“She’s terrified she’s going to lose you, and if you don’t survive she’s going to have to find the strength to go on. You need to forgive her for living even if you don’t survive. You need to forgive her for being exhausted, short-tempered and confused because she’s spending all her strength trying to save you. Otherwise this dependence of yours will kill both of you.”
Unable to come up with a quick or witty response, Vic just sat back in the loveseat and let Tigress’ words sink in. It made sense, Ming had been burning the candle at both ends for almost a month now, ever since Viktor arrived in New York.
“Good, you’re thinking.” Tigress sipped her tea.
Vic nodded, returning her attention to her own cup of tea. It was a lot to think about, and not the kind of thing that usually crossed her mind. Death wasn’t the sort of thing she expected to see coming.
The ringing of the bell brought her attention back to the present in time to see Tigress rising smoothly to her feet, putting one finger in front of her mouth.
Vic took the hint and stayed in the loveseat. It took both hands to hold the teacup steady, but she still wanted to get up and join Tigress in the front of the store. The way the teacup was moving she wouldn’t be able to hold a gun even if she had one. Vic took a deep breath and forced herself to steady the teacup.
“How are you feeling?” Ming came through the curtain with Gilly close behind.
Vic creaked to her feet and extended her arms to hug Ming. “Better now that I can stand up.”
“Don’t get up too fast, you’re not as strong as you’re used to.” Ming wrapped her arms around Vic, squeezing a bit too tight.
Vic’s first reaction was to try and break free, but then her eyes met Tigress’ and she just squeezed back, resting her chin on Ming’s shoulder. She couldn’t do much but at least she could let Ming know she appreciated all her efforts.
A moment later, Ming broke the hug and guided Vic back down to the loveseat.
Once they were both sitting down, Vic squeezed Ming’s hand and then leaned forward to pour her a cup of tea. “So how did it go?”
“Well enough once I dropped Gilly off in the underground parking.” Ming took her cup of tea from Vic’s hand and took a deep draught.
“She figured a large colored man might scare the secret police,” Gilly said with a laugh. “We couldn’t have that.”
“Anyway,” Ming continued, “with Mr. Chanter safely ensconced in the parking garage, I found a maid’s uniform and made my way upstairs.
“There was a squad of kempeitai guarding the main elevators in the lobby, but they hadn’t made it up to our floor yet. Nobody pays attention to maids so I was able to slip up to the suite and get inside. I couldn’t carry too much without drawing unwanted attention, but I did get the remaining supply of your mineral and Doc’s money belt.
“It looked to me like they were planning to roll us up as we came back to the hotel.”
“Makes sense,” Gilly put in from his perch on the edge of the acupuncture table. “I saw a Paddy Wagon parked near the freight elevator. We would have come rolling in the front door all fat and happy, and they could have rolled us up without taking time to frown.”
Vic nodded. “So Doc’s in lockup and the secret police are already looking for the three of us. I can walk, but I’m still faster in with Gilly pushing me in the wheelchair. So it’s three people against however much of the Japanese army is in Dairen.”
“Four people.” Tigress came over and hugged Ming. “I’m not going to leave my only daughter in the lurch; besides I owe Doc one, and the Japanese quite another.”
“I thought you supported the Japanese?”
“That was before, when you could say I was suffering from tunnel vision. I was so focused on the Dutch East Indies that I didn’t realize what was happening in China.” Even Vic, who couldn’t say she knew her well noticed how hard Tigress’ face had become.
“So I set up shop here where I could keep an eye on my flying wing. I may no t be able to get it back, but at least I can make sure it’s not being used against my own people.”
“What about your ligers?” Gilly looked around. “This shop doesn’t look big enough.”
“It doesn’t bring in enough to feed them, either. I dropped them off in the jungles of Sumatra months ago.” Her eyes glistened. “It was best for them.”
Ming leaned over and squeezed her mother’s hand.
“So, four of us,” Vic corrected herself. “That works; we only have three objectives: rescue Doc, get more of the mineral, and get out of the city.”
“Does that mean I get the day off?” Gilly joked.
“Nope, it means you pull double duty.” Vic sipped her tea, wishing it was Coke. Oh well, at least it wasn’t Gus’s Earl Grey.
“Gilly, can you bring me my purse?” Ming asked, leaning in against Vic. “I left it out front.”
As Gilly got up, Vic started running through her mental checklist. First, where exactly were they keeping Doc? How was he guarded? Could they spring him out or should they wait until the Japanese tried to move him? Could they wait?
Argh, she growled deep in her throat. There were too many unknowns. She wanted to pace, but the back room was too small.
Vic reached for her tea, only to find her hand closing on a cool glass bottle. Ming had found her a Coke. “Thank you.”
She took a deep swig of her Coke, followed by a deep breath. “Right, first things first. Doc went to the Prefectural Office this morning. Assuming he’s still there; where would they be keeping him, and can we get him out?”
“He’s probably in the basement holding cells,” Tigress volunteered, having taken her seat across from Vic and Ming. “They’re usually pretty lightly guarded; the kempeitai use them mostly for low-risk political prisoners. I spent a night there before the Japanese decided I wasn’t worth holding on to.”
Vic rubbed her chin. “How secure is the building? Lots of guards or just a few?”
“Maybe a squad or two of soldiers.” Tigress wrinkled her brow. “It’s more an office building than a military headquarters.”
“So not a lot of eyes to worry about, but more soldiers than we can overpower.” Something tickled the back of Vic’s brain, but she couldn’t quite get her mind on it.
“Is there anyone else in the building?” Gilly asked.
Tigress smiled. “Cleaners; they have a crew come through every night at around eleven.”
“How well do you know those cleaners?”
“Well enough to add a couple of women to the crew.” Tigress glanced over at her daughter. “Ming and I can join in and then slip away.”
“If you’ve got bleach and acetone, I can mix up some chloroform.” Ming settled slightly on the loveseat. “Everyone expects cleaners to carry rags. Ours will just have a little more kick to them.”
“That works,” Vic replied. “What about me? And Gilly?”
“You two will just have to sit this one out.” Tigress got up and started another kettle. “Nobody would be surprised about two more Chinese women on the cleaning crew. A Russian redhead and a large colored man are a different story. Besides, I’ve heard about what you do to Mandarin.”
Vic sighed. “You’re right. I just hate being the one to sit and wait.”
“That’s an understatement.” Ming laughed, shaking her head. “You have absolutely no patience when someone else is doing the work.”
“I can’t help it.”
“Well, you are going to have to help it tonight,” Tigress cut in. “Even if could pass for one of the cleaning crew, doing the job would put you flat on your back in about ten minutes and then we’d have to take care of you. Why don’t you play solitaire or something?”
Gilly and Ming both looked at her, and spoke in unison. “You don’t want her playing solitaire.”
“Why not?” It was Tigress’ turn to look confused. “It’s a great way to pass the time.”
“Not when she uses razor sharp cards.” Gil
ly turned to look at Vic, who had the grace not to stick her tongue out at him.
“They keep it from getting boring.” Vic shrugged. “I know, you’re all afraid I’ll hurt myself.”
“You would.” Tigress leaned over and picked up the silk case that held her acupuncture needles. “These aren’t magic; I couldn’t bring you back up to your full strength. I can put you back in that wheelchair though.”
“Okay, I’ll stay behind. Is there anything else you need?”
With that, they started seriously planning.
#
Doc sat quietly in the middle of his cell; listening. The building had begun to quiet down around six, and he had spent the time since then building a mental map of the building. He started by building a picture of the parts he had actually seen, and once he had that image held securely in mind lowered himself into a trance state. The deeper he went, the more he focused on what he heard, letting faint echoes slowly build up a picture of the spaces around him. The Prefectural Office was huge, and there were a lot of closed doors so it was hard to pick up too many details.
What few he could discern showed a largely empty building with guards at all the entrances he could sense. Even after most of the people had left and the night shift arrived there were still two guards in the guardroom. At around eleven o’clock he started hearing more movement from upstairs, probably the cleaners seeing as he hadn’t seen any around the building when he arrived.
After a deep cleansing breath, he brought himself back out of the trance. He couldn’t trace movements throughout the building, but at least his mental model was nice and sharp. The concrete floor was cold beneath his stocking feet, which wasn’t surprising considering he’d heard the furnace turn off right at six. Reaching inside his waistband, he felt around until he found a small knotted thread among the stitches. Catching it in his fingernails, he gripped the thread and pulled. The hem unraveled, revealing a small pouch less than an inch on a side. Pulling it open, he revealed a tiny set of tools including a pair of folding lock picks and a small blade.
After extending the lock picks, he slipped one arm through the bars and twisted his wrist to get the picks into the keyhole. After another breath to center himself, Doc closed his eyes and eased the pick into the single entry deadlock. As he explored the lock with the pick, he built up another mental picture, visualizing the interior of the lock and position of all the pins and tumblers. Each quiet clink of metal on metal helped Doc build another picture element, the same way a bat used echolocation to navigate at night. His lock picks were small and he had to hold them carefully so that they didn’t fold back on themselves inside the lock. Luckily, the Japanese hadn’t bothered with expensive locks so there weren’t many tumblers.
A moment later, the last pin dropped, releasing the bolt. Now came the tricky part; Doc had to turn the cylinder to retract the bolt while keeping all the tumblers in the open position. Carefully manipulating the picks with the tips of his fingers and thumb, he applied just enough pressure to start the cylinder turning.
He had barely got it into motion when one of the guards yelled from the guardroom, followed immediately by the peal of alarm bells. Despite the shock, Doc forced himself to keep focused. The bells totally destroyed his situational awareness, drowning out the faint sounds he relied on.
Fighting the temptation to open his eyes, he leaned his head against the door. Tracking the movement as best he could with bone conduction, Doc turned the cylinder as far as it would go. Thanks to the alarm bells, he felt the bolt slide back rather than heard it, but it was enough. Palming the picks, he pulled his hand back through the bars.
Doc opened his eyes as he pushed out into the corridor. Either the yelling had stopped or the bells were too loud for him to hear it. A shadow filled the small window in the doorway, so he dove for cover, trying to place himself beside the door as it opened.
Seconds before the door could open, he was pressed against the bars in front of the first cell. Moments later the door began to swing wide, and he reached out to rip the guard’s hand off the knob. His hand closed on a surprisingly small wrist, and he was surprised to find himself looking Tigress in the eye.
“Come on,” she mouthed in English, pulling her wrist backwards.
Doc followed her through the doorway to find Ming removing a cloth from one of the guards’ faces. As she put the cloth away he caught the faint scent of chloroform. Both Ming and her mother were dressed in dark shapeless dresses with matching head cloths. The two guards were laying on the floor unconscious. It was hard to hear anything over the bells, but when Ming opened the curtains on the side of the janitor’s cart Doc slipped in between the two bins.
It was dark and close, with a strong odor of garbage. Between the smell, the darkness, and the shrilling alarm bells Doc felt totally cut off from the world. Moments later, the cart lurched into motion. The women were clearly struggling with the added weight, as were the cart’s casters.
They quickly lurched through the doorway and turned right.
As they moved, Doc tried his best to map their location to his mental image of the Prefectural Office. It was easy enough at first as he had been brought this way, but after only a handful of turns even he was having issues. It didn’t help that there wasn’t much room for his six foot four, two hundred and forty-pound frame on the janitorial cart. After about ten minutes, the two women wheeled him into a freight elevator.
A minute later the doors closed, letting the elevator clank into motion. No sooner had it started moving than the alarm bells cut off.
Doc took a sharp breath, and climbed out of the cart.
“Quick, get back in,” Ming hissed, gesturing towards the curtains. “They’ll see you.”
“They already know I’m here,” Doc said. “That’s why they shut off the alarm. I expect there’ll be a whole squad in front of us the moment those doors open. I don’t suppose you came armed?”
Ming’s eyes went wide, while Tigress just set her shoulders. “Just a pair of knives.”
“I’ve got plenty of chloroform.” Ming straightened up and reached into her bag of cloths.
“How full are the bins?” Doc asked, rolling his shoulders to loosen them.
“Maybe half?” Ming replied. “We spent more time working our way down than actually working.”
Doc pulled the bins off the ends of the cart and flipped it on its side. “Get behind it.”
The two women scrambled behind the cart while Doc hefted the bins, one in each hand. Then, they waited. It was only another twenty seconds or so, but even with Doc’s mental discipline the time dragged. As the elevator came to a stop, Doc lifted the bins like a pair of shields. Chains creaked from in front of him as the doors started to open like a giant mouth, and this mouth had bayonets for teeth!
No sooner had the gap between doors reached a couple of inches than Doc scanned the room beyond. Two soldiers to his right operated the door with a set of heavy ropes. Eight more faced the opening, watching Doc over leveled Arisaka rifles. Colonel Senda stood off to one side, a sheathed blade in his hands.
As the door halves moved apart Doc let his perception of time slow, enabling him to examine the situation in more detail. At this rate, he could read the expressions on each soldier’s face, seeing who looked more frightened and who looked ready to pull the trigger. Senda himself looked ready to strike, one hand on the hilt of his sword, the other on the scabbard. The soldiers on the ropes looked completely unready, with their rifles leaning against the far wall. Meanwhile, Ming and Tigress looked ready to go despite the odds.
The moment the two doors passed an invisible point in space Doc exploded into action. Each of the bins weighed about ten pounds empty, and held about twice that weight of trash. Doc swung his arms outward, launching both bins simultaneously. Less than a second later he followed the two bins through the opening with a yell.
Five bodies hit the floor at once, four soldiers and Doc, as the two trash bins rattled down the tiled floor. The so
ldiers hit the floor hard, while Doc hit and bounced, rolling to his feet against the far wall with a rifle in his hand. As the soldiers closed he raised the rifle, which barked twice. Light bulbs shattered against the ceiling, plunging the hallway into near-total darkness.
“Get him!” Senda yelled, drawing his blade. “I want him alive!”
The remaining soldiers charged Doc, their rifles clubbed. He blocked the first two, ducking under their attacks and ramming the butt of his own rifle into the nearest man’s crotch. Taking advantage of his superior night vision, he sidestepped the next pair and stuck out a leg to trip them into the wall. Meanwhile Tigress slipped out from one side of the cart and headed towards Senda, both knives drawn.
In the next ten seconds, Doc took down three more of the soldiers. Off to the side, the clash of steel told him that Tigress had reached Senda. Ming, on the other hand, seemed to have disappeared into the darkness.
The two who had been pulling the ropes closed in on Doc, driving him against the wall as he struggled to hold off four men at once.
The clatter of steel on tile caught Doc’s attention and he looked through his attackers to see Senda with his sword blade against Tigress’ neck. She had lost both knives and was struggling to hold the steel clear of her skin.
“Stop struggling or the woman dies!” Senda barked, forcing Tigress around to face Doc.
Despite the dim light, the look of fear in Tigress’ eyes was unmistakable. Doc sagged against the wall. The four men he was facing were no threat, but he couldn’t get to Senda before Senda got to Tigress’ throat.
As Doc tried to figure out how to save Tigress without surrendering, Ming appeared behind Colonel Senda and pressed a white cloth against his face. Tigress pushed Senda’s blade aside as the chloroform took effect.
The moment Ming moved Doc took action, slamming heads together. Standing like a giant amongst the much smaller Japanese soldiers, he threw them aside like ten pins. Within a matter of moments, Doc, Ming, and Tigress were the only ones standing.
Giant Robots of Tunguska Page 9