"Those bastards firing on us have gone inside," Philip Sexton yelled.
"Let them wait. Let's stop the damned chopper from egressing." He was
pointing through the windscreen of the Apache. "Orders are to keep
everybody on the ground."
Manny Jackson hit the pedals. Nothing to it. There, almost in his
sights, was the striped Agusta chopper, with a terrorist hanging
beneath it. Probably fell out. He was hanging on to something, though
what it was you really couldn't tell through the thin mist.
It didn't matter. The guy was open and in the clear. This was the
beginning of what was going to be a marvelous operation, taking these
bastards down. With a feeling of immense satisfaction, he reached for
the weapons station.
And then his world went blue.