“Viper One, second aerial target eliminated.”
“So much for their air force, Viper Two. Now let’s hit their infantry.”
“Cobra One here,” Sam Fargo cut in. “The trucks and armored cars are continuing toward the village.”
“How can they think they still have air cover?”
“They didn’t see your destructive nature. You were out of sight in the village, and Viper Two was hidden in the trees.”
“Thanks, Cobra,” said Viper One’s pilot. “Keep active as our spotter.”
“Will do,” said Sam. “Glad to be back in the saddle again.”
“Okay, Viper Two. We’ll start from opposite ends with the armored cars and work toward the middle of the trucks.”
“Engage before they recover. What do you want to lay on them?”
“Begin with the Hydra missiles to knock out the armored cars and then switch to the M230 cannon against the trucks and infantry. Viper Two, you take on the front armored car. I’ll engage tail-end Charlie.”
“Just watch our line of fire so we don’t kill each other.”
“Roger, Viper Two. We’ll be as careful as ladies at a tea.”
“Roger that, Viper One.”
With a touch of a button, he sent a Hydra missile across the village square into the armored car as it reached the top of the hill. Flames enveloped the disintegrating vehicle as it vanished in a vast fireball.
Sam laughed to himself. “I’ll ring the church bell every time you guys take out a truck.”
“I’ve never forgotten your sense of humor.”
“Nothing’s changed,” said Sam.
“Ready to squeeze the pumpkin, Viper One?”
“Let’s ride the dragon,” came the answer.
The Apaches showed their stuff by flying barrel rolls over the hill and turning loops through the village, passing a few feet from Sam’s observation post.
“Where are our Mi-8 copters?” asked Russell. He pulled himself back inside the armored car. “I don’t like the looks of this. There’s no sign of them, only two plumes of black smoke.”
“Could they have collided?”
Russell shook his head. “They came at the village from opposite directions. The smoke must be from targets they destroyed in the village.”
“Then why don’t they answer our transmissions?”
“That I don’t—” Before Russell could finish, the vicious AH-64E Longbow helicopter appeared thirty meters above, the pilot smiling and waving. The Longbow suddenly rolled upward and turned to a firing position. It not only looked deadly, it was deadly.
“Get out!” shouted Russell. “Jump!”
Ruiz didn’t have to be told twice. They burst from the armored car, leaving the gun crew inside. They dropped to the ground and rolled into a ditch on the side of the road.
Less than three seconds later, Russell heard the short scream of the Hydra 70 rocket as it impacted the armored car and blew its turret to pieces. In the black killing machine, the gunner had turned the muzzle of the M230 automatic cannon, mounted under the bow of the fuselage, toward the first truck in the convoy. Called a chain gun, it could spurt six hundred fifty thirty-millimeter rounds a minute. The blast of shells tore through the first and second trucks’ canvas-covered benches, carrying the twenty-five armed killers hired by San Martin, that quickly became fiery charnel houses.
There was no time for a warning. The third truck drove off the road, spilling out the men as soon as it rolled into the ditch. One man on the fourth truck threw back the canvas cover and began to shoot a mounted gun at the Apache.
“I’m taking fire, Viper Two. I could use help to take him out.”