Korean Intercept

by Mertz, Stephen

  Tears ran down Li's face. The dying man he cradled was conscious of nothing save his own pain and dying, but Li, who somehow miraculously seemed to be the only survivor here, could not keep his mind from skipping from one photographic memory to another; holding this man, the warrior who reminded him of himself so many years ago, who had wanted to attack, who had vehemently questioned Li's smug command to pause as the tanks had taken their time drawing into position for the assault on the bandits. Kwan had been right. Now, there would never be an assault. The Americans were attacking Chai Bin, and General Li's force had been annihilated; the young men, serving their country under his command, would never return home to their loved ones. He had brought dishonor and disgrace upon himself, and upon the Politburo in Beijing, those who had entrusted to him this mission of the highest importance. He should have known it was time to attack, that Kwan was right, when the first American helicopter, which had spearheaded the American military operation, had been shot down. Instead, hoping to ensure success, Li had hesitated as his last tank had reported difficulty in positioning itself to strike a particularly vital point of the bandits' defense. And then it was too late. The American attack turned on them when one of Li's tank commanders had, without his authorization, opened fire on an American gunship, identified by Li from its sound as one of their American Apaches. And that was the end of it. The American gunships had pummeled the bandit stronghold and Li's force. Only one of his tank commanders was reporting in, the lone survivor of his crew. And young Major Kwan lay dying in his lap. He had the strangest flash of caring for his dying father, skeletal and wracked with pain, his skin like graying parchment. He saw himself caring for his son, who had died as a child of typhoid. And then Major Kwan gave one final series of spasms and puked a river of blood. He stiffened and died.

  Li set Kwan aside carefully. He rose to his feet.

  The dead and the dying were littered about him in what he had so smugly thought was such a fine shelter from the elements. He had clustered his troops, making them an easy American target. Some of those dying recognized him, and their cries of agony were like their arms, outstretched, pleading, in his direction.

  He closed his eyes to it. He unhoistered his pistol. He would think of something beautiful as he died. His ears blocked out the aftermath of destruction, the cries of the dying. He thought of how beautiful his wife had looked on that day they met under the cherry blossoms, when the world was young and there was a future of hope.

  He placed the barrel of the pistol into his mouth and pulled the trigger.

  The dull booming of the bombardment had given way to the stuttering and hammering of gunfire and much frantic shouting from very close. The ferocious close-quarters combat was magnified with a strangely cavernous echo, telling Kate that the assault on Chai Bin's fortress had breached his inner defenses and spilled into this tunnel complex.

  She jumped to her feet when Chai Bin stormed into their cell. He held a pistol. With his free hand, he caught her wrist as if with a steel claw and tugged her to him.

  Paxton sprang in his corner of the cave. "What's going on?" He gawked at the sight of Kate being manhandled.

  Kate didn't struggle. She saw several of Chai's subordinates gathered in the tunnel outside this cave-cell. She strained to keep her voice steady. "Careful, Bob," she told Paxton, and she said to Chai Bin, "The question's a valid one. What's going on?"

  "Everything has gone wrong for me," said Chai, his tone clipped and dispassionate. "The Americans have attacked."

  Paxton said quietly, "God bless America."

  Chai ignored this. "I have lost contact with my men at the shuttle. I can only assume the worst. We will withdraw now from here. I have an armed helicopter that is well concealed nearby, awaiting us. It is a helicopter shot down by my men a year ago." His chuckle was a gloating sneer. "It has been repaired. Fortunes of war."

  Kate was summoning her chi as she never had before. "First you have to get us from here to there."

  "Precisely stated, and that is why I am not killing the two of you. You will accompany me. The two of you are my passport, you see. Quickly now. We leave by this tunnel."

  Paxton snarled, "Like hell," and flung himself at Chai.

  Without hesitation, Chai lifted his right arm and swatted his pistol at Paxton as if batting a troublesome fly. Paxton caught the gun barrel alongside his head. He tumbled into the grasp of two of Chai's men, teenagers really, who had stepped into the cave to receive Paxton, one by each arm, before the astronaut could fall. Chai stepped out of the cell with Kate in tow, and they followed, dragging Paxton with them. In the tunnel, Chai flung Kate in the direction of two other bandits, who grasped her by each arm.

  Kate saw that they stood opposite disorderly stacks of the electronic equipment removed from the Liberty and brought here. Her heart drummed against her ribcage when she saw three separate mounds of what looked like clumps of Silly Putty, placed at intervals around the stacks. Plastic explosive, with detonators attached.

  Chai observed her. 'Those are five-minute fuses. Minutes from now, we will be gone and everything you see will have been destroyed."

  There was a shifting of the shadows from across the tunnel, and Kate's breath caught in her throat.

  Trev Galt said,"I don't think so, scumbag."

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chai's eyes widened in surprise. He raised his pistol and triggered a shot that missed Galt.

  There came a high-pitched keening sound as the bullet ricocheted from the wall to the ground and then off at an angle into the side of the tunnel.

  From the periphery of his focus, Galt noted a flurry of movement from where the two bandits held Paxton between them, near where two more similarly held Kate. He could also hear the shooting from nearby winding down to mostly small arms fire from around a bend in the tunnel, beyond this point, it sounded like General Tuttle's commandos were wiping out the final remnants of resistance there. Then his complete focus was on storming forward. His pistol remained holstered because he didn't want to risk accidentally wounding or killing Kate in the dim lighting. He saw Chai reposition himself away from his men, taking Kate with him.

  Galt tore into the bandits, staying in perpetual motion, his arms and legs, hands and feet, working in perfect coordination to deliver a combination of lightning blows. Their response was slowed because their rifles had been shoulder-slung. He downed one with a sudden death Hiraken blow, both fists becoming club-like weapons that pounded flesh to pulp. He used a bone-crushing Empi smash to pulverize another's kidney, turning ribs and other bones to splinters. When the remaining two bandits tried to encircle him and take him from behind, he added lunging, vicious korgoruii "mule-kicks," stopping one with a fatal Nukite to the throat. At the same instant, the second man died from a Hiraken to the side of his neck. The entire mad scramble had lasted less than thirty seconds. Galt swiveled to face Chai, who stood with Kate less than ten feet away. And he saw Paxton then, crumpled up on the earthen floor. The astronaut wasn't moving.

  Chai stood behind Kate, holding her in place against him, a human shield, an arm across her throat. The muzzle of his pistol was pressed to her temple. Even under these circumstances, Kate looked beautiful to Galt, even in her dirty, torn flight suit. Her hair was tussled, partially covering her face. She stood there with her knees bent, looking like a cat ready to spring.

  Chai spoke from behind her shoulder. "Drop your weapon and step aside, American. The bullet I fired at you ricocheted and killed him." He nodded at Paxton's sprawled form, adding, "I will not hesitate to kill this woman if you do not obey me and let us pass. Then you will have come all of this way for nothing."

  Kate said, "Hello, Trev," in an unusually calm voice. "I don't know why, but I sort of expected you. Thanks."

  "Hi, Katy." He was the only one who had ever called her that. "Interesting mess you've gotten yourself into."

  Chai's eyes flared like embers touched by the wind.

  "You know each other?" He threw back
his head and laughed.

  "You could say that," said Galt. "Katy, have you found your chi?

  "As a matter of fact," said Kate, "I have."

  She executed a sharp backward jab of her elbow, lifting her arm as much as she could in the bandit's hold so that the elbow sharply struck the side of Chai's head, jarring the gun barrel away from her temple as his head snapped back. Chai bellowed in rage, in pain, releasing her. Kate lunged aside.

  Chai forgot about her and tracked his pistol in Galt's direction. He snap-fired. But Galt was already charging, weaving and dodging, and this bullet also ricocheted off the opposite wall. Galt launched himself into a flying drop-kick, the heel of one combat boot pounding into Chai's chest, the other boot smashing into the bandit's face in a terrific piston kick that sent both men heavily into the wall, knocking the pistol from Chai's hand. Chai assumed a martial stance and threw a reverse punch that would have taken the uninitiated by surprise because it was delivered with the hand on the same side as the rear foot.

  Galt evaded the punch with a right block. Chai shifted his weight and feinted, a deceptively clumsy lunge that exposed his chest and belly invitingly. Galt refused the bait. Chai laughed and turned, and Galt turned with him.

  "Are you afraid of me, American?" the bandit taunted. "I will kill you, then I will take this bitch and, when I am finished with her, I will throw what's left to my men for their pleasure."

  "You talk too much," said Galt.

  Chai grunted, stepping in fast. Galt dropped to the side, delivering a reverse elbow strike that caught Chai in the mouth, breaking teeth. Gasping, blood pouring from his shattered mouth, Chai stumbled again. Roaring with pain and anger, he whirled with surprising speed to lash out with another kick as Galt closed in. The force of the kick to his chest drove Galt backward into the wall. With a shout of triumph, Chai rushed him. Galt drove a hard right cross to the bandit's face, knocking him backward to the floor.

  Galt was on him in a flash, grabbing Chai's arms above the elbows. He rammed a knee into Chai's abdomen. Chai gasped breathlessly from the blow, but he managed to snap his head forward so he could butt his forehead at Galt's face. The blow missed its mark, and frontal bone met frontal bone. Both men were dazed, but Galt was more stunned as the receiver of the head butt. Chai broke free of Galt's grip. He seized Galt's throat with both hands, and Galt felt Chai's thumbs dig into his windpipe, fingers pressing into the carotid arteries in his neck. He clasped his hands together and thrust them between Chai's arms, his elbows striking the bandit's wrists. The fingers popped away from his throat, allowing Galt to chop his hands in a short, downward stroke that smashed Chai across the bridge of the nose. Blood squirted from Chai's nostrils as he staggered backward from the blow. Galt slugged him with a hard left hook.

  Chai toppled to his hands and knees, but he managed to lash out a boot. The kick caught Galt in his left hip. He gasped and nearly lost his balance. Chai sprang from the floor and whipped a back-fisted stroke at Galt's face, following up with a side kick to Galt's chest. Galt managed to keep his balance, and Chai decided not to continue the barehanded battle. He dashed to where one of his bandits had dropped an assault rifle. He grasped the rifle and whirled, bringing it in Galt's direction.

  While this was happening, Galt was drawing the K-Bar knife from its sheath at mid-chest. He was instinctually calculating the distance as Chai drew the carbine into target acquisition. There was only one chance with the knife. If he missed, Chai would cut him down. His arm snapped forward in a single flowing movement blurred by speed, and the Ranger knife streaked through the air. The steel point hit Chai in the center of his chest. Sharp metal split the breastbone, the blade lodging to the hilt. The bandit froze, his rifle held at approximately port arms. He looked down at the knife handle protruding from his chest. His scarred face was astonished. His mouth fell open, and he vomited crimson, then collapsed limply to the floor.

  Galt leaned down to withdraw the knife from the dead man's chest. "That's for Barney Markee," he told the corpse, "and for a pilot named Morales."

  He heard Kate say, "And mark that as payback for the four crewmembers of Liberty who did not make it."

  Galt inhaled deeply, allowing the air to fill his lungs. His hip throbbed, and his head ached. His chest, abdomen, throat and jaw reminded him of what he had endured during the battle. But he almost welcomed the pain. It meant that he was still alive. He walked, unsteadily, over to the fallen carbine and gathered up the weapon, then turned and steadied himself when he realized that Kate had gone to kneel at Bob Paxton's side.

  She gestured for him to join her. When he did, she was all business. "Bob stopped a bullet in the gluteus maximus," she reported with the unflinching directness of an emergency room nurse. "He'll live. It was a ricochet, so it didn't carry much of a punch, just broke the skin. He must have hit his head when he fell."

  Paxton chose that moment to begin regaining consciousness, making soft blubbering noises at first. Then he came awake with a convulsive lurch that jolted him from Kate's touch. He rolled onto his back and instantly emitted a painful squall, twisting himself quickly onto his side.

  "Oh, my ass. Jesus Christ, they shot me in the ass!"

  Kate rested her hands on him again, the fingertips of one hand massaging his temple. "Hush, Bob," and when his whimpering slackened, she said to Galt, "He's not ambulatory."

  Galt knelt at Paxton's other side. He started to position his arms around the astronaut.

  Kate stayed this movement with a touch to his upper arm. "What are you doing?"

  "I'm about to haul this guy out of here, double time, and you're coming with us. There could be more of Chai's goons around here."

  Kate nodded. "That's why I'll do the hauling. You're the firepower." She brushed his arm aside and slid her arms under Paxton's arms to encircle his shoulders so that when she rose, she scooped up the semiconscious man across her back. She allowed Galt to assist in steadying and helping balance Paxton, but that was all. She had always worked out in gyms before becoming an astronaut, even before Galt had known her. She stooped only slightly under Paxton's weight, and she wasn't breathing hard.

  And for one second, Galt could think of nothing but how beautiful she was like this, with her hair tangled, her face smudged with grime. She would have thought she looked terrible, but to him she looked like the strength of woman incarnate, facing a mighty challenge with bravery and grace. In her lively eyes, he saw the golden flame in each iris that had hooked him from the minute they'd met and would never let go, and in that instant Galt knew that he was still in love with his wife.

  As he stepped past her to assume the point position, he said, "By the way, Katy good work on the chi thing."

  Then he lengthened his stride away from the stacks of electronic equipment, following the tunnel toward the sounds. She managed to keep up with him, though she jostled her human cargo enough for Paxton to groan, "Oh, my butt!"

  "Chill, Specialist," Kate grumbled. "It's not as bad as it feels. You'll be medevaced out of here before you know it."

  "I'm sorry, Kate. I've been a goddamned pain in the ass."

  Kate chuckled without breaking her stride. "I guess that makes your fate poetic justice, Bob."

  "I'm sorry, Kate. I've caused us a lot of grief. I thought I was tough, but I'm not. I'm not the man your husband is."

  "No one is," said Kate.

  "Hush," said Galt from several feet ahead. "Back away, you two. Here comes trouble."

  The sounds of warfare, which had been rumbling through the tunnel from around the bend ahead, had faded to practically nothing. The tide of battle had turned. He heard only a sprinkling of single gunshots. And he clearly heard the frantic shouts in Korean, and the undisciplined footfalls rapidly approaching from the other direction, around the bend in the tunnel that was just ahead.

  "Damn," said Kate. "I should have picked up a gun." She dutifully dodged aside with Paxton.

  Three bandits raced in a dead heat around the bend and instan
tly spotted them. The brigands drew up short, splitting away from each other, their eyes widening, their rifles aiming at Galt who had thrown himself to the ground and was splayed out flat. He loosed off a short, precise figure eight burst from the carbine that chopped down the three bandits. He stayed low and hurried over to where Kate had set Paxton down on his side.

  She was watching Galt expectantly. Paxton was wide-eyed as the reverberations of the gunfire faded. He started to speak.

  More figures appeared, running into view from around the bend. But these were not bandits. These were Army Rangers. The laser beams of their rifles swept the semi-gloom of the tunnel like red pencil lines slashing across black paper. The beams found and centered on Galt.

  Donnelly banked his Apache gunship around for another run over the compound. There was nothing remaining for Kendall, his weapons officer, to shoot at. The target area was pockmarked with craters, littered with bodies. The towers were a burning torch, and each of the rocket launcher and AAA emplacements was a massive, scorched, gouged-out hole in the earth.

  He saw the figures being rushed aboard the Blackhawk, the rescue team forming a defensive half circle around them. As they boarded the helo, a female voice crackled with curt efficiency across the radio.

  "Big Bird to Apache One," said the Blackhawk's pilot. "We're up, up and away."

  Donnelly banked his chopper around and watched the Blackhawk lift off. He radioed the Blackhawk, "We copy, Big Bird. We're gone."

  Yokohama

  General Tuttle allowed Meiko to exit the comm van first, then he debarked, joining her on the rain-swept tarmac as the reverberations of incoming helicopters rumbled the damp atmosphere. Around the hangar, behind the van, were waiting ambulances and clusters of men intent in conversation near their unmarked black vans with heavily tinted windows. Everything from medical treatment to diplomatic and intelligence personnel awaited the choppers like animals of prey.