Overwhelming Force

by Andrew Watts

  Chase said, “Let’s resolve this as peacefully as possible. Lena, I really don’t want you to get hurt.”

  She felt invigorated, knowing something that he didn’t. Her eyes glowed with realization. She could still win.

  She stood.

  Chase stood, removing his pistol. “Lena. Please.”

  The waitress screamed. It took all of Chase’s discipline not to take his eyes off Lena, the gun still aimed at her chest.

  “Hey!” An angry male voice, coming from the restaurant’s kitchen. Then the distinct sound of a pump-action shotgun sending a round into the chamber. Even Chase’s years of experience and training couldn’t fight the human instinct of preservation of life.

  His head turned towards the sound. Only for a split second. But it was all Lena needed.

  Her hand rose from her purse and she shoved a Taser into the flesh near Chase’s collarbone. He convulsed, and Lena let go of the device, letting it clatter on the floor. The restaurant owner with the shotgun called out, but she had already hopped the small iron fence and made her way to the sidewalk. As she walked, Lena reached into her purse and thumbed her radio transmitter.

  Susan was livid. “He went alone? Why the hell did Chase go in alone?”

  David sat on the couch of a nearby safe house that was operating as the command center for this op. He was new to this type of clandestine work but was still pretty sure that this was not how things were meant to go.

  “There’s a team a block away ready to…stand by…”

  Susan practically screamed into the radio. “What is going on?”

  “Man down at restaurant number two. Subject is on foot. Just headed into the alleyway west of the restaurant.”

  Susan was furious. “Notify local law enforcement and SEAL Team Two. Tell them what to look for. And make sure they know that there’s a Chinese SOF unit nearby that might try to assist her. God help us, this is a clusterfuck.”

  Lena had entered the building adjacent to the restaurant via a fire escape and unlatched second-story window. She could hear the squeal of tires and rush of engines as government vehicles approached the entrance of the restaurant. She shut the window, blocking out the sound of running footsteps on the pavement below.

  The townhouse she was in was a residence, and she could hear people speaking on the floor below. She walked into the carpeted hallway and crept down the stairs. An elderly woman sat on the couch in front of a TV, mouth gaping as she saw Lena coming down the stairs.

  “Martha, there must be ten men out there. They got guns and everything. Honey, I think it’s the FBI! Must be a murder or something. Maybe it’s them Chinese?”

  The elderly woman who was gaping at Lena looked like she was about to scream, so Lena put a bullet in her forehead.

  “Martha, what was that?” The elderly man came in from the kitchen and Lena fired a single shot into his chest. He collapsed to the floor, writhing in pain. Lena walked over to him and fired another shot down into his left eye.

  The home had street access from the front and rear. The old man had been looking out his kitchen window, to the street that ran by the restaurant. It would only be a moment before some of the FBI agents ran through the door. She began walking to the opposite side of the house, to the back street, where she expected to find her South Sword support team coming to her rescue. Her internal clock told her it had been approximately one minute since she had tased Chase.

  A sedan pulled up ten feet in front of the home, three Chinese men inside, each scanning the streets. Lena was about to open the door when a wave of nausea hit her. Overcome, she leaned over and retched behind the door for a full five seconds, then spat a few times and wiped her mouth with her sleeve.

  What is wrong with me? She looked back at the two corpses on the floor. Images of others that she had killed over the past few months flashed through her mind. Especially the teenage girl. The Chinese president’s daughter, standing on the penthouse outdoor terrace. That was it. That was the one that had changed her. She used to get a rush when she killed. A kick of endorphins similar to sex. It was something that she could never tell anyone about, but she knew it existed in her. But that had faded. Seeing these corpses here—two innocent civilians—was it guilt that had made her sick? Lena wanted to scream. She hated feeling weak.

  Instead she turned back to the street, looking out the window, seeing the Chinese soldiers sitting in the sedan through the thin curtain. Lena gritted her teeth and pushed the door open, making her way out to the waiting car.

  Chase was helped up by one of the CIA special operations group men. His collarbone stung, and he felt dizzy and tingly.

  “I thought you said you could take her?” asked one of the FBI agents.

  “Homeboy here pointed a shotgun at me.”

  The cook had been disarmed and was now explaining his story to the local police officer, who had been called to the scene.

  “Are we following her?”

  “Yes.”

  Two pickup trucks pulled up on the street outside. Chase recognized some of the passengers as members of SEAL Team Two. Everyone began leaving the restaurant, heading back out to the vehicles on the street.

  One of the CIA men said, “You hear that?”

  Chase frowned. “Hear what?”

  The guy looked at Chase funny, then pointed at his ear.

  “Damn. No. I think my earpiece got fried when she tased me.”

  One of the men snorted. “Collinsworth says we have eyes on a suspected Chinese vehicle. They’re headed west to…”

  The man jerked to the side, and then fell to the ground, the snap of a bullet whizzing by Chase’s head and then a distant crack echoing through the street. Chase ducked and ran for cover as all the men on the street scattered to their vehicles. Two blocks away, the yellow flashes of gunfire appeared from two darkened windows of a residential building.

  The cabin door of the nearest SEAL pickup truck opened, and Chase dove in. It accelerated and peeled around the corner just as he shut his door.

  “Contact one block east,” came the voice of the driver. He drove up on the empty sidewalk and brought the truck to a halt. “Spotter said there were gunshots coming from that second-story window.” Chase could see a green attached home with two second-story windows opened, a white shade flapping in the wind.

  “More gunfire coming from the south side of town, hitting Delta squad.”

  One of the SEALs in the back seat handed Chase a helmet and flipped on the comms. Chase snapped the chinstrap and could immediately hear the chatter from the SEALs and on-scene commander.

  Susan’s voice came through in a frantic tone. “Air support is on the way. Maintain pursuit. But whatever you do, we do not want her killed. Don’t move in on her until I say so. Our best way to salvage this is to—”

  Chase saw a flash of yellow from the open window across the street and then a spiderweb of cracked glass on the windscreen.

  The driver slammed on the gas and turned down the street. Gunfire erupted from several of the windows, firing into Chase’s truck.

  The SEAL in the passenger seat was firing through the moonroof while another fired from the left rear window, laying down covering fire as the pickup truck raced through what must have been set up as an ambush alleyway.

  Susan’s voice came over Chase’s headset. “White pickup. Take your next left.”

  She was directing Chase’s vehicle from overhead drone footage. The pickup swerved left onto the next street, and more gunfire rained down on the vehicle. Pops on the metal and shattered glass. The SEAL in the passenger seat let out a curse and a howl of pain. Chase grabbed an M4 from the man on his left and began firing towards the Chinese out of the rear right window. The buildings and flashes of gunfire blurring together as they sped through the streets.

  “Coming up. Two more blocks. You’ll see a parking garage.”

  The gunfire had ceased.

  “I recommend you park there by the streetlights and proceed on foot.”


  “Fuck that,” replied the driver. He pulled right up to the townhome.

  “Team Bravo, you guys will have air support in two minutes. Team Charlie will be to you in one. You can wait—”

  Susan’s voice. “Negative. Go in now. Don’t kill the woman, for God’s sake, but don’t let her transmit, either. We don’t know what she’ll send.”

  The driver was checking on the SEAL in the passenger seat, who had taken two rounds, one in the arm and one in the shoulder. “Go. I’m good.”

  The driver hesitated, then nodded and got out of the vehicle. Chase and the other SEAL followed. Weapons trained forward.

  “I’ll breach.”

  “Copy.”

  The driver fixed an explosive charge to the front door and ignited it while all three men took cover to the side. After the explosion, they ran through the front door and began clearing rooms. Chase was the third man in but entered just as a Chinese soldier headed down the stairs with a rifle aimed his way.

  Chase fired two rounds, both into the man’s chest, and he dropped, falling down the stairs.

  The other two SEALs paused, realizing that if one had come from upstairs, the others were likely there as well. Chase let the driver lead the way. At the top of the stairs, he chucked a flashbang around the corner and down the hallway.

  It burst, and Chase could hear the ringing in his ears as they raced forward and down the hallway. More gunfire. One of the SEALs was hit.

  Someone screamed something in Mandarin.

  Another burst of gunfire rang out.

  Then Chase found himself through the entrance of one of the second-story rooms, staring at her. Lena stood next to a black electronic device that reminded him of a small TV satellite dish. It rested on a nightstand table next to an open window and was angled upward towards the horizon. A dead Chinese soldier lay on the floor at her feet. Next to Chase, one of the SEALs aimed a rifle at her head. Lena held a black 9mm pistol in her hand, but it was aimed toward the floor.

  Chase looked at the SEAL. His knuckles were white. The man’s face was flushed. He had just witnessed two members of his team get shot. The one in the corridor might be dead.

  Chase needed to defuse the situation. He stepped forward, placing his weapon on the floor. He held his hands out, palms facing the ground. “Put down the gun, Lena.”

  He half expected her to raise it to her own head. But she surprised him and quickly placed it on the table. There was a mix of emotion in her eyes. She looked tired, too, which he didn’t think he’d ever seen in her before.

  Chase stepped closer to her. She stared at him as they grew close. He removed a zip tie from his pocket and held it up, saying, “It’s over now, Lena. I need to do this.”

  She nodded, holding her arms behind her back.

  He could hear helicopters overhead now. Out the window, a half dozen vehicles filled with support team members parked in the street. Chase should have felt relieved, but he didn’t. Something didn’t fit. He couldn’t understand Lena’s transformation. She was a warrior. Why would she give up?

  Chase fastened the zip tie and then began to march her out of the room when the satellite dish machine began making noises. A series of beeps and vibrations, and then the machine went quiet. On the digital display, a series of Chinese characters appeared.

  She had sent her transmission.

  Lena leaned in close to him. “Now it’s over.”

  35

  Chinese aircraft carrier Liaoning

  Admiral Song toured the hangar deck of his aircraft carrier. He liked to walk about the ship now and then. It was good to let the men know that he might spot-check their work at any time. This improved quality.

  “Admiral!”

  An aide was running through the hangar, waiving his hand. They had a no-radio policy now that the carrier group was getting closer to the American islands, and messengers were being used to communicate among the higher-ranking officers.

  The admiral and his entourage stopped next to a J-15 fighter jet as the messenger reached them.

  “Sir, from the ship’s communications room. A priority message from Beijing.”

  The admiral opened the folder and removed the printed message. He waved over his chief of staff to read over his shoulder. The admiral squinted at the faded print. He had admonished the supply officer for not planning to bring enough ink for the trip. They were now stretching out every ink cartridge to the last drop. This resulted in the admiral’s increasingly blurred reading and slow loss of sanity.

  His chief of staff beat him to the crucial part of the message, cursing under his breath as he read.

  The admiral saw the passage.

  AMERICAN MILITARY IS DEVELOPING DEFENSIVE WEAPONRY INTENDED TO NEUTRALIZE JIAOLONG-CLASS WARSHIP ON JOHNSTON ATOLL AND FRENCH FRIGATE SHOALS. MINEFIELDS WILL BE DEPLOYED SURROUNDING THESE ISLANDS AND HAWAIIAN ISLAND CHAIN WITHIN NEXT 24 HOURS. THE AMERICAN WEAPON SYSTEM AT JOHNSTON ATOLL IS NOT YET OPERATIONAL BUT MAY BECOME OPERATIONAL WITHIN NEXT 24-48 HOURS. LIAONING CARRIER BATTLE GROUP SHALL IMMEDIATELY PROCEED TOWARD JOHNSTON ATOLL WITH THE INTENT OF ATTACK AND OCCUPATION. UPON COMPLETION LIAONING CARRIER BATTLE GROUP SHALL ADJUST COURSE TO TAKE STATION WITHIN STRIKE RANGE OF HAWAII. EXPECT TO PROCEED WITH ATTACK OF HAWAII ONCE ON STATION.

  The admiral looked up. “Tell the navigator and the captain to meet us in the combat operations center.”

  A few moments later, the admiral stood over a digital chart table that had been adjusted to show Johnston Atoll and Hawaii.

  “The minefields between Johnston Atoll and French Frigate Shoals will be enormous. Hundreds of miles apart.” He furrowed his brow.

  “And hundreds of miles west of Pearl Harbor.”

  “How many additional hours will the course change add to our track towards Hawaii?”

  “Only two to three hours, Admiral. But we could just change the location where we launch the strike on Hawaii.”

  “Hawaii is our real target. We cannot lose sight of that. But we now have a serious obstacle. We must increase our speed and ensure that the Americans are not able to set up their new weapon there.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “How much longer until we are in strike range of Hawaii?”

  “Approximately eight hours until we are in range with our fighters. Our land-attack cruise missiles will be in range several hours after that.”

  “We will hold off our attack until both are in range in order to maximize the effectiveness.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Make the change. Send out the orders to our ships in company.”

  “Yes, Admiral.”

  Within an hour, all seventy-four ships in the fleet had adjusted their headings.

  36

  Victoria awoke to the sound of doors slamming shut, vehicle engines starting up, and boots hitting the pavement outside her trailer barracks. She went to the door and opened it. One of the DEVGRU men was in full tactical gear, throwing a bag into the back of a jeep.

  “What’s happened?”

  “We’ve been moved up. Meeting in ten minutes on the flight line, ma’am.”

  Moved up? Victoria checked her watch. Zero one thirty. As always, Victoria was meticulously prepared. She’d filled her Camelbak before going to bed and laid out her clothing and gear. She threw on her flight suit and gargled some mouthwash while tying her boots. She was out the door in sixty seconds, helmet bag in hand, boots crunching on the gravel as she made her way to the flight line.

  She could see dim green and red lights flickering over different parts of the helicopters. The flashlights of maintenance men and aircrews doing last minute checks. One of the green lights hopped down from the tail section of her MH-60R and headed her way.

  “Morning, Boss.”

  “Plug. You been out here long?”

  “Just a few minutes. Schwartz is in the OPS tent, but he’s supposed to be here any moment. The SEALs are all ready to go.”

  “Are the aircrews?”

  “Yes,
ma’am.”

  Plug seemed more serious than normal. He was focused. It was game time, she realized.

  “The bird is ready?”

  “Good to go.”

  The four helicopters were parked twenty yards away from each other, lined up in a row. Auxiliary power carts and maintenance men were positioned in front of each aircraft. Ordnancemen had just finished their preflight weapons checks. A tense silence hung in the air. The other pilots and aircrews now stood in a group next to the special operations men, directly in front of the helicopters. Whispers and nervous laughter. Triple checks of gear and plans.

  Plug asked one of the other pilots, “What time is sunrise?”

  “Late. After zero seven. We’ll be on goggles until we reach our target.”

  Plug nodded.

  A golf cart drove from the OPS tent to the gathering on the flight line. The general’s aide indicated for Victoria and the DEVGRU commander to get in. They were driven to the OPS tent and led into a room with a large paper chart spread out over a central table. Lining the edge of the tent were computers and communications equipment. Several men wearing headphones frantically spoke and typed, funneling information to the group.

  General Schwartz saw them enter. He said, “The Chinese fleet was spotted by one of our Triton drones an hour ago. Before it was shot down, we were able to intercept communications between the Chinese aircraft carrier and the Jiaolong-class ship.” The general paused and looked up. “They changed course and now are headed straight towards Johnston Atoll. Our intelligence tells us that we can expect an attack on Johnston Atoll at any time over the next few hours, with an attack on Hawaii following that.”

  Victoria was eager. “We can launch anytime.”

  “It’s time to tell the team what our plan really is,” General Schwartz said.

  Victoria and the DEVGRU commander nodded in agreement.

  A few minutes later, General Schwartz spoke to the aircrews and special operations team in front of the waiting helicopters. The group was quiet, standing in the dark on the flight line. The sound of waves on the distant Hawaiian shoreline.