"It's a d.a.m.n shame we dMn't have time to pick up our radio," he murmured to Anna, who was walking behind him.

"Yeah, we could've radioed Buddy to have someone meet us here and help us back to the ship."

145* * *

It took them almost an hour to find the one trail heading south through the jungle. It was a wide, double-rutted path that showed signs of heavy use by both vehicles and animals. The jungle grew right down to the ruts on either side, and grew almost together overhead, giving the illusion of traveling through a long, dark tunnel in the greenery.

Hammer put his hand on Harley's shoulder. "You think it's wise to use this trail?" he asked. "That helicopter is bound to have let some men off to set up an ambush."

Harley shook his head. "Can't be helped," he said. "There's no way Jersey and Coop could make it if we stayed in the brush. This is our only chance to get them back to the ship before they die."

Hammer unslung his SPAS and jacked a sh.e.l.l into the chamber. "Let me take point a few hundred yards ahead," he said. "That way, when we hit the ambush, you'll have a chance."

Harley stared at his friend. "That won't give you much leeway, pal," he said.

Hammer grinned. "I won't need much. These clowns don't know enough to set up an ambush without me being able to see it first."

Harley nodded, hoping Hammer was right. Otherwise, he'd be the first to get it when the meres opened fire.

Hammer took off at a slow lope up the trail, his eyes coursing back and forth, looking for signs of enemy presence in the bushes and dirt of the trail.

Just before he got to a bend in the path, Hammer spotted a crumpled-up cigarette package beside the trail. He squatted and picked it up. It was a German brand. His lips curled in a half smile. "Stupid b.a.s.t.a.r.ds," he murmured to himself. He raised his nose and sniffed softly. He could smell mold, mil- 146.

dew, animal musk, and, yes, the faint smell of hot tobacco up ahead.

He crept back down the trail toward Harley and the others, holding up his hand in the signal to be quiet as he approached. He winced, hearing Jersey's cough from fifty yards away in the quiet of the jungle night, and knew that the meres would have heard it too and would be ready for them.

"They're up ahead, about two hundred yards," Hammer said in a low voice to Harley.

"Any idea how many?"

Hammer shook his head. "No. I couldn't see 'em, but I sure as h.e.l.l smelled 'em."

"What's the layout?"

"The road makes a bend to the right at about a hundred and fifty yards.

My guess is they've straddled the trail just beyond the bend and arewaiting for us to walk right up to 'em."

"You see any signs of mines or b.o.o.by traps?"

"No, but that doesn't mean anything. The dirt is so soft along there, they could've planted almost anything."

As Jersey doubled over in another coughing fit, Hammer glanced at her.

"I heard her from up there, so my guess is they did too. They gotta know we're close, Harley."

"That means we don't have much time to plan anything. If we don't show up soon, they're gonna come looking."

"You think we can flank 'em, come at 'em from the sides?" Hammer asked.

Harley shook his head. "Not in this jungle. They'd hear us coming before we got close enough to attack."

"That means we gotta draw them out of their hiding places to us."

Harley smiled. "You got it. They think we're trapped between them and the squad that was following us. How about we start a little commotion back here and make them think the other squad's caught up with us?"

"Sounds good to me," Hammer said.

147.

Harley looked around at his team. "Okay, guys, here's how we do it. ..."

Ronald Watanabe stuck his head out from the tree he was hiding behind and stared down the trail. The darkness was unrelieved even by starlight.

"Where the h.e.l.l are they?" he whispered in a hoa.r.s.e voice to Lieutenant Johnson a few feet away.

"I dunno, Ron," Johnson answered. "I heard 'em not ten minutes ago. They should'a been here by now."

Watanabe was nervous and scared. He remembered how they'd been snookered by this group before, and he could smell his fear-sweat over the dank, musty smell of the jungle.

"s.h.i.t! They're up to something, Larry," he said.

"You don't think they're trying to get around behind us, do you?"

Johnson asked.

Suddenly, from up the trail they heard an explosion of small-arms fire and two grenades going off, sending bright, yellow reflections of fire coursing through the darkness. In the distance they heard a high-pitched scream of terror, followed by more explosions of machine-gun fire.

"G.o.dd.a.m.n!" Watanabe hollered. "LaFite and Blandis must've caught 'em from behind."

Lieutenant Johnson burst from his cover, his M-16 held out before him.

"s.h.i.t, Ronny, let's go! We don't want Jean to get all the credit for killin' those b.a.s.t.a.r.ds.""Come on, men!" Watanabe shouted. "They're trapped up ahead. Let's go get 'em!"

The fifteen men with Watanabe and Johnson boiled out of the jungle like ants from a disturbed nest, and began to run down the path, eyes alight with Wood l.u.s.t for the upcoming kill.

Running at the front of the pack, Watanabe thought he saw something out of the corner of his eye and slowed, just as a 148.

fragmentation grenade came floating out of the darkness and bounced once on the trail in front of him.

He had time to say, "Oh s.h.i.t!" and to realize he'd once again been fooled, before the grenade exploded in a fireball of molten metal and flames, taking both his legs off at the knees and killing him and Johnson and five men behind them in the wink of an eye.

Two huge figures stepped from the jungle behind the group, SPAS shotguns held at waist level, the figures' teeth visible in the darkness as they grinned and opened fire.

The booming shotguns cut men down like a scythe going through gra.s.s, and were joined by the higher-pitched chatter of an Uzi as Anna stepped out onto the trail and raked her automatic weapon back and forth as if she were watering a yard.

The remaining ten men didn't get a shot off as they were blown off their feet and danced under an onslaught of bullets thick as a swarm of killer bees flitting among them.

The air was redolent with the acrid odor of cordite, blood, and human waste as seventeen men were killed in less time than it takes to tell it.

After it was over, Anna trotted back down the trail to find Jersey and Coop where they were sitting, backs against trees, as they fired into the air to distract the ambushers.

Anna shined her flashlight at them in the prearranged signal it was all over.

Coop and Jersey dropped their weapons and leaned back, exhausted by the efforts the ruse had taken on their weakened bodies.

Anna stood as close to them as she dared. "Come on, guys. It's clear sailing ahead now."

Coop glanced at Jersey, and knew she wasn't able to go on. He took a deep breath and climbed laboriously to his feet, then reached down, grabbed her arm, and heaved her up over his shoulder in a fireman's carry.

149.

149.

He turned toward Anna, who couldn't believe he'd found the strength to lift Jersey to his shoulder like that."Let's go, girl," he said, attempting his usual grin. "We got a date with a doctor."

150.

Sergei Bergman picked up the phone after being told it was from his commander.

"Yes, Herr Bottger?"

"I have bad news, Sergei. I have been unable to raise either team we sent into the jungle after the spies."

Bergman sighed. He was not surprised after the way the spies had easily handled his best men at the training camp. "I see," he said simply.

"That means you must press the attack as fast as you can. We must take Mexico City before any word of... our secret weapon leaks out."

"I am sending the first teams out by helicopter today, Herr Bottger,"

Bergman said. "I will instruct them that speed is of the essence."

"Good. I should be there to join you within the week with the remainder of our forces and equipment. Have you had any further trouble with Perro Loco's men?"

"No. Now that they've given me our a.s.signment, they seem content to let me maneuver our troops in any manner I see fit."

"Excellent. I'll see you in a few days, Sergei."

"Good-bye, Herr Bottger."

General Enrique Gonzalez shook his second in command's hand. Lieutenant Colonel Pedro Vega was to be the field commander for the forces being sent against the Mexicans.

151.

151.

"Colonel Vega, I wish you the best of luck," Gonzalez said.

Vega nodded, eager to be off to prove himself in battle. He'd been in a rear echelon during the previous battles, in charge of supplies, and now hungered for the taste of battle. "Thank you, General. I will do my best to bring honor to you and Perro Loco."

He whirled on his heels and left the office to climb into the brand-new HumVee with his colonel's colors on tiny flags on the fenders. He took the microphone off the hook under the dash and said into it, "Head out!

Forward to Mexico City!"

The column of light tanks, half-tracks, and armored personnel carriers cranked up their diesel engines and began to roll out of the Navy base toward the Pan American Highway a few miles distant.

The invasion of Mexico was once again afoot.At the same time, Bergman saluted Herman Bundt, who was to lead Bottger's forces on the western front. "Good luck, Herman," he said.

"Thank you, Sergei," Bundt answered. Then he climbed up into the lead Chinook and made a circular motion with his hand over his head to indicate the pilot should take off.

The Chinook, followed by fifteen others fully loaded with troops and equipment, all lifted off. There were four Bell OH-58 Kiowas accompanying them, flying point to protect against any aircraft the Mexicans might send up against them. It would be an uneven match, for the only choppers the Mexican government had were ancient Hueys of Vietnam vintage. The brand-new Kiowas could fly at 120 knots, and were armed with 20mm Miniguns as well as ant.i.tank missiles. They would make short work of any Huey that dared to challenge them.

Bundt was taking this first load of a little over six hundred men directly to the port cities of Salina Cruz and Luchitan in Oaxaca near the Gulf of Tehuantepec. Loco had specified those cities should be taken first, for then the Mexican Navy 152.

wouldn't be able to use their ports to stage a surprise attack on his flank.

An additional benefit, if the ships in the port could be captured, would be to use them to supply Bundt's troops by sea as they moved up the coast, a much simpler exercise than relying solely on aircraft for resupply.

In the jungle, Harley Reno and his men brought their guns up to port arms as several bright lights silhouetted them on the trail.

"Yo, Harley," Captain Stryker called.

Harley relaxed the grip on his SPAS and turned his head. "It's all right, people, it's friendKes."

Stryker and the SEALs, along with Beth and Corrie, ran up to them on the trail. When they got there, Stryker looked around at the dead men lying everywhere on the trail and in the fringes of the jungle.

"We heard sounds of a firefight and thought you might need some help,"

he said, "but I can see now you did just fine by yourselves."

"Yes, sir," Harley said. "But we've got a couple of sick troops and we may need some help getting them back to the ship."

Stryker leaned over and glanced past Harley to look at Coop, near the rear of the group, still carrying Jersey on his shoulder.

"Jesus," Stryker said, awe in his voice. "He looks half dead."

"At least half, sir," Harley said. "They've contracted some sort of sickness from a BW they discovered at the camp. We need to get them back as soon as possible so the docs can go to work on them."

Stryker whirled around to his men. "Jones, Baxter, get to work on some of those trees and fix up a travois. Now!"

153153.

As his men went to work preparing a sled out of jungle trees, he looked back at Harley. "I suppose it's contagious?"

"Very," Harley said, "and it works fast. It's only been twenty-four hours since Jersey was exposed, and she's very sick."

"Airborne?"