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“That sounds like slavery.”
“It is slavery,” said Sam. “And extortion and theft and kidnapping and murder. Once they have these people in their marijuana fields, nobody will ever see or hear from them again. Over.”
“Nice to know we’re the good guys,” Viper Two cut in. “Hold on. I read a convoy of seven vehicles approaching up the road.”
Sam added what he could see from his perch in the bell tower.
“Each of the canvas-covered trucks is carrying twenty-five men, all armed with AK-47s. They’re escorted by two armored cars. One at the head of the column, the other bringing up the rear.”
“We also see the convoy is escorted by two Mi-8 Russian-built gunships.”
“How can you know everything in my sight when you’re behind a forested mountain?”
“We’ve had many upgrades in our sensors since you were part of the gang.”
Sam aimed his binoculars at the final turn in the road leading up to the village.
“Viper One. They’ve reached the edge of the town and have stopped.”
“Not surprised. There are no people in sight, living or dead. That must make them wonder.”
“My wife and I herded all the villagers up the mountain to an ancient fortress.”
The pilots and gunners in the Apaches adjusted their helmets with the monocle over the right eye. It was a revolutionary sighting system. The pilot or gunner could slave the chain gun to his helmet, allowing him to achieve accurate sighting on a target by making the chain gun track with his head movements, aiming wherever he looked.
“Viper Two. This is Viper One. We are clear to engage.”
“Time to give them hell for breakfast.”
Viper One turned the Apache in a sharp bank and then entered the main village square, hovering twenty meters off the cobblestones.
SANTA MARIA DE LOS MONTAÑAS
Amando Gervais and his copilot and gunner, Rico Sabas, sat side by side in the spacious cockpit of their Mi-8 Hip gunship, one of San Martin’s fleet of five helicopters.
The Mi-8 was Russian built and was an oldie but goodie. Production had continued despite the fifty-one years since the first one took to the skies. Utilized by half the military forces in the world, the Mi-8 was considered the most successful design worldwide.
Gervais lightly touched the collective control stick to raise the Mi-8 until it was five meters off the ground. At the same time, he eased the cyclic stick forward, slowly moving the Mi-8 up the rise and around the church and into the village square. Suddenly Gervais and Sabas froze, in a state of shock. Instead of a crowd of villagers with pitchforks and shotguns firing bird shot, Gervais and Sabas found themselves staring at an array of rocket launchers hun
g on the most malevolent, atrocious, and evil attack helicopter in the United States arsenal.
To Sam Fargo in the bell tower, there was no more terrifying apparition than the AH-64E Apache Longbow helicopter, especially when viewed head-on. It looked like a giant, grotesque bug that could never fly.
“Santa Maria,” muttered Sabas. “Where did that come from?”
“It’s black with no markings,” said Gervais, barely above a whisper.
“What’s it doing here?”
The answer never came.
They turned white and speechless when, in the blink of an eye, they saw a flash beneath the Apache an instant before they were blown to shreds.
“Target removed, Viper Two.”
“So I heard. Hold on. My target is locked and I’m firing.”
Down the hill a few miles away, another explosion sent fire and a dense cloud of smoke into the air.
