“OVERWATCH, this is RIFFRAFF ONE. Any sign we’ve been detected?” said Rich.
“Negative. I don’t see any unusual movement.”
Rich removed a satellite phone from a pouch on his vest and checked the digital navigation screen, which he’d programmed with the waypoint passed to him by Graves. He compared the screen to his wrist compass, aiming the two in the presumed direction of the helicopter, before turning to address the group.
“We have about three hundred yards to go. I say we jog the rest of the way. Space ourselves about twenty feet apart.”
“This may sound like a dumb question, but what do we do if we start taking fire?” asked Devin.
“Not a dumb question. Given the range and density of the forest, I say skip the return-fire part and just haul ass. It’ll take one hell of a shot to hit a running target at this range through all of these trees. The farther we run, the harder it will be for them,” said Rich. “Alex and I will take the lead. We’ll have to deal with the pilot when we reach the clearing. Marnie. Can you still fly the helicopter if we pop a few holes in the windshield?”
“Yeah. Just keep your shots as high as possible to avoid hitting the instruments,” she said. “I’d say no more than two shots, tightly spaced to avoid compromising the windshield’s integrity. I can fly it with busted glass, but I’d have to fly a lot slower.”
“Easy enough. If we fuck it up too badly, we can try and grab the other helicopter,” said Rich. “Let’s get moving.”
They took off in a column—Rich followed shortly by Alex. Devin tapped Marnie’s shoulder.
“You’re next,” he said.
She nodded and chased after them. Devin waited until she looked to be about the right distance away and followed her path through the trees. He didn’t get far before a bullet cracked overhead, followed by another—both of them striking trees somewhere past him.
“Taking fire,” said Devin over the radio net.
“Haul ass and follow me,” said Rich.
The surrounding forest came alive with zips and thunks as imprecise gunfire raked their formation, ricocheting off tree trunks and snapping branches. The gunfire intensified for several seconds—pushing Rich’s “it’ll take a hell of a shot” theory to the limit with a few near misses—before it tapered off to a few scattered bullets.
“Everyone still with us?” asked Rich.
“All good,” said Marnie.
“Bringing up the rear,” said Devin, glancing over his left shoulder in the direction of the few remaining muzzle flashes. “We must be out of range.”
“RIFFRAFF ONE, this is OVERWATCH. You have about a dozen hostiles from the center of the camp headed in your direction. They’re moving fast, but as long as you keep up your pace, they won’t be a problem.”
“Understood. Have the mercenaries moved?” asked Rich.
“Negative. And the helicopter rotors remain stationary. Looking good so far.”
Devin focused his attention on Marnie, who had gained some distance on him while he was looking over his shoulder. His only job right now was to keep her in sight so he didn’t get lost, and to not fall down. A simple set of tasks if you weren’t running for your life through an unfamiliar forest—with no depth perception.
CHAPTER 50
Felix Orlov listened intently to the distant gunfire, detecting a shift beyond the significant drop in intensity. Or maybe his judgment had been impaired by his impatience. This whole thing was taking entirely too long. It was obvious that the team he’d been sent to ambush had hunkered down among the cabins, content to exchange fire with the group that had been assigned to scare them into a hasty retreat.
If the target team was as good as Pichugin’s proxy alleged, they would be able to assess what stood in their way, quickly determining the odds of pushing through—and what it would cost them. This team had clearly made the decision to slug it out at the camp, which meant there would be no ambush. Not here, at least.
More gunfire, this time definitely coming from a slightly different direction. He hit his radio button.
“Oleg. Is the direction of the gunfire moving, or am I imagining things?” asked Felix.
“It’s shifting to the right,” replied Oleg.
“Sounds like a one-sided battle,” said Lashev, the team’s sniper. “I don’t hear any more suppressed shots.”
Something was off. He removed his satellite phone and hit redial on the number that had called him at the hangar. After several ring tones, he ended the call. Ridiculous. Why wasn’t anyone passing him information?