The Uvalde Raider Ben English (good novels to read in english txt) 📖

direction for The Uvalde Raider.  His left leg throbbed in agony and he had lost the element of surprise, but he was still alive and still in the fight. And for the first time since they had met the day before, Yahla al-Qassam was the one playing defense while having to deal with a growing list of unknowns.

Ezekiel Templar wanted the Flying Fortress downed and he wanted the nerve agent contained. But in a very personal manner he also wanted Qassam and he wanted him in the worst way. The Hezbollah leader was a malignant evil, a rare and supremely lethal kind of human pestilence of high intelligence, personal charisma and almost supernatural zeal. If the Iranian terrorist was allowed to walk away from this, there would be other horrific attacks and untold numbers of other innocent people put at risk.

No matter what else happened, no matter what the cost, Yahla al-Qassam had to be stopped.

Permanently.

Back in The Uvalde Raider, all eyes were scanning the skies both high and low for the American colonel in the mottled gray Messerschmidt. The Shi’a Lebanese ordered aft had reported no damage to their deadly cargo, and Gholam was certain there had been no real harm done to the Boeing bomber. The Hezbollah pilot regained their original course and altitude, and was flying just north of the wandering to and fro banks of the Guadalupe.

Dead ahead they could see Canyon Lake and off to the right, on the very edge of the horizon, the higher points of the skyline for San Antonio. The Iranian terrorist leader could also see several population centers scattered about the bomber’s present location. He glanced at his map and confirmed their identities for any future reference. They were not only indicators to triangulate the aircraft’s position, but would also serve as secondary targets if the need arose.

“Brother!” Gholam yelled over the din of the engines and speed, “He cannot hurt us! The Kalashnikov he has is next to useless against this aircraft, and he cannot accurately fly and fire it at the same time! Do not despair, Allah is still smiling upon us!”

Al-Qassam nodded his head in acknowledgement, but continued to look in every direction in conjunction with the two Shi’a Lebanese to his rear. Grimly he noted that Gholam was also glancing about, the action somewhat belaying the sincerity of his words of solace and confidence. The Iranian pilot banked the Flying Fortress slightly to the right, bringing them on course to close in with the river.

“How far?” Gholam questioned in a loud voice.

“About 40 kilometers to the highway!”  replied Yahla over the surrounding noise.

Gholam consulted the flight clock on the instrument panel. “We should start to turn south in about ten minutes, Brother!”  He grinned broadly at Qassam with a fiery blaze in his eyes and yelled, “Allah’u Akhbar!”

Their pilot’s enthusiasm was infectious. For the first time since they had left the ground, Yahla al-Qassam smiled and lifted up his voice in response. It harmonized with those of the two Hezbollah henchmen standing close behind.  “Allah’u  Akhbar!”

The two most holy words in Islam had barely cleared their lips, when a series of 7.62X39 rounds began punching up through the bomber’s belly beneath their feet. One caromed into the flight deck area, bouncing off the metal insides of the aircraft with the sound of an angry bee in flight. Another one made its way from below to find flesh and bone. The Arab terrorist directly behind Qassam screamed and fell to the hard metal floor plate. He continued to howl in anguish, holding his shin area tightly with both hands as blood oozed between his clasped fingers.

At only seventy-five feet below Ezekiel Templar continued to trigger the Kalashnikov, firing this time in semi auto mode. Having jettisoned the 109’s birdcage canopy for a greater field of fire, Ezekiel had brought the Messerschmitt up stealthily under the Boeing from directly behind and below. It was a classic combat maneuver and the cagey Air Force colonel was using it to full advantage. This time he deftly manipulated the throttle and flaps to match the speed of the Boeing exactly, keeping enough momentum going forward to eliminate the chance of stalling the German fighter again.

Bracing the AK as best he could against the top frame for the windscreen and with the unfolded stock under his arm, he actually could sight roughly along the assault rifle’s barrel and fire far more accurately. In addition, he had also fumbled around and managed to remove the underslung cleaning rod to get more of a purchase on the windscreen support, which steadied the short barreled Soviet weapon a bit more.

The irony of it all was not lost to him even as he focused on the bomber, the attack from directly behind and below by Me109s had been a favored tactic against the Flying Fortress box formations over occupied Europe. Except then the German fighters had traveled at far greater speeds and heights firing heavy machine guns and cannon. And he had been in the B-17, not the Messerschmitt.

Ezekiel continued to aim along the Kalashnikov’s barrel, fighting against the whipping of the wind as he pressed the trigger repeatedly. The 109 wobbled and weaved along its flight path in his improvised style of flying, but the Texan doggedly regained his position of attack and kept shooting. At this distance he could actually see the rounds impact the belly of The Uvalde Raider, and could shift his aim accordingly. He knew that all he had to do was to keep it up, and sooner or later one of those rounds would make their way to the pilot or a vital control system.

The bomber started a cautious bank to the left and the colonel followed, staying with the Boeing. He imagined the pilot was trying to be as careful as possible with the hideous payload being transported. That plus taking evasive