But the thought of retreat had never entered Tahnk’s mind. A fifth-generation soldier, the young REDI agent had been raised with an ingrained sense of duty and devotion to country. For him, if worse came to worst, there could be nothing more honorable than to die on the field of battle. For him, the only question was how many Americans he could take out before he perished.
Besides his combat knife, Tahnk was armed with an Israeli-made Micro Tavor assault rifle, but he knew his only chance of bringing down the helicopter would be to lure it within firing range. Several tumbleweeds had collected in the gully alongside him. He reached out and pulled the bushes on top of him, hoping they would provide enough concealment that the chopper would have to swoop down low to spot him. Heart racing, the Korean thumbed off the MTAR’s safety and peered out through the dry, spindly branches at the helicopter. It was a few hundred yards away, but moving closer, following the beam of its searchlight.
Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, Tahnk caught a glimpse of someone moving past him. He shifted slightly, leveling the snub-nosed barrel of his assault rifle, but held his fire when he saw that it was Hong Sung-nam. The squad leader didn’t see him, and before Tahnk could call out to him, Hong had moved out of view. Tahnk assumed the other man was moving to a better position from which to make his last stand, so he turned his attention back to the chopper, only to spot further activity on the ground fifty yards downhill from the gully. Someone was zigzagging up the slope, heading directly toward him.
Tahnk cursed under his breath. He could no longer afford to wait for the chopper before betraying his position. Warily, he shifted beneath his cover and took aim at the approaching figure. His target continued to veer from side to side as he advanced, but the Korean kept his assault rifle steady and rested his finger on the trigger. With any luck, he could kill the advancing figure and still have a chance to take out the helicopter.
Soon the other man was less than thirty yards away. In the moonlight, Tahnk could see that the man was tall and broad-shouldered and that he was toting a carbine. He was varying his zigzags, but every few steps he wound up squarely back in the REDI agent’s sights.
A little closer, Tahnk thought, beginning to tighten his grip on the subgun’s trigger. Just a little closer…
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Mack Bolan was twenty yards from the gully when he saw the tumbleweeds in front of him stir slightly in the moonlight. There was no breeze, so he instinctively suspected trouble and pitched sharply to his right, then threw himself to the ground. A spray of 5.56 mm Parabellum rounds streaked past, barely missing him.
Forsaking his carbine, Bolan rolled to one side, then clawed at his ammo belt for the flare gun. He knew he was an open target and figured there was only one way to protect himself from being hit. Aiming skyward, he fired a flare, then cast the gun aside and closed his eyes as he continued rolling to his right. Once the flare went off, bathing the hillside in a burst of bright light, he unholstered his Desert Eagle and sprang to his feet.
As he’d hoped, the flare had taken his assailant by surprise, temporarily blinding him, and though the gunner continued to shoot from the gully, he was firing blind and his shots flew wide of their mark. Bolan charged forward. When he spotted the enemy, he dived forward, crashing through the tumbleweeds and lashing out with the butt of his pistol. Bolan caught the man squarely on the wrist, forcing him to drop his mini-rifle. The Korean screamed and tried to fight Bolan off, but the Executioner easily overpowered him and knocked him unconscious with a karate blow to the back of the head.
By now the flare’s light was dissipating, but the Apache war chopper had drifted overhead and in the glow of its searchlight Bolan got a better look at his captive. The REDI operative was young, probably in his early twenties, wearing camou fatigues, desert boots and a dark beret. Bolan doubted the man had been working alone, and he glanced up and waved for the chopper to direct its beam elsewhere so that he wouldn’t be an easy target for the man’s cohorts. Crouching low in the gully, he looked around, gun at the ready.
By now FBI Agent Scanlon and Jayne Bahn had made their way up the hillside. Bolan saw them fan out, waiting for the Apache to reveal the other REDI agents. Instead the searchlight shone upon the bodies of Yokota and two of the slain agents. When there was no further enemy fire, the chopper moved off, directing its searchlight elsewhere along the hilly terrain.
Bolan turned his attention back to his prisoner. He stripped the weapons from his ammo belt and used it to bind the man’s ankles together, then converted the Korean’s own belt into makeshift handcuffs, tethering his hands behind his back. By the time he’d finished, the Korean had regained consciousness. His eyes, like Bolan’s, had adjusted to the moonlight and he stared up at his captor with defiance.