down. He reversed the props and in seconds had brought the Cessna to an
abrupt halt, its frail fuselage bobbing like a cork. With the storm
coming up, the sea was rougher than it looked.
Hans immediately opened the door, then nodded back to the cabin and
reached for the line attached to the first raft. He had done this
dozens of times before, but it always was scary. You had to watch out
for the motor, inflate the raft from the doorway, then get your gear
in, all the while keeping hold of the line. Do it wrong and you could
lose the whole thing.
"Okay, Reggie," Armont yelled, "time to earn your share."
"What bloody share? It's fifteen percent of nothing." Hall sighed and
stared out the Cessna's open doorway. Even in the dim moonlight he
could see the whitecaps thrown up by the chop, and he felt his
testicles tighten. "This is going to be a hell of an insertion." He re-
cinched the straps of the backpack containing his gear.
Armont watched him swing out and down, knowing he hated the moment,
then motioned for Hugo Voorst to step up to the doorway. "Hurry. We may
be eating some cannon fire any time now."
Voorst moved up quickly. He glanced toward the cockpit one last time,
then seized his gear and dropped down. His brother, who was still
setting the charge, would be the last out.
"Our new escort is going to have us dead to rights in about sixty
seconds," Willem announced from up front. "Everybody out, now."
Armont was securing the last of the gear needed for the insertion and
the assault, readying it to be passed through the hatch, while Willem
Voorst was finishing with the charge of C-4.
Armont looked around the cabin one last time, hoping they had gotten
everything they absolutely needed. Several crates of backup gear would
have to be left, but unexpected contingencies went with the territory.
With that sober last thought, he signaled to Voorst, who was ready with
the detonator. "Set it for forty-five seconds. That should be enough."
As the Dutchman nodded, he reached for the rope and dropped.
Willem spun the dials on the timer, then wrapped it against the dull
orange stick of C-4 and tossed it into the copilot's seat. In seconds
he was at the open doorway, swinging down the line and into the dark
below.