Rogue Forces

“Copy, Genesis,” Macomber replied. He waved at the Humvees to move in. “C’mon, we’ve got company, get in there and help the egghead,” he ordered. “I want to be out of here ASAP.” The Humvees rolled in, and technicians began unloading power tools to start opening the plane up.

“I’ll be here all day at least, probably for the next two days,” Jon Masters radioed.

“Masters, I’m not here to cart the entire aircraft back to the base,” Macomber radioed back. “Grab any classified stuff and only the most essential black boxes that are intact, and let’s get out of here. We’re out in the open with three hundred Turkish soldiers coming for us and another fifty thousand in the area.” That reminder seemed to make everyone work a little quicker.

“That helicopter is definitely coming your way,” Patrick radioed. “About seven minutes out. The ground forces have increased in size—looks like six vehicles now, four troop carriers and two armored vehicles. How’s the plane look?”

“Masters says it doesn’t look that bad,” Whack said. “I think he’d say that if it was nothing but a smoking hole in the ground.”

“You’re right about that. Okay, they’re setting up roadblocks north and south on the highway, and all six vehicles are headed your way.”

“Copy.”

“No fighting unless it’s absolutely necessary, Rascal. We’re all still friends, remember.”

“I know. I’ve been extremely cordial and nice so far.”

“They should be in sight on the highway now.”

Wayne turned and saw the trucks unloading a total of about twenty troops with rifles, the armored vehicles on guard flanking the trucks and off-loading their own dismounts, and the same Captain Evren Jon spoke with at the front gate, scanning them with binoculars. “In sight. I see infantry weapons only so far. Rascal, this is One, we’ve got lookylous, stand by.” A few minutes later, Whack saw several soldiers and Captain Evren board their armored personnel carriers and slowly drive toward them. “Here they come.”

Evren’s APC stopped about thirty yards in front of Whack, and five soldiers dismounted, fanned out about six yards apart from one another, and lay prone on the ground with rifles raised. Whack noticed that the gunner’s cupola atop the APC was manned and the barrel of the 12.5-millimeter machine gun aimed right at him; there was also a Russian-made AT-3 “Sagger” antitank missile mounted on its launch rail, aimed at one of the Humvees. The second APC moved away, heading around Whack toward the XC-57.

“You!” Evren shouted in English. “Raise your hands and turn around!”

“Hayir,” Whack replied in Turkish via his electronic translator. “No. Leave us alone.”

“You are not permitted access to the plane.”

“We have permission from the Iraqi government and the plane’s owner,” Whack said. “This is a legal salvage operation. Leave us alone.”

“I repeat, raise your hands and turn around, or we will open fire.”

“I am an American, I’m not armed, and I have permission from the Iraqi government. You’re a Turkish soldier. I don’t take orders from you.”

Now Evren seemed to be confused. He pulled out his portable transceiver and spoke into it. “He’s obviously reached the limit of his rules of engagement,” Whack said over the command network. “Here’s where it’ll start getting interesting. Keep an eye on the second APC; it’s flanking me and heading your way.”

“Got it in sight, One,” came the reply from Charlie Turlock.

“The helicopter is about five minutes out, Rascal,” Patrick said.

“Copy. Let’s hope it’s just the TV news.” Whack thought for a moment. “I’m starting to get nervous about that machine gun and Sagger missile on this APC, guys,” he said. “Everyone, find some cover away from the Humvees.” Through his translator, he said, “Point your weapons away right now!”

“You will surrender immediately or we will open fire!” Evren shouted in return.

“I’m warning you, point your weapons away and leave us alone, or I’m going to rough you up,” Whack said. “I don’t care about this NATO ally shit—lower your weapons and go away or you’re all going to wake up in the hospital.”

Through the sensitive microphones built into the Tin Man suit, Whack heard Evren say the word ates. A three-round burst of rifle fire rang out, and all three rounds hit Macomber’s left thigh. “God bless it,” Macomber snarled. “The guy shot me in the damned leg.”

“He was only trying to wound you,” Charlie said. “Take it easy, Whack.”

Evren was obviously startled to see the figure still standing, even though he’d clearly seen all rounds hit. “One more warning, bub,” Whack shouted in Turkish. “If you don’t drop your weapons, I’m going to play a little tune on your skull with my fists.”

He heard Evren say, “Ohn ekee, bebe, sicak!” which meant, “The twelve and the baby, go hot,” and Whack radioed, “Take cover, knock out the APCs, now!” just as the gunner on the 12.5-millimeter machine gun opened fire.