Free The Assault by Brian Falkner Page B

could be a trap.”
    “Phantom, you know what to do,” Chisnall said.
    He raised his weapon high above his head and stepped out from behind the rock.
    There were no shots.
    He walked forward, keeping the coil-gun above his head, then unclipped it from the holster spring and slowly laid it on the ground. He did the same for his sidearm and advanced toward the boulders, keeping his hands high.
    “That’s close enough, thanks,” the voice called. “Now the other chaps.”
    Chisnall dropped the accent. “Who the hell are you, soldier?”
    “There’s a platoon of us,” the voice said.
    “No, there isn’t,” Chisnall said. “There are two or three of you at the most, and if there was a platoon in this vicinity, I’d know about it.”
    “Who are you?”
    “Lieutenant Ryan Chisnall, Allied Combined Operations Group, Recon Battalion,” Chisnall said.
    “You look like a Puke,” the voice said.
    “I’m no more Puke than you are,” Chisnall said. “Good disguise, though, yezz?”
    “Keep your hands on top of your head,” the voice said. “And come behind the boulders.”
    Chisnall walked forward slowly, making no movements that might alarm the men. He stepped between two of the boulders.
    There were just two of them, one injured. Both in their twenties or early thirties. Both in the uniform of the British Royal Air Force. They had just one weapon between them, an MP5. Brogan was right.
    “Dammit, you really are a Puke,” the man said as Chisnall rounded the rocks. He aimed the gun at Chisnall’s face.
    “No, I’m not,” Chisnall said. He flipped up his combat visor.
    “You damn well look like one,” the man said. “Tell your men to lay their weapons on the ground and come over here.”
    “They’re already here,” Chisnall said with an even smile.
    “G’day, mate,” Price said from behind the men.
    The man looked around at the gun next to his head. Price, the Kiwi Phantom, had used Chisnall’s approach as a cover to slither silently around behind them. Nobody had heard her—not even Chisnall, who knew what she was doing.
    Chisnall reached forward and took the MP5 off the soldier, flipping the safety as the other Angels approached.
    “Believe it or not, we are humans,” he said. “I’m from California.”
    “Well, you look like Pukes.”
    “Believe me, we ain’t happy about that either,” Wilton said.
    “Who are you?” Chisnall asked.
    “Pilot Officer Sean Fleming. This is Flight Lieutenant Theo Bennett, Royal Air Force, Sixty-First Squadron.”
    The injured man nodded but did not speak.
    “What’s your story?” Chisnall asked.
    The team squatted down in a semicircle around the two men.
    “We were part of the raid on Townsville. Got chased by the Pukes halfway across Australia. They winged us and wemanaged to eject, but the skipper landed on rocks, banged up his leg a bit. We’ve been evading ever since.”
    “Any plans to get you out?” Brogan asked.
    Fleming shook his head. “If we could get to the coast, maybe, but there’s not much chance of that with the skipper’s leg. How about you? What are you doing here?”
    “That’s classified,” Chisnall said.
    Fleming nodded. “I thought as much. Five kids dressed as Pukes in the heart of Puke land.”
    Chisnall turned to Brogan. “I want to debrief these men on enemy activity in the area. Retrieve the backpacks and set up a perimeter. Full alert. Pukes may have heard the shooting.”
    Chisnall waited until the others had vanished into the darkness of the desert, then shook Fleming’s hand warmly. He made sure his comm mike was off.
    “The uniform looks good on you.” He grinned.
    “I think so too,” Fleming said. “How’d I do?”
    “Convincing. You almost had me fooled.”
    “Good to see you again, kid,” Fleming said. He winced. “Sorry, I know you hate being called that.”
    “Don’t worry about it. Good to see you too. But what the hell was all that shooting as we approached the RV?”
    “There were