There was a short silence and the pilot answered, his tone wary, obviously expecting Barry to be contacting him.
Sean didn’t reply immediately, then he snapped out a command. “This is Major Sean O’Connell. Identify yourself.”
The pilot replied reluctantly, admitting who he was, and he wasn’t Sean’s pilot. “Lieutenant Owen Abbey.”
“Swamp Man was supposed to be flying that plane. What happened to him?”
“I explained this to Barry …”
“He’s dead. The entire ground crew is dead. They were attacked, and all machines needed to effectively build a decent landing strip were destroyed. I needed Swamp Man, he can land in anything. You didn’t tell me where he is.” Sean’s implication was that this pilot couldn’t land the plane.
“He was sick and I offered to collect the package for him. He gave me the instructions.”
“We have the package, but the landing will be rough.”
“Give me a minute.”
Sean glanced back at Rubin. “I’ll bet any amount of money he’s consulting with Chandler, asking him what to do.”
They waited in the shadows of the tree. Diego was up in the branches of the trees above their heads. If the plane circled around and looked as if it was in any way threatening, he would shoot it down. He was very good at that. He had backup this time. Several of Sean’s men were scattered among the trees with the same idea. They didn’t like that Chandler had one of their “brothers” in his hands, possibly torturing him to find out their intentions.
“I’ll set her down,” the pilot eventually agreed. “Will need two soldiers to accompany package to destination.”
Sean waited to see if the pilot gave him preferences. Rubin thought it was an intelligent move on his part. If the pilot did specifically name someone, that meant there were more traitors among Sean’s men. The plane was in sight now. Circling the meadow.
“You have anyone in mind?”
“Your best. I don’t want trouble on the flight back.”
The relief on Sean’s face showed instantly. He took a breath and let it out. The men in his unit were close, the way Rubin’s were. They were GhostWalkers, men set apart with nowhere to go, so they had to rely heavily on one another. To have someone turn traitor was abhorrent to them.
They were silent watching as the pilot circled the meadow low, looking for the best way to land the small plane. It was a large meadow and the grass was short. Most of the large debris had already been removed by the ground crew. The pilot circled once more and then came in low, clearly determined to set down.
“I don’t want him to see Jonquille until the last minute after he lands,” Rubin said. “We’ll take him prisoner and turn him over to our commander. We know he’s taking a cut of the profits. Once we take a look at all of you and hopefully get you on your feet and in good working order, Chandler can be dealt with. Any of the new soldiers can decide whether they’re working for the United States or for profit. The government will have to deal with that.”
He hoped what he said was true. Too often it wasn’t. If a Ghost-Walker went rogue, only another GhostWalker had a good chance of tracking him and taking him out. Fortunately, that wasn’t something that happened often.
Diego joined them as the plane made its way to the meadow. Rubin had to hand it to the pilot. He knew his stuff. He circled twice, coming in low, studying the terrain before he made his commitment to the actual landing. When he did make the commitment, there was no hesitation. He was a good pilot. The plane was controlled, steady, came in low, against the wind to help slow it, where the grass was short and the dirt was smoothest.
As far as Rubin could see, they could have already built a landing strip for the pilot. He set the plane down, turned it in a long circle and pointed it back in the direction he’d come, setting up to take off.
“He’s got skills,” Rubin acknowledged to Sean.
“Yeah, he does. Swamp Man taught him and then that son of a bitch betrayed him.” Sean was very clear about that. “You were the one to tell me he was well aware Chandler had taken Swamp prisoner and was most likely torturing him to find out why they wanted this ‘package’ where they were taking her. The lieutenant didn’t seem to mind.”
That much was the truth again. Rubin sighed. Sometimes the psychological testing done for the GhostWalker program failed to weed out the ones that shouldn’t be enhanced. If they had no empathy for others, being jacked up so much could turn them into beings who believed they were so superior to others they would torture and kill without a qualm. They had no morals. No code. They didn’t belong in a program like the GhostWalkers.
Sean, with Abel and Hudson on either side of him, walked toward the plane. Diego, with Rubin and Andrew, stayed in the shadows to cover them. The other squirrel men went up into the trees as a precaution. Sean walked with confidence, acting as if he didn’t think anything was wrong. Jonquille was seated in sight, at the edge of the meadow with two men on either side of her. She had only to roll into the woods and lie flat to disappear. Diego and Rubin were right there, close to her. Luther was somewhere close. Hidden.
The door to the plane opened and the pilot stepped out smiling, giving Sean a brief salute. He started forward and then suddenly veered to the side and dove under the plane.
“Down!” Diego yelled. He fired shot after shot, moving forward at an angle, dropping the first two men coming out of the plane.
The squirrel men fired, trying to keep a spray of bullets all over the plane to give Sean, Hudson and Abel time to move back to cover. The three men ran in a crouch toward the nearest brush as a third man burst from the plane spraying bullets everywhere. Diego shot at the third man as the pilot lifted his gun, aiming squarely at Diego.
Rubin came out of nowhere, throwing his body in front of his brother, his gun spouting death even as he took the bullet meant for Diego.
Jonquille saw the exact trajectory, knew where it went and heard herself screaming in her mind. Diego, get him, take him to the cave. Luther. We need you now. Fast. We’ll lose him. Take him now. Go. Go. Nearest entrance, Luther. Fast. Life or death.
She was already up and running, meeting them as she ran to thrust her hands into the wound, a shirt from somewhere in her hands to put pressure as they went to the nearest entrance directed by Luther. Heartbeat thundering in her ears, she matched her steps to Diego’s and wouldn’t let her mind think about anything but Rubin living.
16
Diego dragged his brother into the woods toward the entrance to the cave, Jonquille running beside him, her mind completely consumed with Rubin’s internal body. She hadn’t hesitated to place her hands over the damage to him to see where the bullet’s path had torn through him and the destruction it had caused. The moment they were in the shelter of the cave, Diego had Rubin down and his shirt open. He tried to stem the tide of blood pouring out, but it was useless.
“Get the med kit. Get a line into him,” Jonquille snapped. “His veins are going to collapse. I can only hold his artery so long.”
Luther was already rushing back with the medical supplies, dropping to his knees beside Rubin and finding a vein quickly.
“I’m compatible with him,” Jonquille said.