Morgan's Mercenaries: Heart of Stone. Lindsay McKenna
Читать онлайн книгу.
town, and grew up bilingual, even though they moved from base to base frequently.
“You’re getting the assignment because you speak Spanish, Major,” Davidson said heavily. “Everyone chosen is bilingual. This spook ops has Peruvian, and other South American pilots, as well as some on loan from overseas. Mr. Trayhern needed someone who could handle the different languages and get the job done. That is why you’re getting this TDY.” Davidson glared down at him. He picked up another paper. “And perhaps, while you’re gone, Major, I can sweet-talk Warrant Officer Juarez into dropping her legitimate charge against you. I’m sure you won’t make the same mistake twice, will you? After all, you’re going to South America to find out just how good the pilots are down there.”
Swallowing hard, Dane said, “Sir, I’ll make sure it never happens again.”
Scowling, Davidson glared at him. “You’re old guard, Major. You’re a lot younger than me, but you sound like the army back in World War II. Well, those days are gone and you’d better get with the new program of gender neutrality or your butt is history. You’d best make good on this mission, Major. I’m expecting a glowing report back from the C.O. of that ops about you and your men’s white glove behavior. Do you read me loud and clear?”
“Yes, sir, I hear you.” Dane stood up at attention beneath the man’s drilling, cold look.
“Sit down.”
Dane sat. He felt the C.O.’s anger avalanche him.
“I’ll be damned lucky if this warrant officer doesn’t go to the press with your remarks. Our women pilots are just as good—probably better—than our male pilots. They’ve distinguished themselves time and again, and you keep working against them. I don’t know what your agenda is, Major, but on this TDY, you’d better stuff it and work with the people down there four square.”
“Yes, sir, I will.”
“You and your contingent are leaving tomorrow at 0800. You’re taking a navy helicopter carrier down to Lima, Peru. The capital city sits right on prime beach-front property. You’re also taking two D model Apaches and a Blackhawk with you. You’ve got three I.P.s, one for each aircraft. One of the three enlisted instructors will fly with each of you. The aircraft, once assembled inside the carrier when it arrives at Lima, will be flown off it and you’ll rendezvous with elements of Black Jaguar at an agreed-upon time.”
“I see, sir.” Dane felt a little excitement. He’d never been on spook ops before. His world revolved around teaching pilots about the deadly beauty of the Boeing Apache. He lived to fly. And he was a good teacher, to boot—at least with male pilots.
“We’ve got an agreement with the Peruvian government, Major. Once those D models are assembled and brought up to the deck of the carrier, you will fly them on specific coordinates that will be preprogrammed into the flight computers. You will not, under any circumstances, be carrying hot ordnance on board. The Peruvian government wants those three aircraft to leave under cover of darkness, just before dawn. They don’t want any nosy newspaper reporters to get wind of us coming into their country or the president will have a lot of explaining to do.
“You will meet two Black Jaguar Apaches at a specific location deep in the mountains, far from the capital. They will then escort you to their base. As I understand it, it is dangerous where you will be flying. There is a drug lord, Faro Valentino, who has two Russian Kamov Ka-50’s assault helicopters that ply the same area. If they see you, they’re going to try and blow you out of the sky. It will be up to the C.O. of the base and their Apaches to protect you and fly shotgun. They will be carrying hot ordnance on board, in case the Kamovs jump you. There’s no guarantee they will. But the C.O. has informed us that you should expect attack. You need to review the terrain of the area and be ready to cut and run if that happens. You need to know where the hell you’re going and what you’re going to do to make sure these new D models aren’t downed before they get to their new base.”
Frowning, Dane said, “No hot ordnance for us in a dangerous situation? Isn’t that stupid, sir?”
Davidson grimaced. “Major, choose your words more carefully, will you? Didn’t you just hear me? The Peruvian government will not allow you to bring these assault helos over their territory with missiles, bullets or rockets. What if you crash into homes and kill people? They’re afraid that if the combat helicopters are seen, word will leak back to their press, and all hell will break loose. Having U.S. military aircraft flying in Peru is a political hot potato, anyway. We’re stepping on eggs. There is no way to get where you’re going, except by helicopter. The jungle where the drug lords produce their cocaine is wild, dangerous, country.”
“But they’ve got Apaches carrying ordnance.” Dane tried to keep the irritation out of his voice. “Why is it all right in one place in Peru, but not another? Why should I open up my crews to possible confrontation with a Kamov and get shot all to pieces?”
“We have a lot of political toes we just can’t step on,” Davidson said slowly, obviously at the limits of his patience with Dane. “Once you get the D models to the base, you’ll be able to train the pilots there. When everyone is up to speed, the D models will join the A models already there, and you can fly with hot ordnance.”
“So, we risk three helos and six people trying to get them to this jungle base?” Dane frowned.
“You will have two Apache A’s escorting you in, Major. Just follow the C.O.’s instructions, and things should go well. But as mission commander on this TDY, you need to realize that if the Kamovs attack, you have to have a plan on outrunning and outmaneuvering them because they can outgun you. The only thing standing between you and them will be those two A models rigged for combat.”
Unhappily, Dane nodded. “I see, sir.”
“Good.” Davidson reached for a folder and handed it to him in a brisk manner. “Here’s more info. Take a look at it.”
Opening the file, Dane nearly choked. The color photo of the C.O. of the Black Jaguar Base stared back at him.
“Problems, Major?”
Heat shot up his neck and into his face. Dane tried to squelch a curse as he sat there, pinned in place by his C.O.’s gaze.
“Sir…” he rasped, half standing, pointing at the photo in the file “….this is impossible…this can’t be…. I mean—”
“Captain Maya Stevenson is the C.O. of Black Jaguar Base, Major. And she’s your commanding officer on this mission.”
No! Dane sat down, before his knees buckled beneath him, disbelief thrumming through him. Those cool, half-closed emerald eyes, eyes that reminded him of a jungle cat, stared back at him. Maya Stevenson was the biggest thorn he’d ever had in his side. She’d nearly scuttled his career so many years ago. After she’d graduated into the Apache A model, she’d quite literally disappeared. Not that Dane was unhappy about that. He wasn’t. She was the in-your-face kind of woman who made him see red with great regularity. He didn’t like her independence. Or her chutzpah. She’d call him out every time he said something wrong—or politically incorrect. There wasn’t a day that went by when she was his student that they hadn’t flared up and had words, angry words, with one another. Worse, she’d reported him and he’d damn near lost his status as an I.P., had been threatened with losing his army career.
Davidson moved quietly around the desk, trailing his fingers along the highly polished edge of it. All the while, his gaze remained on Dane.
“A word of warning, Major York,” he whispered.
Dane looked up. “Sir?”
“Mr. Trayhern of Perseus, and myself, are all too aware of the dog-and-cat fight you got into with Captain Stevenson four years ago. If either of us hear a word from her that you or your crew are not being perfectly behaved down there, then things are really going to hit the fan. Big time. You will be training twelve women pilots, Major. And it’s well known you don’t get along well with women in the military. The crew you’re taking down is going to