China Crisis (Stony Man)

by Don Pendleton

  “Of course, Director. Rest assured blame and congratulations will be distributed to the correct quarters.”

  “Lin, keep me informed so I am clear on all points. Our stories must tally.”

  “Just what I was thinking, Director.”

  WHEN DIRECTOR HAN replaced his phone he sat for some time considering his conversation with Cheung. He was thinking more along the lines of his own survival, rather than his and Cheung’s. Friendship was all very well, but if the Guang Lor affair did end in total disaster the falling dominoes would start with Kang, go through Cheung and, without a shadow of a doubt, end with Director Su Han. And in circumstances such as those, friendship mattered little. Individual survival became the watchword.

  GARY MANNING LAY where he was for a long time, awake but unsure exactly where he was. He seemed to be in total darkness, covered in heavy clods of earth and lying in cold water that had soaked through his combat gear. When he moved to check the condition of his arms and legs he found he was fine, except for some stiffness having lain prone for so long. His whole body ached, too. It felt as if he had just come through some extreme accident.

  That was when he recalled the explosion from the second missile strike. At the back of his mind he recalled someone yelling a warning.

  Calvin James.

  They had been heading to the front of the house when the missile hit. The force of the blast had picked Manning off his feet, throwing him into the air. It had all happened in a fragmented few moments, and he couldn’t even recall hitting the ground again.

  Manning sat up, shaking off the earth that covered him. His head and shoulders brushed against objects surrounding him. He reached out a hand. It felt like foliage. Thin tendrils and leaves. He made more effort and gained his feet, pushing aside the tangled brush. As his eyes adjusted to the gloom, Manning was able to take in his surroundings. A round shaft with a couple of feet of water underfoot. It took him a minute to realize he was in a well shaft. The explosion had thrown him through the air and he had fallen down the well as the ground around it and a section of the shaft had collapsed, spilling thick earth into the cavity. It had formed a steep slide of crumbling earth that had served to cushion his fall.

  The Canadian tilted his head. Through the debris and the tangle of foliage he could see pale blue sky. He leaned back against the stone shaft, shaking his head at the situation.

  He checked his weapons. The P-90 hung suspended from its neck strap and his pistol was still in its holster.

  Manning made to move and the well shaft began to spin. He fell back against the shaft and stayed there until the sensation passed. Only then did he feel the pulse of pain down the right side of his face. He explored with his fingers and felt a raw bruise just in front of his ear. He felt the sticky cling of blood. Farther down the flesh of his cheek was scraped and raw. When he felt steady enough Manning continued to recon his surroundings.

  He could make out the earth fall and the stone blocks that had broken free. Above that the main shaft of the well seemed to be solid. Manning estimated it to be around twelve to fifteen feet to the rim. It was the only route he could take. He took his time as he negotiated the earth slope, aware that it might collapse before he reached the upper level. Once he felt the earth start to shift, and he paused until it settled again. When he reached the top of the slope he was able to gain hand-and footholds using the stone facing of the shaft. He climbed steadily until he was able to throw one hand over the rim of the well, shouldering aside the tangled foliage wedged in the gap.

  Manning remained still, listening for any extraneous sounds that might warn him of human presence. He would have no idea how long he’d lain unconscious at the bottom of the well until he could check his watch. However long it had been he still didn’t know the outcome of the firefight that had been under way when the missile hit.

  He raised his head above the rim. Taking a look around he saw that the house itself had collapsed from the missile strike. What few sections there had been still standing were gone completely now, reduced to rubble. Manning could feel the warmth of the sun on the back of his neck. It was high, implying it was well into the morning.

  He noticed the silence, too. A complete absence of sound.

  There were a number of bodies in the open space that fronted the house. Bloody and still. All were clad in Chinese military combat gear. Farther on he saw more bodies. Again Chinese.

  Had Phoenix Force done all that? he wondered.

  Manning dragged himself over the rim of the well and dropped to the ground. He pulled the P-90 into position as he checked out a wider area. Nothing. The village looked totally deserted. Manning remained in position until he was satisfied the area was clear, then pushed cautiously to his feet.

  He took a slow walk around the immediate area. He checked the dead Chinese. They had all been shot—he saw, too, that each man’s throat had been slit. There was also an absence of weapons.

  Manning knew that Phoenix Force would have had nothing to do with the throat-cutting. The SOG team fought hard but wouldn’t have done this. This was more likely to be something to do with the rivalry between the Chinese and the indigenous Uygur. Manning was thinking about Shin Tek and his men. They had made no bones over the feelings they had where the Chinese were concerned. The resentment the Uygur felt had been palpable.

  It struck Manning that if the Uygur had done this, they had to have won a victory over Kang’s soldiers.

  There was a stronger need to know where Phoenix Force was. He knew without question that the only reason they would have left without him was that something had prevented them from searching for him.

  A soft sound caught his attention. Manning turned, the P-90 rising.

  A man he recognized from ID photographs limped out from behind the cover of scattered rocks.

  It was Loy Hung. He carried a Chinese assault rifle in his right hand and a small backpack in the other. Close beside him was Dar Tan.

  There was more movement as the Uygur appeared, led by Shin Tek. They and their ponies were loaded with weapons they had taken from the dead Chinese.

  But there was no Phoenix Force.

  “Your friends are prisoners of Major Kang,” Hung said. “He has taken them to Guang Lor.”

  THREE HOURS LATER they were settled in one of the camps the Uygur used when on raids against the Chinese troops. It was hidden deep in the foothills, with its own natural water supply and even grazing for the ponies. This was larger than the camp Phoenix Force had visited when they had first met Shin Tek.

  When they arrived, food was being cooked and hot tea brewed.

  Manning took a little time to get cleaned up and do what he could for his head wound and the cuts and scratches that seemed to cover his body. By the time he squatted by one of the fires he was more than ready for the food and drink offered to him. Manning downed the hot tea gratefully. He held out his mug for more. One of the Uygur handed him a chunk of hot mutton. Wolfing it down the Phoenix Force warrior glanced around the campsite, looking for Loy Hung. He waited until the man joined him.

  “Tell me what happened.”

  “When Kang realized he had caught Mei Anna and a team of American invaders—his words—he became very excited. He made it his priority to fly them directly to Guang Lor and secure them in the punishment block.

  “He left his squad here to continue the search for me and the circuit board. He would return once he had the prisoners locked up. As soon as Kang had gone and the Chinese stood down, Shin Tek and his men returned. It appeared they had been waiting for the right moment to strike. I believe the Chinese thought they had gone. They were caught unready. The fight was over in minutes. I knew the Uygur had a reputation as fierce fighters but even I was surprised.”

  “How was it Kang didn’t find you?”

  “Like you, when that missile struck, Tan and I were almost killed by the house collapsing on us. We were under all the rubble and I believed I might die under there. It was strange. I couldn’t move
but I was able to see and hear what happened when Kang captured your friends, then when Tek and his men rode back in. After the fight I was able to call out to them and they dug us free.”

  Manning finished his meal. It made him feel a little better. That and having his wounds cleaned helped. He sat, considering his next move. Foremost on his mind was the fate of his team. Right now he was their was their way out of Guang Lor. As long as he was physically able, he would do everything he could to get them out of Kang’s lockup.

  Manning’s contemplative silence caught Hung’s attention.

  “What are you thinking?”

  “That my friends are in trouble. Imprisoned by a dangerous man.”

  “True enough. Kang is dangerous. And also ambitious. He will consider your friends as nothing more than pawns in his game.”

  “Kang will want them in Beijing so he can show them off,” Manning said. “I can’t sit here and let that happen.”

  “All very noble,” Hung said. “But what can you do? Go to Guang Lor and break them out?”

  Manning smiled. “Exactly.”

  Hung stared at him, searching his face as if he were expecting to have everything revealed.

  “Are you serious?”

  “Loy, you must know why we came here. What we had to attempt. It hasn’t changed. And neither has the fact those people are my friends. The same as Anna is supposed to be yours.”

  Hung’s face darkened at the intonation in Manning’s voice.

  “There is no supposing about it. Mei Anna is very important to me.”

  “Then you should understand why I have to make this attempt to free my friends.”

  Hung nodded, relaxing. His expression mellowed when he spoke. “If you go to Guang Lor, you could end up dead.”

  “At least I’ll die knowing I tried.”

  “But Guang Lor is a hard place to break into. Very risky.”

  “I know that, too.”

  “Then why?”

  “Because they would do it for me.”

  The Chinese shook his head. “It seems a shame for so many to have to die. Especially when they are such good friends. In which case I feel I must do what I can to keep you all alive. I will come with you.”

  “Hung, it looks like I have more friends than I realized.”

  “You are a lucky man.”

  “You said you have friends, too,” Manning stated.

  “Ah,” Hung said, “but obviously not like yours.”

  He turned away, leaving Manning staring after him.

  HUNG HAD FOUND ONE of the Uygurs who understood English reasonably well. He had been with the group who had joined Tek to defeat the Chinese soldiers. A young man with his black hair worn long, he listened enthusiastically when Hung had been asking for help. His name was Pak Choy.

  “I will go with you,” he said. He had one of the Chinese PF-89 rocket launchers slung across his back and carried a canvas bag over his shoulder that held a number of the missiles. “I want to send these rockets back to Kang.”

  Through Hung, Manning explained to Shin Tek what he needed him to do.

  “Just across the border, in the Wakhjir Pass, is a helicopter. It is waiting to take my friends and me out of Xinjiang and back to an American base in Afghanistan. The pilot’s name is Jack Grimaldi. Tell him to be ready to fly us out if we are able to reach him. He must understand that we can’t be certain when we might arrive. Nor can we radio him to let him know because Kang destroyed our communication equipment. Tell him the Canadian, that’s me, has sent you. That you are a friend of Mei Anna.” Manning waited until Tek nodded his understanding. “Shin Tek, this is important to us. Can you find this man? Will you do this for me?”

  “Of course we will find him. I know this place you speak of, and I will do it for my new friends. You do something for me and my people. If you see this Kang, make sure you kill him. Rid us of Beijing’s yapping dog,” Tek said through Hung.

  Manning commandeered one of the captured multipurpose vehicles. He needed something that would get him to Guang Lor in the shortest possible time.

  “We are here,” Hung explained, using the tip of his knife to indicate the spot on the map.

  “How far to Guang Lor?”

  “Fifty, maybe sixty miles. There may be patrols out now. Major Kang will make sure of that. He will be anxious to protect his prize. The capture of foreign combatants on Chinese soil is a great propaganda opportunity for Beijing. Something they can use to humiliate America. And of course it is a dream come true for Kang. It will take him far from Guang Lor. Promotion. He will be Beijing’s shining star. A true son of China.”

  “I already figured on that,” Manning said. “Doesn’t give us much time to do anything. Beijing will want to fly them all out as soon as possible.”

  “Then we should leave now.”

  “Let’s go,” Manning said, snatching up his P-90 and backpack.

  Guang Lor

  “DO YOU SEE THE BUILDING that juts from the main outer wall of the site? That houses the punishment block. It’s a bad place. A place of suffering for those who displease Major Kang. Workers and soldiers alike. If they break his restrictions, or fail to comply with orders from Beijing, they will find themselves in that place.”

  Manning turned on his side and glanced at Hung. The Chinese lay on the hard ground beside the Canadian as they studied the Guang Lor facility. Inside the walled compound Manning could see launch gantries, two of them with dark-painted, half-built missiles anchored in place. On top of a squat building he could see radar dishes and electronic antenna.

  “Not exactly a welcoming place,” Manning said.

  He was studying the layout through a pair of binoculars he had found in one of the Chinese vehicles. The wall he was observing comprised the south side of the site. It had the main gate to the site in this section. The punishment block was in this wall, as well. It jutted from the main wall, around sixty feet in length and thirty wide. Heavy double doors were set in the end wall. There were two armed guards positioned at these doors. To one side Manning saw a couple of six-wheeled trucks and three smaller multipurpose vehicles.

  “How many military personnel does Kang have?”

  “No more than forty,” Hung said. “They are divided between the punishment block and also patrol the site interior. Remember, too, that Kang had part of his complement out looking for us and they won’t be coming back. But he can call in more if he needs them.”

  “There’s a larger garrison, isn’t there?”

  Hung nodded. “It was established a number of years ago when civil unrest became a threat to the Han Chinese that had been sent by Beijing. Integration with the indigenous population has never been an easy matter. The garrison is about eighty miles to the south, near the main center of population.”

  “If Kang sent for help, how long would it take for them to get here?”

  “A few hours.”

  Manning lowered the glasses and leaned his back against the stony outcropping that concealed them.

  “First we need to get Mei Anna and my people out of that punishment block. Once that’s done we have to destroy the research facility where all the stolen technology is worked on.”

  “You make it sound so simple when you describe it.”

  “Believe me, Hung, there’s nothing simple about it.”

  Hung used his knife to scratch a diagram in the hard earth.

  “The main research block is housed in the west section of the site. It is actually built against the outer wall. It was constructed from concrete that was strengthened by heavy steel rods. There are two floors. Access is by coded doors here. Once inside, the setup is very well protected by electronics and secured access points. Compared to the research section the rest of the site is crude. Power comes from diesel generators on the far side of the facility. But the research section has its own power from generators housed here on the west side of the block. They are inside a building that is constructed from heavy-gauge steel. Even if the res
t of the site was powerless, or destroyed, the research section would still have power and be well protected.”

  “Sounds like your man did a thorough job of checking this place out.”

  “He did. It took Kam Lee over six months to gather all his information. Piece by piece. Adding to it every night. Hand drawing the detail and walking every section of the site so he could be as accurate as he could with distances.”

  “Then we’d better make sure we don’t waste all that good work,” Manning said. “Hung, I’m grateful for you helping in this. But I don’t want you to go in without understanding the danger. This is one hell of a setup, well defended, and there’s no guarantee some of us won’t get hurt.”

  The Chinese placed hand on Manning’s arm. “As you pointed out, one of our own is in there, as well. Mei Anna is very important to our movement. Even as far away from Hong Kong as we are, Mei Anna’s exploits are known to us all. She has never given up. She is the Pro-Democracy group’s most wanted person. Every second she spends here on the mainland is a threat to her life. Yet she came to help without concern for her own safety. There is no way we will turn aside now that she needs our assistance.”

  “I guess that means you’re in for the duration.”

  THEY HAD FOUND an array of ordnance stored in the rear of the multipurpose vehicle. There was a second PF-89 rocket launcher, courtesy the Chinese military, and a box of 80 mm missiles that went with them. A heavy canvas bag held a dozen fragmentation grenades. Hung proudly exhibited some blocks of plastic explosive and detonators, provided by Tek’s men. There were no high-tech electronic power units to go with them. Just simple timers that were set by hand.