"Just five left, now, down there." He gestured toward the Chinese trucks parked fifty yards away, visible in quick glances between the rocks giving them cover. "They have to come to us. Let's wait here."
"Suits me." Ronnie looked white and haggard. Blood stained the improvised bandage on his leg. Selena looked flushed. Carter's face was swelling where he'd taken the blow and his jaw hurt. His back felt like it was in a vise.
"ETA three minutes." Harker's voice echoed in his ear. "You should hear them any minute now. We sent you a Pave Hawk with Apache escort."
That made him smile, even though it hurt. The Pave Hawk only had a couple of fifties or 7.62's on it, but the Apache was a different animal altogether. Colonel Wu was about to get a big surprise.
"Tell them to take out those vehicles as soon as they can get a lock. Make sure they know where we are. I'll make smoke."
"Roger that."
He pulled a smoke marker from his pack. In the distance, he heard the choppers.
"ETA two minutes."
He pulled the pin and tossed the marker. A bright orange plume of smoke billowed upward. Chips flew off the rocks around them from a barrage of automatic fire that said Wu knew where they were. It wasn't going to do him much good now.
Three helicopters popped up over the next ridge, laboring hard in the thin air, two Apaches leading the way. A big man stood up by the Chinese trucks with a shoulder launcher. Carter recognized the man from the porch in California and locked him in the sights of his MP-5. He gave him a full magazine. Choy went over backwards as the launcher fired.
The missile snaked straight up into the air, stretching a white plume of smoke behind. It wandered uncertainly, then turned and headed straight for one of the Apaches. Carter held his breath.
A dark shape streaked out of the lead helicopter and met the missile in mid-air. The explosion slapped against their ears.
The Apaches launched rockets.
Nick hit the dirt. The blast rocked the ground. Stones tumbled off the wall, bouncing around them. When he looked again, two of the trucks were engulfed in flame. The gunners on the Apaches opened up with 30 millimeter chain guns and the burning trucks and remaining vehicles blew apart. The smoking remains of an engine sailed out of the sky and buried itself in the ground ten feet in front of him.
The Pave Hawk settled down hard on a flat area. Six troopers jumped from the hatch and fanned out to form a perimeter while the Apaches hovered overhead. Carter stood.
"Selena, you take one side, I'll take the other."
They carried Ronnie at a trot toward the helicopter. A medic came out to help and lifted him in. They climbed in after him.
"Good Morning, Gentlemen."
The voice belonged to a Captain wearing Army Rangers flashes on his uniform. His name tag said Riggins. He looked surprised when he saw Selena.
"And Lady. Strap yourselves in. We're leaving. Just the three of you?"
"Right. Nice to see you, Captain. The Gunny here took a hit in his leg.
"Saw that. We'll get to it right away, Colonel."
He didn't ask any questions. Captain Riggins said something into his radio. The troopers on the ground pulled in and boarded.
The Pave Hawk lifted and turned south toward India.
Carter looked out the open hatchway. The courtyard of the temple was littered with bodies. The temple was a jumbled pile of broken stone. Nothing moved but dust and smoke eddying in the chill wind. No one was going to visit the Emperor for a while.
Flames rose fifty feet into the air from the remains of the Chinese convoy. There was no movement on the ground, no weapons fire toward the chopper.
Safe.
He felt the tension start to drain away. His back was an agony of fire. He shifted on the hard seat and turned to Selena.
She was staring out through the open hatch, watching the Himalayas slide by as the helicopter descended into a long, wide valley toward India. Overhead, the steady beat of the blades drummed away.
She turned toward him. Nick had seen that look before, when someone came face to face with their own, violent death. When they began to understand the power of life and death they held over others.
In combat everyone was an instrument of death. The initiation wasn't easy. Some broke. Some got stronger. He could see Selena was one of the strong ones.
"You're all right."
She said nothing.
"People go through months of training to prepare for something like that and screw it up. You did everything right. You could have been a Marine."
She almost smiled. Then a distant look came into her eyes. After a few seconds she said, "Now I know what you meant."
"About what?"
"About shooting back. About defending yourself. I felt like a different person back there. I don't know who that person is."
"It takes time to make room for that, find a way to fit it in."
She took off her helmet, ran her fingers through her hair, her eyes reflecting some new thought, some undefined reality.
"You've been doing this for years."
"Yes."
"Does it get easier?"
"No. You have more familiarity with it, but it's never easy. It's just something that has to be done. You do it and think about it afterward."
His words would never replace what Selena had left back there with that dead soldier by the wall, the moment she pulled the trigger.
His earpiece sounded.
"Nick, you there?"
"Yes, Director."
"No sign of life at the complex. I think you got them all. You're minutes from Indian airspace and the Chinese won't follow you there. They scrambled fighters out of Chengdu, but they won't get to you in time."
"That's good news."
"You'll be landing in a restricted area on an Indian airbase. We have an understanding with the Indian government about using their facility. We don't want them to know what you were doing. A C-130 will be waiting. How's Ronnie?"
"He's good. A thigh wound and some cracked ribs. The medic gave him morphine and he's a happy guy right now."
"Selena?"
"She's fine, Director."
"What did you find?"
"What we went for and more. We've got our evidence, but I'll wait for the debriefing. Director, we made a mess down there. The Chinese aren't going to be happy about it."
"I'll worry about the Chinese. I'll see you tomorrow in Washington. I'm signing off for now."
He leaned back against the armored plate and closed his eyes. It had been a long, long day.
Chapter Forty-Seven
It was 10:02 in the evening on July Fourth in Washington. Elizabeth sat in the coolness of the VIP waiting room at Andrews Air Force base, waiting for the team to touch down. A driver and vehicle stood by outside. She was thinking about the possible fallout over the battle with the Chinese. Her phone signaled a call on the scrambled circuit.
"Harker."
"Director, this is General Hood. What is your current location?"
"At Andrews, waiting for the team."
"There's been a major incident in California. Someone blew up three electrical sub-stations. Oakland, San Francisco, the peninsula, Sacramento and the Central Valley are without power. A large portion of Northern and Central California is down. The cascade is threatening to take out the West Coast."
"How did they get through security?"
"We don't know. The attack was well coordinated. All stations went down at the same time. I'm on my way to the White House right now. The President has called a meeting at 2300 and you need to be there."
"On my way."
"You'll be escorted to the Situation Room when you arrive."
"Who will be in attendance?"
"The President, his Chief of Staff, the Director of Homeland Security, the Director of National Intelligence, the National Security Advisor, CIA, Westbrooke from the FBI and General Holden from the Joint Chiefs. That's as of this moment. There may be others."
&
nbsp; "What is the alert status?"
"The President has ordered the military to DEFCON 4. There is as yet no indication of hostile intention from any national entity. Homeland Security is holding at Elevated Threat alert until we have more information."
"I understand. I'm leaving now." Harker stood and started for the door.
"Elizabeth."
Harker paused mid-stride. General Hood rarely used her first name.
"Does Rice know about your operation?"
Elizabeth had briefed Hood earlier. He was an ally. If word got out about Tibet, she'd need allies. She had decided it was best to protect the President, in case something went wrong.
"No. I felt it better to wait."
"Watch your step in there. Heads will roll over this."
"I appreciate the advice, General."
"See you there." The call ended.
She dialed Stephanie.
"Steph, there's a situation on the West Coast. I've been called to a meeting at the White House. I want you to pick up the team. Get them out of sight and back into civilian clothes."
"Yes, Director."
"I'll call in when I know more. I won't be available for awhile. Hold down the fort until I get back."
"Got it."
Harker ended the call. The Project was handled. A few minutes later her driver was breaking speed limits and weaving through late night D.C. traffic toward the White House.
Harker did a quick mental review of everything she knew about Yang and the operation. She might need to explain why she'd ordered a covert operation on Chinese sovereign territory. Some of the people who would be in that meeting had no idea the Project conducted black ops traditionally under the mandate of CIA or SOCOM. Her cherished low profile was about to evaporate into thin air.
She looked out the window. They turned onto Pennsylvania Avenue and neared the traffic barriers marking the outer security zone for the White House.
Her vehicle was passed through the security checkpoints. They stopped at a side entrance of the White House, away from the cameras watching the front for signs of newsworthy people or activities. She was met by two secret service agents wearing dark suits and earpieces. They had Glocks clipped to their waist in fast draw holsters.
"Director Harker?"
"Yes."
One of the agents handed her a badge to clip onto her lapel.
"Follow us, please."
This part of the White House was unfamiliar to her. She followed the agents down a long hall lined with period paintings of the nineteenth century. The walls were light beige. The lighting was subdued. The carpet was soft under her feet.
The Situation Room was located in the basement of the West Wing. A few turns and a short flight of steps down and she found herself at the entrance. A secret service agent stood by a lead lined cabinet at the door.
"May I have your phone, please, Director?"
Harker turned off her phone and handed it over. The agent placed it in the cabinet with several others. She wasn't the first to arrive.
"Do you have any other personal electronic devices with you?"
"No, that's it."
"If you need to make a call, please use one of the booths."
A row of wooden phone booths stood along the wall, modern echoes of the 1950s.
"Thank you."
Inside, a long conference table took up the center of the room. It was flanked by wide brown leather chairs. Blank television monitors covered the wall at the far end. Two tiers of computer terminals were set off to the side, manned by Air Force technicians.
The National Security Advisor was in animated conversation with General Holden, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, and the Director of National Intelligence. Half way down the table General Hood was talking with the Acting Director of the CIA, Wendell Lodge. Harker knew Lodge well from previous encounters.
Lodge was old school. Yale, Skull and Bones, five foot ten and elegant in a gray Brooks Brothers suit and college tie. Career CIA, he was 60 years old. His hair was tailored white, with the look that came only with regular four hundred dollar haircuts. His face was rosy and flushed, lending him a kindly, avuncular air that had deceived many a politician or underling.
Harker knew Lodge was nobody's uncle, kindly or otherwise. He demanded absolute obedience from his subordinates and never forgot or forgave a personal slight or a professional mistake. His boss was in Bethesda Hospital on life support. Lodge was about to step into the DCI slot unless the political process blindsided him with someone from outside the Agency.
General Hood beckoned her over.
"You know Director Harker, Wendell."
"Elizabeth," Lodge said, "nice to see you again. I hear you've been up to something with our Chinese friends. Was your operation successful?"
He smiled, but Harker wasn't fooled. She remembered Hood's warning that someone's head would roll. Lodge would be one of the executioners manning the guillotine if it came to that.
"It's good to see you, too, Wendell."
"We were just talking about your theory a coup in the PRC is tied to what's happening in California. We haven't picked up any indications of a takeover scenario at Langley."
By using the word theory Lodge was letting her know he was not convinced a coup was in progress or relevant to the current situation. It didn't matter that he had to know of Deng's warning about General Yang.
It was CYA time, and Lodge was a master of the game. Elizabeth wasn't surprised. No one wanted responsibility for being caught unawares by a terrorist attack of this magnitude.
"I suspect that will come up today," Harker said. "Whether or not a coup is actually being planned, I believe the Chinese are behind whatever is happening in California."
"I hope you can back that up, Elizabeth. That is a serious allegation."
Harker decided to feed him a little information.
"You are familiar with General Yang Siyu?"
"The head of Chinese MI?" Lodge gave her a look of interested attention.
As if he doesn't know exactly who I mean, she thought.
"The same. In cooperation with the FBI, we have established that General Yang has been plotting with the Chinese Triads on the West Coast. We tracked payments amounting to four hundred million dollars from Yang to the Triads. The money was stolen from an American investor."
"Are you talking about William Connor?"
"Yes. We identified and detained two of Yang's agents, one of whom was embedded in the FBI. He was caught red handed talking with Yang's principle aide. He passed along the information that we suspected a coup and expressed concern for his personal safety because of unspecified events planned to take place today."
Lodge raised an eyebrow. "Why wasn't Langley informed, Director?"
"I believe that was the responsibility of the FBI. They handled the discovery and detention of Yang's people. Perhaps they were embarrassed to find out one of their own is a traitor."
Harker knew that her political survival, even the survival of the Project, might depend on how this man read the situation. If he decided to oppose her, she was in trouble. There was no harm in letting the FBI take some of the heat. Besides, what she said was mostly true.
As if on cue, FBI Director Gordon Westbrooke entered the room, followed by the Director of Homeland Security, Joseph Wiseman. Harker watched Lodge's eyes narrow as he observed Westbrooke. Behind Lodge's back General Hood gave her a look of approval.
"I look forward to hearing more about this, Elizabeth. Let's get together soon. Perhaps lunch next week? I like to talk with you about something, but this isn't the place. If you'll excuse me, I think I'll go have a little chat with Gordon." He nodded at Hood and moved with purpose toward Westbrooke.
"You're on your toes today, Director," said Hood. "That was neatly done."
Harker glanced at her watch. It was almost 11:00 P.M. Kevin Hogan, President Rice's Chief of Staff came in.
"The President will be here momentarily," he said. "Please find your seats."
Chapter Forty-Eight
President Rice entered the room.
"Good evening, everyone. Please be seated." Rice took his place at the head of the table and the others sat.
President James Rice was in the third year of his first term and deep in the quicksand of presidential politics. Descended from early American colonists, he was named after an ancestor who'd fought in the American Revolution. He'd served with distinction as a young Marine officer in Vietnam. At sixty-seven he looked ten years younger. His face was strong and comforting, with hazel eyes that seemed to speak directly to you alone. He was popular, charismatic when he chose and possessed of a streak of integrity that defied the conventions of the political world. Harker liked him.
"Let's get started. Joseph, what is our current situation?"
The Director of Homeland Security cleared his throat.
"Mister President, power is out throughout Northern and Central California, Oregon, Southern Washington and Western Nevada. The effect is spreading as other stations in the grid try to take up the load. The electrical utilities have gone to rolling brownout in an effort to head off more failures.
"The Governor of California has called out the Guard. All civilian emergency forces have been activated. Emergency power is up and running at all medical facilities. We are currently at Elevated Alert."
"Are we certain these explosions were not accidental?"
"Yes, Mister President. They occurred at exactly the same time and appear to have been selected to create maximum disruption in the grid."
"Any communication from terrorist groups?"
"We have received a statement claiming responsibility from a group calling itself the Beijing Great Nation Brigade."
"Is this a known group?"
"No, Mister President."
At that moment an aide entered and handed President Rice a note. Everyone watched as he read it. Rice looked up at them. He was grim.
"There have been explosions in San Francisco with heavy civilian casualties. Turn on the monitors."
Heads swiveled toward the end of the room. The monitors came alive. There was no sound, but the visuals were enough. All the major networks were showing scenes in the Bay Area.
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