"How many—?"
"It's visual ID'd as a Russian Mi 24-D. With Israeli markings. We're taking fire forward—"
"What are—?"
Sounds behind the radio voice had erupted in turmoil. Something catastrophic was going on.
"Al," he turned quickly, "get Command. I think we've got an Israeli-ID'd Hind taking hostile action on the Glover."
He didn't realize it, but with those words he had played directly into Sabri Ramirez's hands. The scenario was now a lock.
When Jack Mulhoney turned back to his radio, he only heard static.
Vance watched as the frigate got off a warning tracer, but to no effect. The Hind ignored it, as a stream of 57mm rockets from under the chopper's stubby starboard wing flared down, while the radar-slaved machine gun beneath the nose opened fire. Then the weapons operator on the Hind loosed a starboard-mounted heat-seeking Swatter, and an instant later flames erupted on the frigate's bow, an orange and black ball where the forward gun turret had been. As it spiraled upward into the night, the turret and its magazine exploded like a giant, slow-motion cherry bomb.