Page 95 of Clive Cussler Ghost Soldier
“Unless Rahul is already there waiting for you,” the Russian said. “Then God help you.”
Dragu? ignored him. “Use cover whenever you can. And watch for ambushes.”
“Keep an eye on your map,” Plata said. “If there’s a flag close by that hasn’t been captured, take the initiative and grab it. If you see any of our fallen, call it in.”
“I wouldn’t use comms if I were you,” Juan said.
“Why not?” the Frenchman asked.
“He might be able to lock onto your transmission signal and turn it into a target.”
“Your paranoia is duly noted, Mendoza—and ignored. We’re using comms.” Plata scratched his chin, thinking. He checked his wrist device.
“Check your maps,” Plata began. “At noon, we’ll all meet at cacheD for sitreps. If you couldn’t get your flag, you tell us why. We’ll figure out what flags are left and plan from there.”
“I agree,” the Turk said.
Plata scowled at him. “No one asked your opinion.” The bearded Guatemalan turned to the others. “Also, make sure you aren’t followed on the way back. Otherwise, you might get us all killed.”
Dragu? checked his watch. “We’re wasting time.”
“You’re right,” Plata said. He turned to McGuire. “What do you SAS guys always say?”
“ ‘Who dares—wins!’ ”
Plata grinned. “That’s right. So let’s saddle up—and get moving. Now!”
Plata was first out the door. His warrior spirit had infected the men. They bolted into the early-morning sunlight after him, each headed for their respective flags. Each man was a brave and experienced fighter.
And each was targeted for death.
48
Thump!
The last salvo of drones launched from the towed trailer. Rahul Tripathi stood in a clearing, his eyes fixed on a display screen. The first wave of vehicles would soon be in place.
His robotMak?i—Hindi for “spider”—was also fully charged and armed. Its flamethrower had been rotated out and replaced with a long-range sniper rifle equipped with a new kind of scope and guided bullet.
Rahul was as unnerved by the air-raid siren as the mercenaries had been, perhaps even more so. He was grateful when it finally cut off. The otherworldly din not only terrified him but interfered with his thinking process already hampered by his nervous excitement.
The young Indian national was completely confident in the surveillance and weapons systems the Vendor had helped him design and build. The previous demonstration had shown its effectiveness against inferior test subjects, but failed to impress the Vendor’s clients.
Today’s demonstration was altogether different. This was actual combat—and he could be killed. But he needed to prove theMak?i’s worth, and his own.
His greatest fear was disappointing the Vendor. As far as he knew, he was the youngest member of the Vendor’s network. It had been anhonor to partner with such an advanced mind. He even thought of the Vendor as a mentor, living the kind of life Rahul only dreamed of until now.
The Indian engineer was brilliant, but he was also no fool. Despite his technological advantages, the fact remained he was battling thirteen highly trained and combat-experienced former special operators. He possessed neither of those qualities. This was not by accident.
The Vendor was selling the concept of a “plug-and-play” combat system. A system that anyone with minimal video gaming skills could deploy effectively. He told Rahul the analogy of the English longbow. As effective as it was on battlefields like Agincourt, it nevertheless required years of training and strength to master. The crossbow replaced it en masse because it required neither and shot with even greater force.
Rahul was not only up against the mercs’ incredible killing skill sets, he also had the challenge of finding them. True to his word, the Vendor didn’t give Rahul access to the mapping device. He had no idea where the flags were located, so it was impossible at this moment to set up ambushes for the soldiers at those locations. In short, he was hunting prey while largely deaf and blind.
So what did he know? First, there were only ten flags. Second, all ten flags had to be secured. Third, the soldiers could only make their way to those flags on foot. But that wasn’t much to go on.
He next applied his logical faculties, beginning with the questionWhat would I do if I were in charge of the merc team?
His pulse quickened at the obvious answer.Kill the Indian drone operator!
