Firestorm: Book III of the Wildfire Saga (52 page)

Cooper grunted as the cold sent a lance of pain shooting up through his injured right thigh.
 
There'd been little time for him to rest since leaving the White House—this mission was too important.
 
He hoped the expedient sutures held his leg together long enough to swim across the loch and breach the castle.
 
He slipped on his fins and frowned in the darkness.
 
A nagging voice whispered in his mind:
And if they don't?
 

The hell with it—I don't have time to bleed.

"Ready," whispered Charlie.

"Let's go.
 
Actual and Two are Oscar Mike."
 
Cooper slipped his rebreather mask over his face and activated the dive system.
 
The last image Cooper had of the castle across the cold waters of the loch was a third explosion blossoming out over the top of its high walls.

Cooper smiled as he slipped beneath the waters, silent as a ghost.
 
The guards were having a rough night.

"Good kill!
" called out Jax.

Cooper gave his leg a test kick and winced at the pain.
 
He clenched his jaws and forced the feelings to the back of his mind as he propelled himself through the murky depths toward his target.

He listened to the combat chatter as the SAS commandos emerged from the surrounding woods and hiding places along the causeway to join the fray.
 
Warnings flew about the rear van as doors opened and defenders poured out, shooting into the darkness.

The SAS moved forward toward their objective cutting down anything in their path with methodical precision.
 
They took a few casualties, but not enough to slow down the attack.
 

To take his mind off the pain in his leg as he swam, Cooper tracked how many effective combatants were still at his disposal. By the time he passed the halfway point across the loch, keeping track of these numbers was all he could do in the face of the flaring burn in his right leg.

"How you doing?
" grunted Charlie's muffled voice as he swam.

Cooper checked the heads-up display built inside his dive mask and noticed Charlie was significantly further along their path toward the far shore.
 
Where Cooper struggled to maintain his speed, Charlie seemed to move faster and faster with every second.
 

"Hangin' in there," Cooper grunted.

"Last missile away!
" called out Jax.
 
"Overwatch, I'm on my way,
" he reported.

"Copy that Three, I'll be ready to move in just a second."

Cooper struggled through the black water, fighting vertigo—he was deep enough now he could no longer tell which way was up or down.  He closed his eyes for a moment and focused on the rhythm of his kicking.
 

"Good kill, good kill, good kill!"
called out Jax, his voice shaky as he ran.

"Packing up, Three.
 
Meet you in the water,"
replied Sparky.

A moment later, Jax's mask-muffled voice broke squelch.
 
"Actual, be advised: we're en route to the RP."

"Roger that, Three," gasped Cooper.
 
He clenched his jaw as he swam, struggling to maintain an even strain in his voice.
 
His whole leg felt like it was on fire now and he worried every time he kicked he'd feel the sensation of flesh or stitches giving way under the dive suit.

"Actual, Two is on the rocks."

Cooper blinked back the sweat dribbling down his face and peered at the blurry HUD.
 
He was only a few moments away from the shore himself.
 
He looked again through the murky water and watched a dark shape materialize.
 

"I got boulders on the bottom—30 seconds out."

Cooper broke the surface of the water as slowly as possible, letting his legs float limp behind him, relishing the relief in his thigh.
 
He hoped the cold water would soon numb the pain radiating from his torn quadriceps.
 
There's at least one good thing in all this,
he told himself,
I can't feel the God damn knee…

He held his position scanned the shoreline.
 
A steep, rocky embankment loomed over him.
 
The glistening rocks ranged in size from basketballs to small cars.
 
Charlie was ten feet up the slope, wedged between two large boulders, his rifle aimed toward the castle walls.

"No movement on the walls,
" he reported.

"Roger, coming up on your six."
 
Cooper put his feet down and pushed, wincing through the pain in his leg as he emerged from the loch's cold embrace.
 
He reached down and slipped off his dive fins, letting them sink out of sight into the dark depths before peeling off his mask and putting it in the water.
 

Won't be needing them again.
 

Cooper shouldered his dripping rifle and clambered up the slope as quietly as he could to a position just right of Charlie.
 
He rested his back against a solid, slick boulder and wiped the sweat from his eyes.

"No lights, no movement, no nothing on the far shore," he reported.
 
"No reinforcements visible yet.
 
That's good."
 
Yet he knew, somewhere out there in the middle of the loch, Sparky and Jax followed in his wake using their rebreathers to stay a good 15 feet below the surface.
 

It'd been a complete pain in the ass to drag the heavy dive equipment across Skye over the past 24 hours, but the mission plan had been solid.
 
Their rebreathers gave them the final element of surprise during their transition from observation to frontal assault.

Cooper peeled back the tight-fitting rubber skin over his neck and felt the cold air kiss his wet hair.
 
He felt invigorated and turned to look at Charlie.
 
"Still clear up top?"

In the darkness, Charlie appeared nothing more than a shadow with a long point
 
sticking up.
 
He never moved his head from his rifle.
 
"Clear."

Another explosion rocked the interior of the castle and the sound rolled down on them like a physical presence.
 
A flash of light lit up the high walls of the keep from inside the main yard.
 
For a moment, Cooper thought he saw figures perched at the top of the tall keep.

"Let's get the rig ready for Sparky.
 
I want him up that tower as fast as possible.
 
We're sitting ducks down here until we get eyes up high."

"Copy that," whispered Charlie.
 
He turned and exposed his pack as Cooper crawled closer.
 
Cooper rifled through the outer pockets until he found the appropriate gear: a long length of rappelling line and an explosive bolt grappling hook attachment.
 

He turned and Charlie pulled out the heavy rifle adapter from Cooper's pack and attached it to his own rifle.
 
He loaded the grappling hook rig and slid it down inside the barrel of his rifle, locking the rope in place.

Charlie took aim with the ungainly coil hanging off the end of his rifle.
 
"Three, two, one…" Cooper heard a muffled
pop
and the
whissh
of the rappelling line as it chased the grappling hook up the sheer face of the hundred-foot tall central keep.
 
In the darkness and without night vision, Cooper could only trust to Charlie's aim.
 

Charlie held his position for a moment then abruptly dropped his rifle and pulled on the rope.
 
"Solid contact, it's locked and ready."

As Charlie busied himself with anchoring the end of the rappelling line, Cooper turned back to the loch.
 
"Overwatch, we're ready for you."

"
Thirty seconds
," replied Sparky with barely a hint of strain to his voice.

Cooper heard a faint splash to his left and watched as Jax emerged from the water and slithered up the rocks.
 
To his right, a duplicate wraith emerged carrying a long gun.
 
Sparky took position next to Charlie and, after a moment to catch his breath, he grabbed onto the rope and climbed his way up the embankment.
 
He paused at the base of the castle wall and jerked his thumb up.

Charlie handed the length of the rope to Cooper and Jax as he approached the group.
 
"He's ready.
 
Let's do this… haul on three.
 
One, two,
three
."

The men grunted in unison and pulled on the line.
 
As it wound its way through the carabiner attached to the rocks in front of Charlie, the grappling hook acted like a pulley.
 
Cooper watched Sparky rapidly ascend the outer wall, pause briefly at the top, then disappear over the crenellations.
 

Charlie maintained a steady pace and within a few seconds, Cooper spotted Sparky emerge tight against the west face of the keep and ascend to the top.
 
Every time an explosion touched off inside the castle, the light illuminated Sparky like a spider climbing the side of the proverbial waterspout.

"Looking good, Overwatch," muttered Cooper.
 
They pulled again and Sparky jerked up the side of the keep another ten feet.

"
No one's spotted me—SAS is keeping everyone occupied…
" replied the sniper.
 
Another 30 seconds and it was over.
 
Sparky reached the top of the keep and disappeared through the crenelations.
 
Cooper watched in horror as a telltale flash of gunfire erupted in a sharp staccato strobe pattern.
 

"Overwatch—Overwatch!"

Cooper gestured for Charlie and Jax to make their way up the slope.
 
He held his position.
 
"Overwatch, come in."

"Actual, Overwatch,
" panted Sparky.
 
"
Good to go.
 
Ran into a little welcoming party.
 
Surprised the shit out of them
."

"Roger that.
 
Striker is moving.
 
Cover us."

"Copy.
 
There's a helipad up here.
 
One access door.
 
Gonna rig it to blow, then I'll start the party."

Cooper made his way up the side of the embankment, falling three times and rising with a string of profanity sure to make Davy Jones blush.
 
By the time he reached the base of the castle wall itself, Charlie and Jax were already busying themselves with rappelling gear.
 
Cooper leaned his back against the wall and sucked in a few deep breaths of cold, fresh air.

"How you doing, grandpa?" muttered Charlie.

"Fuck you," gasped Cooper.
 
His thigh throbbed and his vision turned red every other heartbeat.

He knew he was bleeding, but he couldn't take the time to investigate.
 
Mission first.

"Okay, doorway up here's rigged to blow if anybody tries to come up after me.
 
We own the high ground, gentlemen—you may commence your attack."

Charlie shook his head.
 
"Fuckin' showoff," he muttered.

Jax jumped up against the wall and pulled on his belaying rope, beginning his ascent.
 
"Come on, ladies, it's only a wall."
 

Cooper grunted as he tugged on his own rope.
 
"Meet you at the top."

C
HAPTER
42

Salmon Falls, Idaho.

D
ENNY
CAUGHT
HIS
BREATH
, leaning against a snow-blasted pine.
 
He squinted up at the goose-down clouds, seeking whatever feeble warmth the day might provide.
 
A general brightness in the in sky told him where the sun hid and that it was nearing mid-morning.
 
The soft look of the slow moving, low clouds warned him of more snow on the way.

He sighed, looking down at the fresh foot of powder that dragged at his boots and slowed his pace to a heart-thudding crawl.
 
Not that it mattered though—he was good and lost.

Denny pushed off the tree and slogged up a slight hill, stumbling over buried rocks and roots.
 
He’d wandered away from camp, pondering how to fulfill his vow to rid Salmon Falls of it’s petty dictator and lost himself in the storm.

No matter how he puzzled it, the facts led Denny to one conclusion: Townsen must die.
 
The man would never give up his power and would burn the town to the ground to keep it.
 
To save Salmon Falls, his friends and neighbors—those that still drew breath—had to avenge the Andertons, George McDonnell, and the men who died fighting at the cabin…