“If there’s going to be a math quiz on this,” Linc said, “count me out.”
Nazari and his men continued to pound away with machine gun and grenade fire. A few shots splashed them with sand, but, so far, they’d been lucky.
Over the next crest, Juan could see ten pickup trucks on huge tires. Men in the back of each were carrying assault rifles and RPGs. Two of them had mounted machine guns like the ones on the Scorpions.
“How are the odds looking now?” Linc said with a rueful chuckle.
“I’ll bet on Eddie’s driving any day,” Juan said.
“Good,” Eddie said. “Because you need to hang on.”
Just before he got to the top of the next dune, Eddie wrenched the wheel around ninety degrees. Juan brought the grenade launcher to bear on Nazari’s Scorpion as it came over the dune behind them.
Juan pulled the trigger on the launcher, sending a stream of inert grenades flying. Since he’d anticipated where the Scorpion would appear, several of the grenades hit the driver, knocking him back in his seat. He slumped down, and the dune buggy nearly tipped over before Nazari could grab the wheel and right it.
Eddie accelerated away as Nazari shoved the unconscious driver out of the vehicle and took his place.
Juan waved to him, goading Nazari to follow. This distracted him from the impending danger. Nazari gave chase as his machine gunner sprayed bullets.
“Anybody hit?” Juan asked.
“Not me,” Eddie replied.
“I’m fine,” Linc said, “but our ride isn’t. They plugged the fuel tank.”
Eddie glanced down at the gauge. “We’re losing gas fast.”
Juan looked at the looming cliffs ahead. “How long?”
“It’s going to be close.”
Juan swiveled in his seat. Nazari was so intent on closing the distance that he didn’t notice one of the pickups come over the dune right next to him. His machine gunner turned the weapon on the new enemy, slicing the truck apart with the .50 caliber rounds at point-blank range. The driver turned too quickly on the slope and the truck rolled, sending the surviving men tumbling.
The rest of the Libyan assault force hurtled over the dune. Nazari had to make a choice to flee or face his enemy. Seeing that he had little chance of escaping, he flashed one last sneer at Juan and chose to turn and fight.
Juan watched as Nazari leaped into the seat with the grenade launcher. He put up a good battle, blowing away three more of the pickups in rapid succession. But the numbers weren’t in his favor.
The pickups had him surrounded. One of the four RPGs shot toward the Scorpion and made contact. Nazari disappeared in a massive explosion as the grenades detonated.
“Scratch a whole bunch more terrorists,” Linc said.
“That still leaves six truckfuls of them,” Eddie said.
Juan turned back to the front. “And they’re not waiting around to see who they killed. All of them are headed our way.”
The cliffs rising before them went on for miles in either direction. Even if they had gas, they’d be hemmed in by the natural barrier.
To punctuate the problem, an RPG blew up about a quarter mile behind them.
“If they’re trying to convince us to slow down,” Linc said, “it’s having the opposite effect.”
A roar slowly grew louder and overcame the engine noise of the Scorpion. It was approaching fast from the rear. Juan turned his head to see the IL-76 coming in low over the pursuing Libyans.
“Tiny got my message,” Juan said.
Tiny had been circling out of visual range as a backup in case Juan called him in an emergency. A radio transmitter had been secreted in Scorpion 1, which Nazari had commandeered. But Juan never put all his eggs in one basket and had a microtransmitter inserted into his combat leg prosthesis. It was so small that the only information it could transmit was their location. When Juan activated it, Tiny understood his services were needed and homed in on them.
As the cargo jet overflew them, one of the Libyans took a potshot with his RPG. The rocket tore through the sky, and only Tiny’s quick reflexes prevented it from hitting one of the engines. He rolled right and the unguided rocket sailed past within a few feet of the wing.