Chapter 37

37

Ramadani led them another two miles up the steep mountain, nimble and quick as a mountain goat and trailing a cloud of cigarette smoke the entire way. Even MacD, a former Ranger in superb condition, had a hard time keeping up with him.

The Kosovar tossed his cigarette and motioned them into silence as they climbed their way up the last fifty yards on a nearly vertical track, scrambling over rocks and fallen logs. He approached the rocky crest and whispered to Raven. She translated for MacD.

"There are thirteen of them in this band. Their base is a cave on the other side of these rocks on a little plateau. Everything we're looking for is in that cave."

Raven and MacD crept close to the tumbled rocks and peered over the edge. They were facing due north.

There were, indeed, thirteen jihadis gathered around the camp fronting a large cave. Several sat by the fire, others were smoking and cleaning their rifles, and two sat on camp chairs just inside the mouth of the cave, their American M4 carbines perched in their laps.

"Too many to take on," MacD said. Raven translated for Ramadani.

The big Kosovar grunted. "I thought you Americans were tough."

Raven translated.

"Tough. Not stupid," MacD said.

Ramadani smiled and nodded to the two Americans before speeding back down the steep track. Ten yards down he suddenly dashed west into the woods.

"You think our fella chickened out?" MacD whispered as he opened his pack.

"We'll find out soon enough." Raven grabbed her weapon.

Moments later, a grenade exploded in the distance and shots rang out from an AK.

MacD and Raven both grinned.

"I love a man with a plan," MacD said.

They watched eleven of the jihadis race west, away from the camp, following another track into the forest with a collective shout toward the gunfire and explosion. But the two men in the cave only stood, clutching their rifles nervously.

"Like stealing candy," Raven said as she raised her pistol.

MacD gripped his weapon. "I could use me a handful of pralines right about now."

Seconds later, the two jihadis dropped their rifles as they crumbled to the dirt.

MacD and Raven bolted for the cave, each clutching a tranq pistol in their hands. More gunfire and shouting echoed from the west and down the mountain.

Max said they couldn't shoot anybody. He didn't say anything about doping them.

Raven and MacD each grabbed a fallen jihadi by the shirt and dragged them farther inside the cave and out of sight. They didn't bother zip-tying the two men. They'd be out for hours. The Gundogs also grabbed the jihadis' phones and pocketed them before driving deeper inside.

There was enough light from the cave's wide mouth to illumine the few crates stacked inside. Two dozen more were already broken up and stacked like firewood on the far wall. Whatever they contained was long gone.

"Slim pickins over here, chère ," MacD said.

Raven pulled open one of the crates. "Night vision goggles," she whispered. She took cell phone pictures of the night vision goggles and their serial numbers.

MacD did the same with another crate, snapping a photo of a Claymore mine and the iconic front toward enemy embossed on the front.

"But nasty business, this."

The gunfire tapered off. Both operators noticed it.

"We better get a move on," Raven said as she stuffed a pair of goggles into her pack.

MacD cinched up his pack. "Let's vamoose."

Raven dashed for the cave mouth with MacD hot on her heels. As she raced into the light, automatic-rifle fire opened up. Bullets raked the cave wall, but one round hit Raven in the thigh and spun her into the dirt.

MacD grabbed her by the pack straps and dragged her back inside as bullets smashed into the rocks just above his head, the shards of stone clawing at his face like fingernails.

Raven grimaced in pain as she gripped her leg just above the wound.

MacD yanked an Israeli bandage from a pouch on his belt. "Bullet pass through?" He tore open the sanitary wrapper, keeping one eye on the cave entrance.

"Think so," she said through gritted teeth. "Hard to tell."

MacD slipped the wide bandage around her leg, cinched it down, then reversed it through the closure bar before securing it with a twist of the handle. Raven yelped.

"Sit tight."

"Mac!"

One of the jihadi's crept into the cave, his head swiveling.

The Cajun unholstered his Walther 9mm lightning quick and put the red dot in the center of the man's forehead.

But he didn't pull the trigger.

Ramadani's big hand wrapped around the jihadi's mouth, jerked his head back, and slit his throat. The jihadi dropped in a spray of his own blood.

The mountain man wiped his blade on his pants and sheathed it, motioning for MacD and Raven to follow him—quickly.

MacD dashed over to the corpse and snatched his cell phone before hoisting Raven onto his back in a fireman's carry and charging out of the cave.

Ramadani had already disappeared over the crest and out of sight.

MacD heard angry shouts in the distance. He didn't see anything, but they were close. He grunted with effort as he broached the rocky crest with Raven on his back.

Ramadani was waiting for him there, his eyes wide with urgency. The jihadi voices were louder—and closer.

"Let's go," MacD said.

Ramadani turned to leave.

"Wait."

Ramadani stopped in his tracks and turned around.

"Take her—"

"Mac," Raven grunted. "What are you doing?"

"Too many of them."

"Put me down. I can shoot—"

MacD ignored her as he shifted Raven from off his back and onto Ramadani's shoulder like a sack of Idaho potatoes.

The two men exchanged a look.

"Go," MacD said.

Ramadani bounded down the trail with the wounded Raven bouncing on his shoulder and wincing with every jarring step.

MacD dropped his pack and pulled out the Claymore he'd stolen for evidence. He backed down the mountain a few feet and planted it with front toward enemy pointing back up the narrow trail. He covered the mine with leaves, stretched the trip wire across the path, and jackrabbited down the mountain with the shouts of the Salafists cresting the hill high above him.

Automatic-rifle fire cracked behind him and bullets splintered the trees as he ran past them.

WHOOMP!

A dozen screams pierced the mountain air as several hundred steel balls tore through flesh and bone.

Ten minutes later, Raven was stretched out on the ground as MacD properly dressed her wound. The bullet had passed through cleanly without shattering bone or cutting arteries.

Ramadani stood watchful guard over them with a smoldering Marlboro draped on his lips, his AK aimed back up the mountain. It was only a precaution. There were no more pursuers.

"I thought we were under orders not to kill anybody," Raven finally said.

"Max didn't saying nothing about letting them blow themselves up with their own kit. I just obliged 'em."

MacD helped Raven to her unsteady feet. She turned to thank the Kosovar mountain man for his help.

But he was already gone.