As he stepped into the gap between the cars, his eyes fixed on Kalikani’s crouching figure. The cop, with his left arm encased in plaster and bandaged, sensed Yeung’s presence. He turned his handgun in Yeung’s direction.
Yeung fired without thought, pulling the trigger rapidly.
Only one of his shots found a target—Kalikani’s right shoulder, turning the cop half around.
As Lopaka moved forward, pistol gripped in both hands, she saw a second shooter peering around the edge of the garage.
It was Rudy Tasker.
Kalikani had not been wrong about the man.
The image of six dead cops rose in her mind, unbidden but strong. They had died because of the hijack, and Tasker was involved. She kept moving.
She wanted Tasker. There was no way he could be allowed to get away with what he had done.
As she moved around the parked cars, she caught a glimpse of Kalikani. Down on one knee, his right shoulder bloody. He had taken a bullet.
* * *
“GET TASKER,” LYONS CALLED.
Lopaka slid around the rear of the closest car, tracking in on Tasker as the rogue cop stepped from cover. There was a wild look on his face, as if he had chosen to make a final stand.
Well, okay, she thought, I’ll help you see that come true.
Lopaka moved into the open, her S&W tracking Tasker’s moving shape.
“Tasker,” she called out. “Put the gun down. Do it now.”
She knew in that instant he was not going to take any notice. He turned his head, looking at her as if he couldn’t believe she was there.
“Gun down now.”
“No way,” he screamed.
Lopaka saw Tasker’s pistol arcing around in her direction.
No, you won’t make it.
She put two fast shots into his chest. Saw them punch him back. He leaned against the garage door. His weapon kept coming toward her. Lopaka fired again, pulling the trigger as fast as she was able, and saw the multiple shots hit. Blood flew from the wounds. Tasker’s face crumpled. His arms flew wide, his weapon slipping from his fingers. He twisted sideways, toppling along the garage door, leaving a wet smear where emerging slugs had spattered blood. He struck the ground, body arching in a spasm....
* * *
CARL LYONS HAD moved to the right, around the cars, his Colt Python lining up on the Chinese guy as the man opened fire.
Lyons saw the need for a fast result. Kalikani, hampered by his injuries, had himself boxed in between a pair of shooters. The HPD cop’s slowed responses were not going to help his situation.
Lyons was under no such disability.
The Chinese shooter was so intent on his current target that he hadn’t even seen Lyons. Which worked for the ex-cop. He centered the Python’s muzzle on the Chinese and put all six rounds into the guy.
Kai Yeung felt the solid slam of the first .357 Magnum slug as it ripped through his left shoulder and blew out in a bloody gush. The impact of the high-velocity round scrambled Yeung’s nerves, and he was unable to stop himself from gasping. His arm dropped loosely at his side. Before Yeung had time to respond, Lyons’s follow-up shots hit him with enough force to kick him off his feet. The powerful slugs dug into his body, tearing apart muscle and bone, reducing internal organs to mush. Yeung went down in a loose, ungainly heap, blood spreading across his body and the paving stones beneath him. The blood continued until his heart stopped beating and internal pressure dwindled.
Lyons recognized the Chinese man as the guy who had been asking all the questions when they had had him bound at the warehouse. The one who had walked away and left Lyons with the North Korean, Yun.
What goes around, comes around, Lyons thought. It was all tying up nicely.
As Lyons moved between the cars to go to Kalikani’s aid, he automatically ejected spent cartridges and took a speed-loader from his jacket, inserting the fresh bullets into the Python. He holstered the pistol and bent over Kalikani. One of the bullets from Yeung had hit him in the right shoulder. It hadn’t gone through, and despite the blood loss, Kalikani was still able to respond.
“Any more in the house?” Lyons asked.
“I’m pretty sure there are no more.”
“That must be a disappointment,” Lopaka said as she joined them. “You could go ahead and take them on, as well.”
The tone of her voice showed she was not pleased with Kalikani.
“The guy is hurt,” Lyons said.
“What part of wait until we show up did you not understand, O?”
“Yeah, okay, I guess I was a little hasty.”
“Really?” Lopaka’s face registered her feelings. She walked away, her back to Lyons and Kalikani.
“Oscar, I think she likes you,” Lyons said. “That girl really does.”
Kalikani glanced up. “You think so?”
The distant wail of sirens sounded, coming their way.
“HPD to the rescue,” Lyons said.
“A little late, but still welcome,” Kalikani said. He leaned against the side of one of the cars. “Brother, it has been a busy couple of days since you guys showed up. You always bring it to the party?”
Lyons said, “One way or another, I guess we do.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
NORTH KOREA
Major Choi heard the rasp of sound from his comm set. He adjusted the microphone and spoke.
“Have you seen them?”
“No, Major. The foreigners have not returned to where they landed.”
“They must have changed to another destination, once they saw you had discovered their equipment.”
“Wait,” the speaker said. He conversed with someone close by. “Major, they have been seen heading in the direction of the harbor. Perhaps going for one of the patrol boats there.”
“Listen to me. Go after them. If they gain a boat, they will be heading out to sea. I will call for the roving patrol boat to meet me at the rendezvous point where they came ashore. The bigger boat can outrun our smaller craft.”
“Yes, Major.”
Choi used his comm set to raise area command and asked to be put into contact with the closest patrol boat. When he made contact, he asked for the captain’s help in apprehending the infiltrators.
“Where will you be?” the patrol boat commander asked.
Choi knew his area well and told the patrol boat captain the exact beach location.
“I can be there in twenty minutes. I will send in a dinghy to pick you up.”
Choi beckoned to one of his soldiers. “Go and commandeer a useable vehicle. I need you to drive me.”
The man nodded and hurried away.
Choi turned and looked at his wrecked research site. Smoke still escaped through shattered windows and where the roof had collapsed. More smoke rose from behind the building where the wrecked helicopters and the fuel bunker still blazed. The anger inside threatened to overwhelm him as he realized just how quickly everything had changed. The infiltrators had destroyed his facility and the electronic equipment housed there. They had taken away the traitor Li Kam and were, even now, attempting to escape.
If he did little else before his failure reached Pyongyang, he had to locate and capture the people who had done this to him. He knew his own reputation was in tatters. There was nothing he could do about that. But at least he could make some kind of gesture toward Pyongyang by recapturing the invaders. A faint glimmer of hope began to burn inside. If he succeeded in making the infiltrators his prisoners, they could be used as propaganda. To show the world that it was North Korea that had been attacked by these illegal warmongers.
He picked up movement close by. Someone stumbling through smoke and over scattered debris. He recognized the lean figure in the white lab coat. Tha
t coat was streaked and dirty now, one sleeve torn. It was Emanuel Absalom. The physicist had a lost expression in his eyes as he stared around the demolished site. He saw Choi.
For once Choi knew he too looked less than smartly dressed. His uniform was streaked and torn in a few places, the result of the grenade blast he had survived with nothing more than his pride damaged.
“Now what do we do?” Absalom asked. “It is gone. All of it. All that research. Destroyed.”
“So much for your ambitious plans, Dr. Absalom. Look what you have brought down upon us. And me.”
Absalom rubbed at his streaked face with an equally grubby hand. “I do not understand. You seem to be putting the blame for this on me.”
“If I do not succeed in catching the people who have done this, my career will be destroyed as this site has been.”
“But how is this my fault?”
“I will explain, Doctor of Physics,” Choi said. “We were sabotaged by someone who planted a code in the system. The Hawaiian trial backfired and sank our ship. A team was sent here to destroy our work. They have succeeded.”
“I still do not understand.”
“Simple. The saboteur was Li Kam. Your protégée. The woman you recommended we bring in to assist you.”
“No. I do not believe it.”
“Whether you believe it or not is irrelevant. But the fact cannot be denied. Li Kam is the saboteur. You were instrumental in bringing her here.”
Choi’s voice rose, his calm swept aside as fury clouded his thinking. “The mistake Pyongyang made was bringing in a foreigner, an incompetent who has brought down my research site.”
Without hesitation he snatched his pistol from the holster at his waist and thrust out his arm.
“No...” Absalom said.
Choi stepped forward. He aimed and fired, placing two bullets in Absalom’s head. The expanding slugs took the scientist’s head apart. He dropped without a sound, his shattered skull leaking blood and brain matter onto the ground.
As he holstered his pistol, Choi heard the throaty rumble of a vehicle as it approached. He climbed in beside the driver and gave him directions to the beach.
“Take me there quickly.”
“Yes, Major.”
The small vehicle turned away from the wrecked building, weaving its way through the mud and out through the gate.
It picked up a faint trail that led through the trees and vegetation.
The driver, sensing Choi’s mood, stayed silent, concentrating on driving the vehicle. He knew enough not to make any comments on what had happened, considering himself lucky not to have been a casualty of the unexpected attack by the infiltrators. Or a victim of Choi’s anger, having been witness to the execution of Absalom.
The driver concentrated on who the strike force might have been. Enemies, true, but there was no doubt in his mind that they were skilled soldiers. The attack had been speedy, the objectives clear and the attack force had gone directly for the research center. He had picked up from his fellow soldiers how the infiltrators had destroyed not only the helicopters but had blown up the fuel reserves. And they had breached the technical lab and planted explosives that demolished the equipment and brought the building down.
The soldier wondered who the infiltrators were. One of the men had said they looked like Americans. One of them was black. He imagined they could have been one of the American Special Forces groups.
U.S. Marines maybe.
Or Delta Force.
Navy SEALS.
They had been told about these groups, used by the America government to carry out clandestine operations. Their NK instructors had always told them the Americans only used badly educated criminal types in these groups, men who had little intelligence and were trained to kill women and children, target the weak and destroy the North Korean homeland.
If there was truth there, he thought, something must have been missed, because the small team that had hit the research facility was far from that image. They had infiltrated well, had faced the North Korean force and taken down any who stood in their way. Their objective had been reached and dealt with. And now the enemy had escaped with the young woman identified as the saboteur.
Not the actions of a poorly trained and badly motivated team.
But those were his private thoughts, and he held his tongue. He understood Major Choi’s anger. His need was to catch the infiltrators before they were out of reach. The soldier realized his own personal position was safer than that of his commanding officer. Choi would have to answer for what had happened. Pyongyang had little sympathy for failure. It would not matter about Choi’s past record of high achievements. It only took one incident to incur the wrath and displeasure of the hierarchy in Pyongyang. If Choi did not bring back the infiltrators, he might be better off not coming back himself.
They reached the beach area, and the soldier rolled the vehicle to a halt. Major Choi climbed out, ignoring the rain, and stared out to where the patrol boat sat waiting for him. A small dinghy with two soldiers moved toward the shore.
“Major?” the soldier asked.
“Return to base,” Choi ordered. “I will call if I need you. I will have the patrol boat circle around and approach the harbor. If these infiltrators manage to commandeer one of the small boats, we will intercept them.”
The soldier watched as Choi waded out and stepped into the dinghy. It swung around and began its return to the waiting patrol boat. Reversing the truck, the soldier set off.
For some reason he suddenly had the feeling he was not going to see Major Choi again.
Alive or dead.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
PHOENIX FORCE
It was Li Kam who had called for McCarter’s attention when she heard what had happened at the beach.
“The harbor where the boats dock is our best escape route,” she said. “There is a pair of small patrol boats Choi uses to check the shoreline and keep away any civilian boats.”
“That’s interesting,” the Briton said. “Patrol boats. You hear that?”
Manning was quick to respond. “What are we going to do, steal one?”
McCarter said, “I never would have thought of that.”
“We go back that way, we’ll still have Choi’s best on our trail,” Manning said. “We knew this might happen. So why don’t we just go for it and hope for the best?”
“Said like a true optimist,” McCarter added.
“Surely we have little choice otherwise,” Li observed. “If we stay here, Choi’s men will surround us and close in.”
“Can’t argue with that,” McCarter said, repeating what she had said over his comm set.
“Rest of you head out,” Encizo said. “We’ll provide covering fire, if it’s needed. Important thing is getting Li and Kayo out safely.”
“Let’s do it,” McCarter said, aware that it would be a waste of time arguing the point. The sooner they moved, the quicker they would reach their new rendezvous. “Li, you stay close by me.”
The Korean nodded, eyes wide, her expression revealing she hated the thought of having to run some kind of gauntlet. In the same moment she realized there was no other choice. Major Choi would have put out a shoot-on-sight order on them all. In reality it came down to run and risk being shot, or staying and definitely being shot—or worse.
“We should go,” she said. “Choi’s soldiers will follow his orders to the last man. They will not give up.”
“Let’s stay sharp,” McCarter said over his comm set. “The lady here says Choi’s bunch are shoot-first-don’t-worry types. So watch your backs and move fast.”
McCarter grabbed Li’s arm and moved her on. The young Korean needed no extra encouragement. She broke into a steady trot, with the tall Briton close on her heels as they pushed th
rough the tangled undergrowth. Manning and Kayo Pak were only a few steps behind.
Li guided McCarter, her path through the trees sure and direct. She knew her way and that would save them time.
Behind them McCarter heard autofire. He recognized the hard rattle of the Type 68. More weapons fire came from another direction. Again it was from the Korean copy of the AKM.
McCarter brushed off the urge to go and check his partners. Instead he called them up through his comm set and breathed a sigh of relief when his team responded, each man reporting in as they pushed their way through the undergrowth.
“Those jokers are trigger-happy,” Hawkins called breathlessly. “Full-auto on the run. No damn accuracy among any of them.”
“Don’t get too cocky, Rankin,” James yelled. “Only takes one lucky shot.”
McCarter heard the full-on sound of a now-unsuppressed P90 returning fire through his comm set. Then more as another Phoenix Force member engaged. He heard the distant crack of a fragmentation grenade. A distorted yell of someone in pain. The lack of knowledge over who was doing the yelling grated on McCarter’s nerves. He forced himself to push away the thoughts, concentrating on the moving figure of Li Kam ahead of him.
Something made the Briton turn and check behind. He saw a lean uniformed figured bearing down on him, face beaded with sweat. Where he had come from was a mystery. McCarter didn’t waste time on worrying about it. The North Korean soldier was racing ahead fast, the only one in sight. He was closing the distance quickly, openly pulling at the SMG slung from his shoulder.
McCarter turned about, the P90 coming into his hands as he tracked in on the Korean. Both men fired in the same split second. McCarter felt the 7.62 mm slugs burn the air over his left shoulder, then his finger was easing back on the trigger of his own weapon. The P90’s full-auto function threw a short burst of 5.7 mm slugs that struck the Korean in the chest. He ran on for a few more steps, before his body absorbed the impact, and he lost coordination. He went into a stumbling fall, dropping facedown, his loose-limbed tumble dragging his body along the wet ground.
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