by Don Keith
Readly held up his hand.
“Shut the hell up! I really don’t give a damn who the hell you are. You are going with us and will be charged with kidnapping and piracy once we get your ass to a proper international court.” The colonel turned to the squad leader. “Restrain and gag him. Make sure he gets a VIP seat on the evac chopper.”
The Marines dragged the struggling man away just as Sergeant Ramirez’s voice popped into Readly’s earbuds.
“Skipper, the 53s are five mikes out. Our Chinese friends are only about one. We’ll need some shooters up here.”
Readly ran to the front of the courthouse, joined by the rest of the squad. Ramirez and his fire team were crouched behind a low coral wall and, along with the men who had set up the initial perimeter, were already fully engaged in an active firefight with an unknown number of Chinese marines on the other side of the road. Readly’s unit was clearly outgunned. Time was not on their side.
The situation was going sideways fast.
The colonel knew he needed more firepower and he needed it now. He shifted channels on his radio and reached out to both Osprey pilots. That was all the big guns he had at his beck and call until the 53s, the King Stallions, arrived with their door-mounted seven-point-six two-millimeter machine guns mounted on each door. Mike Hotel Two—the other Osprey—responded first. That team of Marines had quickly taken control of the boat with no opposition. So far, though, they had not figured out how to operate it since the Tongan captors had apparently done something to the boat’s control room systems. They would need help and some time to get the engines going and the ship underway. But Mike Hotel Two was already in the air, heading back to the courthouse to help out Readly and his team.
Mike Hotel One chimed in next. He was still in the party but running low on ammo.
“Sarge, where are the hostages?” Readly yelled.
“In a ditch on the other side of the building. The female hostages are there now, too. I got two guys with them, but we need some help or...”
Then, just as the colonel could make out above the crack of rifle fire the welcome roar of the triple turbines of the approaching CH-53Ks, a rocket-propelled grenade arced over his head from the direction of the Chinese troops. It crashed through a window into the courthouse behind him. The explosion blew out several windows and started a fire in the building.
Osprey Mike Hotel Two showed up just in time to pepper the area where the round emanated with .50 caliber fire. The night sky above Neiafu was getting crowded.
Another enemy RPG flew overhead from a point to the right of the previous one. It, too, exploded into the building. The night was lit up by the rapidly spreading fire now roaring within the structure. As a sudden burst of fire from the just-arrived Mike Hotel Three concentrated on that patch of palms and brush, Readly and Martinez waved for their men to abandon their positions. They needed to pull back before the next RPG landed in their midst.
Readly knew that the parking lot was not going to work as the extract site, as planned. It was too open and exposed to the Chinese fire. The only option that he could see was to use the dirt road along the back side of the building. The hostages were already in the area and the burning courthouse offered a modicum of cover. He could only hope there was room for the helicopters to set down.
“Mike Hotel Three, extract site moved to backside of courthouse, on Pouono Road. Be aware LZ is hot,” Readly informed the approaching helicopters. “Repeat, LZ is hot.”
The chopper pilot curtly acknowledged.
“Sarge, confirm your guys with the hostages got the change of plans!” Readly yelled as they ran.
“Roger, Colonel.”
Rifle fire from the Chinese troops had lessened a bit as the Ospreys and King Stallions continued to shoot at them from a reasonably safe distance. Ramirez and his men dashed around the raging flames of the old wooden courthouse, covering each other as they pulled back.
Readly and Ramirez started moving the civilians—and the lone Tongan legal official—from the vegetation cover around the ditch to the new extract site. But two of the civilians ran over and kneeled down next to Readly.
“Colonel, you aren’t going to be able to get Deep Ocean Explorer out of here without help. We jimmied the drive system computer so they couldn’t move her except by tow. I’m Rex Smith. I own her. This is Bill Bix. He’s the captain. We can help you run her.”
Readly nodded and turned to Ramirez.
“Get me a fire team to make a run with us to the waterfront when we get everybody on their ride out of here.”
The first King Stallion made another roaring pass over the courthouse as her door gunners unloaded on the Chinese marines. Then the bird flared out and somehow managed to squeeze into the little open lot and roadway behind the building as the second 53K took its place in the sky above the burning building. The landing aircraft’s rotors were only inches from the fronds of nearby palm trees. Along with the two Ospreys, the bird above them continued to ferociously spit deadly fire at where the Chinese had last been shooting at them from the far side of the road.
Meanwhile, the civilians from the research ship piled onto the chopper as the marines helped them. A mere thirty seconds after setting down, the helicopter was airborne once again. Then the second 53K settled down in the same spot. The rest of the civilians—except Bix and Smith—and most of the Marines piled onboard.
As the second helicopter lifted off, Readly, Ramirez, the Marine fire team, Bix, and Smith sprinted down Pouono Road toward the waterfront. Mike Hotel One and Two kept the Chinese marines pinned down with their machine gun fire. Mike Hotel Three and Four and their passengers were well on their way back toward Pago Pago.
As the group charged down the coral road and then turned onto Fatafehi Road, they could hear almost continuous firing behind them, but no one seemed to be in pursuit. The Chinese must have assumed all the fighters had left onboard the King Stallions. The run to the dock was only eight hundred meters, but with the adrenaline and the exercise, all of them were winded when they finally piled onboard the research ship. Older and not in nearly as good a shape as the Marines, Bix and Smith were struggling, but the fighters helped them climb aboard their vessel.
“Colonel, Mike Hotel One.” Readly paused to hear the update from the Osprey pilot. “We are out of ammo and bingo fuel. Two reports the same. We’re heading back to refuel and re-arm in case you need us back here. Looks like those Chinese are heading your way on the double quick. Recommend you make yourself scarce. Good luck.”
“Roger, thanks, Mike Hotel One. We’ll let you...” The colonel was interrupted by the sound of Chinese marines running down Tu’i Road, shooting in the direction of the ship as they grew closer. “We’ll update you. Thanks.”
Bill Bix ran straight to the bridge, promising it would only take a minute to remove whatever hex he had put on the ship’s controls. Meanwhile, Rex Smith, back in his element, took command. Pointing to two Marines, he ordered, “You two, use the fire axes to cut those lines!” He turned to Colonel Readly. “Bill will get her started and head us out of here while I get busy and bring up the nav systems. I think you guys need to play soldier while we drive the ship.”
“We’ll see if we can discourage these guys from shooting at us,” Readly told him.
Ramirez and his team took whatever cover they could find and returned the fire, even as the ship suddenly came to life and began backing away from the pier. It was not a time to worry about scratching paint, damaging a wharf, or denting the hull as the research vessel needed to quickly head down the channel and away from the Chinese marines before they could set up and fire something more damaging and deadly than bullets from their rifles.
The forward camel groaned in protest as Deep Ocean Explorer pivoted on it and backed away from the wharf. The bow was barely clear when Bill Bix slammed the starboard throttle to “Full Forward,” port “Full Back,” and the rudder to “Hard Left.” The research vessel, not designed for speed or maneuverability, lu
rched forward a couple of yards before the bow started to swing around, even as bullets pinged off her hull.
The Chinese charged forward, taking cover in the farmers’ market while now concentrating their fire on the bridge in an attempt to keep the ship from escaping. Ramirez’s fire team shot back, spraying the area to convince the Chinese to keep their heads down.
The bow missed the wharf by mere inches as it swung around. Dodging breaking glass and ducking low, Bix jammed both throttles to “Full Ahead” and swung the rudder to fair up with the outbound channel. Just then, an RPG round arced up and over the ship, exploding harmlessly in the water beyond.
Deep Ocean Explorer was just starting to round Utules Point when the Chinese dared to come out of their cover and ran out onto the pier. But now all they could do was watch the ship disappear around the bend.
Bill Bix steered them around the point and headed down the center of the Teleki Channel, whistling happily. He had his ship back and beneath him. He would soon pick up his crew in Samoa.
Dr. Rex Smith stood at the rail on the vessel’s upper deck, still catching his breath and allowing the cool night sea breeze to dry the sweat from the unexpected jog. He watched the stars above, especially bright with the lack of light pollution and smog in this part of the world. He could not wait until he could once again referee the clashes between his dedicated group of scientists and technicians as they all did their best to unravel the mysteries of the world’s great oceans.
Colonel Stanton Readly, Sergeant Fernando Ramirez, and the rest of the US Marines ate energy bars and then settled onto mats on the open deck in an effort to catch a few winks. If the last few hours told them anything, it was that there would likely be more battles soon. They best be prepared. But with hostages safely on their way to American Samoa and with no casualties, despite a hot firefight, this mission had been a success.
The open water of the Pacific was still seven miles away and at least an hour’s steaming through the tortuously narrow channel. However, they were safe now. Safe and on their way to whatever was next.
22
The big black Mercedes limousine elbowed its way through thick Beijing evening traffic so it could make a right turn from Wudaoying Hutong onto Yonghegong Street. It then pulled to a stop almost immediately, much to the displeasure of several other drivers who had to jump on their brakes after making the same turn. The driver ignored the honking horns and angry stares as he hopped out of the car and hurried around the limo to open the passenger door on the curb side.
The horn-blowing and shouting stopped as the miffed drivers watched Li Min Zhou step from the Mercedes limo. She dismissed the driver with a wave of her hand.
Min Zhou stood there for a moment, considering her surroundings, seemingly admiring the neighborhood but actually looking for anything that did not belong. Anything that would pose a threat. She glanced at the dun-colored, stone-walled exterior of the traditional siheyuan courtyard house where they had stopped. Satisfied, she stepped up to the ornately carved, wooden, red-and-gold-painted entrance portal. As prescribed by feng shui, the entrance was on the southeast corner of the house. A doorman, dressed in the gold-embroidered silk bufu surcoat of an Imperial Court functionary, stood by the Guangliang Gate, the entrance traditionally reserved for the comings and goings of high court officials. Only the Wangfu—or Emperor’s—Gate would be considered superior.
As she walked his way, the doorman bowed deeply and swung open the massive bright red door. He greeted her in formal Court Mandarin.
“This lowly servant welcomes the respected madam to the King Joy Restaurant.”
Li Min Zhou smiled at the restaurant’s attempts to leverage the flavor of the Forbidden City, which was only a couple of blocks away, and to summon up a bit of ancient Chinese atmosphere. It would certainly impress visiting businessmen or foreign governmental officials visiting the Chinese capital. Its opulence was also favored by the many bureaucrats who worked in the area. But while the courtyard house was, indeed, a couple of centuries old, the high-class and very expensive King Joy Restaurant was, in reality, owned by a Taiwanese businessman. And it was highly unlikely that an Imperial Court official, no matter how minor his station, had ever served as a doorman at the place.
Min Zhou entered a small reception hall where the maître d’ greeted her with another deep, formal bow. He was dressed in an apricot-colored jifu dragon robe, an outfit with even more gold embroidery than the one the doorman wore.
It was no longer unusual for an unescorted female to arrive at the King Joy. Many patrons met their mistresses here. And even officially sanctioned businesses as well as the communist government were now more populated with women than even a few years ago.
The maître d’ escorted her through an outer courtyard heavy with the scent of potted shrubs and flowers. Next, he led her through the festooned gate to an impressive inner courtyard, an area that was entirely glassed over, creating a large, airy dining room.
As she walked across the cobblestones of the courtyard, Li Min Zhou was more than aware that every male eye in the large room watched her. Her deep-blue silk dress clung to just the right curves, and the stiletto heels, along with the skirt’s high slit, accentuated her long, shapely legs. The effect was intended to draw attention.
However, she was looking for only one pair of eyes. And there he was.
TJ Dillon sat alone at a small table along the west wall, studying his menu as he tapped his ear. That gesture told Li Min Zhou that the microphone and tiny radio transmitter she was wearing were working fine.
Finally, the maître d’ escorted Li Min Zhou toward a secluded table near the back of the room at the southeast corner of the courtyard, one mostly hidden behind an ornately carved screen. She could just make out through the screen that someone was sitting at the table. As she had anticipated, the party she was to meet was already present and seated.
Li Min Zhou stepped around the screen and into the secluded alcove. The dimly lit corner was illuminated only by a pair of tapers. Their flickering light and shadow played on the red silk damask wall covering.
“Good evening. I suppose introductions are in order,” the middle-aged gentleman told her as he rose and extended a hand. “I am Yon Ba Deng. I assume you are Wang Fang.” She nodded, smiling, as she took the offered hand and shook it before sitting across the table from him. “I must say that I was a bit surprised when my assistant informed me that I had a dinner meeting scheduled for this evening. It is rare that the office of the Chairman of the Military Commission calls and requests that I attend a discreet, off-the-record dinner.” He smiled, disarmingly. “And if I may be frank, I was expecting some elderly and overweight Party functionary who most likely wanted to discuss the merits of his son or nephew immediately assuming command of one of our aircraft carriers or some such.”
Li Min Zhou allowed herself a half smile as she acknowledged his little joke. The man’s curiosity was apparent.
“And I am Wang Fang. I hope I am not disappointing you, then. I have heard much about you and I wanted to meet you, personally and outside the office. I am afraid that I need to confess to calling in a favor with the chairman’s office to arrange our dinner and conversation. I thought that would save some time and avoid a lot of unwanted questions if I used this particular route.”
A waiter was there already. After ordering their drinks and meals, Yon Ba Deng placed his hands flat on the table and looked directly at Li Min Zhou.
“When the ‘invitation’ came, I, as you would expect, made some discreet inquiries. Normally, my sources are quite effective in finding whatever information I need, particularly within the Party.” He flipped his hands up. “This time they mostly came up empty. Practically nothing. Could you explain why someone who clearly has the ear of the Chairman of the Military Commission has left so few footprints?”
Li Min Zhou looked directly into his eyes.
“I am not surprised. Let us simply say that my contacts are very discreet even though th
ey extend to a very high level. Allow me to strongly suggest that you leave it at that. And that you make no further inquiries about me or my association with others. Be assured that it could prove, ah…let us say...embarrassing for you. At this point, that will have to satisfy your boundless curiosity.”
Yon Ba Deng frowned but nodded. He understood that she had given him a warning. Whether or not he would heed it was a different matter. That would depend on the remainder of the conversation.
The waiter arrived with two glasses of wine. Li Min Zhou tasted hers while Yon watched her.
“Ah, an excellent vintage,” she remarked. “Even the French cannot produce a better Bordeaux than the 2009 Yantai.” She swirled the wine gently in its glass and sniffed the bouquet approvingly. “Now, let us attempt to make the conversation as pleasant as the wine.”
He took a sip of his own drink. Li Min Zhou could tell from the man’s expression that he had not appreciated it at all.
“To get to the heart of the matter,” she continued, “we are well aware of your ambition for advancement, in the military bureaucracy and beyond. We are also quite aware of your ongoing conflict with Soo Be Xian.” The man still held the wine glass, but his eyes had widened ever so slightly. She knew he was on highest alert now. “The people with whom I work have been impressed with the gains you have made in your position as well as the way you play the game. They are convinced that your intuition, your cunning, and the logical and committed pursuit of power melds well with their goals.”
Yon Ba Deng set the glass down and leaned forward.
“And your people fit into all this how?” he asked, almost in a whisper.
“They are in a position to assist you in the matter regarding Soo Be Xian. And they are prepared and fully capable to pave the way for you to advance much, much further up within the Party.” She took another sip of her wine. “Let me give you a little sample. Perhaps we should call it ‘a tasting.’ Tomorrow morning, just after sunrise, Soo Be Xian will be arrested on charges of corruption. The evidence will show that there is one hundred million yuan in a Swiss bank account in his name. There will also be other evidence of kickbacks within the army in areas over which he has direct control.”