Chapter 497: Black Hawk Down

In terms of comfort and sealing, the Suburban was far superior to the Humvee. Although there was still a bit of dust inside the vehicle, the fact that Matt and Michael, who had been chatting nonstop over the radio, had fallen silent was enough to tell Jack how miserable the people inside the Humvees must have been.

"I don't like dirt roads. They make me nervous," Alessandro suddenly said, almost as if talking to himself.

The convoy passed a side road, where local police cars were holding back civilian traffic, allowing the convoy to pass. 

The Mexican federal police vehicles leading the way suddenly sped up, seemingly eager to get through the dusty stretch of road. However, as their speed increased, so did the clouds of dust, quickly obscuring the road ahead entirely.

Jack felt a sense of unease rising in his chest. Watching the machine gunner in the back of the police pickup truck sway with the bumps, he couldn't help but imagine: What if these guys suddenly turned their guns on them? 

While the three Humvees that Matt and the PMC were driving were military-grade, they were still just standard models, with only an added layer of bulletproof glass. They didn't have any additional armor plating.

Even if the Mexican federal police were using standard 5.56×45mm NATO rounds in their M249 SAW machine guns, it would still pose a serious threat, especially since their convoy was trapped between two groups of these vehicles.

Looking back, Jack wondered if Matt had made the same mistake as the Japanese command during World War II—assuming everything would go according to plan without considering what would happen if the enemy didn't follow the script.

If Jack were Carlos Jr., and he had a seasoned Northern Irish veteran like Ian Doyle advising him, what would be the best move when his target was passing through enemy territory? Obviously, hit them on the road.

"Matt, I don't like the looks of this. Are you sure we can trust those Mexican police?" Jack asked over the channel.

Matt seemed to sense something was off as well. He contacted the operations center, "Air support, we can't see anything down here. How's it looking on your end?"

"The road is clear," came the reply from the ops center. "No vehicles or unidentified targets moving in."

Jack relaxed a little, turning to smile at Isabel, who was covering her mouth. Just as he was about to say something, a sudden tension gripped him, and his right foot instinctively eased off the gas.

"RPG! Incoming from the right!" The sudden, high-pitched warning from the command center cut through the airwaves.

"What?" Matt responded in confusion, but before he could finish, several white smoke trails shot from the wasteland toward the convoy.

"Boom! Boom! Boom!"

The sound of consecutive explosions rang out. The lead police car was instantly flipped, and another at the rear of the convoy was hit by an RPG, turning it into a blazing fireball.

Several more rockets missed their mark, striking the roadside instead. Gravel and debris pelted the windows, making it feel like the convoy was suddenly thrust into a warzone.

"Ahhh!" Isabel screamed in terror, but Jack quickly grabbed her head and pushed her down onto the passenger seat.

"Stay down! Stay down!"

Just as Jack had feared, the convoy's situation deteriorated rapidly. The lead police truck flipped over, causing the second one to veer off the road in panic.

Meanwhile, the machine gunner in the third pickup, as if receiving some signal, suddenly turned his weapon and opened fire on Matt's Humvee.

"Boom!" Two more RPGs flew in, and the Humvee behind Jack's Suburban exploded into a twisted wreckage.

The four remaining Mexican federal police vehicles screeched to a halt but didn't open fire. They seemed just as confused as everyone else, not firing at either side, as if they were mere bystanders.

"Matt! Matt!" Jack shouted into the radio, but there was no response from him. Only the operations center kept asking for a status update.

"Three hundred meters to the west. What are we waiting for?" Jack yelled, knowing that waiting any longer meant death. He slammed his foot down on the gas, forcing the Suburban into a sharp, evasive S-curve, dodging the stopped Humvee that had been pinned by machine gun fire.

The V8 engine roared under the strain, the armored vehicle's heavy frame holding strong. Despite the windshield being spider-webbed by continuous 5.56mm rounds, Jack trusted his instincts and rammed the Suburban straight into the firing Ford pickup.

At the same time, high above, a Predator drone swooped in, releasing two AGM-114 Hellfire missiles. The desert exploded in two massive fireballs, obliterating the line of gunmen positioned to the right of the road.

The pickup Jack hit flipped off the road, its machine gunner crushed without even a scream, becoming nothing more than a broken rag doll.

But the danger wasn't over. A .50 caliber sniper round slammed into the left side of the vehicle, punching through the bulletproof glass and embedding itself in the Kevlar-lined ceiling.

"Sniper! We need air support! Where the hell is the Black Hawk?" Jack pressed himself against the car door, one hand clamped tightly over Isabel's mouth to stop her panic-induced screaming, which had been driving him crazy.

The Suburban was now immobile. Even if it could move, Jack wouldn't dare lift his head to drive, not with a sniper out there waiting for a shot.

"Right now!" The voice from the operations center came just as two Black Hawk helicopters appeared behind the convoy, flying low toward the battlefield.

But before the Black Hawks could unleash their rockets, two long white trails shot up from the ground—Stinger missiles on a direct course for the lead chopper.

"Thud! Thud!"

The first Black Hawk didn't stand a chance. Before it could deploy more than a few flares, both missiles struck home, and the helicopter exploded into a massive fireball, plummeting to the ground.

The second Black Hawk immediately turned tail, frantically releasing a trail of flares as it fled the battlefield.

"Goddamn it!" Jack cursed, barely holding back a string of expletives. How had these PMC guys become so useless? And how the hell had Ian Doyle managed to equip these drug traffickers with Stinger missiles?

In the backseat, Alessandro, who had been calm until now, finally snapped. He reached for the door handle, ready to charge out and make a desperate stand.

"Stay put!" Jack barked, reclining the front seat and quickly crawling into the back. He opened the rear compartment and began rummaging for gear.

Bullets pinged against the vehicle incessantly, the sounds of impacts filling the air. Isabel, terrified, stared wide-eyed at the bulging dents forming on the left door as she let out another scream.

Impatiently, Jack reached back, reclining the passenger seat further to give Isabel more room to lie down. He covered her mouth again, "Scream one more time, and I'll throw you out. This car is bulletproof, got it?"

As long as the enemy didn't have someone with the skill to use a semi-automatic Barrett like an M2 heavy machine gun, they wouldn't be able to punch through the armored panels.

Jack tossed his HK417 rifle to Alessandro, along with several magazines. By now, the majority of the attackers on the right had been wiped out by the Hellfire missiles, leaving most of the remaining fire coming from the left.

The gunmen were advancing under sniper cover, but they were still more than 200 meters away—well out of range for Alessandro's UMP45.

With his hands finally free, Jack leaned into the rear compartment and dragged out a large case, nearly the size of a cello. Opening it revealed a tripod-mounted LG5 grenade launcher.

This beast, commonly referred to as a "sniper grenade launcher," was the export model of China's QLU-131, used by their military. The LG5 had an even larger 40mm caliber, making it utterly devastating.

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