by D S Kane
He pulled his GNU radio from his jacket pocket and called Jon Sommers. “Jon, I need to update you on status. Where are you now?”
“In a bloody rental car, watching the blizzard. Parked on 39th Street near First Avenue.”
“Get yourself out to MacArthur Airport. Get us cars. As many as you can. We should arrive in under an hour. William and his Butterfly should be in Beijing right about now, attempting to disable China’s electric grid. And Misha Kovich and Ann Sashakovich are in Moscow, trying to do the same to the Russians.”
“On my way, Avram. Good luck.”
Avram sat deep in his seat and closed his eyes. He was dirt tired. He fell asleep hearing the drone of the airplane’s engines. He snapped awake forty-five minutes later when the wheels locked into landing position.
He looked out the window and saw only the night. No lights. But as they approached West Islip, the airport’s running lights blinked. He guessed they were less than a mile from touchdown on the runway.
Avram held his breath, expecting the worst possible thing that could happen: armed hostiles.
The plane dipped, then aligned on the runway. He stared out the aircraft’s window and watched the runway streaming past. They were seconds away from touchdown. Seconds away from surviving the flight.
He saw a flash out the window from the corner of his eye. Too big to be the muzzle of a rifle. No, this was probably a Stinger. He prayed the pilot had seen it too, and could succeed in taking some kind of evasive action.
The aircraft hit the runway and instead of slowing, it accelerated. The Stinger adjusted course. The jet’s brakes engaged hard, just as the engines turned off, and the Stinger sailed past, just ahead of them. Avram saw the explosion near the end of their runway. He exhaled. If the hostiles had no more missiles, they would live.
The jet moved off the runway toward the private air terminal. Avram prayed the hostiles had fired their only Stinger, but even if that was true, he was sure they were otherwise well armed. He could hear the pilot speaking with the tower to warn them.
The jet taxied to the terminal and the mercs opened the exit door and jumped out with their weapons ready.
* * *
From cover in a corner of the private air terminal, Jon Sommers whispered into the cellphone, “Lily, did you do what I asked?”
Ten thousand miles away, Lily Lee answered. “Yes, Jon. I rented a limo and drove it out past Ring Road Four. I’m almost at Ring Road Five now, but I haven’t seen them. If they are truly at the CSIS compound, I should be able to find them. If I can, I’ll help them escape. But don’t get your hopes up. They don’t expect me. They could try going in any direction if they can leave the CSIS lab alive.”
“Just keep looking. William may know Beijing but by now he and Betsy will have been BOLOed by the Chinese military police.”
“I’ll do what I can.”
Jon terminated the call and heard the roar of jet engines through the blizzard. As the aircraft descended, he could make out its shape. He watched the Cessna land and winced as a missile bloomed flame through the falling snow and narrowly missed the nose of the plane at the end of the runway. The aircraft managed a rough landing. Close call, Jon thought.
When the Cessna was inside the hanger, he waited for the door to open. Avram was the first to leave the jet and Jon smiled. “Glad to see you’re still alive.”
Avram smiled back. “It’s been years, old friend.”
They hugged. Next off the plane was Cassandra. She sniffed the air. “Cordite. What happened here, Mr. Sommers?”
He faced her. “A nasty bit of trouble. I thought I got them all but a bunch carrying a Stinger was better hidden than I thought. We’ll need a team to end them.”
Avram nodded and called out orders to mercs who’d disembarked from the Cessna.
Yigdal was next down the ramp. He kept one arm tight against the banister as he descended. “We must leave now.”
Jon examined his wristwatch. 7:18 a.m. He nodded. “It’s rush hour. As soon as your mop-up team returns, we must be going.”
Avram shrugged. “Of course.” They were very exposed in the terminal. “Let’s organize the automobiles. How many will the rental car agency deliver?”
Jon said “Ten. All recent models, different makes and colors. No SUVs. They’d be more obvious.”
Avram nodded. “Which roads do you recommend?”
Jon said, “We should split up. Half of us should use the Northern State and the others the Long Island Expressway. The Northern State turns into the Grand Central Parkway and intersects the Long Island Expressway in Queens. We join together there and take the LIE west. We should try to enter Manhattan through the Queens Midtown Tunnel, since it’s the closest to our target destination.”
Avram thought about all the places where their enemies might station snipers and hit mercs. Where would it be safest? “The Midtown Tunnel is also the most obvious choice. Why don’t we take the 59th Street Bridge?”
Jon took a moment to reply. “That means exiting onto city streets just before the tunnel’s toll booths. Longer trip but if that’s what you want, then so be it.”
It took the mop-up team several minutes to find the hostiles who had fired their Stinger at the aircraft. When they returned, their lead merc said, “Got ’em. There were four. All Asian.”
Avram and Jon relayed their paths into Manhattan to the mercs. The teams got into their cars and drove off toward Manhattan, their destination the United Nations, where their collective fate awaited them.
PART IV
The CIA is the like Post Office, but with spies.
—Barry Eisler
CHAPTER 41
Lubyanka Prison, Moscow, Russia
February 24, 7:22 a.m.
Misha had pulled Ann by the arm into the stairwell and up the stairs. The only exit would be through the courtyard and out past the very guard who’d had them arrested. Misha had no weapon and it had been years since he’d been involved in hand-to-hand combat. He considered his options and drew a blank. He thought, Got to play it by ear. Never thought we’d make it this far.
He stopped at the stairwell’s exit and faced her. “This is where we may have small problem. Ready?”
She nodded. He watched her and could feel the terror reflected in her expression.
He pulled the door ajar and listened to the sounds of men and women moving blind in darkness through the lobby. The doors into the courtyard had closed automatically when the power failed. Possibly locked automatically. Big problem. How can we leave?
He pulled her into the roiling chaos. He’d memorized the locations of the emergency exits when they were there a few hours before. He’d been sure of the scene they would face if they were successful. Maybe he could get them both out of here. He dragged her through the darkness. “Follow me.”
They made their way toward the main doorway and came face to face with the guard who’d seen them before. Even in the dark, Misha was sure the guard could see them both as well.
“Seize them!” the guard yelled.
No one noticed or obeyed. Misha grabbed the guard’s arm and used a Systema maneuver to bend the man’s arm to the breaking point. He punched the guard in the throat and sent the man down to the floor, gasping for breath.
Ann pulled on Misha’s sleeve. He nodded, and they continued moving toward the emergency exit doorway. They struggled against the throng of agents moving in all directions like a human whirlpool. When they reached the emergency exit, it was closed but unlocked. Misha pushed them both through.
It was dark outside, as they emerged. Misha looked for Sang but the old man’s taxi wasn’t where they had agreed he’d wait. Misha faced Ann. “We have a bit more trouble, little one. Our ride is not here.”
He pulled her to the side of the building and ducked them both against its façade. He needed to craft a plan on the fly to get them out of Moscow. He hadn’t time to craft anything beside the tactical details regarding where they might go first, how t
hey could find safety, and what it might take to leave Russia.
He faced into the direction of Red Square and ran with Ann right behind him. One of the Lubyanka guards who’d seen them before now pointed at them and called out. Several guards ran after them. Misha and Ann took off, rounded a corner, and bolted down an alleyway to the street behind.
And there was the missing cab. Sang honked his horn and Ann pointed. Misha nodded. They reached the cab just a few seconds ahead of the guards. Ann opened the cab’s rear door and was about to jump in when one of the guards caught Misha and wrestled him to the ground. Ann used her leg to trip the guard, then jumped on his head with her boots. The guard stopped moving, but now the others were about twenty feet away. She pulled Misha up and shoved him into Sang’s cab, then jumped in after him and slammed the door before the other guards could catch up. Sang floored the accelerator and the cab shot out into traffic.
* * *
William remembered what his father had told him about the CSIS technology development building: In the suburbs of Beijing we centered the building within a copse of trees, placed to offer summer shade and winter protection from blowing wind and snow.
William had hoped these trees would act as a possible mask when they fled the building. He and Betsy ran up the stairs from the sub-basements, heading into the lobby. All William could think of while they ran was are the bicycles still there? Will it be safe to retrieve them?
He tripped in the dark, going up the stairs. Betsy caught his elbow but it wasn’t enough to keep him from hitting the concrete. He grasped his left knee and rolled on the steps.
She helped him up. “You okay?”
He winced. “Mostly. Not hurt too badly, I think.” But when he tried to climb the stairs, the pain was severe enough that he had to slow down. It took several minutes for him to limp step by step up to the landing and on to the door to the lobby.
William peeked through the door’s window but the lobby was dark and the smell of the electrical fire was everywhere. In seconds he remembered the lobby’s layout. “We need to walk about thirty degrees left until we see the exit. And we need to move fast.”
She frowned. “But, Willy, you’re hurt. Just be careful.”
He nodded and pushed the door open. They could hear people scuffling through the darkened lobby. William led them in the direction of the entranceway. They encountered no one as they moved silently through the darkness. And there it was, just as he’d remembered it. The emergency exit door. He felt relief as they walked out into the evening as the sun set.
The outside air was cool but not windy. They walked toward the copse of trees and the bicycles hidden there. No one else was outside, although he could hear the din from the lobby.
His knee throbbed with every step.
They pulled off the brush they’d used to camouflage the bikes and mounted them. With all electricity blacked out, he knew they couldn’t use the airport. The only choices of transportation not dependent on the grid were bus and automobile but the odds of their exiting China this way was nearly nonexistent. Making this alternative worse, it would be ten miles to the nearest bus station. No, nothing he could think of would work.
Four years ago, he’d trekked across the mountains from Beijing to Vladivostok, partly on foot and partly in stolen vehicles. Russia wasn’t that far; closer than Viet Nam. Would the Bloodridge Mountains offer them a better chance of leaving China? Even if it worked, they’d end up in Russia. Bad, because Russia was also preparing to wage war against the United States. Worse, because if Misha and Ann had succeeded in ending electricity in Russia, they would face similar difficulties there. Not a viable option.
He realized there were no good choices. “Fuck,” he muttered.
Betsy said, “What?”
He faced her and frowned. “We’re in trouble because I failed to plan a workable escape route. Where do we go? How do we get there?”
She nodded. “Let’s put some distance between the destruction we accomplished and us. We can talk en route.”
They mounted the bicycles and pushed off.
He wondered once again, en route to where? She led the way, out past Ring Road Five, headed nowhere in particular.
* * *
Lily Lee circled back, looking for William and Betsy. She’d never met Betsy before, but she knew William well. She was back for a second trip around the CSIS compound, and still no love. She pulled to the curb and stopped the limo. “Jon, it’s Lily. When you get this message, call me. It’s early evening but still light out. I can’t see William and his friend. I’ll give it one more trip around the area, but if I hang out here too long, it may be obvious to the military police I’m not authorized to scout the area.” She terminated the call.
When she pulled the car away from the curb, she thought she saw two bicyclists go past her. She almost hit them. Lily cursed them in Mandarin. Only a crazy person would ride a bicycle at dusk along an unlit road.
She kept on driving.
CHAPTER 42
McArthur Airport,
West Islip, New York
February 24, 8:14 a.m.
Jon was the driver of car number one, a seven-year-old blue Chevy Nova. Alongside him was a merc he’d never met before, and two more mercs in the back seat. He scanned the other cars in nearby lanes of the Grand Central Parkway. No obvious trouble.
The automatic shift bucked and ground from second to third gears. He worried about the car’s workings, but then realized he could do nothing now to improve its chances of making it the sixty miles to Manhattan. He shifted his focus back to searching for threats as he drove west.
Jon looked in the rear-view mirror and saw Avram and four mercs in car number two, a new gray Ford Fusion, now moving away from his car toward the highway exit as it split onto the Long Island Expressway. It would be another forty minutes—if things went well—before he would see them again.
Cassie and her three remaining bodyguards were in car number three following Jon’s car onto the Grand Central Parkway. She drove an eight-year-old gold Toyota Camry. He needed to put a bit of distance between her car and his so they wouldn’t appear to mirror each other’s moves. If he didn’t, it would be more dangerous, a hint they were traveling together.
Yigdal Ben-Levy sat in car number four, a new yellow Hyundai Sonata, with a merc driving them onto the Long Island Expressway.
Eighteen targets in four cars, Jon thought. They had left the unneeded vehicles at MacArthur Airport’s parking lot.
Within seconds after his car entered the Grand Central Parkway, he was bogged down in traffic. He could see the Long Island Expressway across the massive divider. The cars entering onto the LIE were having even less luck, waiting on a long line just to enter the highway. Damned rush hour.
Two hours passed as the traffic crawled toward Manhattan. They remained out of contact with each other since cellphones no longer worked with the grid down. And they didn’t try to stay in visual proximity since that would have made them easier targets.
Jon worried they might end up so far apart they wouldn’t be close enough to provide armed support for each other if they encountered trouble. No, he thought. When we encounter trouble. He swiveled his head left and right and used his mirrors to scan for armed men in SUVs or anything else that might signal a possible battle as his car crawled along.
At exit 22 approaching Queens Village, the Grand Central Parkway merged onto the Long Island Expressway. Jon scanned the highway and spotted his teammates’ cars. So far, everything was going according to plan. But he had a nagging feeling it wasn’t going to last.
Gradually, the borders of the Expressway passed from snow-covered grass to concrete curbs. Traffic slowed again as they neared the toll booths, just two exits away.
The drive had remained uneventful as they crossed the last exit before the toll plaza to the Queens Midtown Tunnel, Greenpoint Avenue, exit 16. Jon changed lanes to the exit. He was about to head onto the rampway to the 59th Street Bridge. In his rear-
view mirror he could see every car of his team, all preparing to follow him through the streets onto the bridge.
He felt the air pressure building around his head so fast it triggered his eardrums to pop. His head spun upward. He heard the buzzing of chopper rotors.
He didn’t have to think about what was happening. He could hear the mercs in the back seat load clips into their automatic rifles. It had been inevitable, after all.
They’d been found. Hostiles!
CHAPTER 43
Exit 13 Toll Plaza, Long Island Expressway,
New York, New York
February 24, 10:43 a.m.
Jon watched his car window roll down. He pushed his head out and looked up.
Two gunships floated above the exit lane at the toll plaza, filled with soldiers in winter camo uniforms. Their weapons pointed at the line of traffic approaching the tunnel from Long Island. The choppers moved right in front of him, waving all the cars off the exit lane and back onto the road that led to the toll plaza for the Queens Midtown Tunnel. So the traffic jam wasn’t just rush hour as usual.
Jon thought about his options. No way to get past the gunships riding less than one hundred feet away. It was just possible this operation was being conducted by the New York City Police Department, but then he noticed there were no markings on the helicopters. As confirmation, when he studied the faces of the men he could see on the choppers, they were all Asian. Bloody fucked, we are.
We’re being herded into the tunnel. Jon realized they had no alternative. He changed lanes and paid the toll, then drove into the tunnel. The other cars in his team all followed his, along with all the rush hour cars.
Why were we being forced into Manhattan closer to their destination? It has to be a trap. He thought about what his team would look like as they exited the tunnel, and all the alternative exits and directions they might take. But he remembered that during rush hour, the Manhattan roads off the tunnel were all one-way and had limited turns permitted. They would be forced to drive right past his apartment building. The Corinthian was a fifty-seven-story tower with a vest-pocket park in front of its lobby. Jon’s mind began to form alternative plans. Snipers on building tops? Snipers in the tiny park? Where would they have the best advantage to wipe Jon and his team out?