by Jack Hardin
Back in Brussels, they had committed the entire trip to memory–the route they would drive from the airport to Tonglu, the directions to the hotel, and the path they would take through the mountains. The cliff, then, was not an obstacle as much as it served to mark their progress and assist them in taking the next leg of their hike.
They moved east, following the base of the cliff for three hundred meters until it began to taper back into the mountain and soon disappeared altogether. The terrain began a slope downward, gentle at first until it descended into a steep grade that slowed their progress and forced them to grab onto the roots of trees and bushes to prevent an all-out tumble. Still, they moved with skilled ease until they reached a gorge at the bottom of the hill where they heard the muffled roar of a waterfall in the distance. They moved carefully through the dark gorge as the clouds above them began to flash with heat lightning.
Where the gorge began to slope up again, they entered the forest and continued moving east, this time climbing up a steep slope for a hundred meters before the ground leveled back off. They arrived at their first stop ten minutes later. Among the trees, three boulders stood out sharply from the earth, rising nearly fifteen feet into the air like the remains of some prehistoric religious site. Virgil brought out his flashlight, already fitted with a red lens to buffer the effects of the light. Hunching over, he walked the perimeter of the boulders until he found a small “X” scratched into the base of the rock near the ground. A green fern grew just to the left of the mark. Virgil dropped to his knees and wrapped his hands around the broad, crenulated fronds of the fern and yanked up. It gave way easily, its roots tearing from the soft dirt and dripping thick clods of earth to the ground.
Virgil set the plant aside. Ellie had already removed her pack and withdrawn a trenching shovel from her bag. She unfolded it and handed it to Virgil. He used it to remove the dirt from the shallow hole. Two minutes later, he set the shovel aside, reached into the hole, and heaved up. A large black duffel bag ascended, and he set it at Ellie’s feet. She squatted down and unzipped it, made a quick inventory of its contents after Virgil scooted over to it and shined the light inside. It was all there. She nodded at him, and they dropped their backpacks into the hole. They were less than a kilometer from their second and final destination, and their brief cover as photographers was no longer needed. Virgil folded the shovel and tossed it into the hole and then used his foot to scrape the dirt back in. He replaced the fern and patted the surrounding dirt before scattering a fresh layer of dead foliage and standing back up. Ellie picked up the duffle bag and slung it across her shoulder. Virgil indicated for Ellie to let him carry the new bag, but she smiled and shook her head. He shrugged and then turned off the light. He continued leading the way through the forest. They hadn’t gone ten paces when a loud crack rattled in the sky above them and rumbled across the mountains. The rain started immediately—thick drops coming in angry, blinding sheets that, even beneath the thick cover of the trees, narrowed visibility to just a few feet. They flipped up the hoods of their ponchos, and the rain sluiced off them and whipped into their faces as they hunched over and pressed on.
They moved slowly against Mother Nature’s onslaught, trying to keep their bearings as they focused on putting one foot in front of the other, careful that the soles of their boots would not slip on a patch of mud or a wet rock. They soon arrived at a small clearing that served to reorient them to their precise location. The clearing was a perfect circle, twenty meters across. In their pre-op briefing, the operatives had been informed that the spot had been where a local man had achieved enlightenment after a lifetime of following Gautama Buddha’s middle way. There were no markers, no sign to designate the event. But locally it was regarded as sacred ground and maintained by locals from Shenzhen, the nearest mountain town that lay five miles to the west. Flashes of lightning illuminated their surroundings as Ellie and Virgil made their way around the empty ground. Soon they arrived at the base of a steep, craggy hill laden with rocks and smaller laurels.
They began their ascent. It was slow going, and with each step, they were forced to stab the toes of their boots into the soft, muddy soil to maintain their footing while trying to avoid smashing their toes on protruding rocks. They grabbed at tree roots and bush branches to steady themselves on a grade that steepened the higher they went.
It took them over ten minutes to arrive at the top—a wide, flat bluff filled with a cluster of bamboo and tall, wild grasses. Ellie shrugged off the duffle bag and placed it into the relative cover of the bamboo, then she and Virgil moved to the west side of the vegetation that helped to block some of the rain as it streamed down from the east. They took a seat in the grass. Their breathing was heavy from the labored climb, and it took several minutes for them to regain an easy pulse.
The rain let up twenty minutes later, easing back until it ceased altogether, leaving the landscape dripping with thick drops of fresh water. The operatives came to their feet and returned to the bamboo, picked up the bag, and wove through thick stalks that rose above their heads another five meters. They slowly worked their way to the other side of the bluff. Virgil unzipped the bag and felt around for his night vision field glasses. He set them to his eyes and adjusted them, then reviewed the valley before them. When he was finished, he handed them to Ellie. They were on the edge of a cliff that overlooked the easternmost valley of the Dani Mountains. Before them, nearly a half mile out, sat a small hill with a tiny cottage. A road led down to the foot of the hill where, at the bottom, just off the road, a gate was shut. Ellie could make out the image of someone standing in front of the gate. A guard.
When she brought the glasses down, Virgil had already spread out a thick canvas tarp over the grass. It would shield them from the moisture on the ground.
Ellie brought out the rifles.
Chapter Nine
The morning dawned in brilliant spectacle. As the sun peeked up over the mountains, its rays caught the tiny droplets of water covering the grass and the trees, infusing them with light so that the entire valley seemed to sparkle like millions of tiny diamonds. Birds were singing happily, and squirrels and rabbits were bounding through the woods.
Liu stood in her small bedroom and looked at herself in the mirror. She ran her hands down the silk fabric of the light blue hanfu—the traditional dress worn by Liu’s descendants centuries, even millennia, earlier. The hanfu was a narrow-cuffed, knee-length tunic tied with a wide sash and was accompanied by a narrow, ankle-length skirt. The heavy fabric was hemmed on the edges with a wide strip of golden silk. This particular one had been handed down to her from her grandmother via her mother. It had been in the family since its creation over three hundred years ago and was only worn during the most special of occasions.
This was one such occasion.
Liu thought of all the strong and dedicated women in her past who had worn this very dress. Part of her wished that the old fashions had never gone away. She opened the door to her room and walked down the short hallway to the kitchen. Her father was standing at the back door waiting for her. Liu was struck by how handsome he was. His eyes were lively and sharp, his features surprisingly stark. He wore a silver chángshān—a traditional tunic—and his feet were clad in matching loafers.
“My daughter,” he said. “You look beautiful. So much like your mother.”
“Thank you, Father.” She stepped to him and placed the palm of her hand on his chest. She smiled. “Come, let us go honor her.”
Xu lifted the crook of his arm to her. She slipped her hand into it, and he opened the back door to the gardens.
He led her across the threshold.
Chapter Ten
The rifle’s suppressed barrel poked through the tall grasses like a nosy snake. Virgil lay prone behind the gun on the lip of the cliff, peering through the Leupold Mark IV scope mounted to it. The weapons system was a QBU-88, chambered in a 5.56x45mm. Virgil disliked the weapon, as it was more of a marksman’s rifle when compared to mo
re modern weapons systems like the Barrett M82 and the McMillan TAC-50.
But it was the weapon mandated for this mission. The QBU-88 was a Chinese rifle, used by the Chinese People’s Liberation Army. TEAM 99’s operatives had been instructed to leave their weapons behind once their engagement was complete. When their gear was recovered, the Chinese government would not be able to identify the weapons system as one preferred by Western powers. One of their people would be dead for leading spying efforts on the U.S. The political message would be clear. But the U.S. government did not wish to leave behind any empirical evidence that might point back to a Western power being responsible for the hit.
Virgil hadn’t proved the rifle but had spent the last two days firing the same model at the range on the team’s compound. After the rain cleared and they took some time to rest and eat, Virgil carefully cleaned the gun and reassembled it.
Ellie lay prone next to her teammate, her head a couple of feet behind his, peering through a spotting scope mounted to a small tripod. The scope was an M151 and boasted 12-40x magnification with a 60mm objective lens diameter.
The thick pregnant clouds that brought last night’s deluge had moved on quickly, and an hour before sunrise, the stars appeared by the thousands. As sunlight spread across the valley, it quickly burned off a dense fog, giving the Americans a view worthy of a travel brochure. Before them was a wide, open valley of green forest, and in the distance, yellow light glinted brightly off the serpentine path of the Fuchin River.
But they were not here for the view. The front face of an open, grassy hillside lay half a kilometer below them. A small cottage was nestled halfway up with a fountain and a terrace sitting behind it. From their position on the top of the ridge, Ellie took an assessment of who was on the hillside.
“I’ve got four on recon,” she whispered.
“Concur,” Virgil replied. The men wore dark suits and sunglasses. They were alert, prepared, clearly well-trained, taking their jobs seriously. At the base of the hill, there was a closed gate, and another security guard stood in front of it, his hands clasped in front of him.
Ellie paused. So did Virgil. They both heard it at the same time: the sound of a distant vehicle, its motor growling and its tires rumbling along a wet road. The muffled sounds grew louder as the vehicle took a sharp turn and broke into the open. It was a black Range Rover. It slowed as it approached the private property below them and turned into the drive, stopping just before the gate. The guard at the front entrance stepped up and spoke to the driver through the window. He seemed at ease, as though he had been expecting them. Ellie continued watching through the scope as he spoke. The driver nodded and rolled his window back up. Then he turned off the engine. The guard returned to his post in front of the gate. No one got out of the vehicle.
“What’s your take?” Virgil asked.
The visitors hadn’t been sent away. “Just that they’ve been told to wait.” She couldn’t see through the dark tinted windows to get a count of who was inside. She checked her watch. They had fifteen minutes.
Using the rangefinder, Ellie read off the true ballistic range to Virgil, which factored in the distance to the target while considering the measure of angle. 535 yards. Virgil repeated it back and dialed in his reticle accordingly.
For TEAM 99, it was unusual for a mission of this kind to be conducted by more than one operative. They were not on a battlefield, so there was no concern for someone firing back and no chance that someone would sneak up from behind. Still, Mortimer had sent two of his agents to guarantee the chances for success. Their position was not optimal. It was humid, and a light, fishtailing crosswind ran over the valley. More importantly, they would be firing from a high angle. The cottage lay below them, a half kilometer away, at a forty-eight-degree angle. They would get one shot, and one shot only. There would be no room for error. If they missed, their target would go into hiding and increase security to such a degree that termination would become impossible.
Ellie, as the more experienced shooter, would be the spotter—gathering the distance and humidity reading, making the wind call, and giving Virgil a compensated aim point. Virgil, as the junior shooter, would be on the gun. Ellie’s assistance would provide the greatest opportunity for a successful shot.
Up here, the wind was reading three miles per hour at Virgil’s eight o’clock. He consulted his ballistic calculator and made the necessary adjustments. The wind would be different at several points along the bullet’s trajectory, but there was nothing they could do to mitigate against that.
After checking and rechecking their readings and making final adjustments, they waited.
Virgil spoke softly. They were high enough and far enough away, so they didn’t need to worry about being heard. Still, Ellie almost had to strain to hear. “You know,” he said, “from the time I was a little boy, my mom said I should be a lawyer. I could argue my way out of anything.” It was quiet for a few moments, and two sparrowhawks flew into their field of vision, drifting on the wind and turning east toward the river beyond. “It’s times like this I wish I would have listened to her,” he said.
Ellie offered no reply. Still, she felt the same.
The back door to the cottage opened, and Xu and Liu Chuanfu stepped outside. They wore the traditional dress of their ancestors and walked hand in hand through the gardens, past the terrace and the fountains. They stopped at the red granite pillar.
“This sucks,” Virgil whispered.
Ellie didn’t respond. She didn’t need to. The truth hung in the air between them like a hot breeze across a garbage dump. There were times when an order was given, and you wished in vain that it had been given to someone else on the team, or that it had never been given at all. Virgil’s brief assessment of this mission spoke for both of them.
As she peered through her own scope, Ellie’s thoughts quickly turned to Jonathan Nance, an undercover CIA agent who had been executed in North Korea and left a wife and young son behind. She thought of the dossier she had read of Tina Davidson, an agent in Libya whose Tripoli apartment was bombed as she was taking a shower, putting her in a coma that she had yet to come out of. She was missing both her legs.
There were others. All killed as the result of the leaked information. All because of the state-sponsored hacking group known as 18 Dragons. Had this organization not hacked into American servers, had they not shared what they found with foreign governments, then Jonathan Nance might be at home right now playing catch with his son. Tina Davidson would still have her legs.
And now it was time for 18 Dragons’ leader to pay. It was time for the American Eagle to exact its revenge.
Virgil slipped his finger around the trigger. Ellie checked the wind reading a final time, which remained, for the moment, constant.
She took a deep, silent breath, nearly hating her next words. “Send it.”
Chapter Eleven
Liu placed the pink flower near the stone. The lotus had been her mother’s favorite; the iconic flower represented that which is outwardly upright. She missed her mother deeply. Her father had taught her to be strong. But it had been her mother who had taught her to be fierce.
She stood back up and turned to her father. She took his hand in hers and smiled softly. “You honor her by doing this. You are a good man.”
He offered a brief flash of a smile before letting it dissolve into a look of reflective melancholy.
Xu looked into his daughter’s eyes. He leaned forward to kiss her but was cut short by the sound of a loud zip cutting through the air as Liu’s head whipped violently to the side and her body flew away from him. She landed in a heap on the grass five feet from him.
“Liu!” he cried. As he moved toward her, he heard another zip—like a brief, angry wasp’s buzz. Liu’s body jerked unnaturally as another round tore through her torso. Xu ran to his daughter and fell to his knees. “Liu!” He shook her and cried out. His eyes were wide with unbelieving horror. Someone was screaming at him, but it sounded
far away, muffled like they were speaking into a pillow. Strong hands suddenly grabbed him and pulled him away from Liu’s lifeless body. He fought them, but they overpowered him and dragged him to the Mercedes, where body armor and bulletproof glass would protect him. Someone got into the driver’s seat and pulled around behind the cover of the cottage.
“Target down,” Ellie said quietly. “Confirm.” On this occasion, there was no adrenaline kick, no jolt of excitement that often came with a successful kill. Today, it would only be a simple acknowledgment that the task had been completed.
“Confirmed,” Virgil repeated.
Their directive was complete. The mission, however, was not. They were still on foreign soil. Still two hundred kilometers from their exfil point. They had to move.
The guards on the hillside had taken cover. Ellie found one through her scope and saw that he was looking in their direction. This ledge was the only place the shots could have originated from. She swiveled the scope toward the front entrance. The guard at the gate had his hand over his ear, listening to a report from an associate up on the hill. Suddenly, he ducked and barked something to the driver of the Range Rover, who immediately threw the vehicle in reverse and backed around a thick cluster of bamboo along the right side of the road.
Virgil was packing up his rifle as Ellie kept watching. Suddenly, she saw the bamboo tremble where the Range Rover had disappeared and a man’s shadow moving down the hill.
Ellie sighed. “We’re going to have a tail,” she said.
Virgil cursed. “How many?”
She didn’t answer right away. She watched the area until three more shadows went by. They crossed into the cluster of ferns, and when they did, she saw two of them carrying handguns. “Four,” she said. “It looks like the guard stationed at the gate is staying back to watch the entrance. But I can’t see him.” Her heart was racing now, adrenaline pumping, but she remained calm as she considered their next steps. She tossed the spotting scope on the canvas sheet. “Let me have the gun.” Virgil had already unscrewed the bipod. He handed it over. Ellie set one knee in the grass and brought the rifle up. She quickly adjusted the scope and set her finger on the trigger. Fifty meters from where she had last seen the men, she saw a cluster of Katsura tremble. She aimed a couple of meters in front of it and fired off two rounds. There was no more movement. “You ready?” she asked. “They’ve stalled, but we need to go.”