“Straight lets us off at the waterfront.”
“And the other?”
“Toward the hospital.”
“The jail’s closer to the hospital,” Jeb said.
“Right, but we have to find a boat first. Remember?” Lucas pointed out.
They crept along the dank sewage tunnel until they arrived at another set of rusting rungs that led up into a shaft with stained brick walls.
“This it?” Lucas asked.
Ray hesitated. “I think so. It’s been years.”
Lucas frowned and looked up the shaft. “How did you get the manhole cover up from the inside?”
“I pushed as hard as I could with my back. It wasn’t easy.”
Lucas slipped off his backpack and handed it to Ray. “Don’t go anywhere.” He climbed the rungs and, when he was at the top, heaved against it until the cover lifted a half inch. After a few deep breaths, he renewed his efforts and the iron disk rewarded him with a scrape as it slid to the side. Rain dripped from the edge, and he felt with his fingers until he had a good grip and pushed the cover six inches, and then a foot, and then another until there was an opening large enough for a man with a pack to get through.
He unslung his M4 and eased up another rung, and then poked his head through and swept the street with the rifle, eye glued to the scope, searching for threats in the drizzle. Seeing none, he called down to Ray.
“All clear up here. Can you bring my pack up?”
“I think I can manage.”
Lucas climbed from the opening and darted to the nearby curb, continuing to scan the street. Ray’s head appeared from the hole a few moments later, and he set the pack on the pavement before pulling himself out and moving to Lucas, who took the demolition kit from him and slipped the shoulder straps back on as the rest of the party joined him.
“We’re going to have to put the cover back or they’ll spot our escape route,” Lucas observed. “You’re closest, Jeb.”
Jeb lumbered back to the manhole, and Lucas winced as the disk scraped along the asphalt.
“Leave it a little open,” Ray called, and Jeb did as instructed, leaving one edge resting above the lip.
Jeb returned to the curb, and Ray pointed to their right. “The commercial pier’s this way.”
Lucas nodded. Ray had drawn a rough map of Astoria in the dirt for them at the base, and they’d used it to select the areas the volunteers were to plant their bombs. Gary offered a thumbs-up and straightened. Lucas leaned into him.
“We’ll tie the boat as close to the street as we can,” he said. “Look for the bandana.”
“Got it,” Gary responded, and took off at a run, his men behind him.
“Okay. Let’s get this over with,” Lucas said.
Ray adjusted the pack on his back and then took off at a run along the waterfront, the lights of the Chinese ship barely visible outside the mouth of the bay through the easing drizzle.
When they arrived at the commercial pier, Lucas was surprised at its sprawl. They worked their way from one side to the other, staying low, searching the water for promising boats to liberate. All of the skiffs were half full of water from the downpour, but one was dryer because most of it was beneath the pier, which provided shelter from the rain. Lucas felt for the bow line and found it snarled around a rusting rail, and pulled the boat close so he could reach it from the aluminum ladder that ran down the sides of the pilings to the surface.
Five minutes later, the demolition packs were stowed beneath one of the bench seats and the boat was back under the pier. Lucas climbed the ladder and pulled himself over the railing, and then felt in his flak jacket for a red bandana that would identify the spot for Gary and crew. He tied it off and wiped the water from his face before turning to the two remaining volunteers, who were waiting with Ray and Jeb, rifles at the ready.
“All right. Game time. We’ll head over toward the jail, and when the explosions go off, hit it hard.” He paused for a beat. “Al, Dave, you ready?”
“Sure,” Dave said.
“Then follow me, and keep low. If I see anything, I’ll let you know,” he said, and then took off along the pier, Jeb and the others hurrying to match his pace as the rain splattered on the ground around them.
Chapter 40
Astoria, Oregon
Captain Lee started awake and nearly fell out of bed at the roar of a powerful explosion nearby. He was groping for his pants when a second detonation shook the room and rattled the window glass, spurring him to greater speed as he felt for his clothes in the dark. He donned his trousers and went for his shirt, and was pulling on his boots when a third explosion rocked the building, this one even closer than the prior two.
Pounding sounded from his room door. “Yes?” he barked.
“Captain, we’re under attack!” his subordinate, Lieutenant Ming, warned through the thin wood slab.
“I know, you idiot. I’ll be out in a moment. Sound the alarm. All men to their stations immediately.”
“Yes, sir!” Ming cried, and then his footsteps faded as Lee strapped on his pistol and checked his watch. Lee stumbled on the uneven wooden flooring and swore. He recovered his footing and felt for the door handle in the dark, and was twisting it open when the chatter of automatic gunfire erupted from the south, followed by the distinctive whump of mortar rounds exploding inside the city limits.
Lee made for the desk at the front of the lobby, where a half dozen two-way radios sat in cradles, charged by the hotel’s solar array. He scooped up a hand-cranked LED flashlight, spun the handle until he had light, and reached for the radios. He retrieved one, switched it on, depressed the transmit button, and lifted it to his lips.
“This is Lee. Report. What’s going on?” he demanded. Static hissed from the speaker, and then a frantic voice answered over the channel.
“We’re taking incoming. Rifle and mortar fire. Someone blew up the armory and the administrative building.”
“Who is this?”
“Sergeant Zhu at the main gate.” Gunfire popped in the background as Zhu spoke.
“Can you isolate where the mortar fire is coming from?”
“Negative. But we will.”
“I’m on my way there with reinforcements.”
“I just heard the other gate is also taking fire.”
“I’m on it. Hold the line. We’ll be there shortly with backup.” Lee released the transmit button, his face clouded. Ming returned at a run, rifle in hand.
“We’re under attack, sir, inside the wall and out.”
“Yes, I know. Any idea who’s behind it?”
“Unknown, sir.”
“Send a squad to the main gate and another to the second. And deploy patrols around the critical areas – the marina, the barracks, the stables.”
“At once, sir!” Ming said, and took off again, disappearing into the darkness. Captain Lee paced the floor as he mulled over the report from the main gate, and then nodded to himself and made for the door, his jaw set. Soldiers were trotting toward him, their uniforms evidencing that most had been asleep only minutes before, and Ming yelled orders over mortar explosions that lit the main gate area with bright flashes. The men gathered into a loose formation as Lee approached.
“Lieutenant, don’t we have an antitank launcher? If we can isolate the mortars, let’s put it to use.”
“We do, sir. It’s already on the way.”
“Very well. Get to the main gate as quickly as possible. I’ll be right behind you after I inspect the blast damage. Do we have a report yet?”
“Just what I told you, sir. Nothing more.”
“I’ll see you at the gate,” Lee snapped, and took off at a rapid clip down the darkened street, flashlight in hand. Ming signaled to two infantrymen and they broke ranks and followed the captain, rifles at the ready, the bouncing LED beam signaling the way. Ming watched them disappear around a corner and called to his men.
“Follow me,” he cried, and sprinted for the main gate, i
gnoring the explosions that were destroying the buildings near it. His men matched his pace, the rain making the streets slick but also drowning the worst of the fires the mortars were starting in the wooden structures they struck.
When he turned the corner on the approach to the gate, he slowed and took in the nightmarish scene. Body parts littered the road from where a mortar had hit one of the sandbag guard posts, and flames licked from buildings that framed the way, creating a tableau that was a fair depiction of hell. Men screamed and moaned in anguish as explosions rocked the area, and bursts from assault rifles volleyed between the guards and the darkness beyond the gate. Rounds snapped by Ming’s head and he ducked low just as one of the nearest soldiers grunted and tumbled face-first against the ground, half his skull gone.
“Spread out!” Ming ordered, glancing around frantically. “You – man the guard post. You too!” he cried, urging his men forward to take the place of the fallen. Six soldiers ran toward the gate, and just as they arrived, another mortar sent a fountain of pavement and earth skyward from behind them, hurling the men through the air like rag dolls. Ming watched in horror as what was left of them hit the ground with wet thwacks, and recoiled when a head rolled near his feet, its mouth contorted in a silent scream. Rounds whined off the sidewalk behind him, and he ducked for cover, blowing his whistle for all he was worth to signal his men to continue advancing, the ringing in his ears so loud he could barely make out its screech.
Chapter 41
Lucas and Jeb exchanged a glance after the first explosion blew the roof off one of the buildings targeted at random, and Ray edged closer to where they were huddled in the gloom behind a half-gutted two-story home, Al and Dave out of sight by an overturned shed.
“We’re on,” Lucas said, and checked his M4 to ensure it was in burst mode before standing and gesturing to the two volunteers. Another explosion sent a spire of orange into the sky from nearer the second gate, and Lucas patted Ray’s shoulder. “Lead the way.”
“It’s not that far,” Ray said, and the rest of his words were drowned out by the final bomb blast, the largest of the three, the signal for the General’s men to begin their bombardment. The first mortar rounds hit less than a minute later, and Ray jogged along the street, keeping to the shadows, curtains of rain masking their passage.
Gunfire from the main gate echoed off the façades and then from the second gate, the distant shots like firecrackers. Lucas was gaining on Ray and was about to tell him to slow down when Ray froze at the sound of running footsteps from the next street over. Jeb nearly ran into Lucas and began to protest when Lucas spun and clamped his hand over the big man’s mouth, his eyes hard as slate. The tempo of the approaching footfalls increased, and Lucas estimated that at least a dozen men were running along the artery – judging by their direction, headed for the second gate from some central location.
They stood stock-still until the street was quiet again save for the patter of the light rain, and then Ray cautiously resumed his slog through the drizzle, Lucas now shadowing him with his rifle clutched to his chest. The younger man stopped at an intersection and peered around the corner of a tall house. When he had established that the street was clear, he sprinted to the other side, putting on a burst of speed to avoid being caught in the open. Lucas mimicked him, and the others did their best to keep up, the danger now palpable as they forged deeper into the town.
The rate of the explosions from the main gate mortar attack steadied after the first salvo, and now seemed to be averaging a strike every twenty seconds. Lucas did a quick calculation and figured that Art could keep up the assault for about fifteen more minutes before having to pull out and make for the river. The Chinese would inevitably try to pursue him, but with the rain erasing the General’s tracks, it would be a lost cause until morning at the earliest, and with any luck at all, there would be nothing for them to follow come sunup. Still, if they brought the ship guns to bear on his estimated location, it could be a bloodbath, and Lucas offered a silent prayer that the surprise attack had short-circuited timely communications with the ship.
“Almost there,” Ray whispered at the next street. “You see anything?” he asked Lucas, who was peering through his NV scope at the route ahead. He slowly swept the park and the open spaces and, seeing nothing, moved to the nearby buildings, the crosshairs hovering over each doorway before moving to the next.
“No,” he replied. “But take it slow. No point in drawing fire if we don’t have to.”
“All right. Ready?” Ray asked. “We can cut across the park, and then we’ll be at the back of the station.”
Lucas nodded, still eyeing the surroundings through his scope. “Stay low. Don’t take any chances.”
“Maybe all the soldiers got called to the gates?”
“Possible, but they’d have left at least a few guards. Probably inside, like Salem.”
The firing from the south intensified, and another volley of mortar rounds shattered the night. Once in the park, Ray moved from tree to tree, and Lucas had to wonder at the youth’s natural ability to blend into the background, his slight form almost impossible to see once pressed up against a trunk, his dark togs masking his movements in the dim light.
The group closed on the rear of the police station, and Lucas signaled for them to halt. They pressed themselves against the back wall, and Ray edged to where the first of the high windows was.
“Psst. Anyone in there?” he called in a stage whisper. There was no answer, and he moved to the next one. He repeated the question, and this time received a response.
“You’re going to get us killed.”
“How many guards are in there?” Ray asked.
“They’re all up front. I don’t know.”
“Guess.”
“Heard some run out. Maybe…three or four?”
Lucas moved beside Ray and called to the speaker. “In about two minutes, make a commotion. Scream, throw something, whatever. We need a distraction.”
“You…you’re going to rescue us?” the voice asked.
“If you help.” Lucas paused. “Where are the women?”
“Haven’t seen them since this morning. They keep us separated.”
“All right. Two minutes, then go nuts.”
Lucas gave a whispered summary of how he wanted to take the station, and the men moved toward the front entrance. Ray tried a side door halfheartedly, but it was bolted shut, and he glanced back at Lucas and shook his head.
Lucas overtook him and murmured to the young man, “You did good. Hang out back here, and if any soldiers show up, shoot them.”
“You don’t want me to go in with you?”
“I need you out here more than in there.” Ray had described the station layout to them earlier, so there was no reason to put him at undue risk – they needed him to guide the prisoners to freedom.
“You sure?”
“See anyone coming, gun them down, no hesitation. Got it?”
Ray swallowed hard and hefted his rifle. “Yup.”
A deeper-pitched explosion shook the ground, and Lucas looked toward the main gate. His lips tightened into a thin line and he whispered to the others, “We go in on my signal. Jeb, you hang back with Ray and watch the door. Dave, Al? One on each side of it. Al, you throw it open, and I’ll go in low.” He looked at the street in front of the station and pointed to a glow seeping from the frosted glass of the twin doors. “Looks like there’s light inside, so you’ll see your targets.”
Lucas cocked his head, listening for the ruckus the prisoners would soon make in the cells. When he heard a shout from the high window, he pointed to Dave and motioned to the far side of the double glass doors. Dave nodded and sped past the entrance in a blur, and then Al was in front of Lucas with his rifle in hand.
“Do it,” Lucas said, and Al pushed against the metal frame of the nearest door with all his might. The door swung inward and Lucas threw himself through the gap, firing at the two figures inside as he rolled. Answeri
ng fire blasted from them and the entrance exploded in a shower of glass, and then Dave’s and Al’s rifles joined in, cutting down the soldiers in seconds.
Lucas leapt to his feet, shaking off glittering shards, and pointed to the steel door that led into the rear. Al ran ahead of him, rifle trained on the metal slab, and then it burst open and a hail of gunfire roared from the dark interior.
Chapter 42
Bullets ricocheted off the police station walls as two Chinese guards emptied their magazines on the intruders. Two rounds shattered the ceramic chest plate in Al’s flak jacket, and a third and fourth blew through his chest and spackled the area behind him with blood. Lucas was firing as he threw himself to the side, and one of his bursts took down the first guard, driving him backward into his partner, who continued spraying the station with lead. Gary’s rifle barked again and again, and the second guard’s throat shredded apart. He dropped his AK and clutched at it with numb fingers, and then Lucas’s rifle ended it and the soldier pitched backward, dead.
Lucas stood and moved to Al, who was laboring for breath and losing the battle. Gary joined him just as Al gurgled and lay still, a rivulet of blood oozing from the corner of his mouth and running down his cheek. Lucas reached out and closed his eyes, and then walked into the cell block, his expression grim, Gary behind him, switching his spent magazine for a fresh one.
The first two cells were empty, but the third and fourth held a dozen men in various stages of starvation. One of them was gripping the bars so tightly with his bony hands that his fingers were white as chalk, his eyes huge in a hollow face.
“Where are the women?” Lucas asked.
“Get us out of here. Please. They’ll kill us,” the man begged.
“I will. Where are the women?” Lucas repeated.
“They… I heard one of the officers tell them they were taking them to the ship this morning.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
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