lowered down to the skid. The pilot cut back on the power so the wind forces on the cable would be reduced.
Robie grabbed the cable, which had a harness attached, and wrapped it around his middle, cinching the belt tight. He gave the helmeted man a thumbs-up and the chopper reduced speed and hovered in the air.
Robie let go of the skid and swung out into space. The cable motor was engaged and he slowly rose. When he reached the door, two men there, who were attached to cables so they couldn’t fall to their deaths, maneuvered the winch closer to the chopper and then helped him inside. They took off the harness and the winch was retracted to its original position. The chopper’s door slid shut and Robie managed to grab a seat right before the pilot pushed the bird to full throttle and they raced across the sky.
“Are you injured, sir?” asked one of the men.
“Nothing that’ll kill me. But I need you to get a message to Agent Reel. I don’t want her to—”
“Already done, sir. She was the one who sent for us to assist you. They have reached their RIB and are on their way back out to sea. We’re from the same carrier that will be picking them up in Korea Bay. USS George Washington. We’ll rendezvous there.”
“Exactly what I wanted to hear,” said a relieved Robie.
“Oh, and Agent Reel asked me to pass a message along to you.”
“What’s that?”
The helmet came off, revealing a sandy-haired young man of about twenty. He was grinning. “To quote, sir, you owe her a kickass dinner and a very expensive bottle of wine.”
Robie smiled back. “Yes, I do.”