Teacher was cruising in the dark at a revised three knots. Thus far they had been in the cave for three hours and had been amazed at the carvings they had documented that covered the rock walls—depictions of wild men in different hunting poses, Incan gods and warriors, and strange beasts and fish. Thus far they had cataloged three hundred different carvings. The work had been meticulously worked and showed in minute detail what life had been like for those who traveled the ancient tunnel before them.
Carl was at the helm in the cockpit, kept company by Jack who assisted with fathom soundings and as a lookout for rock projections, which had nearly done them in twice. Teacher was still riding low in the water with the extra ballast they had taken on, as the roof was only ten feet above them and as low as a mere yard in some spots. Every once in a while they saw bats flutter in and out of the floodlights.
Jenks was in section seven, assisting the science team with the expandable observation module, which would be lowered to allow them a view of their new underwater domain.
The center of the section was taken up by a large boxlike structure made mostly of glass and aluminum framing. There were seats inside this eight-foot-long vessel for six crewmen, and it was fully equipped with small cameras, for both still photos and video. Jenks assisted Danielle, Dr. Nathan, Sarah, Mendenhall, Heidi Rodriguez, and Professor Ellenshaw into the observation module and checked to make sure the hydraulic pressure was up. Then he removed his cigar from his mouth.
“Okay, I suspect you’re going to feel a little queasiness when you’re lowered. The section is telescopic so you won’t actually be out of the boat, just under her some. Ready?”
The six passengers nodded as they turned toward the sides and the glass that for right now showed nothing other than the outer composite hull.
Jenks pressed a button on the intercom. “Toad, you’re going to feel some drag as we lower the section into the water, Teacher’s computer should compensate after about thirty seconds, so don’t worry about it, got it?”
“You got it, Chief; right now we have about thirty-two feet under the keel. We’ll give you plenty of notice if we run shallower than twenty-five,” Carl said from the cockpit.
“Okay, boys and girls, hold onto your asses,” Jenks said as he raised the switch cover and pressed.
The hum of hydraulics sounded from motors embedded in the sides of Teacher as the section started to telescope. The passengers grabbed the armrests of the seats and looked up as they were lowered. The faces of Jenks and the rest of the sciences team became obscured as the rush of passing water was heard. They turned toward the glass again when the small boat-shaped platform broke into the river. Mendenhall was sitting in the frontmost seat and so was nearest the bow-shaped and aerodynamic front. A mere six inches of acrylic separated him from the rush of greenish water being split by the platform. First they were lowered by five feet into the river; next, another section started sliding from the hull of Teacher and the platform was telescoped another five feet into the river. Then floodlights blazed to life and the underwater world was illuminated around them in stark detail.
“My god, this is great,” Sarah said.
Above them, a section of soundproof decking slid over the top of the submerged platform, sealing out light and noise from Teacher and the crew above.
All about them, fish of every freshwater species darted about, some curious as to the strange creatures staring at them, enough so that they returned the favor.
“Damn, look at this—it’s got to be the largest damn catfish I have ever seen. Look at its color,” Mendenhall said.
Outside the glass of the pointed bow, an albino catfish, with a wide mouth that was at least large enough to take a man whole, swam by curiously but sped away when it came into the center of one of the floodlights.
“We’re invading its home,” Danielle remarked as she watched the black walls of the cave slide by her.
“Look at that,” Ellenshaw said. “Supay, the god of the Inca underworld.”
Outside the acrylic windows, they could see a statue, at least forty feet in length. It lay on its back. Teacher easily cleared it and, as she passed over, they could see the slanted, snakelike eyes as it watched the strange craft ease by above it.
“Professor, look!” Danielle said loudly.
“Oh my god! Someone start filming this, please!” Ellenshaw cried as he found himself face to face with a freshwater coelacanth, a fish that was supposed to be extinct more than 60 million years before. More than one saltwater species had been caught off the coast of Africa, but this was the first live specimen Ellenshaw had ever seen, outside of some rare footage of one that was filmed four years before. It was just inches from his face.
“Cameras are running, Professor,” Jenks called through the intercom from above.
“This is amazing,” he said as he raised his hands to the glass. The huge fish swam easily, its strong finlike appendages able to maneuver it like a swimmer with hands.
“This is not the saltwater species found in the seas, look at her! She must be two hundred pounds, and in freshwater, remarkable!” Ellenshaw exclaimed. “Professor Keating, are you seeing this?” he asked with the aid of the intercom.
“Indeed, I am. This is truly remarkable.”
As Sarah joined them at the window, the prehistoric fish suddenly moved with the speed of a snake striking a victim. It smashed itself into the window, making all inside fall back, either into chairs or onto the deck. It swam away and then attacked the glass again. It repeated the aggressive action three more times as it gathered more speed with every turn. Then the five-foot-long fish apparently finally decided enough was enough and swam off into the murky water.
“Well, that was fucking exciting; not exactly something you would put in your tank at home, is it?” Sarah said as she was helped up by Mendenhall.
“Do we have film of this?” Ellenshaw asked.
The speaker came alive and Jenks answered, “Got it all, damn near thought he was going to punch a hole in that acrylic.”
“It was indeed splendidly aggressive, wasn’t it,” the wild-haired Ellenshaw said excitedly.
“Yeah,” Mendenhall said, looking at the professor as if he had lost his mind.
“Okay, folks, that’s enough for now, too dangerous while we’re under way. Bringing her up,” Jenks warned.
The ceiling above them slid back as they resumed their seats. The bottom section telescoped into the first, and that into the main hull. All six crewmembers exited with a feeling they had just returned from another world.
“I hope we can get a specimen while we are here; that would be marvelous,” Ellenshaw said as he slapped Mendenhall on the shoulder.
The sergeant just gave him an uneasy smile, then turned to Sarah and rolled his eyes.
Later, while Jenks was at the helm in the cockpit, Teacher suddenly broke free of the cave and into the star-filled night sky. It was so sudden he didn’t even realize it until the moon lit up the cockpit. He reached out and slapped Lance Corporal Walter Lebowitz, who had been sleeping and was supposed to be assisting him.
“Wake up, jarhead!” Jenks called out loudly and then lit his cigar.
The lance corporal didn’t know where he was for a moment, and the brightness of the moon clearly confused him after the hours inside the pitch black of the cave. He looked around at the jungle and forest that crowded the riverbank in every direction.
“Go wake Lieutenant Commander Everett and Major Collins. Tell ’em we’re clear of the cave and have to stop to blow out our ballast tanks and check the boat out. We’ll get under way again in—” Jenks looked at the digital chronometer on the command console, ”—two hours; got it, Corporal?”
“Yes, Chief.”
“Then why aren’t you moving, boy?” Jenks growled.
The pilot watched him go and then shut down the exterior lights, throwing the outside world back into darkness with the exception of the lowering moon. The cockpit lights were switched off, and only the green-blue glow of the instrument panels illuminated Jenks. He reached out and throttled back on both engines. He shut them down and then put the auto pilot in hover. The electrically operated jets would keep Teacher in the center of the tributary with small adjustments on her thrusters. Only the forward jets would be working full-time to keep the boat from drifting back with the slow current. He then turned the knob that read ballast purge, and throughout the boat a loud hiss of escaping air woke most everyone. Large bubbles of exploding air and water surrounded Teacher as the tanks emptied and the boat’s hull rose high into the air after her being half-sunk for the need of having a low profile.
As Jenks relaxed and looked ahead, all he could make out was more darkness as the tributary went under the never-ending canopy of trees once again. He suspected this would be the last location for a while where the major could make contact with anyone back home.
“Hello, may I join you?” a female voice asked.
Jenks turned in his seat to see that scientist-type woman with the great legs, as she moved in and sat down in the copilot’s seat.
“Dr. Pollock, isn’t it?” Jenks asked as he slid his side window open and tossed the remains of his cigar into the river.
Virginia was in Levi’s and a black mock turtleneck shirt. “Yes, how are you, Chief?”
“Me, I’m fine, what can I help you with?” he asked, his eyes roaming over her chest and then quickly back to her eyes. “You come a-slummin’, or what?”
“Well, I was up in the galley, waiting for coffee, and I thought I would come up front and see the ogre himself. Judge for myself and see if you’re the gruff bastard everyone says you are,” she said, raising her left eyebrow as she removed her glasses.
“Well, am I?” he asked.
“I don’t know yet. I did hear you yelling at that poor marine from all the way in the galley. You seem to think you’re mean and tough, but I don’t know; I haven’t formed an opinion just yet.”
He looked the tall woman over even more closely than before, or for what etiquette called for. One eye twitched as he tried to figure out what she was about.
“Would it make a difference if I kicked your ass?” he suddenly blurted.
“Perhaps it would,” she answered, “but how about taking a break and buying me a cup of coffee instead. Then we can discuss the side of you no one sees.” She stood up and left the cockpit.
Jenks followed her with his eyes and then leaned over to look as she went through the glass hatch and into the navigation compartment. He started to reach for a fresh cigar, then thought better of it and stood and followed. He stopped long enough to look at himself in the large window next to the navigation table as he entered section two, and decided a trip into the head wouldn’t be a bad idea. His eyes were bloodshot and his breath smelled as if he had just come off leave in Shanghai. He didn’t know it, but Virginia Pollock had a thing for lost causes, and the master chief was definitely one of those.
At the break of dawn, with the antenna array up and operating, and the radar dish turning to Jenks’s satisfaction, Jack attempted to check in with the Event Group Complex. They had an opening in the tree canopy of only sixty feet or so, and thus he hoped Boris and Natasha had made the move that had been planned. Pete Golding responded as clearly as if he were talking from the riverbank. Jack reported that they had penetrated the falls and had found the tributary just as the map had indicated. Then Pete handed the conversation off to Niles.
“Jack, we should have visual of you in the next hour or so, via Boris and Natasha. When you find yourselves in thick canopy country, we’ll use space-based radar to keep track of Teacher, using her heat signature,” Niles said.
“Okay. We’re just now getting under way; nothing earthshaking to report as of yet.”
“Jack, we have two problems. One, the president will not, I repeat, will not permit Ryan and the Delta on the ground in Brazil; it’s political and he just won’t make that call.”
“Well, hopefully we can handle anything Farbeaux can throw our way.”
“That’s problem number two; you have company headed your way besides the Frenchman.”
“The boat and barge, we know about those. They’re probably him,” Jack countered.
“No, Jack. Boris and Natasha has picked up an armed group of about fifty men on foot, just entering the area of the falls. And I’ve more good news— your trailing boat and barge are nowhere to be found; I suspect they may have followed you into the tributary.”
“Have you alerted Ryan to our backup? Operation Spoiled Sport will replace Conquistador?” Jack asked.
“Done, he’s on full alert for plan two. The Delta team will act as security while Proteus is on the ground in Panama, but that’s not a sure thing, Jack; they’re having trouble getting the system online. Remember, the whole program is experimental and the whole damned platform could possibly explode over half of South America, so you be careful. Any rough stuff, get your team out of there, into the jungle if you have to. Are your orders clear enough, Major?”
“Got it; go get some sleep, Niles,” Jack said and clicked off the satellite communication link. He patted Tommy Stiles on the back. “Thanks, it was clear as a bell.”
“Is everything all right?” Sarah asked.
He winked. “Yeah, just cautionary. Inform everyone that from here on out we’ll be going to fifty percent alert status, half on, half off.”
Carl, Sarah, and Danielle gathered close to study the computer-generated version of the Padilla map on the navigation table. Carl slid his finger along the shoreline of the tributary. Then he punched in the current coordinates on a small keypad, and the small blip that indicated Teacher’s position showed itself in red, underneath the deep tree canopy.
“According to the map, Padilla’s Sincaro village was only about three klicks up the river. That would place the lagoon and valley not that far away.”
“We can’t even report our location since the sky disappeared,” Sarah said.
“Yeah, I’ve never seen trees like these. How can they grow so much that they block out the entire sky?”
“Water, constant rain. They fight each other for the right to sunlight, making it a battle for supremacy,” Danielle stated, “each one vying for the sun by reaching out over its neighbor, thus creating a giant umbrella effect that will allow nothing through.”
The engines of Teacher were like the sad drone of a constant lullaby. Most of the team had sacked out as they entered the darkness of the rain forest, knowing sleep could be hard to come by in a few hours. Jenks was at the helm with Virginia. She was actually getting a kick out of his permitting her to use the toggle controls of the cockpit, as she had been amazed at how responsive the big boat was. As she copiloted the vessel, she laughed at almost everything Jenks had to say. The master chief had never smiled so much as during the time he was spending with Virginia.
Carl was still leaning over the navigation table with Sarah and Danielle when he heard the master chief and scientist erupt with laughter; he never knew Virginia had such a deep and reactive laugh. He stood up and looked at the two women at the table.
“Does anyone else find that disturbing?” he asked.
Ambrose had received his marching orders. He didn’t like it and knew the secretary was escalating the situation before he knew for a fact that there was even a need to. He picked up the phone and punched in the numbers he had memorized.
“Yes.”
“General, how are you, my friend?”
The man in Brazil sat up straighter in his chair. He swallowed as he tried to find his voice.
“I am …I am well, señor.”
“Good. Are you prepared on your end to do what is necessary?”
“Yes. Yes, I am.”
“Good. You may send your ground element onto the river to follow my countrymen now. If the area in question is found, you may set them loose. There will be no foreign element allowed out of your country, General, is that clear?”
“Sí …uh… yes, I understand.”
“Are ten boats enough, General?”
“They are the best assault force in the private sector, señor. They will do their jobs.”
“Good, good. Your reward will be handsome as we promised, both monetarily and politically. Your air force is ready in case?”
“This is an element I would rather not use—”
“It will only be used if something unforeseen arises; don’t worry, my friend.”
The connection was cut and the general was left holding the phone, aghast that he had gotten himself into this very dangerous game of treason.
Mendez had bided his time. He was a patient man when it came to killing. That was where his former partners in the drug trade had failed on a monumental scale. Targets and places of assassination were to be chosen with expert precision and never, ever was the decision to be made hastily. Mendez and his operatives knew when the iron was hot enough to strike. Why place the blame of murder upon yourself, when you can make people believe the illusion of someone else’s doing the dirty work?
In the darkness he could see the Frenchman in the wheelhouse talking with that fool of a captain. Santos was an annoyance that he would soon tire of, along with Farbeaux. He lit a cigar. The flare of the match momentarily illuminated his features as he caught Rosolo’s eye. Mendez nodded and then turned away toward the stern of the boat.
Captain Rosolo made sure Farbeaux was still occupied by Santos, then he followed his boss to the gunwale at the far end of the boat. Once there, he removed a small cylinder from his coat pocket and found the trigger. He held the device up and out away from the Rio Madonna and aimed it through a small break in the overhead canopy where stars could be seen. To the rear, they could clearly make out the trailing barge as it silently cut the river into two white slices. Rosolo turned and gestured to one of his men just below the wheel-house. The man held up a portable radio and switched it to the Madonna’s frequency. Then he pushed the squelch button, with the volume turned all the way up. Inside the wheelhouse, they heard the radio come to life with the most godawful squeal imaginable. At the same time, Rosolo pulled the string at the end of the tube and the bright flash of a flare shot out and through the small opening in the tree canopy. The light breeze quickly pulled the telltale smoke away from the boat and into the surrounding jungle, just as Farbeaux made an appearance on the bridge wing to admonish the man below for making so much noise with his radio. Rosolo smiled as the Frenchman didn’t even look their way. He stepped back into the now silent bridge.
“Well done, my friend.” Mendez puffed on his overly large cigar as the pop of the flare sounded three hundred feet above the canopy.
Five hundred feet above the trees and thick jungle, the lead pilot of a flight of two Aérospatiale Gazelle attack helicopters, once owned by the French army, circled. The bright flash of the red flare arched out of the forest below and the two pilots knew they had a mission. They were mercenaries hired by Mendez, and their specialty was airborne murder.
The pilot in the lead Gazelle had forgone the hiring of a weapons officer for this well-paying opportunity, out of greed. The two pilots would share their reward with no one. After all, they were only going after a slow-moving river craft. They could handle the attack themselves.
He called his wingman and gave his instructions. He reached out and turned on his FLIR radar. The forward-looking infrared system activated and showed the coolness of the jungle and trees below. Then as they crossed the winding and unseen tributary below, the target they were seeking came into full view. It was marked clearly through the canopy of trees as a long, very bright ambient red color as it churned away slowly below. The fools would never know what hit them. He pulled the safety cover from his trigger mounted on the control stick, and selected his guns. He had elected not to bring the missiles he had stored in Colombia because he felt it would be a waste; they would have trouble penetrating the trees below. But twenty-millimeter rounds wouldn’t have that problem, as they would smash their way through any protecting wood surrounding their target.
The lead pilot smiled as he brought his Gazelle to full power and made his turn for the dark jungle below. His unsuspecting target didn’t know it yet, but they were about to be destroyed by a lightning strike from heaven.
Jack stood up from the navigation table. A familiar noise had entered his train of thought and then vanished. He glanced over at Carl, who was staring at the cup of coffee that sat near the table’s edge. A minute tremor was making the dark coffee inside shimmer in the dim lighting of the cabin. Jack reached out for the intercom.
“Chief, have you turned any systems on in the last thirty seconds?”
“It’s late, Major, not the time to be using equipment we don’t need.” Jenks clicked off.
“Kill the engines,” Jack said as he looked at Carl and then Sarah.
Suddenly the boat went dead quiet. As they listened with faces cast in varying colors from the navigation screens on the table, Jack tilted his head. He heard it immediately. He reached for the intercom again.
“Chief, restart the engines and wait for my word; we may have company.”
“Goddammit, we’re not a warship, Major; I told you that.”
“Chief, shut up and be ready.”
“What do you think, Jack? Brazilian?” Sarah asked.
Sarah finally heard the soft whine of engines from outside. She was amazed the two officers had noticed it above the sleep-inducing drone of Teacher.
“No, Brazil uses the Kiowas and old Hughies we sold them.” Jack closed his eyes and leaned on the table, listening more intently. “These are Gazelles. French-built attack helicopters.”
“Goddamn, are you sure?” Carl asked as he went over to the wall-mounted phone.
“I heard enough of the little bastards in Africa and Afghanistan to last a lifetime.”
“Will, go to the arms locker and get a fire team on deck,” Carl said into the phone.
He hung up the receiver just as forty twenty-millimeter rounds smashed into Teacher. Jack pulled Sarah to the floor as the red-hot bullets punctured the thin composite hull and passed through to the water below. Jack didn’t bother to use the intercom this time as he shouted out toward the cockpit, “Get your ass moving, Chief!”
The order was redundant as Jenks had already slammed Teacher’s throttles to her stops. The large boat sluiced into the center of the tributary and then started evasive zigzagging. He knew exactly what was happening, and the way to beat some of the fire from above.
Around them they heard the screams of the doctors and professors as they were jolted awake by the sheer noise and terror of the large rounds hitting Teacher. The military personnel were trying their best to get them behind equipment and under tables as another assault slammed into them. The red tracer rounds passed through the thin hull easily and smashed equipment as it did so. The noise was absolutely horrifying.
“You stay here!” Jack yelled at Sarah. “Come on, Carl, we can’t take much more of this.”
Both men gained their feet and ran to the winding staircase in the next section, ducking when more steel-jacketed rounds slammed into them. The red phosphorus tracers ignited fires in the boat’s interior as they went though the hull like a kid punching holes in a soda can. The sound of breaking glass and exploding fire extinguishers sounded throughout the boat as Jenks swerved from riverbank to riverbank.
Mendenhall, Sanchez, and even Professor Ellenshaw were already on deck. The professor, standing on the rubberized flooring, was reaching up to supply magazine after magazine for the two M-16s being used by the two security men as they fired blindly up into the trees toward the sound of the turbines passing overhead.
“Situation, Will?” Jack screamed as he tossed to Carl one of the M-16s Mendenhall had stacked on the deck. The lieutenant commander didn’t waste time; he pulled the charging handle and opened up at one of the low-flying assault choppers. His own tracers stitched the sky and disappeared into the tree branches above them.
“I think there are two, can’t be sure. Our return defensive fire ain’t getting through the trees. We’re going to get our asses kicked!” Mendenhall said as he inserted another magazine while more of the tracers slammed through the trees. They hit water at first and then the awful noise of rounds hitting the hull of Teacher sounded, as one of the science labs took heavy damage. He looked down as Ellenshaw, white hair flying in panic, reached up with another full magazine. “Goddammit, stay down, Professor, until I ask for one!” Mendenhall shouted as he used his foot to push the crazy bastard back onto the deck.
Jack heard the scream as one of the Gazelles came low. He pointed just ahead of where the chopper should be, and Carl, Mendenhall, and Sanchez opened up. Bright white-hot tracers arched up into the canopy, and with dawning horror Jack saw over 90 percent of the light 5.56-millimeter rounds ricochet off branches and tree trunks, not able to slam their way through to the sky and the attacking ships above them.
Damn!” he said. More tracer fire erupted around them as both Gazelles opened fire. The scene felt like something out of a science-fiction movie as lines of twenty-millimeter rounds resembling laser weapons struck the water and boat around them. The choppers were stitching the area with death and destruction even while they were, themselves, impervious to their return fire.
Below, the master chief knew he didn’t have the time he needed to find adequate cover for his slow-moving target duck that was lined up as if in a carnival’s shooting gallery. He howled in frustration as more thumps sounded throughout his boat.
“By God, that’s just about enough of this!” he yelled as he reached out, took Virginia’s slim hand, and thrust her fingers around the throttle and rudder control located on her chairs armrest. “Take the wheel, doll; keep zigzagging as much as possible; just don’t slam the old girl into the riverbank. Keep her moving no matter what.” He left his seat and, before exiting the cockpit, leaned over and kissed Virginia on the cheek. “Be right back, dollface, it’s fucking time for the cavalry to show up.”
Virginia didn’t hear a word Jenks had said. Her eyes were wide and she was too busy shaking, which in the long run increased their survivability, as Teacher rocked from side to side when she shook the temperamental controls. She even failed to realize the master chief had pecked her on the cheek.
Abovedecks the security team knew they were fighting a losing battle. It was obvious to Jack and Carl that the shooters orbiting above the tree canopy had a FLIR system and were using the boat’s own heat signature to track them through the trees.
“I’d give my right nut for a Stinger right about now,” Carl said as he emptied a twenty-round magazine into the overhead branches, hoping at least three or four rounds could pop their way through.
Jack kicked himself for not including some kind of airborne defense in their small arsenal of mostly automatic weapons.
Suddenly, weapons fire opened up from the bow’s upper deck as Sarah, Danielle, and a few of the scientists began shooting with arms from the forward locker. There were now nine M-16s firing blindly upward into the canopy.
“Good girl,” Jack mumbled as he quickly inserted another magazine.
At that moment, a long line of twenty-millimeter red tracers broke through the trees and stitched a long line of holes across the bow. They heard a scream; one of the female assistants working with Professor Keating had cried out as one of the large rounds nicked her arm. Jack could hear the damage the shells were doing to the interior of Teacher as whoever was at the controls now directed the vessel toward the middle of the tributary.
A mere hundred feet above the tree line, the two Gazelle gunships swung around. Their target was far more evasive than they were led to believe. Mendez only said they would encounter a riverboat. But this craft was maneuvering as if it were a river patrol boat. And they were taking an inordinate amount of fire from below. So far the lead Gazelle had felt the distinctive thump of several small arms impacts against its aluminum fuselage. Whoever was below had organized a defense against the attack with lightning speed, and the volume of fire was amazing.
Mendez radioed the second Gazelle that they should make a scissoring maneuver and come at their target from two different directions, catching the boat below in a crossfire that should at the very least disable it. He would concentrate fire on the bow and his wingman would take the rear, possibly hitting the engine compartment, and bringing the evasive vessel to a stop. Then they could strafe the craft at their leisure.
The two French-built Gazelles climbed to an altitude of two hundred feet and then split apart. They would start their killing run in two minutes. They would line up the copters with the aid of the FLIR and start their assault as early as a thousand yards from target. Giving their ammunition a far better chance of slicing their enemy in two.
Jenks fought his way into the navigation and sonar section of the boat. Several heavy rounds had at one point almost ended his career as they slammed into the hull and rocked the galley area, sending pots and pans everywhere. He spotted three of the lab technicians, who were hiding behind one of the couches in the crew lounge. Instead of feeling sorry for the two women and one man, he started kicking at them as they tried to crawl away.
“Get you fucking asses out there and defend yourselves, you fuckin’ idiots. Move, I said.” He took a final swipe at the crawling techs and then turned and made his way to his seat at the navigating console.
The technicians quickly stood and ran for the spiral staircase that led to the upper deck. They must have figured that the odds of surviving the bullets outside were far better than they would get facing the master chief.
Jenks reached out and pulled up a clear red-tinted cover that had a flash symbol on it. Then he turned in his chair and hit several switches marked dwael. He watched as a monitor located above the sonar and communications panel flickered to life.
“Sons of bitches want to play with technology, we’ll fuckin’ play with technology,” he grumbled as he hit the FLIR tracking system he had installed at the last minute when it had been offered to him by the Event Group technicians in New Orleans. It had been installed for use in detecting animal movement where thick cover foliage was blocking all other sensory systems. Now he would use the forward-looking infrared system and DWAEL to make a whole new weapon, a stinger for the old Teacher. The deep-water argon-enhanced laser was a new system that was to be used for getting precise readings on deep canyons of unknown waterways, such as the supposed lagoon they were heading for. But little did most of the public and military know, the laser itself, if turned to full power, could be used as a very efficient cutting instrument. The main problem was supplying the system with enough juice from Teacher’s generators to switch it from being a depth finder to a killing weapon. The master chief, though, knew his boat. He reached out and found the main power connection for Teacher’s many systems and then isolated the sonar console and generator stations. He pulled as hard as he could on the main conduit, breaking the line free from the cabinet, which in turn popped the emergency breakers for everything except the systems he had isolated, causing a major breakdown in the boat’s power grid. In layman’s terms, the master chief had basically pulled the plug.
On the upper deck, Jack and the others held their fire as they heard the screaming approach of the Gazelles’ charging at Teacher from above. He encouraged everyone to aim at the noise. He knew it was a lost cause, but they had to try something.
Suddenly a warning horn blared and Jenks’s voice came out over the loudspeaker on the tower.
“All hands, grab your socks and hold your cocks! Hit the deck and keep your eyes closed!”
Jack and Carl hollered for everyone to get down. They heard a motor engage and, before Jack threw himself to the rubber-matted deck, he saw a small section on the starboard side of Teacher rise. A long, cylindrical arm was hydraulically activated and swiveled its clear glass head around as the arm extended from the opening. It resembled a ballpoint pen with a lightbulb attached to the tip. Immediately recognition dawned in Jack’s eyes as a memory flashed into his mind. He recalled his days at Aberdeen proving ground, specifically the Argon laser systems they had been working on, a larger version of what he had just seen come up from Teacher’s hull. But he knew that they were using it for many nonmilitary things like speed and radar enhancements, measuring tools that were accurate to the millimeter. What was the master chief up to?
He heard the generators below deck go full throttle just as Virginia brought Teacher to the center of the tributary again. Then the engines shut down. The hairs on Jack’s arms began to tingle and he smelled ozone in the air as electricity was being put out at a monumental rate of power. The current was starting to escape containment and the hair of everyone on deck began to rise.
“Oh, shit, stay down!” Jack yelled just as the helicopters above the trees let loose with their cannon.
Rounds started striking the water three hundred yards from Teacher. The red tracers came down in a magnificent straight line as the two attacking Gazelles made their way to the stalled boat. Then suddenly a loud crack sounded from everywhere. Teacher’s bulk was slammed into the water as Jenks discharged the power that had built up in the laser, sending out a straight beam of white light that burned its way through the thick canopy of trees in a microsecond. As the beam reached out, the cutting began.
The lead pilot saw something explode from below; his target’s being covered by trees, he thought sure he had hit one of the enemy’s gas tanks. Then suddenly the trees disappeared in a bright flash. He was momentarily blinded as a brilliant white light shot up and out. The beam caught his wingman cleanly down the middle of the Gazelle, neatly slicing the helicopter into two distinct pieces and sending its spinning rotor blades off in all directions. The white-hot beam ignited the aviation fuel and the remains of the copter plunged neatly through the trees into the river below.
The leader immediately ceased his run and let up on the trigger as he turned his Gazelle away from whoever had just fired at them from below. The nature of that weapon he didn’t know, nor did he care to remain and find out firsthand what had so suddenly ended the life of one of his employees. As he ventured a look behind him, the brightness of the beam of light lessened even while it still searched the area for its second target. The pilot turned the throttle on his collective all the way to the stops and tried to turn, but the beam, though faded in intensity, turned with him. It easily sliced through his tail boom. The helicopter started to spiral out of control. The trees rushed up and the pilot closed his eyes, waiting for the inevitable, crushing death that was waiting only seconds away.
Jack knew they were lucky. Teacher, still out of power and drifting, floated past some of the remains of the first Gazelle. As he watched the burning wreckage slide below the dark waters, he had his proof that someone was out to stop them at all costs from reaching the lagoon.
Ten miles to the stern of Teacher, Farbeaux had thought he saw the flash of gunfire through the canopy. He walked to the bow of the Rio Madonna and stared out into the darkness. He was soon joined by Captain Santos.
“You saw this thing also, señor?”
“I saw something.”
“Ah, perhaps it was just heat lightning, a common thing on the river.” Santos watched the Frenchman for a reaction. The captain was pleased to see the frown on his face.
“Perhaps.” Farbeaux turned away and saw that Mendez and his pet killer hadn’t moved from the fantail. They sat silently at their small table watching the night around them. The only visual evidence that they were there at all was the soft glow of Mendez’s cigar, and even that hid the smile on his face.