Assignment for Webb
By Bernadeen

Chapter 6

Harm was losing power on both engines. Briefly he wondered whether they had been sabotaged. That could account for the other crash, too. He didn't have much time to think about the causes; he was too busy trying to find a place to land without tearing the plane apart. It was a dark, clear night with only a small waning moon. He was pretty sure most of the land below was covered with trees.

Then just as the engines sounded like they were in their death throes, Harm saw what looked like a road. He had to chance it while he had enough power to control the plane. Pushing the wheel forward, he quickly reduced altitude and lined up to land on the road. It was a dirt road and none too straight. Harm managed to touch down and had nearly gotten the plane stopped, when the road turned sharply and Harm couldn't stop the plane from bouncing across a shallow ditch and into thick brush and scrubby trees where it quickly came to a halt.

The last few feet viciously bounced the plane, and Harm saw stars for an instant when his head made hard contact with the airframe. When the plane had come to rest, Harm breathed a sigh of relief and sat for a minute to let the tension recede. He carefully pushed his way back through the plane, managed after several minutes of struggling with the reluctant door latch to push it open, and emerged from the plane. For a better view, he paused on the top step and looked around. The plane had gone several yards into the brush and Harm doubted that it would be visible from the road, at least at night. He also wondered again about the bad luck the cartel was having with its planes.

Reaching back into the plane for a flashlight, Harm lifted the panel covering the engine. He quickly removed the fuel line and inspected an in-line filter. As he expected, it was clogged with some kind of fine fibers. Harm suspected that whatever this was had been put in the fuel tank. It was designed to slowly fill up the filter and cause engine failure during the flight. Harm suspected a rival drug organization, and if his assumption were correct, Harm could get caught between two warring drug factions. He needed to be very careful of anyone approaching the plane. He also needed to get word to the authorities that he had a plane full of what he suspected was illegal contraband to be traded for drugs. His location was being tracked using the device in his ring, but those monitoring his movement would not know that he had been forced to land short of his destination.

Harm did a quick search of the plane for emergency supplies but found very little. Most space was taken up with cargo, but he did find a flaregun with only two flares. Problem was that if he used the flares, he might not survive the rescue if the wrong people found him. Harm had taken a chance that he wouldn't be searched and had a small pistol in an ankle holster. He was glad he had taken the risk – at least he had a weapon.

Harm decided not to stay with the plane. Very soon those waiting for him would know he was overdue and probably begin searching for the plane. He was close enough to his destination that they could have heard his plane go down, which meant it might not be long until someone came looking. Better to stay out of sight until he saw who showed up.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Meanwhile, Mac was with the drug enforcement team at its mobile control center in a semi-trailer painted with the logo of a long-haul transport company. Webb, a DEA agent, and three technical specialists at separate consoles, watched various blips and dots on the screens, representing Harm, his plane and Zeke's plane. As Clay watched two dots representing Harm and his plane stop any forward movement, he shook his head. "This isn't right. We were sure the airfield he was going to is another 30 miles from this location," he said as he tapped the stationary dots on the screen.

"So what does this mean?" Mac asked anxiously.

"Either we were wrong on our location, or the plane crashed," the DEA agent, whose name was Morales, stated unfeelingly.

Mac looked at him sharply, then back at Webb. "Clay, we've got to go after him. We can't abandon him in the middle of Mexico," her voice tense.

"We can't just go charging into Mexico before we know what's happening. We don't have authority and we might endanger Harm more," Clay said defensively.

"I thought you had the cooperation of the Mexican authorities in this operation?" Mac challenged Webb.

"We do, but we can't go in until we're sure it's the best course of action."

One of the techs spoke up. "Rabb's moving."

Mac, Webb and Morales concentrated on the screen, watching the two dots that were Harm and his plane move apart – Mac wondered briefly how they had gotten a tracking device on the plane. Harm obviously was moving away from the plane, which probably meant he hadn't crashed. Still, there were several other explanations for the movement, one of which was that he was dead and his body was being moved. Mac didn't dwell on this possibility.

"Where's the satellite images of this area?" Clay asked. One of the techs pointed to a table that held several maps.

"What are you thinking?" Mac questioned.

Without answering, Clay pulled out the satellite photo he was looking for and located the coordinates where Harm and his plane appeared to be. "Just as I thought, no airfield there .. but there is a road. And it looks like it runs directly to the airfield that we thought was Harm's destination. That means it won't take long for the reception committee to reach Harm when they go looking. This looks close enough that they might have heard his plane."

"We're watching Charles Estavez, the man who hired Harm and Zeke for these shipments. If it's a go in Mexico, we'll pick him up, too, but if we tip our hand too soon with Estavez, there's a chance he could warn others," Agent Morales added.

"Contact the Mexican team and get them into position to round up everyone at both Rabb's and Desmond's locations. We have two planes full of contraband that was going to be traded for drugs, and the drugs are probably nearby." Webb ordered.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Back in the Mexican night, Harm was fighting his way through thick, spiny brush, trying to put some distance between himself and the plane. The thin moon didn't provide much light, but Harm's eyes were becoming accustomed to the dim light. Still, there were areas that were pitch black and he took a chance with every step that he wasn't walking over the edge of a cliff, into a hole, or stepping on a poisonous snake.

Before he had managed to get as far away as he would have liked, he heard an engine – it sounded like a truck coming down the road. A truck arriving this soon after his plane went down and at this time of night could only mean it was the reception committee waiting for his cargo. He just wasn't sure whether it was the intended recipients who had been waiting at the airfield, or some rival cartel trying to take over the area.

The terrain in the direction that Harm was moving rose slightly and the brush began to thin, to be replaced by taller trees. He could move faster and still have good cover. When he thought he was far enough away, he looked back, but was unable to see anything through the trees. He had heard the truck stop so he assumed the plane was visible from the road. Either that, or the plane had some type of tracking device on board. He could hear movement in the brush but it didn't sound close. Wanting to see what was happening, Harm climbed into the lower branches of a nearby tree, hoping for a better view. He found that his position above the plane's location allowed him to see lights through the trees. He could see what appeared to be headlights, and several flashlights or lanterns moving around the plane.

Suddenly a twig snapped not far from Harm's tree. He cautiously looked down as he concentrated to slow his breathing and be as quiet as possible. The sounds of movement were rapidly coming closer. As Harm watched, he caught a glimpse of eerie green light. Night vision goggles! Damn! Someone skilled in tracking could easily follow his trail of broken brush.

The man moved cautiously but quickly toward the tree where Harm perched about 12 feet above the ground. So far he hadn't looked up. Harm gathered himself, and when the man was directly below the tree, Harm dropped on top of him. The men hit the ground together as Harm landed two quick blows to the ribs. Harm's pursuer had dropped his weapon when Harm took him down, and Harm dared not use his gun because it would bring the others. Harm grabbed for the night vision goggles, but as he reached up, he felt a burning pain in his side and realized the man had a knife. Before the knife could do more damage, Harm rolled away and grabbed his opponent's wrist. With a quick twist, Harm heard the sickening snap as he broke the man's arm. As the knife fell, Harm grabbed it and quickly and quietly ended his opponent's life.

Harm's side burned and he could feel the warmth of his own blood as it seeped into his clothes. Putting on the night vision goggles, he quickly found the discarded assault rifle and slung it over his good shoulder. A quick search of the dead man produced two ammo clips. Harm used the knife to slash the dead man's shirt, then ripped off the back portion, wadded it up and pressed it against his wound. Holding the compress with his elbow, he quickly pulled off the remainder of the dead man's shirt and headed into the forest.

The night vision goggles allowed him to move much faster. He gritted his teeth and ignored the pain that pulled at his side with every step. After half an hour and no further sounds of pursuit, Harm stopped to finish his bandage. He tied the shirt sleeves together, brought them around his body, and tied the bandage snuggly to hold the compress over the wound. His head was clear and he didn't feel like he had lost too much blood. Still, he needed to make contact soon.

TBC