Treasure

Three times the Arab terrorists were driven back and times they charged forward in the face of the murderous fire. Their badly diminished force regrouped again and launched a final suicide assault, closing the ring tighter and tighter.

The Arab Mushm could not understand their enemy's ferocity, how they could fight with such bloody-minded precision, why they were so outrageously defiant. The Americans fought desperately only to live, while they themselves sought a blessed death and martyrdom as salvation.

Pitts eyes stung from the smoke, and tears streamed down his cheeks. The whole cnishing mill was vibrating. Bullets ricocheted off the steel sides like angry hornets, four Of them tearing through Pitts sleeve and slightly grazing the skin.

Recklessly the Arabs threw themselves against the crushing mill and scurried over the makeshift barricade. The shooting match quickly turned into a man-to-man struggle as the two groups met in a savage, brawling mass of bodies.

Findley went down as two bullets struck him in his unprotected side, yet he remained on his knees, feebly swinging his empty shotgun like a baseball bat.

Giordino, wounded in five places, gamely heaved ore rocks with his right hand, his left arm dangling useless from a bullet through the shoulder.

Pitts Thompson fired its last cartridge, and he hurled the big gun in the face of an Arab who suddenly up before him. He yanked the Colt automatic from his belt and fired at any face that lurched through the smoke. He felt a stinging sensation at the base of the neck and knew he'd been hit. The Colt quickly emptied, and Pitt fought on, chopping the heavy gun like a small club. He began to taste the begininggs of sour defeat.

Reality no longer existed. Pitt felt as if he were fighting a war. A grenade went off, a crushing explosion that deafened him by its closeness. A body fell on top of him, and he was caught off balance and thrown backward.

His head struck against a steel pipe and an expanding ball of fire flashed inside his head. And then, like a wave breaking in the surf, the nightmare swept over and smothered him.

The Special Operations Forces landed and regrouped behind the ore tracks that shielded their approach from the mine buildings. They quickly spread out in a loose battle formation and waited for the command to move in. The snipers established their positions around the mine, lying flat and watching for movement through their scopes.

Hollis, with Dillenger at his side, crawled up to the summit of the tracks and cautiously peered over. The scene had the look of a graveyard.

The ghost mine was an eerie stage for a battle, but the cold rain and barren mountainside seemed an appropriate backdrop for a killing ground.

The dull gray sky fell and gave the decaying buildings the look of a place that didn't belong to any world.

The firing had stopped. Two of the outer buildings were blazing fiercely, the smoke rolling into the low overcast. Hollis counted at least seven bodies littering the road on one side of the crushing mill.

"I hate to sound mundane," said Hollis, "but I don't like the look of it."

"No sign of life," agreed Dillenger, peering through a pair of small but powerful binoculars.

Hollis carefully studied the buildings for another five seconds and then spoke into his transmitter. "All right, let's mind our step and move in-"

"One moment, Colonel," a voice broke in.

"Hold the order," snapped Hollis.

"Sergeant Baker, sir, on the right flank. I have a group of five people approaching up the railroad track."

"They armed?"

"No, sir. They have their hands in the air."

"Very good. You and your men round them up. Watch for a trap. Major Dillenger and I are on our way."

Hollis and Dillenger snaked around the mine takings until they found the railroad and began jogging along it toward the fjord. After about seventy meters, several human figures took form through the pouring rain.

Sergeant Baker came forward to report.

"We have the hostages and one terrorist, Colonel."

"You've rescued the hostages?" Hollis exclaimed loudly. "All four of them?"

"Yes, sir," replied Baker. "They're pretty well worn out, but otherwise they're in good shape."

"Nice work, Sergeant," said Hollis, pumping Baker's hand in undisguised exuberance.

Both officers had memorized the faces of the two presidents and the United Nations SecretaryGeneral during the flight from Virginia. They were already familiar with Senator Pitts appearance from the news media.

They hurried forward and were enveloped in a great surge of relief as they recognized all four of the missing VIPS.

Much of their relief turned to surprise when they saw the terrorist prisoner was none other than Rudi Gu

Senator Pitt stepped forward and shook Hollis's hand as Gu

"Sorry we're late," mumbled Hollis, still not sure what to make of it all.

Hala embraced him, as did Hasan and De Lorenzo. Then it was Dillenger's Turn, and he went red as a tomato.

"Mind telling me what's going on?" Hollis asked Gu

Gu

"The helicopter explains why the Arab hijackers deserted the ship and left the Mexicans to fend for themselves."

"And the chopper was their transportation from the mine," Gu

Hollis asked, "Where are the others?"

"Last I saw of them before Pitt sent me to rescue his father and these people, they were under siege inside the crushing mill building."

"The four of you took on close to forty terrorists?" Dillenger asked incredulously.

"Pitt and the others kept the Arabs from escaping as well as creating a diversion so I could rescue the hostages."

"The odds were better than ten to one against them," stated Hollis.

"They were doing a pretty good job of it when I left," answered Gu

Hollis and Dillenger stared at each other. "We'd better see what we can find," said Hollis.

Senator Pitt came over. "Colonel, Rudi has told me my son is up at the mine. I'd like to tag along with you."

"Sorry, Senator. I can't permit it until the area is secure."

Gu

"Thank you, Rudi. I appreciate your kindness."

Hollis was not so confident. "They must have been wiped out," he muttered under his breath to Dillenger.

Dillenger nodded in agreement. "Hopeless to think they could survive against a heavy force of trained terrorists."

Hollis gave the signal and his men began moving like phantoms through the mine buildings. As they neared the crushing mill they began to find the litter of dead awesome. They counted n bodies crumpled in rag-doll positions on the road and ground outside.

The crushing-mill building was riddled with hundreds of bullet holes and showed the splintered results of grenades. Not a single pane of glass was left intact anywhere. Every entry door had been blown into splinters.