They had touched down, but still no landing lights. That didn't make any sense. Suddenly nothing made any sense. Another ten seconds, though, and he'd zap them with his big flashlight.
He flipped the securing strap on his .38 and tested the feel of the grip. Just to be ready.
He was thirty yards away and he could hear them talking now, though he still did not recognize all the languages. He realized right away, however, that these clowns weren't connected with SatCom. He'd had an uneasy feeling all along, and now he was sure.
Were they industrial spies trying to pull a fast one? Maybe sneak in and take some photos?
He had no time now to radio for help. He was on his own.
He drew out the .38 and cocked it. Suddenly it felt very heavy. Then in his left hand he rotated the long flashlight till his thumb felt the switch.
Now.
He flicked on the light, beaming it through the wire security fence and catching the side of the chopper—God, it was huge—just in time to see several men stepping down. They were wearing black commando outfits and they most definitely were not anybody from the company.
"You!" he yelled, his courage growing. "Stop right where you are and identi—"
One of the intruders whirled in his direction, and before he could finish, he felt a deep burning sensation in his chest that slammed him backward. Next a piercing pain erupted in his neck and his head dropped sideways. The asphalt of the pavement came up, crashing against his nose. He heard the dull thunk of silencers just as the world went forever black.