The moment he fired, Manning cocked the crossbow again and slid the second bolt into place. This time he barely seemed to aim, simply raising the bow to his shoulder, picking up the figure of the loader as the man turned back to his partner. He saw the gunner slumped over the weapon, paused a second as he took in the sight, but before he could do or say anything, Manning’s finger released the second shot. It slammed into the man’s chest. He looked down at the stub end of the shaft sticking out of his body, then toppled back across the roof.
“Clear here,” Encizo reported. “Moving to rear of building.”
“Cal, commandeer the roof. Man that machine gun and maintain a clear field around the building.”
“Affirmative.”
“Gary, with me, let’s go.”
McCarter, his night-vision goggles in place, swung his MP-5 into position and broke cover, staying low as he approached the redoubt’s frontage. He moved as fast as he was able, trusting his way was clear underfoot while he concentrated on the closest of the ground sentries.
The lean Chinese, taller than average, was doing something with his assault rifle, head down. He glanced up, checking the area without warning, and looked directly at McCarter.
And then he began to yell. McCarter understood the warning, even though he couldn’t catch the words.
The Chinese swung his assault rifle up, turning it in McCarter’s direction.
“Talk about bloody bad timing,” the Briton muttered, the MP-5 chopping out its suppressed sound. The volley of 9 mm rounds ripped into the target’s chest and spun him to the ground. “Everybody go,” McCarter snapped into his com-link.
There was moment of silence, then McCarter heard the feedback from the rest of Phoenix Force’s weapons.
A darting figure off the Brit’s Phoenix Force leader’s changed direction and slammed into the redoubt’s stone wall before he slumped to the ground, one of Manning’s crossbow bolts protruding from the back of his neck. The big Canadian, moving in to cover McCarter’s back, had used his loaded crossbow to deal with the Chinese. Now he slung the weapon and exchanged it for his MP-5 as he closed the distance between himself and the Briton.
The full-on crackle of a Chinese assault rifle broke the silence, broadcasting the news that the redoubt was now under attack.
MAJOR KANG SNAPPED his head up at the sound of gunfire. He stared around him for a moment, gathering his thoughts, then pushed up off his seat. The rattle of weapons came as a distant, muffled sound, blanked by the thick walls of the structure, but it was gunfire.
The American team?
How had they got so close, so quickly? He dismissed that line of thought. No matter. They were here and engaging his men. He snatched up the assault rifle he had propped against the wall and turned to go.
And heard a soft, taunting laugh from the other side of the room.
Kang turned.
“You were supposed to catch them unaware, Major Kang. How many times now have they surprised you?”
He stared across at Mei Anna. Not for the first time was she mocking him. Despite the bruising and discoloration, her beautiful face still defied him. Her eyes held his gaze. The turn of her lips showed her contempt.
He aimed the assault rifle in her direction, snapping back the bolt to cock it, and his finger trembled against the trigger.
Oh, how he wanted to kill her. To see his bullets tear the sneer from her face and wrench the life from her body.
Never in his life had Kang wanted to see someone die as much as he wanted her to die. The urge was so great it took a sheer act of willpower to stay his finger from the trigger.
He had to keep her alive. She was his saving grace, the one thing that might save him from Director Han’s and Beijing’s wrath. Kang told himself again that he would be held ultimately responsible for what happened at Guang Lor. He alternated between righteous anger and panic. He was trapped, alone as the already judged perpetrator of this complex and undeserving accusation. Whichever way he turned, the pointing fingers were there. The whispers that condemned him for the entire catalog of errors that had seemed to spin beyond control. First the rogue missile crashing and the Pro-Democracy group snatching the offending circuit board from under his nose. Then the initial capture of not only the American invaders, but also Mei Anna. That victory had turned sour when the Americans had broken out of captivity and turned their destructive talents on Guang Lor, virtually laying the facility to waste. Kang’s pursuit had become a near rout.
In fact the only victory had been the recapture of Mei Anna.
And now the Americans had come back into China to make their final attempt to free her.
Kang had no intention of making a trade. He simply wanted the Americans back so he could wipe them off the face of the Earth. If any of them survived they would accompany Mei Anna to Beijing. If they died, so much the better. The thought crossed his mind as to whether they had brought the offending circuit board with them as a last-resort bargaining ploy. He hoped they had, because returning that item would show his resourcefulness. If he was honest, he doubted the item had made the return journey. The Americans might prize Mei Anna’s life highly and they would battle to the last to save her life, but the thought of using the circuit board to pay for that freedom wouldn’t have entered into their plans. Kang dismissed the thought. Right now the important matter was the destruction of the Americans. Other considerations faded to the back of his mind.
“Why don’t you just pull the trigger, Kang? Kill me like you want to. Oh, wait, you can’t because I’m important to you as long as I’m alive.”
Mei Anna, hands tied behind her back, had struggled into a sitting position on the low cot so she could face her tormentor.
Her words were bitter in his ears. Kang knew she would have sacrificed herself simply to render herself useless to his cause. Delivering her dead body to Beijing would be a pale victory against what the State could gain from her alive and on public trial. Mei Anna shown to the nation, denounced as a dissenting voice of unreason, was worth a dozen corpses. Beijing’s moral victory gained from humiliating and deriding her in a show of strength and nationalistic pride would gain far more.
“I may yet see you die,” he said. “But I expect it to be at your public execution, Mei Anna.”
Kang crossed the room and picked up the communications handset. He keyed the transmit button.
“This is Major Kang. All units move in. I want no mistakes this time.”
He turned quickly and exited the room. Outside he slammed the heavy wooden door and closed the bolts.
Even in the basement of the redoubt he could hear the rattle of gunfire. A surge of excitement raced through his body as he ran up the stone steps. This would be the final confrontation. One way or another matters would be settled here tonight, and he, Kang, would see his future settled irrevocably.
Stony Man Farm, Virginia
“JACK, YOU READ ME?”
Huntington Wethers waited impatiently, his gaze flicking back to his main monitor and the satellite image feed he had just picked up.
“Jack? Come in.”
“…hear you.”
“Listen up. I just acquired satellite imagery again. I lost it after downtime. I have Phoenix’s position on monitor now and there’s a set of images moving on them from the south. Looks like Kang had some people he kept in reserve. I see a chopper on the ground.”
“How long?”
“Minutes.”
“Thanks, Hunt. There goes my time out.”
WHILE DRAGON SLAYER fired up, Grimaldi opened his communications link with Phoenix Force.
“Heads up, ladies. You should be expecting company moving in from the south. Just got the word.”
“And?” came McCarter’s reply.
“I’m on my way. Fight the good fight, guys, and I’ll keep the party crashers off your back.”
THEY HAD BEEN ABLE to get imagery of the redoubt’s exterior. The inside of the squat stone structure was another matter
entirely. McCarter and Manning, taking a direct route to the building, saw the open entrance. What they would find inside was unknown to them.
The Phoenix Force pair moved in unison, each handling the threat coming from their particular direction, the suppressed MP-5’s seeking armed figures looming out of the darkness. The night-vision goggles they wore gave them an advantage, allowing them to spot their opponents emerging from the misty green images seconds before the Chinese were able to see them.
The 9 mm gunfire cut into the enemy gunners, pitching them to the ground, while McCarter and Manning kept up their forward motion.
Above their heads the sudden thunder of the machine gun on the roof told them that Calvin James had gained his position. The flickering bursts of flame from the weapon lit the darkness, the brassy clinking of shell casings littering the roof.
As they broached the entrance McCarter flattened against the wall, ejecting his spent magazine and locking in a fresh one. As he snapped the bolt back, cocking the weapon, Manning took an M-67 grenade from his harness, yanked the pin and released the lever. He counted off two of the four-second delay before tossing the grenade inside. The high explosive detonated, throwing deadly fragments cascade along the interior passage. Smoke billowed out through the open entrance.
McCarter allowed for the debris to fall before he ducked inside, his night-vision goggles letting him see along the smoky passage. There were two Chinese down, bodies bloody and still smoking from the blast. He heard Manning behind him. The Canadian kept an eye on the entrance to take on anyone coming up on their rear.
Pale light from fluorescent tubes suspended from the low ceiling allowed them to drop their goggles. Somewhere a generator rumbled, providing the power that charged the lights. The sound vibrated from beneath their feet.
The interior of the redoubt was crude and Spartan. Ahead of them, they could hear autofire and the harsh yell of angry voices. Then came the suppressed stutter of an MP-5.
“Rafe,” Manning said.
“We’re inside,” McCarter said into his com-link.
An acknowledgment came in the sudden blast of a grenade.
HAVING DISPOSED OF THE two guards he had spotted at the rear of the redoubt, Rafael Encizo pushed on to the rear entrance. It was nothing more than a wooden door, and even via his night-vision goggles the Cuban could see it was both weathered and flimsy. He took a moment to make certain his MP-5 was cocked and ready before turning and slamming a booted foot against the door. As it crashed inward Encizo twisted against the wall, hard against the rough stone. He heard the click of weapons and then the crackling burst of autofire as someone on the inside raked the exposed entrance.
He waited a few seconds, then crouched, leaned around the open frame and triggered his own weapon, sweeping the muzzle back and forth. He heard the 9 mm slugs hitting the inner walls, then caught the soft grunt as they scored a hit on human flesh.
The hard bursts from James’s machine gun followed as he ducked inside and scanned the passage ahead. The stamp of booted feet reached his ears and Encizo plucked a grenade from his harness.
He picked up McCarter’s terse affirmation that he was inside at the front of the redoubt.
Pulling the pin, Encizo rolled the grenade along the passage as he saw gunners emerge from the depths of the building.
KANG HEARD THE COMMOTION overhead as he raced up the stone steps leading from the basement—autofire, the steady crackle of the machine gun on the roof, and then coming close on each other, two grenade bursts. The detonations shook the walls of the redoubt, dust cascading from the ceiling.
He paused, glancing back over his shoulder at the locked basement door. More firing filled the redoubt. The door at the top of the steps burst open and three of his soldiers crowded through, firing as they retreated.
“Too many, Major,” one of the men yelled. “They are inside.”
Bullets struck the frame of the open door, splinters of wood flying from the post. The soldiers backed down the stairs, firing as they went, hoping to delay whoever was beyond the door.
Kang returned to the basement, his mind working frantically. It was going wrong again.
Damn those Americans. Each time he thought he had them outfoxed, they simply charged his defenses and just kept coming.
He keyed his handset. “Sergeant Lim? Can you hear me?”
There was nothing from the handset except static.
“Lim. I order you to answer.”
The line crackled and a disjointed voice leaped from the speaker.
“…order? Order what? We are under attack from a helicopter.”
“I need you here now,” Kang yelled, losing his composure and his desire for maintaining control. “No more of your excuses, Lim. You will do as I—”
Lim’s reply came in the form of heavy cannon fire. Some kind of powerful machine gun. Mingled with it were the yells and screams of injured men.
“Major Kang,” Lim screamed, “I don’t care what you want. My men are dying, so you can go to—”
Lim’s voice was cut off in midsentence, the handset emitting a final cacophony of jumbled sounds before falling completely silent.
“Major.”
Kang looked up and saw two black-clad figures at the top of the steps, their suppressed SMGs firing, punctured bodies tumbling back down the steps, bloody and torn. In the frenzied moment before he turned away Kang recognized the tall, grim-faced man from the American team, followed by a second broad-shouldered figure.
He turned and raced along the passage for the basement door. Kang slammed the bolts free and hauled the door open. He stepped inside, looking in the direction of the cot.
It was empty.
He lifted the assault rifle and swept the bare room. Only at the last moment did he sense someone moving in from his left side. He turned, a smile edging his lips.
Mei Anna, still with her hands bound behind her, took a couple of fast steps before launching herself at Kang, executing a high kick that slammed in under his jaw. The blow snapped his head back. Kang felt his teeth crunch together from the impact. Something broke and he tasted warm blood in his mouth. The kick sent him reeling, stumbling back across the room. He fought to take control, but his head was spinning and he found it hard to maintain his balance.
Landing on her feet, Mei Anna gathered herself to strike a second time. She could see that Kang was attempting to recover, and the sight of the assault rifle in his hands spurred her into a swift response. She ran across the hard floor, launching a full body slam that hit Kang chest-high. The impact threw him across the room and he fell, half rolling until the wall halted him. He lay panting, his body aching from the severe impact. He realized he had dropped his weapon and looked around for it. The weapon lay only feet away. Kang reached out and closed his finger over the rifle, dragging it to him. He sucked in deep breaths and pushed himself up off the floor.
When Anna impacted against Kang she lost her balance and crashed to the floor herself, the breath driven from her body. The side of her head struck the hard slabs and the blow made her black out for a few seconds. As she struggled to clear the fog from her brain, she tried to gain her feet. It was hard, with her bound hands and her sudden lack of strength.
She twisted around to find Kang and saw him using the wall at his back to support him as he pushed upright, his assault rifle back in his hands.
For a brief span their eyes met and held.
“If I lose, then so do you,” he said.
There was an odd blend of regret and envy in his tone, as if whatever else they might have against each other there was a sliver of respect. Kang stood for everything Mei Anna hated—repression and the overwhelming desire to deny the Chinese people their true destiny. Kang and his kind were reluctant to allow China to emerge from the gray shadows of the past into what could be a brighter future. The country had the will and the strength to become something far better than it was if only it shook off the trappings of the old ways. It had shown those things co
uld happen, but there were still too many in power who defied every move to turn full circle. Kang represented that old philosophy. He believed in it because it was all he had been taught. He knew nothing different and refused to bend—yet he saw the same determination in Mei Anna’s resolve and in that respect they were the same.
“It would have been interesting to have this out with you. But now it has come to this…”
Anna saw the assault rifle dip as he aimed it at her.
Kang licked at his bleeding mouth, almost smiling, but then she saw his eyes darken and he jerked his head toward the door.
“Kang.”
The tall foreigner stood in the doorway, his weapon trained on Kang.
Major Tchi Chuy Kang, who only a few days earlier had been on a rising career curve, stared into the black maw of inevitable destruction. He managed to finally rise to his feet, then deliberately turned the muzzle of his rifle on the man. At the back of his mind he had already accepted defeat. This time, no matter how he connived, or planned, or tried to negotiate, there was no way out. So he chose the only path left open for him and died in a burst from McCarter’s MP-5 that left him a bleeding, broken corpse on the basement floor of his final refuge.
“Gary, call Jack to see if he’s free for a fast pickup,” McCarter said as he crossed to help Mei Anna to her feet before using his knife to free her hands.
“This could become a habit,” Anna said.
“Don’t knock it,” McCarter said. “Now let’s get the hell out of here before the rest of the PLA turns up.”
He snatched up the assault rifle Kang had dropped and handed it to her. Anna checked it, then nodded, following him and Manning out of the room.
“PICK UP ON THE ROOF,” Grimaldi said into his com-link. “I’m swinging around now. Just tell that trigger-happy guy up there I’m on your side.”
China Crisis (Stony Man) Page 19