At least four got into the fight, returning fire from behind their vehicles. They seemed to get a bead on Clark’s position, but Ding’s element wasn’t drawing fire.
Clark saw the trunk of the Ford open, and he yelled, “Hit it!”
Everyone did, high-rate groupings that peppered the open trunk with holes. Clark feared it might not be enough, and he was soon proved right. From the left side of the Ford a hollow tube appeared.
“Down, down!” Clark shouted as a rocket came screaming at them. He put his face in the dirt as the rocket struck the ground ten yards short of their position. A storm of dirt and stones rained in. He looked to his right. Charlie and Wu were staring back at him. Bauer was loading a fresh mag.
Wellness check complete.
Clark began firing again, but he sensed no activity on the far side of the road. He knew why—or at least, he hoped he did.
He hit the end of a magazine and swapped to a fresh one. When he looked back up, he saw another tube rising behind the Ford’s bumper. Before he could get a bead, he heard a single crack from his right.
Ding.
A big man staggered into view and went down. As he hit thedirt, the rocket launched into the undercarriage of the Ford. The car exploded into a pyre of flames and was immolated. A second man staggered away from the conflagration, his shirt on fire. In the open, he was cut down instantly by multiple rounds.
The two men behind the Mercedes were still engaging, an intermittent stream of fire. But not for long. Ding had made the move Clark hoped he would—his team had flanked right to get a better angle. The last two shooters were completely exposed.
A barrage of rounds sprayed in on the last two hostiles, signature flashes from the right flank. Seconds later, the night went silent. Clark knew they couldn’t afford to wait. He gave a hand signal. Wu and Charlie spaced out widely and approached the smoldering Ford. The fire was already dying out, nothing left to burn but the headliner and upholstery. They checked the downed shooters, kicking away weapons and looking for signs of life. Neither had survived.
“Clear!” Ding shouted from the Mercedes, the doors of which were all open.
Clark moved toward Ding. “Any survivors?”
Ding pointed to a man sitting in the dirt. There was a rifle ten feet to his right.
Clark approached him, watching his hands closely. The man’s eyes were open, and he looked to be in severe pain. He had taken at least two rounds to an arm and another to his hip. He was bleeding badly and appeared to be immobilized. Clark didn’t take that for granted. He kept his barrel steady and his finger on the trigger.
“Who do you work for?” he asked in English. When there was no reply, he repeated the question in Russian. Still no response. There was no time for a lengthy interrogation. They had to go after Conza before he was beyond reach.
Clark retrieved the wounded man’s rifle, ejected the mag, and cleared the chamber. He heaved all of it far into the brush. He then walked over to the SUV and checked the trunk. The lid was shot to hell, but he saw equipment inside. Spare magazines, an ammo box, jackets, gloves. He opened the ammo box and found something potentially useful. He pulled out two standard Russian frag grenades, inspected them, and attached them to his rig.
“Spoils of war?” Ding asked.
“Something like that.” Clark surveyed his team. “Everybody good?” He looked specifically at Wu, who he’d noticed was limping.
“Caught something in the leg right when that rocket hit,” said the Brit. “All good for now.”
Clark saw a red splotch on the back of one calf. He knew operators were the worst practitioners in the world when it came to self-triage. But Wu looked solid. “Okay, we need to move.” He started walking up the road and the others fell in behind him.
“What about him?” Hyori inquired, thumbing back toward the lone survivor.
“DNI is watching us right now.” He looked up at the night sky. “I’ll send a message, and they can decide when and how to notify the Turks. He’s not going anywhere with that hip.”
“The truck’s got to be almost to the border station by now,” Charlie surmised.
Wu added, “And it’s going to look a little suspicious with all the holes we just put in it.”
“Not to mention the U.S. Navy officer being held hostage in back,” Charlie added.
“It won’t matter,” Clark said. “I looked up the operating hours of that border post. It’s closed between seven and seven every day. These guys must know it.”
“They made arrangements,” Ding said. “Bribed somebody ahead of time.”
“Something along those lines. Which means that within minutes they’ll be on the other side.”
“And we can’t follow them,” Charlie said.
