The Brad West Files

by Fritz Galt

  “No way they’re giving us weapons,” Sullivan said.

  “Would these help?” the old scientist asked, and indicated a collection of flare guns next to a pile of flak jackets and rescue pack paraphernalia.

  “That would do nicely,” Sullivan said. It was an understatement. “Put these vests on.” He stripped his trench coat off, put on a flak jacket, and then pulled the coat over the flak jacket. “Come on, let’s see what kind of trouble our boy has gotten himself into.”

  Sullivan grabbed a pair of flare guns and headed into the illuminated workspace of the hangar. He motioned for Earl to fan out to the left. Then he dragged May’s father behind him. They scooted past an idle J-10 fighter jet to a set of oil drums.

  There through the wide aperture of the hangar opening, he could see the drama unfolding on the tarmac.

  At that moment in the dark troop carrier, Jade Wang rolled from her belly onto her side and looked up. She was wedged between the boots of Liang’s adjutant, who wore a commando’s flak jacket.

  She returned to her stomach. How had she gotten into such a fix? She had landed the WZ-10 helicopter in Yichang and contacted General Chen immediately. The general had informed her with confidence that Liang was being held captive at the dam. So she had taken a military car back to the dam, only to be met by a unit of special forces.

  She shouldn’t have trusted the general. The minute he learned that Liang was on the loose, he must have switched sides. How else could Liang have gathered an elite attack force so quickly?

  She strained to hear what was going on. She had heard twin bursts of cannon fire and had been dragged outside to see Brad sitting alone on the tarmac. Now, the canvas that covered the truck had plunged her in darkness and muffled all voices.

  A minute earlier, all but one of the men had leapt off the back of the truck. That had left her all alone with the adjutant. Even with her hands bound behind her back, she liked the odds.

  The adjutant leaned forward to look out a tiny window. The time had come. In the half-light of the open rear flap, Jade heaved herself onto her side again. This time she slammed her steel-toed military boot into the adjutant’s crotch and kicked with her other foot into the side of his knee. She felt it fracture and give way.

  His rifle dropped and she broke its fall with her shoulder.

  Then she scissor-locked both legs around his damaged limb and rolled him to the floor. In the process, she spun up to a semi-crouched position.

  The hapless adjutant still had enough presence of mind to reach for his weapon. But she was there to boot him in the head, knocking him out cold.

  The whole attack took less than three seconds and was exceedingly quiet.

  On the tarmac, Liang looked up at his would-be fiancée. May stood utterly humiliated before him. The last glimmer of sunlight caught the disappointment in her face.

  “I will come back to you,” she told him, and raised both arms his way.

  Liang regarded the hands that had caressed him so tenderly all those exhilarating months in flight school, during off-nights at various postings, and finally as they had prepared to compete for the astronaut program.

  Remorse was written all over the red rims of her eyes. Even the first time he had achieved his sexual conquest of her paled in comparison with this act of contrition. If she was truly sincere, then he had a most valuable slave.

  He looked down at the pig of a man dying in his arms. As much as he enjoyed May’s demonstration of female subservience, he was waiting to savor Bradley’s last shudder.

  May advanced trancelike until she was only three paces away. He saw her foot rise too late. He released Bradley and tried to deflect the blow, but he was too slow. The toe of her right shoe connected with his left temple, and a moment later he sprawled on the ground.

  Bradley’s body convulsed as it took in a desperate, rasping gulp of air.

  Behind Liang, the commandos raised their guns toward May. But a burst of what looked like fireworks rocketed out of the back of the hangar. He was momentarily blinded, then saw two commandos burst into flames.

  May dropped face down, and the troops scattered for defensive positions.

  “Get back here!” Liang screamed.

  Two of the six cowards fell on their stomachs, shot in the back by someone who had just stepped out from behind the truck.

  May pinned Brad to the tarmac and watched him take another rasping breath.

  “Breathe, Brad. Breathe!”

  His eyes opened and locked at her, then filled with a mixture of confusion and relief. For a moment, she wondered if he was contemplating a kiss.

  Flares flashed overhead from the hangar against the backdrop of the darkening sky, and he seemed to realize where he was. He struggled to gain his feet. But death was certain if they stood up.

  “We must be laid,” she explained, and wrestled him down again. Happily, she felt his heart pump even stronger.

  From atop his heaving chest, she took the opportunity to survey the battle area and itemize the casualties.

  Liang was already rolling out of sight. His shadowy form picked itself up and flitted behind a mobile diagnostics station at the far end of the hangar.

  Jade was on the loose and shooting at anyone in uniform.

  The flares had been launched from three separate places, one from the office area and the others from behind oil drums.

  A couple of commandos lay crumpled nose down on the runway. The two flaming soldiers illuminated the gloom as they fled across the airfield.

  So who was still out there?

  Since Jade had escaped from the truck, she must have left her captives either dead or incapacitated.

  By May’s count, that left only two commandos at large. Three counting Liang. And he most likely had a weapon.

  She and Brad were extremely vulnerable there in the open. She threw a bare thigh over his groin and buried his face in her bosom. She would not allow him to even raise his head.

  Chapter 39

  Igor Sullivan raised his head from behind an oil drum. He had to help his son. Brad and his girlfriend were too exposed. They stood out like a coupling pair silhouetted against the orange glow to the west.

  Out in the darkness, Jade simultaneously engaged the two commandos behind their truck and pinned Liang behind the mechanic’s workstation. It was his chance.

  “Stay here, Dr. Yu,” Sullivan instructed the old man.

  Then he crouched low and set his legs in motion. In a half-sprint, half-scurry, he left the bright hangar for the darkened field.

  May was sprawled all over Brad and was initially unwilling to let the poor lad rise to his feet.

  Sullivan tugged at her arm. “We have to get Brad back to the hangar.”

  When she finally relented, Brad wasn’t able to stand on his own.

  “You take one arm, and I’ll take the other,” he directed.

  Between the two of them, they began to drag Brad off the tarmac.

  “Head for the wheels,” he said, and they veered toward the landing gear of the fighter jet that was furthest from Liang’s position.

  “Hey, don’t fuss on my account,” Brad said as loud as his damaged voice box allowed. He looked at Sullivan and squeaked out something.

  Over their pounding feet and the chattering gunfire, it sounded like, “Is this real?”

  After the success of his initial attack, Earl fumbled to insert another cartridge into his flare gun.

  He looked up just in time to see Liang fire out into the darkness. Then Liang swiveled to take another two potshots at Brad’s group as they entered the enormous hangar.

  Nearly reaching the fighter jet, Sullivan suddenly lurched forward onto his chest. Liang had taken a potshot at the secret agent.

  Now there would be hell to pay. Earl looked down at his hands to see what he was doing wrong. He was trying to jam the cartridge in backwards.

  In the meantime, Brad and May had ducked instinctively from the sound of Liang’s two shots. Then they qui
ckly recovered to pull the downed agent behind the cover of the fighter jet’s back wheels.

  Jade finally got the drop on the remaining two soldiers. She left them to writhe in the field and scream in pain.

  “Thatta girl,” Earl muttered. She climbed into the cab of the troop carrier, gunned the engine, and drove toward May and Brad to effect a rescue.

  Liang made to shoot Jade through the side window of the truck.

  “Oh no you don’t.” Earl took careful aim at Liang’s head and squeezed the trigger.

  The flare curved about forty-five degrees downward, skimmed across the hangar floor, flew under a giant rolling toolbox, and caught itself in the cuff of Liang’s left pant’s leg.

  What do ya know? A bull’s eye.

  Brad flinched as Jade’s truck tore toward them. She screeched to a halt as close to the fighter jet as possible without ramming into it.

  She hopped out, rifle in hand, then crossed to the back of the jet and ordered everyone inside the truck.

  “Where’s Earl?” she said, panic rising in her voice.

  But before anyone could answer, May gave a loud gasp at the look on Sullivan’s face. It was white and as still as a mask. Sullivan wasn’t moving or breathing.

  Brad pulled himself to his knees and quickly stripped Sullivan of his trench coat. Underneath was a Chinese military-issue flak jacket.

  Thank God there was no trace of blood. But Sullivan was out cold, and his chest wasn’t moving.

  Brad slapped him in the face. “Wake up!”

  No response.

  He grabbed Sullivan’s wrist and checked for a pulse. If there was one, it was too weak to feel. “It looks like a heart attack.”

  “Let’s do CUP,” May suggested.

  Brad closed his eyes. If they were thinking the same thought, what exactly was the procedure? He had seen it a million times on Baywatch.

  “Pump the heart fifteen times,” he said from memory. “And give him two breaths of air.”

  May nodded.

  Meanwhile Jade took up a defensive posture and scanned the perimeter.

  May helped unzip the bulletproof vest to get at Sullivan’s chest. Brad then locked his fingers together and pressed down hard on Sullivan’s sternum. “One, two, three, four…” he counted as he pushed.

  May had tilted Sullivan’s head back to clear the air passageways and was bending over his mouth. When Brad finished counting to fifteen, she pinched Sullivan’s nose, pressed her lips firmly against his, and forced air into his lungs.

  Brad was no longer aware of his surroundings. Nothing mattered more than saving his father’s life. A whole battalion of Liangs could be descending on them, and he wouldn’t care.

  Tell me this is the dream, he pleaded silently. Please tell me this isn’t real.

  Earl was loading another cartridge into his flare gun when he heard the rumble of several vehicles approaching.

  He glanced up and spotted the distant headlights of a large convoy descending on the hangar.

  Were they good guys or bad?

  He checked to see how Liang was reacting. At first he was too busy putting out the fire in his pants to notice. When he finally looked up, he let out a scream and dodged out of sight.

  What next? Earl had better get the anthropologist and round up the troops.

  He headed for the oil drums to look for Dr. Yu.

  If this is a dream, it’s a total nightmare, Brad thought bitterly.

  Always looking on the bright side of life, Xen sang cheerfully.

  So now you show up. Why can’t you help me save Sullivan?

  He is not lost.

  He will be soon.

  The fight had gone out of Brad. He pressed down mechanically on the ribcage and tried to move the blood and kick-start the heart. He looked at May. Silent tears streamed down her face. But she hadn’t lost complete control of herself.

  Still gripping her rifle, Jade crouched next to the trio and kept a watchful eye out into the darkness. “He was my mentor in the Agency,” she said. “He saved my life on two occasions, and now I cannot repay him.”

  “You are in the CIA?” May said, stunned.

  Jade’s eyes locked on her friend and she nodded confirmation.

  “Jade, you saved my rear at least that many times,” Brad said. His voice was strengthening, but raw.

  “You are with the CIA, too?” May turned to Brad.

  He shook his head, no. “Come on, let’s keep up the CPR.”

  He forced down hard with both hands. But his renewed fervor was fast becoming an act of desperation.

  Earl took his eyes off the bouncing lights of the convoy and looked about for Dr. Yu. To his surprise, the scientist was no longer where Sullivan had left him. Maybe he had retraced his steps to resupply with flares.

  Earl scooted across the back of the hangar for the office. He was right. Dr. Yu was there. But seated on the floor in front of him were the Chinese pilot and sentry. The old guy trained the guard’s rifle on them and calmly held them captive.

  “Holy socks, Doctor. How’d you manage this?”

  “They had no more taste for fighting,” he explained. Then he added happily, “And they are young, much quicker to surrender.”

  “Well, come on. We’d better bring them with us. We’ve got to get back to the plane ’cause we’ve got a horde of company about to arrive.”

  They stepped out of the office and made for the far jet where Brad and crew were holed up. Just then, the nearer jet’s engine roared to life. The blast of sound knocked him sideways like an invisible club, followed by the scorching heat of its exhaust.

  With no time to retreat, Earl hurled himself to the floor. There he and the scientist and their two prisoners curled up and covered their heads as best they could.

  Brad would have held both hands up to his ears as the screaming jet engine shook the hangar. But he didn’t. He was using his hands to press down on Sullivan’s chest.

  “Liang is taking the plane,” Jade shouted above the noise. Exhaust began to billow throughout the building and obscure their view. “I’m going to get him,” she said.

  But before she could make a move, the jet fired its cannons and strafed out onto the tarmac in the face of what looked like an attacking army.

  Whoever was in the oncoming jeeps and trucks, it didn’t look like Liang was pleased to see them.

  The soldiers in the lead jeeps began to jump out and take up defensive positions behind their vehicles. All were under temporary cover until a rocket from Liang’s onboard weapons system ignited a huge fuel truck parked beside the hangar.

  The blast from the explosion knocked over everyone within a fifty-meter radius. The sound reverberated around Brad’s head and temporarily numbed what was left of his hearing. Smoke and gigantic flames engulfed the area and stopped the rest of the convoy.

  Out of the black cloud appeared the delta-winged fighter jet.

  Wow, just like his dream. Only Liang was not chasing them this time. He was running away.

  Because of your sacrifice and that of your father.

  Sullivan had sacrificed himself so the rest of them could live? That sucked.

  It is only one possible outcome, but preferable because you all grew in the experience.

  Tell that to Sullivan, I mean my dad.

  I shall leave that pleasure to you.

  What? Then he had to stop pushing on the chest as smoke filled his lungs.

  Brad awoke with a dull roar in his ears and a pain in his lower ribs. He opened his eyes and began to take in his surroundings.

  Now what? Xenhet was messing with his head.

  He was lying on his bed back in Cheno’s house. Cheno had just arrived in the room when Sullivan rushed in.

  “What happened?” the spy chief asked. “Is he okay?”

  “Think so,” Cheno said. “But he got into the funny fruit. I really should have labeled those prunes, ‘Don’t Eat Without a Shaman.’”

  “Dad?” Brad rose to his elbows
. He grappled with the horrible incongruity of looking at a healthy man after moments earlier watching him undergo cardiac arrest.

  “How long has he been out?” Sullivan asked.

  “Only about five hours,” Cheno said. “Even though I popped the little bugger out of his trachea, the surface of the prunes was laced with enough substance that he absorbed significant quantities through the lining in his throat.”

  “Well, sorry to trouble you guys again.” Brad felt somewhat irritated. “It’s bad enough none of this is real, but do you have to ignore me, too?”

  “Sorry, pal,” his father said, and sat on the edge of the mattress. “It seems you’ve got a head start on your training.”

  “You call this training? I don’t know which end is up anymore. I’m talking to a man who is dying this very moment. You have just suffered a heart attack after being hit in the flak jacket by a pair of bullets.”

  Sullivan and Cheno shared a look.

  “Was this in China?” his father asked.

  “Yeah. In a jet hangar, shot by Liang. And when I’m there, this place feels like a dream. What would you do in my situation?”

  “Brad, listen to me carefully,” Sullivan said, then nodded at Cheno, who slipped out of the room. “Some field agents, mostly the old timers like me, wear a special shoe. It’s the left shoe. Press the dimple in the heel and swing the heel laterally, away from the sole. Get me so far?”

  “Left shoe. Heel.” Was this something so secret that even Jade didn’t know about?

  “Inside the heel, you will find two types of pills in separate containers. One is cyanide and the other is nitroglycerin.”

  “Cyanide. Nitroglycerin.”

  Cheno was running a faucet in the kitchen.

  “To get the heartbeat back, slip the nitroglycerin pill under the tongue.”

  “Got it.”

  He was just about to ask which pill was nitroglycerin when Cheno returned to the room carrying a glass of water. Suddenly everything started spinning.