Line of Control - Tom Clancy [84]
Nazir did not look convinced. But there was no time to debate the plan and he did as Ron Friday asked. With his feet braced against the floor, his hands tight around the controls, Nazir carefully turned the chopper around and began edging it toward the cliff. As he did, Friday disconnected the communications jack but kept his helmet on. Then he swung through the hatchway between the seats.
"What is happening?" Apu asked. His flesh was paler than usual.
Unlike the heated cockpit the cargo bay was damn cold.
"We're bailing," Friday said as he used the seatbelt to create a bandolier like harness for Apu.
"I don't understand," Apu said.
"Just hang on," Friday said as he fastened the belt in front and then led the farmer to the winch. It was difficult to stand in the bumping cargo bay so they crawled to the rear of the hold. The line was quarter-inch-diameter nylon wound around an aluminum spool. They remained on their knees as Friday unfastened the hook end from the eyelet on the floor.
"You're going to go out first," Friday said as he ran the line through the harness he had created.
"Go out?" Apu said.
"Yes. To your granddaughter," Friday told him. The American tugged on the line. It seemed secure. Then he motioned Apu back until the farmer was crouching on the hatch.
"It's going to be a rough ride," Friday warned him.
"Just grab the line, huddle down, and hold on until they get you."
"Wait!" Apu said.
"How do you know that they will?"
"I don't, but I'll pray for you!" Friday said as he reached for the long lever that controlled the floor hatch. He pulled it. There was a jolt as the hatch began to open. Quickly, he grabbed the remote control that operated the winch. The line began unspooling as frigid air slipped over the doorway and slammed into the hold.
"Tell them I'm coming next!" Friday shouted as Apu slid back.
Apu grabbed the line as Friday had said, hugging it to him as he slipped from the hold. With his free hand, Friday held the line himself and edged toward the open hatch. The wind was like a block of ice, solid and biting. He turned his helmet partway into the gale and watched through squinting eyes.
As he expected, the wind lofted Apu up and out. It was a surreal vision, a man being hoisted like a kite. The chopper was about twenty-five feet from the cliff. It was listing to the starboard, where the rear rotor was out, and being buffeted up and down by the wind. But Nazir was able to hold it in place as Apu was swept toward the ledge. As Friday had hoped, the forward group went to retrieve him as the rear guard kept their weapons on the helicopter. The closer he got to the cliff, the more Apu was banged around by the wind as crosscurrents whipped down and across the rock face. But one of the cell members was able to grab him, while another cell member held on to his comrade. When everyone was safe, the cell member removed the winch line.
Friday reeled it back in. He watched as the farmer spoke with the others. One of the cell members raised and crossed his arms to the group in the rear. They did not fire at the chopper.
When the line came back in, Friday quickly ran it through the handle of the radio then strung it under his armpits and around his waist. He kept the radio against his belly and lay on his back. He wanted to go out feet first to protect the radio. He crab-walked down the open hatch, then pressed the button to send the winch line back out. He grabbed the line, straightened his legs, and began to slide down. The brutally cold air tore along his pants legs. It felt as if his skin were being peeled back. And then, a moment later, he was suddenly on a rocket sled.
Because he was not onboard to control it, the line was going out faster than before and the wind was pushing even faster. The cliff came up so fast that he barely had time to meet it with his feet.
Friday hit hard with his soles. He felt the smack all the way to the top of his skull. He bounced back then felt a sickening yank, then a drop, as the chopper