Ballistic Force(99)

“He has a point,” Akira Tokaido interjected. “That’d give us a chance to scout the concentration camp and set up a perimeter.”

The idea made sense to Bolan. “And if we take over the convoy,” he added, “we might be able to drive into the camp right under their noses.”

“Let’s go for it,” Cook said. “My guys have been cooped up the longest, so how about if we go first?”

“Works for me,” Stevens replied.

Bolan keyed the intercom and told the pilot, “See if Michaels can guide you to the convoy so we can stay above the cloud line. If they can’t see the plane, it’ll cut down on the chance of them spotting our parachutes.”

“Got it,” the pilot replied. “I’ll do what I can.”

On Cook’s orders, the members of the Zane Island team rose from their seats and began strapping on their parachute gear.

“I’ll stick with my guys and take the camp,” Tokaido told Bolan. “If my cousin’s there, I want first crack at getting to him. And besides, I don’t want you feeling like you have to watch my back.”

“All right, but just so you know,” Bolan said, “if I didn’t think you were up to the task I wouldn’t have let you on the plane.”

Tokaido grinned. “That’s what I like to hear.”

Less than five minutes later, the pilot came over the intercom, reporting that he’d pinpointed the convoy and was adjusting the cabin pressure so the crew wouldn’t be sucked out of the plane once the door was opened.

“Let me get down another few hundred feet,” he concluded, “then be ready to roll.”

As the paratroopers lined up near the door, Bolan glanced at Tokaido and told him, “I know you’re eager, but make sure you wait for us.”

“I’ll try,” Tokaido said. “Good luck.”

ONCE HE DROPPED through the cloud cover, Bolan opened his parachute. He’d been the last one out of the plane, and the other commandos had already deployed their chutes. Directly below them lay a patch of meadow surrounded by trees. As dark as it was, Bolan could also make out a dirt road winding its way through the wooded area just north of the meadow. He couldn’t see the convoy but he figured it was somewhere on the road, heading their way.

When the soldier landed, the tall, thick grass of the meadow helped cushion his landing. He buckled his knees and pitched forward the moment his feet touched grounded, and once he’d tumbled to a stop, he quickly shed the parachute harness and scrambled to his feet. Like most of the others, he was armed with an M-16 assault rifle. The Desert Eagle was secured in his web harness for backup. Clipped to his belt were two grenades, one packing a flash bang stun charge, the other loaded with SC tear gas. One of the other commandos was additionally equipped with a shoulder-mount rocket launcher and Major Cook had brought along an explosives strip rigged to a remote detonator. Add it up, and Bolan felt they were ready for any contingency.

The drop had gone off without a hitch, and once Cook had accounted for all his men, he and Bolan led the way through the meadow to the roadway.

“I think I caught a glimpse of the convoy,” Cook told Bolan as they neared the road. “We’re about a half mile ahead of them, and with that transporter in the parade, my guess is they aren’t breaking any speeding limits. Still, were going to have to set ourselves up quickly.”

“Understood,” Bolan said.

Soon the meadow gave way to a narrow beltway of trees situated on each side of the wide dirt road. Most of the trees were old oaks with thick, gnarly limbs that extended out over the road, creating the canopy that had helped to conceal the KPA’s clandestine shipments to the Changchon from aerial view.

“Spread out and take both sides of the road,” Cook told the commandos as they gathered around, “and if any of you can make it up into the trees, go for it.”

“Just watch your crossfire,” Bolan cautioned.

Cook held out his explosives strip and concluded, “Once this puppy barks, that’ll be your cue. Target the jeeps first, then take out whoever’s riding up front in the transporter. Try to keep it as clean as possible, because were gonna want the vehicles intact. Questions?”

None of the commandos spoke up.

“Let’s get cracking, then,” Cook said.

The men quickly dispersed, half of them scrambling across the road, the others staking out positions along the south shoulder. Bolan grabbed a baseball-bat-size branch that had fallen from one of the oaks and followed Cook to the middle of the road. There, using the branch as a makeshift shovel, he stabbed at the soft earth, carving out a shallow trough. Once he’d dug down a few inches, he stepped back. Cook crouched and carefully set the explosives strip into the gash, then, just as cautiously, he covered the strip with some of the loose dirt. By the time they’d finished the task, several soldiers had already climbed up into the trees and were nestling into makeshift sniper posts. Elsewhere, the other commandos had already so effectively camouflaged themselves that Bolan could only spot two of them, and soon they, too, had blended into the ground cover and disappeared from view.