Defender(43)

"Sewa gets off first. You and Bob take him as soon as we land. I've already called and there'll be a stretcher waiting. And get someone to help Turner, OK?"

"Got it." Stanley held up a thumb to confirm that he understood. "Ari, you go with Sewa and stay with him all the way to the ship." He didn't wait for a reply. He couldn't have her hanging around waiting for him. It was too dangerous. Morgan wanted her as far from danger as soon as he could arrange it, and he wasn't going to let her argue about it.

Morgan addressed the rest of the evacuees, giving them all a task to concentrate on, some light at the end of this long, dark tunnel. "The rest of you, make room at the door for Sewa. When we get there, move quickly and follow Mike Fredericks' directions to the letter. He'll be waiting for us. There's no time to mess about. You all got that?" Morgan received nervous but encouraging nods and grunts of acknowledgment from all. "Good. It's going to be rough when we get there. So we're not out of the woods for a while yet. Are you all with me so far?" Again, nods. "Right. There's a fight going on in Cullentown between the Army and the rebels - we're flying straight into it. The only safe place for us to land is on the roof of the Francis Hotel." His voice was hoarse from dehydration and the effort of yelling over the engine noise. "As soon as you're off the chopper, you'll be led downstairs and we'll go straight to the beach. The US Marines will meet us there and start flying us out to their ship." There was a spontaneous round of applause and cheering. "It's just like I told you back at Pallarup during our practice sessions, OK?"

"Alex," Mason cut in eagerly. "Start getting them ready. We're 200 metres out from the hotel. I can see Mike's marker panel." Mason stabbed a finger straight towards a bright orange, two-metre square panel being held aloft by a couple of Chiltonford's locally recruited guards. "We can't waste any time."

"Right." Morgan crawled back into the cargo hold, placing his hands on the heads of the others to steady himself as he struggled through to the door. His chest was on fire with the pain of his sudden movement. He grimaced and faltered, grabbing at his ribs. Ari was beside him in a second. "Alex, they're probably broken. You have to let me check you out as soon as we touch down."

"Ari, you're an angel, believe me," he replied, his breathing laboured. "But have a look outside. There isn't going to be time. Once we're all safely on-board that ship, though, you can check me out as much as you like."

"Plenty of TLC for you, Mister!" she forced with a smile, although genuine concern was written all over her face.

Below, the rich green and brown carpet of mangrove swamps and inlets lying to the south of Cullentown raced past. Mason pushed the stricken chopper as hard and as low as he dared to get them over the hotel before the fuel ran out. He fixed his gaze on the hotel, then the marker panel. There was Fredericks. They were closing fast. Mason aimed the big chopper straight for the roof.

Morgan gripped the release handle of the closed port-side door and wrenched it wide open. The wind struck, whipping the collar of his faded shirt up against his face and blowing Arena's fine blonde hair back in a trail behind her.

"God! You look spectacular," he shouted in her ear, with a tense grin. "Is that all you can think about?" she shot back.

"Of course. With you around, can you blame me?"

"Don't rush it, Morgan," she yelled above the din. 'I'm not sure I've actually warmed to you yet. Get us out of here and we'll see."

"I'll hold you to that. Just promise you'll stay with Sewa and see that he gets on that ship and straight to the Infirmary!" he said to her. "Promise me!".

"OK, I promise. You stubborn bugger!" she cried with mock hostility. "But the moment you're on-board that ship," she continued, waving an accusing finger in Morgan's face, "and I get you to that Infirmary, I'm in charge!"

"Jesus, you Red Cross types are pushy!" Morgan smiled as she turned from him to help the others prepare for the landing.

As she turned, Morgan spotted a silver memory stick peeking out of Turner's shirt on the end of a black cord. Bingo! He took three awkward steps between the evacuees and tore the stick from the still unconscious Turner in one deft movement, pocketed it, then returned to the door. With everybody huddled together, preparing to land under such stress, it was barely noticed.

Hanging out of the door, searching again for the marker panel, Morgan's eyes fell upon the hordes of government and rebel troops. There were firefights everywhere, throughout the streets and buildings to the north of the hotel. The skyline was a test pattern of smoke and fire pierced by the occasional sheer white flash of an explosion, an RPG or mortar round punching a path through the whole mess. For as far as he could see, people and soldiers were scampering like ants in every direction. What a day, he thought. They were flying straight into the centre of hell.