Apache Dawn, - [little bear else holmelund minarik txt] 📗

“Lost half my team on the insert; we were ambushed by Korean marines on rooftops with stingers.” He carefully considered how to relay that he’d rescued the President without breaching security. He had no idea if the North Koreans were listening to his transmission. “We recovered the fumble, I say again, we recovered the fumble.”

There was a pause at the other end. Come on, you guys, figure it out…he said to himself, willing the man he was speaking with under Cheyenne Mountain to figure out his message.

“Roger that, Striker 1, but be advised, Mongoose has announced that Slipknot is untied. I say again, Slipknot is untied.”

“What the hell?” he muttered to himself. Mongoose was Vice President Barron. He keyed the phone. “Eagle’s Nest, negative, Slipknot is loose, but holding. Repeat: Slipknot is still tied. Downtown L.A. is a hornet’s nest—incoming ICBMs and North Korean fast-movers are tearing up the skyline. We got what I’d guess is at least a battalion of Korean infantry and marines out there. Request immediate air support and evac, over.”

Some strange clicks and pops erupted from the sat phone’s speaker. He looked at the phone in his hand. Someone’s trying to hack this signal. The back of his neck started to tingle.

“Roger that, Actual, we have Air Force units in your AO engaging enemy fixed-wing and rotors now. We’re re-tasking units all up and down the coast, but there’s a lot of tangos to deal with. Are—” The transmission hissed and popped and started to break up. He heard more of the odd clicks and pops.

“Striker 1, this is Eagle’s Nest, Actual,” a new, older, voice said. The line was suddenly very clear.

“Fuck me,” said Cooper. He racked his brain, thinking of who was the current commander at NORAD. If the government was in panic mode and the Vice President was sworn in, already replacing President Denton, there could be any number of civilian bigwigs hunkered down in NORAD claiming to be in charge.

“This is General Thomas Morrison. You are to hold your position; we will come to you, son. What’s your fighting strength? Send us your coordinates and we’ll have an evac team onsite in thirty.”

Every warning bell in Cooper’s head went off at once. Evidence stacked up: the pops and clicks over the line, the comm officer in NORAD suddenly pulled from his station, a new person—and a suddenly crystal-clear channel—asking for OpSec intel that could get him and his men killed over an open channel. The fool had used his own name to top it off.

Even guys straight out of boot know not to use their own name over open comms for Christ’s sake. On top of that, the general’s voice sounded oddly…European.

It added up to one thing in Cooper’s mind: security breach. He was confident the younger voice was legit, but whoever the hell had hacked the line was trying to get him to reveal his position and tactical strength. His mind raced. He had an opportunity, if he could exploit it.

“Thank God, sir,” he said, trying to impart a sense of relief to his voice. He was taking a risk talking louder, but he figured it was worth it if his plan was successful. “We’ve moved Slipknot across Grand Avenue to the USC medical center. The NKors think we’re still holed up in the hospital! We’re on the upper level, and can access the roof as soon as you show up—there’s a helipad on the roof. I have two men combat effective and ten wounded. Slipknot is with us. You better hurry, there are Korean—” He dropped the phone and grunted as if injured, then killed the transmission by turning the power off.

Before they could trace the array’s signal on the roof, he keyed his throat mic. “Sparky, kill it and get your ass down here on the double.” The signal on the sat phone went dead before he finished speaking. “Grab the array and drop the cable down the shaft; we may need it again.”

“Wait one. I got bad guys exiting the annex and moving across Grand to the east,” Sparky reported. “Looks like they’re setting up a perimeter around the USC building over there…Jesus, there’s a lot of ‘em.”

“Good, they took the bait. Now get down here, we’re moving in five!” urged Cooper. He stood up and started to coil up the ethernet cable that had began to fall out of the elevator shaft. He could hear a quiet hissing sound. He keyed the throat mic again. “Beaver.”

“Yeah, Coop?”

“Round up the troops and get to the Emergency Department—northwest corner of the hospital. We gotta get the hell out of here, pronto. Docs, Secret Service, Slipknot, everyone. Start loading into the motorcade, or what’s left of it. As soon as Sparky gets down here, we’ll link up.”

“Hooyah.”

The hissing sound from the elevator shaft grew louder. He looked up and could see his sniper sliding down the heavy elevator cables, dropping like a rock from seven floors up. With a grunt, the SEAL landed on the ground and climbed out of the shaft to squat next to Cooper. In one smooth motion, he pulled free his sidearm and held it at the ready, leaving the long sniper rifle securely strapped to his back.

“Coop, there’s some serious hardware out there. APCs, LAVs, HumVees…a couple companies of foot mobiles, at least. That’s not to mention the shit they got flying around out there. Looks like we got a couple good guys givin’ ‘em some trouble, though. I saw an F-35 take out one of their jets.” Sparky shook his head, night-vision goggles making him look like some nightmarish, snouted animal. “I could see clear up Grand Avenue; the U.S. Bank Tower is about blown to shit, man. Whole financial district is on fire. By the number of NKors I saw out there, it looks like an invasion, Coop.”

“It is. That Apache Dawn broadcast was no joke. Come on,” he whispered, moving cautiously toward the redoubt at the far end of the basement. “We got to get the hell out of here.”

By the time Cooper rejoined the rest of the survivors at the Emergency Department, explosions and gunfire were shaking the hospital to its foundation. The doctors and a few nurses were desperately trying to keep the President stabilized while being carried by two Secret Service agents. “Be careful!” hissed Dr. Honeycutt. “Don’t jar that IV or he’ll die before we get going.”

“They’re coming!” called out Mike as Cooper and Sparky rejoined the group. “We’ve got movement outside…”

“Don’t worry, they’re killing each other for the moment,” said Cooper. “Someone hijacked a signal I had with NORAD. I told whoever the hell I was talking with that we were across Grand Avenue on the top floor of the Family Medical Building. They took the bait and I guess they’re tearing it up looking for us. Now’s our chance. Let’s—” He turned to look at the remaining vehicles of the Presidential motorcade and froze. “Those things are shot to hell…”

“We ran into an advance element on the way here,” offered Agent Sheffield. “Didn’t know it was part of an invasion.”

Both large Suburbans were riddled with bullet holes and leaking fluid. One had a smashed-up front-end. The driver must have plowed into something at a decent clip. Another vehicle, Cooper guessed, by the white paint streaks down the side of the crumpled doors on the black SUV. The President’s limo looked dirty and dented, but there were no bullet holes. Big as it was, however, there was still no way they would all fit.

We’re gonna have to find some wheels. I don’t have time for this…

“APC!” hissed Jax, crouching by the tail end of the limo. “Ten yards out, two o’clock!”

Everyone dove for cover in a panic. They were dangerously exposed in the Emergency Department at the northwest end of the hospital, with the parking lot and covered bay in front of them and the empty receiving room behind them. Their only cover was the presidential motorcade, parked haphazardly in front of the main doors. Cooper ducked under the large windows and made it to the wall. He took a breath and slowly peeked around the open doors toward the street.

Sure enough, a large, ugly, green-and-tan-colored Korean APC with sharp, angular reactive-armor sat parked behind the limo, facing east, its big diesel engine idling like a flatulent rhinoceros.

“Shit, shit, shit,” said Charlie over Cooper’s headset. “Coop, main hatch is opening…foot mobiles comin’ out!”

“Hold your fire,” whispered Cooper in a dead calm voice, devoid of emotion. He watched as the North Korean soldiers exited down a big ramp and peeled out to run down the sides of the armored eight-wheeled vehicle, a mishmash of sharp angles and a half-assed attempt at stolen designs and aerodynamics. Cooper frowned in disapproval. In his experience, doing things half-assed usually got you killed.

The North Koreans continued running east across the parking lot, heading toward the doomed Family Medical Building. They didn’t give more than a casual glance toward the shot-up motorcade parked at the Trauma Center. A hatch opened on the top of the APC through the turret that housed what looked like a 20mm cannon, and a helmeted head popped out, followed by the shoulders and chest of what Cooper figured was the vehicle’s commander. The man pulled up large binoculars that looked oddly similar to his own night-vision binos.

“Now what?” asked Charlie in a whisper.

“Stay put—I’m gonna get us some wheels. Sparky, on me. Charlie, give us a diversion when we get to the rear.”

“Roger that,” said Charlie as the platoon sniper appeared next to Cooper like a ghost out of the shadows.

“Let’s go,” Cooper whispered. The two SEALs slipped around the double doors and crouch-walked across the open space to the side of the APC. He could hear someone talking in Korean from the inside. The engine noise was tremendous and it almost felt like the ground was trembling as the big armored troop carrier sat there waiting.

Behind him, a loud explosion rocked the Family Medical Building and more gunfire erupted. Cooper had to force himself to ignore the commotion and crept quickly to the rear of the APC.