45. Rook
ROOK
Black Site Theta disappeared behind us.
The mountain burned beneath the storm, taking five years of secrets into the darkness.
But not all of them.
The surviving prisoners were alive.
Fathom had copied thousands of files.
Jack Parker possessed the original Nightfall archive.
Alan Madow and Jonathan Reeves were in custody.
For the first time, we had more than suspicions.
We had proof.
Sam Cutter’s voice broke through the radio.
“Rook.”
The tone sharpened every instinct I possessed.
“Go.”
“You’ve got incoming.”
Every operator immediately went still.
“What kind of incoming?”
“The kind carrying air-to-air missiles.”
Silence filled the helicopter.
I looked toward Fathom.
He was already working.
“Who?” I asked.
“We don’t know,” Sam answered. “Two aircraft appeared on radar east of your position. No identification. No transponders. They’re moving fast.”
“How long?”
“Seventeen minutes before they reach weapons range.”
Fathom brought up a tactical map.
Two red indicators moved toward us.
The pilots were flying a direct intercept route.
They knew where we were.
This wasn’t a search.
It was an execution.
Sarah looked toward the first helicopter.
“So they know we won.”
“Yes,” I said.
Wade’s expression darkened.
“They’re trying to eliminate the witnesses.”
“Not only the witnesses,” Fathom said. “They want Madow and Reeves dead too.”
The shared radio remained open.
Madow heard every word.
For the first time since his capture, he sounded afraid.
“Callahan.”
I didn’t answer.
“If those aircraft were sent by Nightfall, they won’t stop after destroying the helicopters.”
“Funny how expendable people look different when you’re one of them.”
“This isn’t the time to prove a point.”
Sarah keyed her radio.
“I disagree. It feels like the perfect time.”
Madow ignored her.
“They’ll destroy the airfield too.”
Fathom checked the approaching aircraft.
“He may be right.”
“Of course I’m right.”
“You don’t get a medal for identifying the people trying to kill you,” I said.
Sam returned to the channel.
“The cargo transport is still at the forward airfield. Crew has it fueled and ready.”
“How far?”
“Eleven minutes.”
“And the fighters?”
“Seventeen minutes from missile range.”
Six minutes to move two teams, five weakened survivors, two prisoners, and all our equipment from the helicopters into the aircraft.
Tight.
Possible.
“What happens if we stay airborne?” I asked.
The pilot answered.
“We die.”
“Appreciate the honesty.”
“These helicopters can’t outrun fighters. We might defeat one missile with countermeasures, maybe two. After that, we’re flying targets.”
The mountain terrain offered concealment, but only until we reached the airfield.
I looked toward Fathom.
“Can we confuse their tracking?”
“Maybe.”
“I need better than maybe.”
He examined the map.
“If we separate, descend into two valleys, and kill our transponders, they’ll have to reacquire us.”
“Do it.”
Sarah looked at me.
“Splitting up makes both helicopters easier to destroy.”
“It also gives them two targets moving through separate terrain.”
“And Madow is on the other aircraft.”
“He’ll be disappointed to learn I’m not risking Wade’s team to protect him.”
Madow’s voice entered the radio.
“You need me.”
“We need what you know. Whether you survive long enough to tell us is becoming your problem.”
Madow fell silent.
The pilots banked in opposite directions.
The first helicopter disappeared into a valley to the east.
Ours dropped hard toward the western ridge.
The sudden descent pressed everyone into their seats.
Sarah grabbed Wade’s arm.
Jack braced Eric Hale against the bulkhead.
Fathom shut down our tracking beacon.
The tactical screen went dark except for the two hostile aircraft.
“They’re changing course,” he said.
“Which helicopter?” I asked.
“Can’t tell yet.”
Sam’s voice returned.
“Both fighters are separating.”
Of course they were.
One for each helicopter.
“Time?”
“Fourteen minutes.”
I looked toward the pilot.
“Airfield in ten.”
Four minutes.
Still possible.
Then Fathom’s screen flashed.
“Missile launch!”
Everyone looked toward him.
“Which one?”
“The eastern fighter fired on Falcon’s helicopter.”
Sarah’s eyes widened.
Madow and Reeves were aboard.
So were Falcon and two members of our extraction crew.
“Falcon!” I shouted.
Static answered.
Then his voice broke through.
“Missile tracking us. Deploying countermeasures.”
The radio filled with warning tones.
“Hold on!”
The first helicopter banked hard.
Even from miles away, we saw the flare.
A bright streak crossed the darkness.
Then an explosion lit the next valley.
Sarah stopped breathing.
“Falcon?”
Static.
No answer.
“Falcon!”
A voice finally returned.
Angry.
Breathless.
Alive.
“I really hate flying.”
Relief moved through our cabin.
“Status?” I demanded.
“Missile missed. Helicopter didn’t enjoy the experience.”
The pilot’s voice sounded behind him.
“We lost part of the tail stabilizer.”
“Can you reach the airfield?”
“We’d better.”
Fathom studied the second fighter.
“The one behind us is accelerating.”
“How long until it fires?”
“Less than three minutes.”
The pilot pushed the helicopter lower.
Rock walls rose on either side of us.
Snow and darkness swallowed the aircraft.
The engines screamed.
Sarah looked at Wade.
“We didn’t pull you out of a mountain to lose you in a helicopter.”
Wade smiled faintly.
“I’ve had worse flights.”
Jack stared at him.
“That’s not reassuring.”
The airfield appeared on Fathom’s map.
“Six miles.”
The fighter closed behind us.
A warning tone sounded inside the cockpit.
The pilot cursed.
“They have a lock.”
“Fathom,” I said.
“I know.”
His fingers flew across the keyboard.
“What are you doing?”
“Giving them another target.”
Our radio beacon activated briefly.
Then three identical signatures appeared on the tactical display.
Cobra leaned closer.
“Did you just create ghost helicopters?”
“I copied our tracking signal to three emergency transmitters and dropped them into separate valleys.”
Cobra looked impressed.
“I take back half the bad things I’ve said about you.”
“Only half?”
“You’re still annoying.”
The fighter’s course shifted.
It followed one of the false signals.
Fathom smiled.
“Lock broken.”
The airfield lights appeared ahead.
“Two minutes!” the pilot shouted.
Sam’s voice returned.
“The transport crew is waiting. Ramp is down. Engines are running.”
I checked my weapon and stood.
“Listen up. We hit the ground, we move. No equipment gets priority over a person.”
Wade looked toward the survivors.
“No one gets left behind.”
“No one,” I agreed.
The helicopter descended.
Behind us, the fighter discovered it had been chasing a radio beacon through an empty valley.
It turned toward the airfield.
And the race began.