William W Johnstone Ashes 30 Tyranny in the Ashes (txt)

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"Not just scalping, but I have a few more ideas. Remember, I'm part Apache."
Coop took a deep breath as he pulled out his own K-Bar. "Okay,
Pocahontas, show me the way."
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Mike Post, Ben's Chief of Intelligence, entered the office to find Ben
and his team waiting for him.
"I hear there's been some word from Belize," Ben said.
Mike nodded, frowning. "Yes. Unfortunately, it's not good news."
"Let's have it, Mike."
"El Gato Selva, the intermediate between Jersey and Cooper and the
assassins, radioed to say the entire mission was a bust. The assassins
were killed, but not before they talked. Evidently, they gave away
Jersey and Coop's position and a hit team was sent in to take them out."
Ben felt his chest tighten and his mouth go dry at the words. "Do we
know what happened?"
Mike pulled up a chair and set down. He reached into his coat, pulled
out his pipe, and began filling it as he talked. "Our intel is not
one-hundred-percent reliable. Jersey and Coop were staying in a small
village in the jungle. The hit squad killed six or eight of the
villagers and reported back to Perro Loco that they were after two
Americans who'd paid the assassins. Later that day, radio contact with
the hit squad was lost, so we don't know what's gone on since then."
Ben leaned back in his chair, a small smile on his face. "I can tell you
what happened, Mike. Those soldiers made the mistake of messing with a
buzz saw when it was busy cutting wood. Jersey and Coop took the hit
team out."
"That's possible, but we won't know for several hours.
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This is all happening in a very remote part of the country and
communications are difficult because of the mountains."
"Well," Ben said, "I'm not going to wait. I'm going to take a scout team
in after Jersey and Coop."
"But Ben," Mike said, "you can't leave. You're right in the middle of
negotiations between President Otis Warner and Cecil Jeffreys about the
peace protocol."
"That's gonna have to wait. Two members of my team are in trouble, and I
intend to see that they make it back."
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Mike fired up his pipe, sending clouds of blue smoke toward the ceiling.
"Who's going with you?"
Ben nodded his head at Anna, Corrie, and Beth, sitting across the room.
"My usual team along with a couple of my best scouts." He got to his
feet. "They're waiting outside."
He crossed the room and opened the door. "Harley, Hammer, come on in."
Two men entered the room, each seeming as big as a house. Ben put his
hand on the shoulder of a six-foot-four-inch man with blue eyes and red
hair in a single braid hanging down to the middle of his back. "This is
Harley Reno," Ben said. "He's gonna take us in and bring us out. He's
the best scout in the Army."
Reno nodded at the team as Ben stepped to the next man. Only marginally
smaller than Reno, he stood six feet three inches and had coal-black
hair and icy green eyes. "This is Scott 'Hammer' Hammerick. He's our
weapons expert, and also happens to be fluent in Spanish and knows
Belize like the back of his hand."
Hammer stepped forward. "The country we're gonna be fightin' in is high
mountain jungle. Lots of thick foliage, not too many open spaces. That
means we're gonna make some changes in the weapons you carry. Your M-
16s won't be much use up there, an' they're much too heavy to carry up
and down mountain passes."
He reached down and wishing a small machine gun from the strap over his
shoulder. "You women will be carrying
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these Mini-Uzis. Fully loaded, they weigh only four kilograms, have
forty-round detachable box magazines, and can fire six hundred fifty
rounds per minute on full automatic."
He nodded at Harley, who held out a shotgun with a pistol grip on it.
"Ben, you and I and Harley will be carrying the SPAS Model 12. SPAS
stands for Special Purpose Automatic Shotgun. It's twelve-gauge, weighs
4.2 kilograms, has a seven-shot tubular magazine, and on full automatic
can fire two hundred forty rounds per minute."
"Wait a minute," Corrie said. "Don't shotguns have a very limited range?"
Hammer shrugged. "Depends. We have a variety of slugs available, from
light bird shot to heavy metal slugs that'll penetrate steel plate at a
hundred yards."
Corrie nodded and sat back.
"Now, as far as handguns, the old Colt .45's are out of date. I prefer
the Beretta Model 93R. It fires a 9mm Para-bellum bullet, has a
twenty-round magazine, and can fire single-shot or in three-shot
automatic bursts. On automatic fire, a small lever drops down in front
of the trigger guard for the left hand to grab and steady your aim."
Anna got to her feet. "This is all well and good, but while we're [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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