“We’re in a hurry to move out,” he added, “so have that cargo were supposed to pick up ready to load.”
Once he fielded the message, the Army officer who’d replaced the FETC dispatcher at the radio controls turned to Major Cook. “Do you want me to try to lure them out?”
Cook, in turn, glanced over at Bolan, who was standing nearby with Jayne Bahn.
“It might make them suspicious,” Bolan said. “I wouldn’t chance it.”
“He’s right,” Bahn said.
“That makes it unanimous,” Cook said. “We’re going to have to go in after them.”
The trio left the radio room and entered the main hangar. The bodies of those slain in the brief skirmish had been dragged into one corner and covered with blankets. The surrounding grounds had been hosed down to remove the blood that had been spilled. Part of the Army crew had been dispatched to the control tower and other hangars to insure that it would appear that it was business as usual at the airfield. The remaining soldiers were assembled in the FETC hangar, ready to carry out whichever of three possible battle plans Cook might decide to employ.
“All right, everyone! Hop to it!” the major announced once he was sure he had their attention. “They’re staying inside the bird, so were gonna have to go with Plan B.”
WITHIN A MINUTE after the plane had landed, a refueling truck was out on the tarmac along with a mechanics van, followed by a cargo tram hauling two enclosed carts. The refueling and mechanical crews were made up of the U.S. Army officers who’d best been able to fit into available FETC uniforms. The remaining officers remained poised just inside the nearby hangar, ready to provide backup. Cook had taken the wheel of the cargo tram, and both Mack Bolan and Jayne Bahn were concealed inside the first of the tram’s freight cars, crouched behind the same crates that had provided cover for the snipers who’d slain FBI Agent Ed Scanlon. Bolan’s Desert Eagle was tucked inside his web holster. For this mission, like Bahn, he’d opted for a sound suppressed 9 mm Colt pistol.
“No need to rush,” Bolan whispered as the tram rolled to a stop near the rear of the cargo plane. “The longer we hold off, the better our chances of getting in without tipping off the others.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Bahn returned. “I know the drill.”
Several seconds passed, then the Young-333’s rear tailgate slowly groaned open. The gate doubled as a loading ramp and was more than sturdy enough to support the tram. When one of the plane’s crewmen appeared at the top of the incline, Cook called up to him, saying he was going to bring the cargo directly into the hold. It was standard unloading procedure and the man responded with a nod before moving to one side. Cook powered the tram slowly up the incline. Once he had a view of the cavernous hold, he looked around and was relieved to see no other crew members. This was going to be easier than he thought.
Once the tram cleared the ramp, Cook turned slightly and put on the brakes. He was stepping out of the tram, figuring he could easily overpower the crewman on his own, when the door leading from the cargo hold to the passenger cabin suddenly swung open. One of the REDI goons that had been guarding the defectors strode into view. He had his carbine with him but was preoccupied with fishing through his shirt pocket for his cigarettes.
Shit, Cook thought to himself. So much for a cakewalk. He shot a quick glance over his shoulder. From behind the crates inside the tram, Bolan nodded and pointed to himself, then gestured for Cook to go ahead and take care of the other crewman, who was in the process of untethering a freight dolly strapped to the wall of the cargo hold.
Cook nodded a greeting to the REDI goon, then moved to the wall and leaned over to unfasten the binds securing a second dolly. He used only one hand, leaving the other free to slip a combat knife from inside his right boot. Out of the corner of his eye, he kept an eye on both the crewman and the REDI agent.
Two seconds later the REDI agent was about to light his cigarette when Bolan fired a silenced round into the man’s chest. The guard groaned and dropped his cigarette as his legs gave out beneath him. He was reeling forward when Cook suddenly whirled away from the dollies and lunged into the crewman next to him. He reached out, clamping one hand over the man’s mouth, stifling the cry he was about to make. With his other hand he thrust the blade of his combat knife deep into the man’s chest, killing him.
By the time Cook had lowered his victim to the floor of the cargo hold, Bolan and Bahn had slipped out of the tram. Together, the three of them sidestepped the slain REDI guard and approached the doorway leading to the passenger cabin. Leading the way, Bolan said firmly, “Lets finish this.”