The IX (8 page)

The horses shied as the dirt in several places around their feet exploded into the air. Muffled echoes of gunshots flittered away on the gale.

“They’ve found us,” Lex spat.

“They never lost us,” Stained-With-Blood countered. “Quickly, we must make ready. It would appear my Lakota, Sioux, and Apache brothers have not only been poisoned against reconciliation, but corrupt the purity of our fighting methods too. Your thunder sticks will make them invincible.”

As they galloped down the track, Lex shouted, “We’ll see about that. I’m more concerned as to where they got them. Peace was very much on Senator Lincoln’s agenda. If someone is supplying our enemies with rifles, it makes me wonder just how long this deception was in the planning.”

“Or how deep it goes?” the warrior added, looking thoughtful.

Catching up with the main party, Lex began issuing orders.

“Private Dermot? Sound for battle. They realize we’re here, so we might as well let them know we’re prepared. Sergeant Rixton! Take your section and head back out to the beginning of the defile. Although it’s low ground, position your men as best you can along the edge of the cut. Pick off as many as you can at long range. Some of them have guns now, so make use of the extra range afforded by our Spencer carbines. I want those savages to think twice about trying to rush us.”

Scanning the gorge, Lex picked out several points where the rocks allowed access back up onto the plain. Turning to the native warrior, he asked, “Stained-With-Blood, would you mind helping Corporal Williams pick the best locations to protect our position from up there? You know the way Snow Blizzard thinks. How would
he
try and take us? Put us in the right spots to counter that. Okay?”

The brave nodded and ushered the corporal’s section away.

Turning to the remaining soldiers, Lex beckoned to the medical officers and addressed the princess. “Small Robes? May I ask that you follow my instructions to the letter?” The young woman eyed him solemnly for a moment, then smiled. Lex took that as a yes. Pressing ahead, he said, “I want you to stay close to Major Clark and Captain Anders. Both men are trained healers as well as soldiers, so they’ll be able to keep you safer than anyone else.” Surgeon Major Clark looked uncomfortable about that statement, but had the good manners not to disagree.

Scanning the bottom of the defile, Lex noticed the strengthening wind was already lifting dust from the canyon floor into the air, reducing visibility and making it harder to pick out individual people.
Good. That should make us much more difficult to hit.

He espied a cluster of rocks at the base of the cliff, masked beneath a slight overhang. Pointing at it, he said, “If you lead the horses over there and stay apart from the fighters, I’m hoping you’ll avoid the worst of what’s coming.”

As the small group moved off, Lex was distracted by noise and movement from the team making their way back onto the ridgeline. He heard someone shout, “Stay your hand!”

Stained-With-Blood?

“Hold your fire, it’s us!” Corporal Williams cried.

Blinking furiously to clear his eyes, Lex examined the crest. It was crowned by a multitude of silhouettes, but they were hard to distinguish among the flying debris and stinging grit. His heart jumped into his mouth as he saw his soldiers pointing their weapons upward. Then he recognized one profile in particular. “Captain Houston? Is that you, Sir?”

The men about him paused, their confusion evident.

“Yes, Lieutenant, it is. Ask your men to lower their weapons, please.”

“Sir? How come you got here so quickly? We only just arrived ourselves.”

“The weapons, Lieutenant? We don’t want to make this any harder than it is.” Houston’s voice trembled from a subtle undercurrent. For some reason, Lex found the captain’s manner worrying. So did the men. Although they had initially started to relax, most now had their rifles trained back on their comrades from second platoon.

Houston was joined by more people. Manifesting from out of the haze behind him, they came to stand silently at his side. Thunderclouds had now formed overhead, directly behind and above them, making it appear to the poor unfortunates trapped in the canyon that a crowd of grim reapers had just materialized, intent on an orgy of imminent death.

“Snow Blizzard!” Stained-With-Blood snapped, “your treachery is boundless. You are allied with this . . . this scum?” The veteran warrior’s countenance had turned as hard as flint.

Lex couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Stained-With-Blood? What are you talking about?”

Turning his back on the gathering crowd, Stained-With-Blood addressed the bewildered lieutenant. “This explains everything, young warrior. Why your company was betrayed by an outburst from someone who should have known better. How we miraculously managed to avoid capture by those who know these lands with the intimacy of a people born to it. And most of all, it reveals why we were led here. These traitors are allied. And have been all along.” Turning to face the tribal leader and the army officer once more, he bellowed, “Do you dare deny it?”

Captain Houston glanced at Snow Blizzard, shrugged, and tightened his shawl about his shoulders. Leaning into the wind, he called, “No, I don’t deny it. But we are no traitors. You are naïve if you think yours are the only proposals on the table. Our nation is confused. Divided. Not everyone feels our best interests are being served by congress. We’ll soon be taking things in a different direction. Especially in the south, where we have growing support to form a new government. Five states are with us. If we are successful here today, that’ll grow to seven. Lincoln will be ruined, and we’ll be free to take our country forward in a way more conducive . . .” he flicked a look at Snow Blizzard once again, “. . . to a mutual and beneficial understanding with our Native American friends, here.”

Lex was stunned. “Are you saying this whole thing was staged? Planned to fail from the very beginning?”

Laughing coldly, Houston stepped forward a few paces. “But of course. You may be a career officer, Fox, but you don’t have the connections my family has. Why do you think the fifth was chosen to undertake this mission? My brother, Samuel, will be delighted at the outcome, despite the hiccup along the way.”

A veil dropped from Lex’s mind.
Governor Sam Houston! My God, how high up does this conspiracy go? I’ve got to warn someone.

As if sensing the first lieutenant’s thoughts, Houston cupped his hands to his mouth and called through the storm. “Lieutenant Smith? Wilson, you and your new buddies can come out now.” Next to him, Snow Blizzard put his fingers to his lips and made a shrill whistling noise.

Within moments, further shapes materialized out of the gloom. Soldiers and braves. All were carrying rifles.

Lex shook from head to toe. For some reason, a thrill that had nothing to do with his worsening situation had taken hold of him and was refusing to let go. “Are you crazy? Do you realize the division this will cause?”

“Oh yes. We’re counting on it.” The menace in Houston’s voice was clear. Leveling his rifle toward Lex, he sneered, “Now lower your weapons.”

Lex knew it would be suicide to do so. He felt lightheaded. The blood pounded so hard in his ears he thought he might pass out. A hot flush came over him, and yet,, he couldn’t stop shivering. The thought of what he must do dominated his mind. Glancing around his platoon, he could see they were looking to him to take the lead. They appeared to resonate where they stood, becoming somehow spectral, like luminescent wraiths come to haunt him. Each of them waited intently for him to give the next order.

Can I do this to them?

The answer was painfully obvious.
If I don’t, they’re dead anyway.

He tightened his grip on his pistol. Noting that his palms were sweating, he took a deep breath, threw himself to the floor, and yelled, “Fire!”

Despite the rage of the storm, the roar of the gunfire was louder, dominating his world and deafening him to anything else. He tucked and rolled, bounced off a ledge and came to rest on the floor. Dirt sprayed about him. Each particle hung hypnotically in the air and commenced dancing around him in concentric spirals.

The sting of steel on flesh punched Lex sideways. Grimacing in pain, he attempted to rise, only to feel another. Snapping into him from behind, it caught him in the shoulder and knocked the wind from his lungs. Bowled across the ground, he landed heavily on his back. His head became a lead weight. Struggling to breathe, Lex watched, mesmerized, as everyone seemed to slow down, moving as if they were wading through water.

Surgeon Major Clark tried desperately to hold on to Small Robes. In turn, she fought to break his grip, frantic to get to her uncle. Horses ran every-which-way in panic. Soldiers came and went. Crouching for a moment to pick a new target, they would fire and disappear off, back into the blinding turbulence spinning about them.

Rebel Indians lined the lip of the canyon. Struggling to stay upright, they shot at random into the milling crowd below. In seconds, they were joined by the traitors from the second company. People from both sides fell.

The eye of the storm appeared directly above them. Lex could feel the unadulterated power of its potential coalescing in the air. A lull in battle manifested, and all heads turned to look upward. Lex spotted the captain. Raising his gun, he fought to steady his shaking hand and took aim.

Houston saw him. Dropping to one knee, he raised his rifle and fired at the same moment Lex squeezed the trigger.

Unbearable pain filled Lex’s world, and he was lifted into chaos.

CHAPTER SIX

Take No Prisoners

Mac paused behind a wire mesh screen and surveyed the scene. A single corridor nearly fifty yards long stretched away before him. The only source of illumination came from a series of flashing red security strobes, evenly spaced along the center of the ceiling. Because of the lockdown, they only served to increase the claustrophobic atmosphere and created a stark contrast between areas of clarity and shadow. Although the passage was lined with doors on either side, Mac’s interest lay in those situated exactly halfway along. The ones with a double set of paired sentries outside to be exact, as they marked the entrance to the dining room and recreation center. His head-mounted active-cam recorded everything he saw, and relayed it onto the HUDs of his squad, waiting patiently in the darkness at the back of the switch room.

Sam Pell was busy preparing the fiber optic web that would give them a thermal and holographic image of what was taking place inside the mess hall. While he set up, Mac continued to watch the intruders. Doing so always revealed little indicators or patterns of behavior that could be exploited to help achieve their own mission objectives. And as professional as these terrorists were, they were only human. They were expecting an aggressive response from the government, but they didn’t know what form it would take, or when. The structure shuddered. Unexpectedly foul weather was testing the integrity of the rig’s state of the art stabilizing system, and from the strength of the vibrations thrumming through the walls, it felt as if they were being stretched to maximum. Mac could see their targets becoming increasingly anxious the longer things played out.
Perhaps this flash storm will work in our favor after all?

Two of the guards were part of a roving patrol from the deck above, the operations level. They had just arrived via an open metal stairwell positioned on the far side of the passage, directly opposite the common room doors. This was their second visit in ten minutes. Although Mac was sure the constant checks might be part of the terrorists’ adopted security procedure, he could see the men were using the opportunity to encourage each other.

Yup! Repeated glances up and down the corridor. Needless fiddling with their night vision optics. Incessant chatter, face to face, instead of radio checks. They’ve managed to lock this place down tight, but they don’t like waiting for something to happen.

He smiled.
Don’t worry, chaps. We’ll be helping you out there shortly.

Mac knew that at least half a dozen managers had been frogmarched to the higher level after the rig was taken.
Most likely to ensure any unexpected hitches can be addressed quickly, should our friends encounter anything . . . unusual
.
Right, let’s get this show on the road.

Speaking quietly into his microphone, Mac addressed his Tec specialist. “Sam? How long before you’re ready?”

“About a minute, Boss. The system is integrated and running through its final diagnostic. We should have an update of what’s going on inside the mess hall soon.”

“Roger that.” Changing his focus, Mac called his second-in-command, Mark Stevens.
He should have managed to work his way through the upper modules of the platform by now.
Using call signs, he said, “Bravo-one, this is Alpha-one, do you copy?”

“Bravo-one. Go ahead.”

“Mark, do you have a sit-rep?”

“Yes, Sir. We have just completed our preliminary sweep of the primary ring. The weather would appear to be playing to our advantage. It’s atrocious, with swells broaching the heliport pad. I can confirm there are no bogeys outside. Repeat, no bogeys are stationed outside. They have initiated whatever protocols they deemed necessary to their plans, and have retreated indoors.”

“Good to hear.” Mac then spoke to bravo squad’s own technical expert, Richard “Fonzy” Cunningham. “Fonzy. I know it’s early, but I need your preliminary assessment from what you’ve seen so far.”

“Boss, I have confirmed nuclear ordnance at the following locations: One has been placed on the high pressure separation manifold. Another is in the reinjection unit. Both are straightforward gun-assembly devices, employing a sophisticated microwave web. Scans show further bombs have been positioned in the battery room, and dining hall.”

“Copy that. Are these things small enough to be moved?”

“That’s a yes. Once I’ve determined the extent of the network linking each unit together, I can formulate a solution. A simple interruption of the relay should suffice if we have to go hot. We can disarm them later. If you can get Sam to isolate the frequency of the emitter at your location, I’ll start working on a looped patch.”