I really wanted to lower my window and return fire, but Brenner had said not to do that, and maybe it wasn’t a good idea with bullets coming at us. But when I looked again through the back windshield, I saw that someone in the Bondmobile, wearing a flak jacket and Kevlar helmet—maybe Zamo—was leaning out of the rear driver’s side window gangster-style, firing back at the streaks of tracer rounds. The other DSS guy riding shotgun was doing the same, and the Bondmobile was drawing most of the fire now.
The Land Cruiser took another hit, and Clare shouted, “Stop!”
Mike yelled, “Look!”
I turned, and on the road coming toward us was another Toyota SUV traveling at top speed, quickly closing the distance between him and Brenner’s lead vehicle. Bad guy? I’d never know, because a white smoke trail angled down out of the blue and the Toyota erupted in a ball of flames, followed by a loud explosion.
Brenner’s and Buck’s SUVs swerved and shot past the burning wreckage, and by the time we reached it, pieces of burning junk started falling on us, and something bounced off the hood. Mike was temporarily blinded by the black, billowing smoke, and we were going off the pavement, but he jerked the wheel back in time to avoid an off-road trip into a ravine.
I unfastened my seat belt and looked out the back windshield. Kate’s SUV was right behind us, and the Bondmobile was coming up fast. We seemed to be out of the killing zone and I didn’t see any red tracers following us. I took a deep breath and looked down at Clare, who was now on the floor, her face and chest covered by the big medical bag. I said to her, “It’s okay. It’s over.”
She didn’t respond and I reached down and lifted the medical bag. She stared up at me, but said nothing. I asked, “You okay?”
She nodded.
I turned back toward the front and Mike said, “Three fucking weeks.”
“Right.” In fact, time is relative. The ambush seemed to last forever, but it was probably less than two minutes since the first Hellfire hit.
Mike had the windshield washers on now, and the wiper blades were smearing a red goo across the glass.
The hand-helds crackled and Brenner’s voice, still calm and cool, came over the radios. “Sit-rep. Vehicle One okay.”
Buck said, “Two is… fine.” He sounded surprised.
Mike had a death grip on the steering wheel, so I transmitted, “Three okay.”
I waited for V-4 to transmit, and I was getting concerned, but then Kate’s voice, almost upbeat, said, “Four okay.”
The Bondmobile reported, “Trail okay… but Z has a graze wound.”
I said to Clare, “One customer for you.”
The mountains were receding off to the left and right now, and the terrain started to flatten on both sides of the road. Brenner increased the speed and we were flying down the middle of the crumbling blacktop. The color had returned to Mike’s face, but his knuckles were still white.
Brenner transmitted, “Predators see nothing ahead.”
Everyone acknowledged the good news.
Mike found his voice and said, “Predators usually operate in pairs… two Hellfires each… so we’re out of missiles.”
“Right. But the bad guys don’t know that.”
“Yeah… and they don’t want to find out.”
I hope.
Clare was sitting low in the rear seat, and she had her radio in her hand. She transmitted, “V-5, M.D. here. How’s Z?”
Z himself replied, “Don’t need you.”
Then the other DSS agent transmitted, “Bullet passed through his brain. No damage.”
Everyone was on an adrenaline high now, happy to be alive and very happy to joke about death.
Someone else transmitted, “I feel bad about the donkey.”
Another guy said, “Legat, legat. Permission to return fire.”
Howard replied, “I’m checking.”
Brenner said, “Can the chatter.”
So we continued on in radio silence.
Clare confessed, “I’ve never been so frightened in my life.”
Mike replied, “Welcome to the club.”
I focused my binoculars on Buck’s SUV, then Brenner’s. I could see some raw metal where they’d taken hits. Also, Brenner’s back windshield had been hit. I wondered what the new ambassador would say when he was picked up at Sana’a Airport with these vehicles.
The road was straightening out, and we were definitely on the downslope. I began seeing more mud and stone huts, livestock, and people, plus a few motor scooters raising dust on the mountain trails.
We increased our speed, and as we crested a hill I could see flatlands in the distance.
Mike’s knuckles were pink again.
Mike had his sat-phone plugged into the antenna jack, and I speed-dialed the DSS driver