Clear and present danger - Tom Clancy [328]
It was hard to tell at first. There was thick overhead cover here, and the relative absence of light forced him to turn the brightness control to the maximum. That made the picture fuzzy, like a pre-cable TV signal from a distant city, and what he was looking for was far off-at least five hundred meters, which was as far as he could see down a thinned-out area of the forest. The tension only made him more alert, but that made his imagination work all the harder, and he had to guard against seeing things that weren't there.
But something was there. He could feel it even before the noise returned. There were no more metallic sounds, but there was… there was the over-loud whisper of leaves, and then it was a calm night again in the lee of the mountain. Chavez looked over to León, who also had his goggles on, was also looking that way, a green image on the tube. The goggled face turned toward Chavez and nodded. There was no emotion in the gesture, just the professional communication of an unpleasant thought. Chavez knelt to activate his radio.
"Six, this is Point," Ding called.
"Six here."
"We're at the turn-back point. We got movement down here, about half a klick below us. We're gonna wait to see what it is."
"Roger. Be careful, Sergeant," Ramirez said.
"Will do. Out." León came over to join him.
"How d'you want to play this?" 'Berto asked.
"Let's stay close, try not to move too much till we see what they're up to."
"You got it. Better cover about fifty meters uphill."
"Go ahead, I'll be right behind you." Chavez took one more look downhill before following his comrade up to a stand of thick trees. Still nothing he could really identify on the speckled screen. Two minutes later he was at the new perch.
'Berto saw it first and pointed down a trail. The moving specks were larger than the noise generated by the viewing system. Heads. Four or five hundred meters off. Coming straight up the hill.
Okay, Chavez said to himself. Let's get a count. He felt himself relaxing. This was business. He'd done it all before. The great unknown was now behind him. There would be a fight. He knew how to do that.
"Six, this is Point, estimate company strength, heading right up to you."
"Anything else?"
"They're moving kinda slow. Careful, like."
"How long can you stay there?"
"Maybe a couple minutes."
"Stay as long as it's safe, then move. Try to pace them for another klick or so. We want to get as many as possible into the sack."
"Roger."
"These numbers suck, man," León whispered.
"We sure as hell want to whittle 'em down some 'fore we run, don't we?" Chavez returned his eyes to the advancing enemy. He saw no obvious organization. They were taking their time, moving slowly up the hill, though he could easily hear them now. They moved in little bands of three or four, probably groups of friends, he thought, like street gangs did. You wanted a friend at your back.
Street gang, he thought. They didn't bother with colors down here like in his barrio, just those damned AK-47s. No real plan, no fire and maneuver teams. He wondered if they had radios to coordinate with. Probably not. He realized, a little late, that they did know where they were going. He didn't understand how they knew, but it only meant that they were heading into one hell of an ambush. But there were still a lot of 'em. An awful lot.
"Time to move," Ding told 'Berto.
They raced uphill, or went as fast as their training allowed, choosing one good observation point after another and keeping their command posted on their position and the enemy's. Ahead of them, up the hill, the squad had nearly two hours to reorient itself and prepare its ambush. Chavez and León copied his radio message on their own sets. The squad was moving forward to meet the attackers well in front of the primary defensive line. It was set between two particularly