by Seeley James
For the first time, Pia felt no fear. She drove forward on the need to save her agents.
Around the second building, two Kazakhs knelt, one aiming at her, the other trying to shoot Tania. Bullets spewed from his gun and zipped by her into the building’s corner post. Pia ducked back and dropped to a crouch a split second before the shooter sent more lead through the wall. He raked backward, expecting her to retreat. She somersaulted forward, rolling up to a knee, and shot him in the head.
The other gunman sensed her presence and disappeared.
Dhanpal slipped in behind her and saw the skull lying open, the brains hanging out like gray hamburger. He patted her shoulder.
Tania had disappeared in the same direction as the gunman. Pia followed. Dhanpal ran right, covering the opposite side.
At the edge of the building, Pia heard breathing. She stepped away from the building, going wide to the left. A rifle barrel poked around the wall and fired.
Pia shot the hand that held the weapon.
A man screamed, drawing back his weapon, spraying bullets everywhere. Pia dropped to the ground, letting the lead fly over her head…but lost her rifle.
A shoulder was visible, resting against the building, as the owner swore in his language. She snuck up to the edge and tapped the shoulder. The man’s curiosity was his mistake. When he craned around the corner, Pia slammed her open hand into his cheekbone. His eye socket fractured on impact. He staggered two steps and tried to raise his weapon. She kicked it from his wounded hand, stepped around the building, and banged her elbow to the side of his head. He went down with a concussion.
Pia found her Glock and darted him.
Behind her, Dhanpal fired round after round. Stepping behind him, she slid sideways away from the building and saw three Kazakhs advancing toward the berm where Emily lay wounded. Dhanpal took out two and she dropped the last.
“Clear on the hill,” the Major’s voice came over the comm link.
“Clear here,” Tania replied, stepping into Pia’s view.
“We won?” Miguel asked.
No one answered for a tense moment. Then they all released their tension with shouts of joy and anxious laughter.
Pia found Jacob. “So this is how successful missions are executed? You made plans, analyzed recon, allocated resources?”
He smiled. “No, ma’am. This time, I pressed the opportunity immediately.”
CHAPTER 52
We met at the redoubt to divide up duties for clearing the site. Dhanpal, who’d done a stint as a medic, worked on stabilizing Emily. Nigel had taken a bullet in the thigh and another in the hip but buried his pain under a stiff upper lip. I ordered him to have a seat and wait for Dhanpal. The rest of us cleared the compound and dragged Mokin back to our temporary HQ behind the berm.
With the area cleared, the Major ordered the chopper to pick up Emily and Nigel.
Miguel moved trucks to clear a landing zone while the rest of us made slings from bedding in the barracks. When Miguel finished, he took one of the trucks around to the back of the compound.
“Miguel, what’re you doing?” I said in the comm link.
“Barrels of biohazard in this truck. I’m putting them in the bio-bunker.”
When the bird landed, we moved Emily and Nigel on board but quickly realized there wasn’t enough room. Ms. Sabel spoke to Emily and squeezed her hand.
She stepped out and looked at the rest of us. “Two seats short. I’ll stay behind—”
“I’ll stay too,” I said. Everyone scowled at me for my eagerness.
“Better that I stay,” the Major said.
“Send the pilot back for Jacob and me,” Ms. Sabel said. “The rest of you take this flight. That’s an order.”
They stood in shocked silence for a second before they climbed onboard. Dhanpal stepped close to Ms. Sabel, shouting as quietly as he could beneath the rotor’s roar.
“I should be the one to stay behind.” Dhanpal glanced at me.
I pretended not to hear him.
“Jacob’s a little …”
“Nutty?” Ms. Sabel said.
Dhanpal nodded.
“Aren’t we all?”
“But word is, he hears—”
“Get moving.” She turned away with a glance toward me. “Jacob, let’s check on the wounded Kazakhs.”
The chopper whirled into the sky and down the valley.
Ms. Sabel checked her Glock while we walked. “I have two darts left. And one magazine of bullets”
“I’m out of darts. But we should be OK.” I picked an AK-47 off the pile of confiscated weapons and handed it to her.
We disarmed the booby-trapped front door, taking care to keep Nigel’s expertly wired trigger in place for later. A mass of humanity scooted to the back and cowered when we entered. They were a beaten army, lucky to be alive but hurting and bleeding. One of them appeared to have died since we left him there.
“Any medics in the room?” Ms. Sabel asked. A feeble hand went up.
The medic crawled forward and took the med kit we’d found in the office. He spoke softly to the others and found a helper. The two of them crawled around taking inventory of wounds to determine the worst cases. The others stared at us, half-thankful for showing a little mercy, and half-hateful for having lost to us.
Mercury said, Check their eyes, dude. Always watch their eyes.
Most of the eyes feared their imminent death. But in the back were a pair of black, angry eyes hunkered down between two shoulders. The crowd blocked the light, making the intense look glow in the shadows. We turned to leave to check the rest of the compound.
Mercury said, What, you didn’t see that guy? He’s going to shoot in 3, 2…
Ms. Sabel’s foot crossed the threshold. I jumped on her back and rode her to the ground. We landed face-first in the dirt and lay perfectly still for a full, awkward second. Her voice formed the consonant digraph of ‘what’ as in ‘WTF are you doing?’ when six rounds from an AK-47 blasted through the wall. We heard him change magazines.
“That’s why they used to call you X-ray?” Ms. Sabel asked.
We rolled in different directions and drew.
“I’ll cover, you run,” I yelled. I fired three rounds from my Glock into the wood, high enough not to hit the wounded. It was a scare tactic, but there was no way I would kill another prisoner.
Ms. Sabel sat up and bobbled her AK-47. She brought it to her shoulder and held her fire.
“Run,” I said.
She stayed motionless, her barrel aimed at the door.
More rounds came through the wall and zinged over our heads. Had it not been for the sloping ground in front of the structure, he would have killed us outright. The shooter stopped, no doubt holding his ammo and listening for locating sounds.
I rose as quietly as possible and stepped to the corner post. Ms. Sabel watched me and mimicked my movements on the right. I waved her off.
She flipped me off.
Mercury said, Yo, quite the spirited nymph you have there. No wonder you passed up the job at Denny’s. Now think about where your shooter was when you saw his eyes and think about where he’s going to be in the near future.
I said, Why don’t you just tell me where he’s going to be?
Mercury said, Where’s the thrill in that?
I reached my gun around the side of the building, as far as I could get it, my finger barely on the trigger, and fired a couple rounds intentionally high. The shooter fired back at the spot where my bullets came from. I traced his shots back and estimated him to be right in the center of the group. I glanced at Ms. Sabel and nodded.
Miguel, Tania, Dhanpal, even the Major would’ve known what my nod meant.
Ms. Sabel stared, lifted her shoulders.
“You pull the door,” I mouthed and mimicked the movement.
It took a second, but she got it. With a couple quick steps, she reached the door and yanked it open, standing to one side. The shooter emptied his magazine in a
straight line while Ms. Sabel and I watched the rounds fly between us. He stopped to swap mags.
I stepped inside and planted my feet, my pistol tucked in my belt.
Twenty wide, terrified eyes looked to me. One pair was in the head of a man in a suit. He stood in the middle of innocent wounded prisoners, his weapon empty and unloaded. He aimed it at me and pulled the trigger, hoping for one last round in the chamber. It wasn’t his lucky day.
I stretched out my arm, pointed my index finger at him, and curled it. Come here.
Ms. Sabel stepped in behind me and fired one dart that caught the man in the left cheek.
“Don’t pull that macho bullshit when I’m around,” she said. “If a guy needs shooting, just shoot him.”
We dragged his limp body out, let the medics get back to work, and reset the booby-trap.
“This guy must be Chen Zhipeng,” Ms. Sabel said as we dragged him through the compound.
We dropped him in front of the bio-bunker and unlocked the door. A streak of daylight followed behind us, but nothing illuminated the darkness of the room. We turned on our phone lights and inspected the place. Foggers were stacked neatly on shelves in the back. Drums marked with warning labels and stenciled “Element 42” lined the walls.
Ms. Sabel disappeared outside.
I pulled a fogger from the shelf and checked it out. Then I opened a barrel and discovered a neat package on top with a measuring scoop and graphic instructions. I assembled my new toy and set it in the center of the shed.
Ms. Sabel returned dragging Anatoly Mokin behind her. She continued inside and dropped him on the concrete. His head banged like a dropped cantaloupe. I dragged Chen in and laid him out next to Mokin. She put out a fist, I bumped it. She went to the front door and held it open.
I fired up the fogger and set it down between them, the gray mist flowing over their faces.
Ms. Sabel slammed the door behind me. We checked the seal: airtight. We snapped the padlock in place and slapped a new biosafety label across it.
“They’ll have to face their own demons in the dark,” I said.
She smiled. “Think they’ll suffocate first or die with blue eyes?”
Mercury said, O Brotha! We bad! We kicked their asses right back to China. And I came through for you big time, too. If it weren’t for me, you’d be dead a hundred times—
“Fuck you.”
Ms. Sabel snapped a look at me. “Excuse me?”
I waved at the bunker behind me and walked down the hill. “Just paying my respects.”
CHAPTER 53
A different helicopter came back half an hour later. It had China’s star on the side. When it landed, a young American in a suit jumped out.
“You’re not under arrest,” he shouted over the noise. “But you’re to accompany me to the US Consulate. Your friends are there.”
Ms. Sabel told him about the wounded men and warned him to have officials stay away from the bio-bunker for a month. He relayed her instructions to someone on a radio. We boarded and took off.
I sat next to Ms. Sabel and looked out the window.
Mercury said, We were there for you, right, homie? Jupiter and Mars and Minerva all pitched in on this one. We were thinking a feast in our honor would—
I said, No wonder Christianity kicked you guys to the curb. All you do is take credit for random events and my hard work.
Mercury said, Harsh, bro. Jesus plays the same game, you know. I mean, c’mon, sons of gods are a dime a dozen. Did you know I was fathered by Jupiter? Just sounds all cozy with the Sermon on the Mount and that beatitudes bullshit. Feel-good marketing, that’s all he’s got going on.
“Peace and love is more noble than—”
I felt Ms. Sabel staring at the back of my head. I faced her.
“More noble than—what?” she asked.
We flew straight to Guangzhou and landed on a grassy square next to a building that resembled an architectural loaf of bread. Chinese soldiers escorted us to a side building, where twelve US Marines took over. They marched us down a hall, past some solid blast doors, and ushered us into a state-of-the-art meeting room. Arranged around a shiny teak table were my friends, minus Emily and Nigel. Ms. Sabel and I were shown to the last open chairs, on opposite sides.
Inside the room, the ambassador waited for us with the local consul general. The head cheese had flown in from Beijing just to meet us. He did not look happy. He stood at the front with several staff, talking in low tones, nodding, and making calls.
One of the minions looked up and asked, “Where is Kasey Earl?”
The last time I saw the poor bastard, he was strapped to the Norinco. And I was the last to see him.
I shrugged. “Who?”
The officials went back to their huddle.
My phone rang, a call from an unnamed Sabel employee. I glanced around. The only person who paid any attention to me was Ms. Sabel. Her gray-green eyes pierced me in that strange way she had about her, she nodded at me, telling me to answer my phone.
I pressed the phone to my ear. “Now’s not a good time.”
“I’m going into surgery,” Emily said. “Tell Pia, I’m good and done. Got it? Use those words. Oh, and Jacob, thanks for that thing you did, running at the bad guys. That was brave. I couldn’t believe you were willing to die for me. I owe you one. You know. A big one. Any time you want, I’m ready. Bye.”
I dropped my phone on the floor.
Emily, Emily, Emily. She defamed me on the front page, put Louisa through hell, and made Sabel Security look like an escort service. I was done with her. Done. I rolled my chair back and leaned down to retrieve my phone. But an invitation like hers, with the exponential mathematical possibilities, is damn near impossible to—my gaze fell on Tania. She sat between Miguel and Ms. Sabel, across the table. She watched the embassy staff as they whispered about our future.
My heart stopped. She’d kissed me. Had she wanted a kiss from just anyone before she died? Was it guilt? Or did she still feel something for me?
Tania was beautiful and exotic and killed bad guys.
Yeah. I was done with Emily. Completely done.
But was Tania the one I wanted to marry? I’d kicked myself every day for most of a year because I thought I’d been unfaithful. Well. OK. That was true. But she did it first—and with my best friend. I glanced at Miguel. If he ever finds out about the time I slept with his sister, I can always throw Tania back at him, and we’ll call it even.
Tania felt my gaze and met it. She smiled a guilty smile.
I couldn’t decide if I wanted to blow her a kiss or turn my back. Why is true love so complicated?
Ms. Sabel made a small gesture. She’d been staring at me the whole time I reviewed my dating options. I reported Emily’s words. She nodded.
Suddenly, the ambassador’s staff scurried out of the room like football players breaking from a huddle. When the door closed, the ambassador pulled out the chair at the head of the table. He sat and adjusted himself until he felt regal.
He lifted his chin and looked at Pia. “Tell me why you were killing Kazakh nationals on Chinese soil.”
“Where is David Watson?” I asked. “SAC in the FBI’s Counterintelligence Division?”
The ambassador squinted at me.
“Ask Watson why Anatoly Mokin thought we were bringing him vials when we met him in Guangzhou,” Tania said.
“That’s not the issue here,” the ambassador said.
“Element 42 is the issue,” Ms. Sabel said. “Your administration knew about it. You answer our questions, we’ll answer yours.”
His face twisted while he thought. Finally, he agreed to her terms as long as we went first. Ms. Sabel related the story from Borneo to the present. The ambassador listened intently.
When she came to the attack on Mokin’s compound, she leaned toward him. “We know Chen Zhipeng was involved. We know he had plans to poison people with biological weapons. Otis was concerned about water, and Wu told us it was
about drought. We also know that the British are not interfering with the deployment of Element 42. And from our conversations with President Hunter, Watson, and Mokin, we think your administration is in on it. Now that I’ve told you, will you go public and denounce their plan?”
“No.”
“That will put you in an awkward position.”
“Not at all. You’re not going to say anything about what you’ve learned. This has been sealed as Top Secret and cannot—”
“Top Secret doesn’t absolve me of my responsibility to report genocide.”
Unnerved, the ambassador cleared his throat and looked down.
A smartly dressed woman stepped into the room. The ambassador barked at her. “I said no interruptions.”
The woman shrank but didn’t leave.
“She wants you to see Emily’s last article on the Post’s website,” Ms. Sabel said, pointing to the woman.
“Sir, I have it loaded on the screen.” The woman pointed to the blank wall behind him and fled the room.
He pressed a button under the table. The wall that had been on wood-grain mode displayed the Post’s home page with a raw picture of Carmen’s body hanging on the post, her head a bloody mess. The headline ran beside the picture. “SHE DIED FOR YOU.”
Miguel buried his face in his hands and sobbed.
Everyone turned to him for a moment, then turned away embarrassed. Tania rubbed his back. The ambassador clicked the screen off.
“The Post has asked me for a statement,” Ms. Sabel said. “Explain your position. Give me something, spin it anyway you want.”
“You set us up.” The ambassador rose from his chair, knocking it over, and stumbling backward. “Goddamn it.”
“Blaming the people who caught you, Mr. Ambassador?” She crossed to him. “Stop thinking about yourself and start thinking about the people who’re going to die. Tell me why your administration is involved.”
The ambassador twisted the watch on his wrist and straightened his tie. He pulled his chair upright and dropped into it. He sank his head in his hands. “Drought.”