“They will work,” Hung assured Manning. “I have used them before and they have never failed.”
“Just telling me that, kind of inspires my confidence,” Manning told him, and the Chinese smiled. “The smile helps, too.”
“Have you any thoughts on how we should make our attack?”
“We should draw as many as we can away from the punishment block. That’ll help when we move in to get them out. Pak Choy and his launcher on that ridge behind us can lay down a barrage of rockets into the site along the southeast section. Go for anything he can see. Make a lot of noise, take down anything he can hit. Those large storage tanks. My guess is they hold fuel for the generators. Maybe even vehicle fuel. He can destroy those missiles, too, if he wants.”
“To draw people away from the part of the site we need to go for?”
“That’s the idea. Once he starts making the noise, we go for the punishment block and get our people out. It’s pretty thin, but we don’t have time for grand strategy. We just need to stay alert in case they’re waiting for us.”
“Something occurs to me,” Hung said. “Kang may not be here. He might have returned to the village to take control of the search for me.”
“One thing at a time,” Manning said. “Let’s get into position. Check all your weapons and make sure everything we have is fully loaded. We’ll go in once it starts to get dark. We might catch them off guard. Kang might not be expecting a breakout attempt. The way he left things there was no one readily available to mount any kind of rescue. But he’s no fool. With the captives he has, he won’t dare risk dismissing any possible attempt to free them. If my guess is correct, he’d expect a nighttime strike at full dark. So we go in before that.”
“Yes. I prefer to be able to see at least my hand in front of my face,” Hung admitted.
MANNING CARRIED HIS P-90 and his Beretta. His Gerber fighting knife was sheathed on his belt. He took a number of the grenades and dropped them into the pockets of his combat suit. He also carried a Chinese Model-56, 7.62 mm semiautomatic rifle they had found among the ordnance in the rear of the multipurpose vehicle. It was far from being a custom made weapon, but it was fitted with a scope. This veteran rifle had been standard issue for the PLA over a number of decades. Based on the Soviet SKS, it was a rugged, well-proved rifle, though it had been pushed aside in favor of fully automatic assault rifles for the Chinese military. With an effective range of 400 meters and a 10-round magazine capacity, it was the closest weapon Manning was going to find to a dedicated sniper rifle.
Loy Hung had a number of small bricks of plastique and timing devices in a backpack. Detonators were in a separate pocket. He carried a Chinese Type-56 assault rifle and a QSZ-92 9 mm pistol. Dar Tan had the other rocket launcher slung across his back and carried a satchel holding six missiles.
Pak Choy, armed with his launcher and a canvas satchel holding a dozen missiles, moved to his strategic position where he would be able to fire his weapon into and over the compound wall.
The sun was already sliding out of the sky when they moved off, using every piece of cover available as they closed in on the base.
Their plan of attack was simple but direct, and even Manning had to admit they were shaving good luck down to the wire on this one.
Once they were within range Manning would employ the Model 56 and take out the two guards at the entrance to the punishment block. The moment he heard the shots, Pak Choy would start to lay down his 80 mm salvo. With the door guards taken out, Manning and his two partners would make for the punishment-block entrance. Dar Tan would use his launcher to blow the doors of the block, giving Manning and Hung the opportunity to get inside. Tan would remain outside, defend the parked vehicles and watch the main gates.
They reached the final cover in front of the cleared section of ground approaching the base. Manning dropped to one knee, laying down his weapons, and made a final check of the rifle. He was hoping it had been sighted in. He wasn’t going to get too many chances. He clicked off the safety and brought the heavy rifle to his shoulder, peering into the scope. He had to use the knurled ring to focus it. It didn’t have the best optical clarification he would have liked, but he had to work with what he had.
The big Canadian took his time sighting in on the first guard, marking the center of the man’s chest, which at least gave him a little error on either side. His finger slid against the trigger and he began to ease against the poundage. The moment his target turned full-on, Manning drew a breath, held it, and took the trigger all the way. He felt the solid slam of the wood stock against his shoulder and felt the muzzle rise as the shot went off. Still on the scope, he saw the bullet strike slightly left of center, which was only a fraction out. It was close enough for the 7.62 mm projectile to core into the target’s heart. He saw a small puff of dust blossom from the hit. The crack of the shot was still in Manning’s ears as he moved the rifle to the second target.
The remaining guard had seen his partner go down and was reacting, turning in toward the doors and the box-mounted telephone fixed to the wall. Manning’s second shot hit him high in the left shoulder, erupting through the front in a spurt of black flecks. The impact pushed the guard against the wall and Manning hit him with bullet number three, placing this one between his shoulders. The Chinese bounced off the wall and fell away, slumping to his knees.
A momentary flash erupted from behind Manning as Choy fired the first of the 80 mm rockets. It streaked across the sky trailing white vapor and impacted against the wall of the site. The explosion tore a ragged hole in the wall, sending debris spinning into the darkening sky.
“Let’s go,” Manning urged.
He dropped the rifle and snatched up his P-90. With Hung and Tan close by, he broke cover and began to sprint toward the punishment block.
Tan waited until he was in range, then dropped to one knee, the launcher on his shoulder. He released the missile and it streaked by Manning and Hung, detonating when it struck the double doors. The explosion ripped both doors off their supports and demolished a section of the front wall.
Regular explosions ripped the air. To Manning’s right he saw flaming bursts beyond the outer wall as Choy dropped his missiles inside the perimeter. His strikes had to have targeted something flammable as a heavy fireball suddenly gushed into the twilight, rising to a considerable height before spreading and sending billowing smoke in a thick cloud.
“Watch out,” Hung yelled from somewhere in the gloom close by.
Manning saw armed men in Chinese military uniforms emerge from the smoke around the shattered entrance to the punishment block. They were a little dazed from the explosion, and that gave Manning and Hung some advantage. They opened fire, raking the figures with sustained bursts, taking down a number of enemy guns with their initial firing. The others reacted, spreading apart and returned fire. Manning fished out a grenade. He yanked the pin and hurled the bomb at the advancing Chinese. The solid detonation spread the grenade’s deadly contents and bodies were hit and thrown aside by the burst.
Hung paused to throw one of his own grenades, eliminating the last of the Chinese. With the current opposition cleared Manning made directly for the entrance, Hung covering him and Tan turning aside to go for the parked vehicles and watch the main gates.
Reaching the entrance to the block, Manning stepped over the scattered debris, peered into the dimly lit interior and moved on.
THE EXPLOSIONS ALERTED the imprisoned Phoenix Force team. The high barred window made it impossible for them to see what was happening, but they were able to hear.
“I don’t know who it is, but let’s hope they keep this up,” McCarter said.
When the rocket took out the main doors of the block the whole structure shuddered, concrete dust showering the captives. The single fluorescent light, recessed in the ceiling behind metal mesh, flickered and faded. Then it went out completely before coming back on.
The detonations went on, followed by heavier explosions. From the o
ther side of the thick cell door came the rattle of autofire and the spiteful crack of grenades. Men were yelling in Chinese. There seemed to be a great deal of confusion.
Another rocket struck the perimeter wall. Shock waves caused concrete to crack, spilling jagged chunks into the cell. Where the wall joined the ceiling, a gap appeared, showing a strip of the evening sky. The occupants of the cell moved to the far side.
James and Encizo moved to check the door. They were disappointed to find it was still secure.
“Only way we’re getting out of here is if someone opens it from the other side,” James said.
McCarter had to agree with that. There was nothing on their side that would allow the door to be opened. All the controls were on the exterior. The feeling that there was nothing they could do annoyed the Briton. He hated being left helpless, unable to contribute to whatever was going on outside the cell. He wanted to be in the action himself, not relegated to being a bystander.
There was more autofire, the crackling echo of sound seeming to be closer to their cell. The hard sound of the door’s locking slides being activated caught their attention. The door was pushed open, swinging slowly to expose the passage outside, smoke curling around the armed figure standing there.
“This is the one,” a familiar voice yelled. “They’re here.”
It was Gary Manning.
He looked a mess. His combat gear was torn and filthy. His face was bruised and bloody. He was cradling his P-90 under his right arm, and he was gesturing with his free hand.
“Come on, you lazy bastards. I didn’t do all this for you guys to stand around staring. Let’s move it.”
McCarter grabbed Anna’s hand and hauled her alongside as he made for the door, pausing to exchange a brief word with Manning.
“Talk about making an entrance.”
Manning grinned.
PAK CHOY HAD LEFT his distant position to join the fight inside the compound. He had the launcher slung over his back and was using his assault rifle to drive back the Chinese gunners as they emerged from the smoke and debris—most of which he had created himself by his rocket salvoes. Now the stocky Uygur was pushing deeper into the complex, his taut features illuminated by the swirling glow of the numerous fires his missiles had started.
The men of Phoenix Force had armed themselves with weapons taken from downed guards, taking extra assault rifles and any magazines they found. Even Anna had found herself a pistol. They took McCarter’s lead, pushing their way across the inner compound in the direction of the research block.
“Vehicle coming,” Hung yelled above the rattle of gunfire.
A 4x4 FAV came in their direction, weaving in and out of the swirl of smoke and flame. It was picking up speed as it moved along the concrete apron running the length of the site.
Choy put down his assault rifle and dragged his launcher into play. He fed a missile into the tube and raced forward, dropping the weapon across his shoulder. He braced his legs apart, swinging the muzzle to bear on the speeding truck. There was a rattling crackle of heavy autofire from the Type 89 machine gun mounted on a swivel in the open back of the oncoming truck and Choy’s body was ripped open by the 12.7 mm burst. He went down hard, the launcher draped across his bloody corpse.
Encizo turned back without hesitation. He ran across to where Choy’s shattered body lay and snatched up the launcher. With the weapon in place the Cuban twisted around so he was facing the truck, leveled the launcher and pulled the trigger. The missile leaped from the tube, swooping in at the truck. The driver made an attempt to get out of its path, but his maneuver was too late and too little. The 80 mm missile hit straight-on, the ensuing blast ripping the truck and its occupants apart in a burst of flame and smoke. The stricken vehicle was lifted off the ground and became a blazing object of extreme menace. Its forward motion hardly seemed to have been affected and Encizo dropped flat, hugging the ground as the wreck arced over him. It hit the ground only yards beyond him, disintegrating in a burst of flame and smoke, leaving shattered pieces of debris raining across the area.
Encizo rolled to his feet, pausing to check out Choy’s motionless form. The Uygur had taken the full impact of the machine gun’s burst. There was nothing anyone could do for him now. The Cuban kept the launcher and picked up the canvas bag holding the missiles. As he moved away, he grabbed up the discarded assault rifle.
Coming face-to-face with Hung, he shook his head. “Sorry, Hung, he didn’t make it.”
The Chinese nodded. “We should go,” he said briefly.
Rejoining the others, they formed a loose skirmish line as they crossed the site, closing in on the research block.
“Rafe,” McCarter said, indicating the entrance doors.
“Those doors are steel,” Manning stated.
“And those rockets are designated armor-piercing,” Hung said.
“Let’s see if they qualify,” Encizo suggested.
He fed a missile into the launcher, swung the readied weapon to his shoulder and lined up on the doors. His finger eased back on the trigger, sending the 80 mm rocket at the target. It curved in at the doors, trailing a mist of smoke, impacting with a thump of sound, throwing up a ball of fire and smoke as it shattered the doors and blew them off their hinges. Debris fanned out across the frontage, pattering to the ground in a dark shower.
“You see,” Hung said.
“Cover us,” McCarter said to Manning and James. “Rafe, bring that bloody tank-buster. We might need it.”
Hung passed Manning the small satchel he carried with the extra grenades.
“Make good use of them.”
Manning and James took up defensive positions near the breached doors.
McCarter, Anna and Hung made for the entrance, Encizo following after he had reloaded the rocket launcher. Smoke hung around the entrance, moving where the internal air-extractors dragged it away.
“The stairs are over there,” Hung said, indicating the way.
They moved to the foot of the stairs, but stayed to one side when McCarter waved them back. He had spotted movement on the upper landing, heard subdued voices and the rattle of weapons being cocked.
Their presence had been noticed and the sharp crackle of autofire echoed through the area. A volley of 7.62 mm slugs chewed at the wood stair rails and the floor at the base of the steps. Sharp commands were heard, followed by the thump of boots descending.
McCarter let the advance party reach the halfway point, then leaned out, tracking his assault rifle on the enemy gunners. His finger stroked the trigger, the weapon steady in his grip as he laid down a deadly volley. His initial burst took out the men in the lead, blasting them back against the risers. One slid down the stairs, falling on his face at the base. McCarter heard boots retreating up the stairs and he took the advantage, stepping farther out and firing a second burst at the fleeing soldiers.
Hung stepped alongside McCarter, a single grenade in his fist, the pin already out. He released the lever and waited a long moment before he threw the missile. It curved up and struck the landing, bouncing and rolling, scattering the armed men assembled there. The detonation was hard, ringing metallically off the concrete walls of the research block. A shower of dust and plaster fragments rained down the stairs. A brief cry was heard, quickly lost in the general noise of the explosion.
“Go,” McCarter yelled, taking the lead up the stairs.
He reached the upper landing. The grenade had done its job. Three bodies lay on the floor, clothing tattered and bloody. A fourth man was slumped against the blackened wall, rubbing blood from his eyes with a grimed hand. He still held his assault rifle and as he heard McCarter’s approach the Chinese swung his rifle around.
There was a flurry of movement beside the Briton and the crack of a pistol shot. The Chinese soldier twisted away from McCarter, the impact of the round sliding him across the wall. Mei Anna touched McCarter’s arm and when he turned he saw the automatic pistol in her hand.
“Come on,” she sai
d urgently.
The others had joined them, Hung pointing the way along the bare corridor that angled to the right.
“The place we want is at the end of this passage. It’s where all the data is stored and the designs held in computer banks.”
As they neared the access to the research facility, McCarter could see that the doors were solid steel. A flashing light sequence above the doors indicated that the sealed unit was active.
“Well?” Anna said. “That looks as if it could present a problem.”
“Rafe?”
Encizo studied the doors. “No way of knowing how they’re secured. Could be solid steel rods that slide from one to the other. May be an electronic lock.”
“Only one way to find out,” McCarter said. “Discussing it won’t get us far.”
“Back off,” Encizo said.
They all retreated, giving Encizo the space he needed. Hung turned and moved to where he could observe the stairs and the entrance area.
“Fire in the hole,” Encizo said, triggering the launcher.
The rocket hit the doors where they met. Encizo had tried for that spot, deciding it would be the weakest point of the doors. The detonation blew a spout of flame and smoke back along the corridor. As the smoke cleared, the Cuban saw that although he hadn’t breached the doors the explosion had damaged them. There was a definite bow in the steel and deep striations marked the metal. He reloaded, yelled his warning and hit the doors a second time. When they were able to see again, the steel doors had been breached, leaving a smoking gap wide enough for them to step through.
“Hung, put a grenade through there,” McCarter said.
The Chinese tossed the grenade through the gap. The bomb hit the hard floor inside, bounced once then detonated with a harsh sound.
“Let’s move, people,” McCarter said.
He led the way inside the unit, his assault rifle cradled against his hip, searching for a target. Through the swirl of smoke he saw soldiers moving in the direction of the doors. Others were sprawled on the debris-littered floor.
China Crisis (Stony Man) Page 14