by Seeley James
I touched the tip of her nose and walked around her, heading to the office.
Behind me, Nigel trotted alongside Emily. “You’re quite good. What branch were you in?”
“She’s not a Sabel agent,” I said over my shoulder. “She’s a reporter for the Post.”
“Bloody hell.”
For the first time since I’d met him, Nigel looked scared.
“You can do him a favor, Emily,” I said. “When you write the story, refer to him as ‘Bubba’ and don’t mention the British part. He’s out here against orders.”
“Right then,” Nigel said. “Here’s what I know. My government discovered the Chinese going after bio-research that could target minorities, like the Uighurs. Genocide is not something you can bandy about, so I’ve been sent to trace it down. I followed the leads to Mokin yesterday, then you lads showed up. That’s what I know.”
“Thank you,” Tania said. “They have a different plan now. Let’s figure it out.”
Miguel and Tania searched the office. Nigel stood by to translate anything in Chinese they wanted to share with him. I went to Mokin’s tent and found his laptop. I hooked my phone’s internet connection to his computer and used a translation site to read his emails.
Mokin was not a nice guy. He was Menedzher, and his original instructions to Mukhtar were to kill anyone messing with the test site or the Pak Uban. He’d given us a death sentence before we arrived. More emails detailed sending special squads to New York and Milan to kill Verratti and Cummings days before we reached Borneo. A later email changed Yuri’s orders and sent his team to DC to retrieve every shard of glass and kill Pia Sabel.
After that failure, he hired Velox Deployment. Kasey had been engaged to eliminate Windsor’s key personnel from Chapman to Violet Windsor herself. In one email, Kasey reported the irony that Windsor and Cummings had both paid him to kill each other long after Mokin had contracted Velox to eliminate them.
There were more emails to a guy named Chen Zhipeng. Chen gave the orders and Mokin made it happen. After Algeria, I thought of Mokin as a mercenary kingpin, but the tone of the emails was the opposite. He was Chen’s personal bitch. In one email, Chen reamed Mokin for blowing the attack on Ms. Sabel in the woods. After reading five emails, it was clear that Chen Zhipeng was a double-crossing, ruthless liar who would kill anyone who disappointed him. Mokin was as good as dead.
Then I found a scary email only hours old. Two platoons of Mokin’s men had secured several barrels of Element 42 and were returning to the staging area with it. They had twice as many men as I thought. Kasey had told me the truth.
I slapped the laptop closed, tucked it under my arm and ran to the office.
My pals were waiting for me. The first hint of sunrise brightened the sky behind them in shades of blue-gray.
“We found Element 42,” Tania said. “It’s in that bunker on—”
“A convoy is on the way,” I said. “With fifty guys.”
CHAPTER 48
Crickets chirped in the dark on the quiet, tree-lined road where China’s highest-ranking Party officials kept modest homes on large lots. An owl swooped silently over Pia’s head and lighted in a tree behind her.
She checked the house at the end of the lane with her NVGs. A half-finished home, its rebar hanging limp out of gray concrete, stood on one side. A recently completed house sat empty on the other. In front of Wu’s house was a brick guardhouse with a wooden gate.
The Major pointed out the mission details. “Dhanpal will cover the front, you cover the rear, I’ll enter through the side door.”
“No,” Pia said. “I’ll go inside.”
“Dhanpal and I both have experience with house-to-house—”
“Last time I didn’t like the assignments, I changed the game plan on the fly. Jacob made me apologize. This time, I’m telling you in advance. It’s not a request.”
The Major gazed at her for a long time before letting out a breath. “We think there are two bodyguards on the property, but there could be ten. It’s too dangerous.”
“Understood.” Pia rechecked the modest but well-kept home.
“After Windsor, Verratti, and Cummings were killed, this guy will be on high alert.” The Major patted her shoulder. “Three thousand Sabel Security employees need you to stay healthy and alive. We don’t need you knocking down doors like some common combat infantry.”
Pia said, “I’d be honored to make the infantry.”
Using hand signals, she ordered Dhanpal down the slope and into the yard. Smooth and silent, he confirmed his readiness with a hand signal. The Major went next, stopping where she had a clear view of two walls.
Pia reminded herself of her training with every step. Don’t rush, peripheral vision is crucial, hear the ambient sounds, pick up your feet, consider every movement. Years of soccer gave her exceptional balance and awareness, suiting her well for the job. She stepped out of the thick underbrush, past the Major, and continued her slow advance on the yard. When she reached the construction site, she gave Dhanpal the signal.
Dhanpal’s Glock popped. She ran for the gate and scaled the side. Dropping down next to Dhanpal, she followed him around the sweeping driveway. To their right, near the kitchen, the Major dropped the second guard. Pia went the rest of the way alone using the memorized map in her head. Past the garden Buddha to the koi pond, then onto the porch.
Listening to the interior near the kitchen window, she heard nothing. She stood stock-still until a refrigerator motor kicked on inside.
Still nothing human.
She tugged the door. It slid sideways a quarter inch with a metallic scrape. Pia put both hands on the frame’s top and pushed it up while sliding it to the right. Once it was open enough to slip inside, she stepped into the dining room, leading with her Glock. To her right, an empty living room; to her left, a dark hall.
Pia crept forward, careful to tread softly. Something stirred. She stopped and listened. Her heartbeat pounded hard enough to drown out everything, but she focused and heard it again. Someone was moving. Movement as careful and silent as her own. She glanced over her shoulder and saw a human-sized shadow. Frozen with her pistol in front and her eyes behind, she tried to figure out what the shadow was, and if it had been there before she turned the corner. For a long moment nothing moved.
Then a sound. The shadow was breathing.
Pia’s heart pounded hard enough to hear and feel it, from her ears to her shoes. She pulled her Glock around and aimed at the shadow. A small form, barely five feet high.
A light came on.
For a full second, an older woman in a nightgown, holding a small wok above her head, stared at Pia.
“Sorry,” Pia said. She fired a dart.
Her silencer muffled the shot, yet the pop sounded like a gong in the silent home. The wok banged to the ground as the woman crumpled to the floor.
Toward the back of the house, someone scrambled around in the dark. Light flooded from under one of the doors. Then a man’s voice yelled in Chinese.
Pia pressed her earbud. “Dropped the wife.”
“Is the situation under control?”
“Probably.”
Pia stepped down the hall toward the voice. She opened the door opposite and looked inside: an empty home office. Turning to the lit room, she heard clicking metal sounds through the thin door. Then a sound she recognized: a magazine sliding into a pistol.
Standing to one side, she reached for the knob, turned it slowly, and threw it open.
Nothing happened.
Spinning into the room, she drew on a short, older man who stood quivering at the foot of the bed. A light on the nightstand behind him cast an eerie light that glowed around his shabby pajamas. Abrasions covered his skin, one eye was black and swollen. He held a standard Type-54 Chinese Army handgun in his shaking hands.
“Put the gun down,” she said.
He dropped it on the floor and raised his hands. His lips and sagging jowls vibrated.
/> “Take it easy,” Pia said. “I’m not here to hurt you.”
He stared straight ahead, his eyes blank.
“Do you speak English, Dr. Wu?”
“You not take me back to reeducation?” He looked up at her, his eyes pleading for mercy, his hands still held up in surrender.
Pia shook her head and lowered her Glock. “Take a deep breath.”
Dr. Wu breathed as prescribed and lowered his hands a little, then glanced at Pia for permission to lower them further.
Pia nodded and bowed slightly without taking her eyes off him.
“I need to know about Element 42,” she said.
Dr. Wu’s eyes widened. His hands flashed between them as if he were pushing away an imaginary object. “I not connect to Element 42.”
“Your fingerprints are on the vials of blood taken from the site on Borneo.”
He began shaking his head with a slow rhythm, his eyes on her Glock. “It cannot be. I never visit Borneo.”
Pia pushed Dr. Wu’s shoulder. His eyes rose to hers. She said, “We know you’re on the board of directors at Windsor Pharmaceuticals.”
The old man shook his head. “I not understand you.”
Pia grabbed both his shoulders and leaned down, nose to nose. “Otis Blackwell told me about you. So did Chapman. Why don’t you tell me the truth?”
Wu Fang’s eyes rolled back in his head, his eyelids fluttered and closed. He fell backward on the bed with no more self-control than a dropped cloth.
The Major stepped in and helped Pia prop the man up in his bed. Pia grabbed a glass of water and a wet washcloth from the bathroom. After a few minutes of soothing, Dr. Wu opened his eyes and drank the water.
“I not agree to them,” he said. His head continued to wander from side to side. “Dr. Chapman ask many questions in email. Chen not answer him. I go to Borneo to see. No good. No good.”
“But you’re on the board, you had to know about this.”
“On board because Chen say so. I am scientist. Advisor to government. I am not business man. I am not important in Party. Chen go to Windsor meetings.”
Pia looked at the Major. “Think he’s telling the truth?”
The Major shrugged. “The woman out front had a blanket and a book on the couch, probably fell asleep reading. We could drag her in here.”
“Threaten her to make him talk?” Pia shook her head. “That’s not the Sabel way.”
The Major turned away.
Dr. Wu tugged Pia’s arm. “You good guys?”
Pia tightened her lips to a sliver and nodded. “We try.”
He finished his glass of water.
“Dr. Chapman told me a few things before he died,” Pia said. “He was trying to stop them. What were you doing?”
“I not know what go on. No idea. When I find trial on Borneo, I resign and report People’s Law Committee. Then I report Public Health Committee, Ministry of Justice, National Health. No one do anything. Chen call me. Very angry. He say reeducation for Fang and wife.”
Pia sat on the edge of his bed. “Who is Chen?”
“Powerful man. Chen in charge investment for China Social Security. He plan China twenty, thirty year ahead. Chen worry about aging population. I talk about Chen Zhipeng.”
Pia and the Major glanced at each other. The Major pulled her phone and searched the name.
“How was Otis Blackwell involved?”
“Chen like Otis for propaganda. Otis like power, Chen have lots of power. Otis do whatever Chen want.”
“Otis was working on a documentary about water conservation. But before he died, he said, ‘too many people.’ How are they connected?”
Dr. Wu nodded. “China aging. Life span longer and longer, and Chen say, no water for crops. No water, no food. No food, break down government. China break down, then India break down, then domino. Civilization end in chaos.”
The Major recoiled a step. “China’s deep into the biggest drought in recorded history.”
Dr. Wu nodded. “So too, India, Middle East, Europe, Africa, Brazil, Guatemala, Western USA. Half of world run out of water very soon. Five year, ten year, maybe twenty—but no longer. Chen worry what happen first crop failure.” Dr. Wu grabbed Pia’s arm. “Old men like Chen remember 1959, thirty million Chinese die in famine. Next time, much worse.”
Pia frowned. “Chen plans to kill off the old and the weak to lessen the burden on farming?”
“Middle ages, black plague nature way to cull population. Resulting in Renaissance and prosperity. Modern science stop many disease. People live long life. Ten year ago, Chinese life expectancy 65. Today, 75. One billion three hundred million Chinese live ten year longer. Feed OK today. But no rain, no food. Element 42 disease with no cure.”
“I thought Levoxavir could cure it,” Pia said.
“Chen kill Windsor, Violet, board members. Me soon. No one know Levoxavir. Also, Element 42 change to Element 43 and so on. Levoxavir no good. Need something new. Element design to stay ahead of cure.”
“What was Mokin planning to do?”
Dr. Wu shrugged. “Only Chen know. You stop him. We make water someway. Maybe seawater, maybe make rain. Scientists, good guys. We hope, we try.”
The Major tapped Pia’s shoulder. “Update from Jacob. They have a problem.”
CHAPTER 49
“There’s an alarm in the office,” Kasey said as we ran to jump in the Norinco. “It sounds when someone passes the dam at the turn off. I heard it go off a minute ago.”
He had no interest in being the first to meet his pals coming the other way, so I took him at his word.
“How far away in minutes?”
“Twenty. Now get me off this thing. I’ll help you.”
We laughed in unison.
When everyone cleared off, I leaned over Kasey. “If you manage to live through this, you’ll get a thank-you note from the Melanau Survivors’ Fund. When I found that banking app on your phone, I just knew you wanted them to have the $2 million you skimmed from Velox.” I patted him on the shoulder. “You’re a generous guy, Kasey.”
I slid off the Norinco.
“Hold up, there.” Kasey struggled against his bonds. “Can’t we negotiate a deal? Maybe you could use a hundred grand of your own?”
“I’m flattered you think so highly of me, but it’s a done deal. I emptied your account.”
Miguel turned the Norinco around, planting Kasey and the truck facing the narrowest part of the road. The rest of us ran around collecting weapons, ammunition, and setting traps. Tania took up a sniper position on a rock outcropping above the office. She cleared some lateral space for a defensive position if things went south.
“We’ll lose the element of surprise when they reach the first checkpoint,” the Englishman said.
“You’re thinking of manning the checkpoint and faking it? It’d be a death trap if they catch us in there. And it’s already four against fifty.”
“I could make it work.” He nodded at Kasey. “If your friend will tell me the protocol.”
“Risky.”
“I’ll ask him,” Emily said. “People love to tell reporters things.” She walked away, spoke to him for a minute, and came back. “Radio contact. If that doesn’t work, three blinks from the flashlight.”
“How many vehicles do you think they’ll bring?” I asked Nigel.
“That’s why I’m here. I’d like to find out what kind of resources they’ve committed to this project.”
“Do you want to tell me about ‘this project’?”
“I’m afraid you know more than I. But I’ll tell you what—if we live through this, I’ll give you all my notes.”
I shook his hand on that bargain.
“Could you spare an extra comm link?” the Englishman asked.
I handed him one of our spares with an earbud. With a couple quick instructions, he joined in our link. Nigel gave me a quick salute and trotted over the ridge, taking the shortcut trail.
Jagged shard
s of dawn knifed into the sky behind the mountain.
I never liked daytime battles. I preferred the dark, where my Army training held a significant advantage. But you don’t always get what you want.
Miguel and I set up crossfire points and fallback routes. We strategically placed backpacks with ammo in hidden but easy-to-reach spots and hid spare rifles where we could get to them. We dragged a few dead guys out and placed them near building corners with a foot or hand exposed to draw enemy fire.
Emily followed us around like a puppy. Miguel and I exchanged a few glances and shrugs until I sent her up the hill with her shotgun and three boxes of shells.
Tania was not happy. Over the comm link she said, “What is this, you two are done with her and now you want me to babysit her ass? No way I’m letting you pass her off—”
“She saved my life with that Remington once. Consider her your personal bodyguard.” I lowered my voice. “Besides, how long do rookies last on their own?”
“She’ll last longer than you two morons.”
Soldiers don’t like to talk about the odds for fear of making them real or jinxing the outcome, yet there was a morbid truth to her joke. We were damn good fighters, but we would have to be perfect to survive.
“First truck,” the Englishman said on the comm link. “Looks like a long convoy, eight vehicles visible so far. Could be more around the bend.”
We waited for what happened next, hoping it wasn’t the sound of Nigel dying.
“Holding up the dead radio,” he updated us. “They’ve blinked a light. I’m blinking back. That does it. Lead vehicle rolling. Twelve Wingles.”
“Come again?”
“Wingle, a four-seater pickup made by Great Wall Motors. I see a lot of uniforms. Hold on.” He stayed quiet for a moment. “Bloody hell, one of them’s got out and he’s calling for Kasey.” He remained silent for another moment. He yelled back with a fake Kazakh accent. “Kasey take shit in woods.”
“Did that work?” I asked.
The answer came back in the form of noise. The .50 cal barked bullets into the dawn. Nigel kept a steady pace, pounding whatever was in front of him until we heard an explosion. A fireball rose over the ridge.
