Goliath

The noise from Cardinal’s .50 cal tore through the air. One of the mercs’ vehicles was on fire after a well-aimed round had torn through its driver, sending the Jeep smashing into another parked vehicle. Using what cover they could, Chang’s men began to advance at the tower overlooking the camp. Neither side was backing down from the fight; everyone there knew that it was going to be a struggle to the finish.

  Chang lowered his binoculars and swore. At the rate his men were taking casualties, it would not be long before he would not have enough men to storm the tower. If more attackers were to arrive, then Chang knew it would all be over. As far as he could tell, it was only a few well-armed men firing at his men from the old Martello tower. Even the anti-tank rockets were proving useless against the thick walls of the tower, exploding without effect on the hard exterior. Although the snow-covered ground was littered with the bodies of more than a dozen of his men, Chang was still confident that his well-trained team could take the tower, if they could only get close enough. The area from the camp to the ridge where the tower stood was just too open. His men would not make it half the distance to the rocks before being picked off one by one. Looking about, he searched for a way to even the odds. A moment later Chang saw the answer to his prayers. With a loud whistle, he pointed at a large yellow tractor. A quick wave by one of his men let Chang know that he knew what to do. He wondered just who it was who had managed to screw up the Romanovs’ plan. If circumstances had been different, he might have even offered them a job; they were that good.

  Cardinal scanned the mining camp through his sniper scope and guessed that there were about fifteen mercenaries still in the fight. Most of Romanov’s men were all either dead, or cowering from the fight. Not expecting a protracted skirmish, Cardinal had carried what he thought was enough ammunition, but with the firefight gaining in its intensity, he was beginning to run low. At least he still had his M4.

  “Hey there, how’s it going?” asked Sam, startling Cardinal.

  Cardinal saw Sam’s head sticking up from below. “We’re doing okay, I guess, but I’m starting to run low on 50. cal ammo,” replied Cardinal. “Do you have Miss March with you?”

  “Yeah, she’s safe and sound down below. Have you seen any sign of Jackson or Mitchell?”

  “None. Nate disappeared into the tunnel a good ten minutes ago.”

  The sound of an anti-tank rocket slamming against the side of the tower made both Sam and Cardinal duck.

  “Okay then, I guess we’re gonna hold up here until the cavalry arrives,” Sam said, trying to sound optimistic. “I’m gonna send an update to Fahimah and find a good firing port to help you from.”

  “All right, but keep your head down,” replied Cardinal as he looked over at Sam. Neither said a word. For a moment, they locked eyes, both knowing each would die for the other. With a quick wink, Sam dropped down the stairs and out of sight. Cardinal turned back to his weapon’s telescopic sight. He saw three armed men making a dash for the tunnel entrance. He swung his sniper rifle over, took aim, and cut down one of the men before the others dove for cover behind some old, rust-covered, 45-gallon drums.

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