“You won’t be getting out of here now,” said Li when the man was finished. “This place will be swarming with my colleagues in seconds.”
“Then help us,” said the professor, stepping forward. “You know I’m innocent.” He nodded toward the third soldier, who Li suddenly recognized as the man who had arrived earlier today from the embassy.
“Mr. Brown!”
The man nodded, an eyebrow climbing up his forehead.
“Inspector Li.”
“What are you doing here?” asked Li, shocked at the realization that two of the soldiers were white, the third Asian, but not Chinese. Korean?
“You know very well that your government has given orders for Professor Acton to be executed tomorrow. We can’t let that happen.”
Li’s jaw dropped.
“How could you know?”
Mr. Brown didn’t answer.
“Inspector, you know I’m innocent. I don’t deserve to die for trying to do the right thing.”
Li looked at the professor, then slowly nodded.
He’s right. He doesn’t deserve to die. And I’m a coward if I let it happen without at least speaking up.
Li sucked in a breath and stood slightly taller, a decision made.
“I was serious when I said you won’t get out of here. At least not that way,” he said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder at the door they had all come through. “If you release me, I’ll show you how to get out of here.”
Mr. Brown waved off the other two men, dressed exactly like PLA soldiers, and he found himself once again a free man.
“Follow me,” he said, stepping forward and past Mr. Brown and the professor. He broke out into a jog toward the end of the corridor, then turned right, continuing toward the far end. In less than a minute they were at an outer door, sealed, but unguarded.
“This is a special transfer area for dangerous or, shall we say, secret, offenders. It is never guarded as it is rarely used. Through here, you will be at the rear of the building. Fifty meters straight, and you are in the parking lot, where I’m sure you can find a vehicle. But you must hurry, the security computers will finish rebooting at any moment and the cameras will become active.”
Li removed the pass that was clipped to his shirt, then slid it through the card reader. It beeped, displaying a green light, and the door lock clicked. He pulled the door open and urged them through. The two men who had guarded him went through first, then the professor extended his hand.
“Thank you, Inspector.”
Li shook Acton’s hand as Mr. Brown approached.
“Tell them you saw several suspicious looking people, came to investigate, we forced you at gunpoint here, stole your pass, and knocked you out. That way you should be okay.”
“But—” started Li, about to ask about the knocking out part, when Mr. Brown’s hand raised above his head, then came down hard, the pistol grip impacting his skull, immediately sending him to the ground in a rapidly darkening world.
Sleeping Quarters, Bo Yang’s Mobile Headquarters, Beijing, China
Laura’s head whipped to the left and it took a moment to comprehend what she was seeing. Dawson, thought to be out cold, was anything but. He was already on his feet, and had the closest guard in a choke hold with his left arm, his right hand reaching for the man’s weapon.
And Laura reacted.
She pushed from her cot, sweeping her right leg along the floor, kicking out the legs from under the second guard. As he fell to the ground, she heard a shot ring out, and the third man jerked backward, toward the door as another shot rang out, her own man jerking from the impact. She looked up and saw the liberated handgun pressed against the only surviving guard’s temple.
“How do we get out of here?” demanded Dawson.
The guard was terrified, and kept looking at his dead comrades. Laura meanwhile took the opportunity to strip the two dead men of their weapons, sticking a semi-automatic pistol in her belt, and slinging a Type 80 machine pistol over her shoulder, pocketing several clips. She tossed the other handgun to the cop, who still seemed in shock, then turned to the Ambassador, holding up the other Type 80.
“Do you know how to use this?”
“Three tours in ’Nam.”
Laura smiled and tossed him the weapon and threw a few clips on the cot beside him. She grabbed the man who had brought the box of supplies and pulled his body inside, it blocking the door open. Taking up position at the door, she closed it over, leaving a slight gap she could look through.
“One target, twenty feet, coming this way, cautiously. He’s got his weapon out.”
“Ask him how we get out of here.”
Laura glanced over her shoulder and saw Dawson push the prisoner toward Ping, the gun still pressed against the man’s head, and the Ambassador going through the supplies that had just been delivered.
He looked up at her. “Don’t mind me, Professor,” he said as he filled his pockets with the military rations. “We don’t know when we’ll get a chance at supplies again.”
“Good thinking,” she said. She motioned with her chin at the cot. “Take a pillow cover, get some of the water and the med kit.”
“Better thinking,” said the Ambassador with a smile as he quickly complied.
“Five feet,” she announced.
“Take him out,” said Dawson.
“Taking him out,” announced Laura, squeezing the trigger. There was a loud crack, and the man dropped. There was shouting, but not as much as she had expected.
It’s as if there’s hardly anybody here.
Ping asked something in Chinese, and the man quickly blurted out a reply.
“End of the hallway, there’s a door, it leads outside,” translated Ping.
“Where to then?” asked Dawson. Another exchange in Chinese.
“He doesn’t know where we are, we’re apparently in a mobile HQ.”
Dawson coldcocked the man and he dropped in a heap. He stripped him of weapons as Laura threw the door open and exited, covering their escape. Dawson took point, the Ambassador and Ping following. Laura quickly backed her way toward the end of the hall as she heard several single shots ring out, each followed either by a cry or merely the thump of a body hitting the floor.
She walked by a room and felt her heart slam into her chest as the door suddenly jerked open. A man in his sixties, the uniform crisp, the insignia marking him as somebody high ranking, gaped at her, then jumped aside as she aimed at him and fired. She missed, his reaction time too quick, and the door was kicked closed from the inside, but not before she caught a glimpse of a Qing Dynasty flag mounted on the rear wall.
Odd.
She heard a door open behind her, and an engine roar to life. The entire building jerked, and it took a moment to connect what was happening with what had been said earlier.
Mobile HQ.
“We’re in a truck!” she exclaimed.
“Let’s go!” yelled Dawson. She glanced over her shoulder and saw him push Ping out the door, then the Ambassador, as the view from outside began to move. He grabbed her by the back of the shirt and she spun around, jumping out the back and rolling as she hit the ground, immediately regaining her balance and aiming her weapon directly in front of her as she surveyed their surroundings.
Ping spoke up.
“I recognize this area, follow me.”
Shouts began to fill the alley they appeared to be in as they all followed Ping at a sprint. Gunfire erupted behind them, and the pounding of booted feet sent her pulse racing.
Somebody cried out in front of her, and she saw the Ambassador stumble. She rushed forward and ducked down, pulling his arm over her shoulder as she took some of the weight off of what was an apparently wounded leg.
“Let’s keep moving, Ambassador,” she said as she helped him around the corner and out of their pursuers’ line of fire.
Ping was way out in front of them now, the Ambassador moving much slower.
“Ping!” called Laura.
Ping looked back and stopped, then suddenly jumped out in front of a car as it turned the corner onto the small street they were on. She aimed her weapon at the windshield and the car skidded to a halt. Without hesitating, she opened the driver side door and yanked the terrified man out, tossing him on the ground as Dawson grabbed the Ambassador.
“Cover us,” he ordered, as he hauled the ailing man toward their commandeered vehicle.
Laura spun around and backed toward the car, her machine pistol aimed at the opening of the alley they had just come from. The muffled boots continued to pound, and the shouts got louder, until they finally exploded into crystal clear clarity as several men erupted from the alleyway.
She squeezed the trigger, spraying the area with lead, two of the men falling prey to her well-aimed shots, the others scattering.
“Let’s go!” she heard Dawson yell.
Tires squealed and she glanced over her shoulder as she fired several more rounds. The car was in the midst of a 180, repositioning itself for their escape.
The rear door was pushed open and she ran toward the car, emptying the last of her clip toward the alleyway blindly as she jumped into the back seat, and on top of a groaning ambassador.
The car jerked forward, sending her tumbling behind the seats. She heard several pistol rounds fire nearby, and saw through the confusion Dawson squeezing off rounds out the passenger side window to cover their escape. The rear window exploded as they were hit by return fire, and Dawson ducked back into the vehicle.
She forced herself to her knees and reloaded her Type 80 as the car suddenly jerked to the left, sending her hard against the door. It flew open and she found herself falling toward the pavement, both hands occupied by the task at hand.
An iron grip grabbed her by the shoulder, and pulled her back inside.
“We’re clear!” yelled Ping.
As soon as the words were out of her mouth a car to their left exploded in a fireball that shot thirty feet into the air.
“Holy shit!” exclaimed Dawson as he reached over and jerked the wheel, sending them into another alleyway.
“What the hell was that?” asked Laura as she climbed into position to cover them through the now non-existent rear window.
But she didn’t need to wait for the answer as she gasped at what came around the corner after them.
A diesel belching tank, its treads chewing up the pavement as it rapidly turned the corner, its turret swinging directly toward them as it lined up for a second shot.
“Get us out of here!” she screamed.
Sleeping Quarters, Bo Yang’s Mobile Headquarters, Beijing, China
Bo Yang surveyed the carnage. His trusted Captain was dead, only moments after having spoken to him, and two of his guards were also killed. The HQ jerked to a halt and he reached for a wall to steady himself. The rear door burst opened and he glanced down the hall to see several of his staff jump aboard, led by guards from one of several support vehicles.
He took one final look at the bodies, then strode quickly to his office as the officers followed him inside.
“Status!” he yelled.
“We’ve relocated here,” said General Liang, pointing at a map on the wall. “One of our staging areas. Our men are in pursuit of the escaped prisoners.”
A thunderous sound was heard that caused the entire room to shake.
“What the hell was that?”
But he knew what it was. It was a tank firing; he recognized the sound from his visits to various military installations over the decades, fostering goodwill for this very day.
“Who the hell ordered a tank to open fire?” he demanded.
No one in the room dared answer, so he fixed his glare on his armored commander, whose eyes darted to the floor. “I will look into it at once, sir!” he said, jumping up on the balls of his feet then running out the door.
An orderly rushed into the room, handing General Liang a dispatch. Liang smiled as he read it.
“Sir, martial law has been declared until the perpetrators of the sniper attacks, and the kidnapping of the American Ambassador, are in custody. Apparently somebody just effected the escape of Professor James Acton and they’re in a panic!” Liang smiled, waving the page. “This is what we’ve been waiting for! We’ve been given orders to send our troops into the city to restore order.”
Bo dropped into his chair, leaning an arm behind him and absentmindedly running his fingers along the silk of the flag he honored.
And smiled.
He looked from man to man in the room, realizing the order he was about to give would change China forever. Leaning forward, elbows on the arms of his chair, hands clasped firmly in front of him, he took in a deep, slow breath, the rehearsed speech he had planned for this moment gone in the excitement.
“It’s time to take China into the future, gentlemen. Commence the operation.”
They all snapped to attention, saluting, then rushed from his office. The door closed, he spun around and stared at the dragon, its seemingly futile attempt to climb the pole about to succeed.
The coup d'état had begun.
Approaching Tiananmen Square, Beijing, China
Laura Palmer gripped the back of the seat, trying to keep her balance as Ping maneuvered the car in a zigzag pattern up and down alleyways and side streets, trying to keep ahead of the tank by at least one corner, but several dead ends and alleyways blocked with delivery vehicles had caused them to double-back several times, leaving the tank always just out of sight.
“Stop!” yelled Dawson. “Reverse!”
Ping complied, slamming the car in reverse and driving like a maniac in the direction they had just come, but not nearly as straight. Several garbage cans fell prey to her swerves, and Laura desperately wished she were behind the wheel, her driving skills apparently far superior to the young police officer’s.
Laura ducked as the contents of a bin flew up and over the car, some of it pelting her through the rear window. She looked down the alley where they had been heading, and saw the tank roll up, its turret rotating into position.
“We’ve got about five seconds!” she yelled when she felt the car screech to a halt.
“Forward!” yelled Dawson.
Ping complied, but followed it with an “are you crazy?” look as the car surged toward the tank. Laura glanced through the rear window and saw a delivery truck had just cut them off, blocking the alleyway. Looking forward, her heart hammered faster with each meter they closed between them and the metal beast hell-bent on destroying them.
“Get ready to bail!” yelled Dawson, one hand already on the door handle. Laura slid over to his side, and opened the door slightly. “Brake when I tell you, then get out and start running away from the tank.”
Ping nodded, saying nothing.
“Brake!” yelled Dawson. The car jerked to a halt, sending Laura against the back of the passenger seat. For a moment she was disoriented, but felt her door jerk open, and a hand grab her. She stumbled from the car, then was pushed forward by Dawson. “Keep running, don’t look back!”
But she had to.
She glanced over her shoulder and saw Ping at least a dozen paces behind her, terror etched on her face, her eyes bulged with fear, and Dawson pulling the Ambassador from the backseat and heaving him onto his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. The alleyway compressed the sound, and the round belching from the turret sent a shockwave toward them. She couldn’t tell if it hit them first, or if the car they had just been in erupted into a fireball first, either way, they were all thrown to the ground.
Dawson was up first, pulling Laura to her feet. “Keep going!” he yelled as he picked up the Ambassador. Laura grabbed Ping and ran toward the delivery truck, its driver and the lumper standing, mouths agape, staring at what had just happened.
“Get out of here!” yelled Laura, waving her hands to the sides, hoping they’d understand to get out of the alley.
But they just stood, frozen.
She reached the dri
ver first, and saw an open door to the left.
“Over here!” she yelled, shoving the driver through the doorway, and diving inside after him. Another round erupted from the tank, slamming into the delivery truck, shoving it farther down the alleyway before it exploded.
A body flew through the door, landing on the driver as Laura jumped to her feet. Another followed, and just as the fireball roared toward them, she saw Dawson pushing toward the door, obviously having taken time to save the innocent bystander. She reached out and grabbed his outstretched hand, yanking him inside, providing that little bit of extra momentum that allowed him to clear the threshold just as the fireball exploded through the open doorway. She slammed the steel door shut, and the roar instantly dulled as they all tried to catch their breath.
Dawson let go of her hand and jumped to his feet, pulling everyone else to theirs and collecting the Ambassador. “Let’s get out of here.”
Ping asked something in Chinese, and the men pointed deeper into the building. She replied with her hands, urging them forward.
She didn’t have to urge hard.
They ran fast, dodging between boxes stacked to the ceiling, and through a dizzying number of doors and small rooms, but with each step they were farther from the tank, and Laura began to relax. A little.
And suddenly they were outside, the fresh cool nighttime air a relief compared to the claustrophobic thickness inside.
“We need to get somewhere public, and get the Ambassador to a hospital,” said Dawson.
Ping pointed to their right. “One block, Tiananmen Square,” she said. Dawson nodded. “Let’s go!”
They broke into a sprint, and the two men ran with them, probably not entirely certain as to why. One of them pulled out a cellphone, which Ping immediately grabbed. They ran past an alley and Laura caught a glimpse of the tank pursuing them, already rushing toward the street they were now on.
“We’re gonna have company!” she yelled as they suddenly burst onto a large boulevard filled with a steady stream of nighttime traffic, but to Laura’s dismay, there was almost no pedestrian traffic to mingle with.
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