Red Phoenix: A Thomas Caine Thriller (The Thomas Caine Series Book 2)

by Andrew Warren

  Caine checked his watch. Five minutes had elapsed since he had left Jia in the garage.

  Ten minutes to get upstairs, get Sean, and get back to the garage, he thought.

  Assuming the black guard told the truth about his location …

  Caine took a deep breath. He would find out soon enough.

  He opened a pouch on the belt of his uniform and slipped the stun gun he had confiscated into his hand. Stepping over the groaning body on the floor, he threw open the doors of each cabinet. Rows of industrial circuit breakers were mounted inside each metal box.

  He triggered the stun gun. The weapon crackled and popped as blue sparks leapt from the tip. He ran the sparking weapon across the first set of breakers. The metal switches popped and hissed. The sudden influx of electricity fried the delicate copper wiring inside each breaker.

  The lights in the room flickered and dimmed, then went dark. A harsh electronic siren squawked to life and echoed through the hallway outside.

  Caine’s mouth twisted into a grim smile. He triggered the weapon again and proceeded to fry the remaining sets of breakers. A shower of glowing sparks illuminated the room for a few brief seconds. Then darkness settled over them once again.

  Caine grabbed his hostage from the floor. “Next stop,” he muttered as he led the man out into the hall. Outside, the halls were dark, but not pitch-black. The power outage had triggered the building's back-up generators. Spinning red emergency lights cast rotating pools of crimson across the walls and floor.

  He pushed Mole Face back the way they had come. Up ahead, he heard frantic shouting in Chinese, just audible above the squawking siren. They were approaching the room with the two guards.

  Caine triggered the stun gun once more, jabbing it into Mole Face’s back. The man jerked and stumbled as the voltage coursed through his body. Caine threw him forward and he flew past the doorway, just as the first guard was exiting. The guard turned to look as the body fell past him. As he looked away, Caine pressed the trigger on the weapon again.

  Nothing happened.

  Damn, he thought. Battery must have discharged.

  He wanted to avoid a gunfight for as long as possible. The sound of gunshots would carry even over the siren.

  The guard rushed over and kneeled down next to Mole Face. He ripped the hood off the twitching man.

  “Gau shenme gui? Hey, I know this guy. He work here!”

  He turned and looked up, his eyes wide as Caine charged towards him. Caine tore the fire extinguisher off the wall as he moved towards the guard.

  The uniformed man leapt to his feet. “Rhukin zhe!” he yelled. “Intruder! Who the hell are—”

  Caine swung the metal cylinder in a sweeping arc. The blow struck the guard across the chin before he could finish his warning. The force of the impact spun the man around and he dropped to the floor like a stone.

  Caine whirled around to face the second guard just as he exited the room. The man saw his partner slumped on the ground and drew his revolver from its holster.

  He raised the pistol towards Caine, but he was too slow. Caine slammed the bottom of the extinguisher into the advancing man’s face. The blow struck with a dull, echoing thud. As his target stumbled backwards, Caine jabbed again. This time he used both hands to power the canister into the man’s gut. The guard bent forward from the impact, gasping for breath.

  Caine took aim and depressed the handle of the extinguisher. A burst of white chemical smoke whooshed from the nozzle, blasting the dazed guard in the face. He stumbled backwards through the door. The extinguisher filled the small room around him with an impenetrable haze. Caine could hear the man coughing and wheezing within the thick cloud.

  Holding his breath, Caine stepped into the room. Grabbing the top of the extinguisher with both hands, he swung it like a baseball bat. A metallic clang rang out as it connected with the coughing guard's head. The man went silent, dropping to the floor.

  Caine pivoted to his right. He slammed the extinguisher down on the knob of the open door. The heavy metal canister battered the knob clean off the lock assembly. Caine kicked it outside and left the room, slamming the door shut behind him.

  He dropped the empty fire extinguisher, letting it clatter to the floor next to the unconscious bodies of Mole Face and the guard. Then he advanced towards the stairs. He checked his watch.

  Six minutes to go …

  Sean Tyler crouched next to the door of the small, concrete room. He put his ear to the door, listening to the commotion outside. He heard faint noises above the screeching siren that echoed through the complex. Men shooting, glass breaking, screams and shouts. The lights in the room had gone out, and there were no windows. His face was lit by flashes of red light, bursting from the crack under the door.

  Alton paced back and forth on the other side of the room. “This sound bad, no good! Dangerous out there!”

  Sean reached up and gripped the door lever. “It’s dangerous in here too. You know better than anyone, people don’t leave here. They come in, and they disappear.”

  “But not you! Some big shot from Ministry of Security comes to see you. Moves you to private room, moves me in here too … who are you? Why you so special?”

  The young man shrugged. “I dunno, man, I just thought it was ‘cause I was American.”

  Alton shook his head and ran a hand through his tuft of black hair. “Typical. Trust me, they want you for something. Something special. Otherwise, they just leave you in Tilanqiao Prison.”

  “Well, I have no idea what that something special is, okay?" Sean said. "But I do know I have to get out of here. There’s something I have to do. You can stay here if you want. Maybe that’s safer.”

  Sean pulled the lever. It clicked open. The door was no longer locked.

  He looked back at the short, nervous man. Alton stopped pacing and sighed. “Screw that! I go with you. Maybe your luck rub off on me.”

  Sean shook his head. “I’m under arrest for industrial espionage. I'm locked up in a secret jail that no one knows exists. And I’m about to walk into a prison riot. You call that luck?”

  Alton smiled. “Could be worse.”

  “Jesus, I hope not. Okay, we go on three. You ready?”

  Alton cleaned his glasses on his shirt, then set them back onto his face. He nodded.

  Sean tightened his grip on the door. “Okay, one … two … three!”

  He opened the door and stepped into the hall.

  The wail of the siren was even louder on the other side of the door. A few other doors along the corridor hung open. Several of the older inmates shuffled back and forth in a confused daze. Sean saw a stooped, elderly man look up at the flashing emergency lights and shake his head. The man crept back into one of the rooms and shut the door behind him.

  "Kind of quiet up here," Sean said.

  "They keep most inmates on first floor," Alton hissed behind him. "You one of the special ones they move up here!"

  A long panel of square windows ran along the right side of the corridor, overlooking the first floor. Crashing furniture and shattering glass rang out from below. The angry shouts of guards rose above the chaos as they ordered the inmates back to their holding area. Sean moved over the windows and looked down. A throng of prisoners surged through the double doors of the cafeteria. They exploded into the halls of the facility, screaming in rage.

  Alton hung back in the doorway. He peered around the corner, beads of sweat dripping from his brow.

  “It sounds bad …” he said, his voice trailing off. He turned as heavy footsteps echoed towards them. A dark figure jogged down the corridor, heading their way.

  “Sean, look, we’re busted!”

  Sean turned and looked down the hall. He took a step backwards. A prison guard in a camouflaged jumpsuit emerged from the crimson glow of the lights.

  “Huilai!” he shouted as he worked the pump of his riot-control shotgun. “Get back in your room; it’s not safe out here!”

  Sean froze.
The flashing lights, the piercing wail of the sirens … it was overwhelming. The guard pointed the gun at the ceiling and fired. Sean’s face twitched as the light fixture above them exploded, raining a fine shrapnel of plastic and glass down onto the floor.”

  “Move it guilao!” the guard shouted.

  “Sean, get back here, come on!” Alton shouted. “It’s not worth it!” He ran out into the hall and grabbed Sean’s shoulder. “Get back inside!”

  As he shook Sean, the guard moved closer to them. “Get back inside mashang, or I—”

  The guard’s words were replaced by a wet, choking sound. His eyes bulged, and his face flushed bright red. His body fell forward, and he slammed face first into the floor.

  A fire ax was buried in his back. A pool of blood spread from the twitching body.

  Alton’s eyes widened behind his glasses. His mouth gaped. “What the—”

  Another figure emerged from the shadows. As he stepped into the spinning circle of light, Sean’s trance seemed to break. “Who the hell is that?” he asked.

  The man was slim and of average height. He was Chinese, but his skin was pale, almost stark white. His eyes glowed a strange, rat-like pink in the crimson emergency lights. His hair was blond, cut in a short, sweeping, modern style.

  He marched towards them and stopped at the corpse of the guard. He reached down and wrapped his slender, pale fingers around the handle of the ax. Grunting with exertion, he pulled the weapon from the dead man’s body.

  He looked up at Sean, and his mouth stretched tight into a wide grin.

  Sean took a step back. “Get back in the room,” he said in a low voice.

  “Huh?”

  “Back in the room! Go!”

  The pale, albino man charged towards them, swinging the ax up and over his shoulder. He wailed a battle cry as Sean and Alton scrambled back into their holding cell.

  They slammed the door shut and threw their weight against it. The door buckled as the man on the other side slammed into it.

  “Lock it! Lock the door!” Alton screamed.

  “I can’t!” Sean shouted back. “The power's out, it’s an electronic lock!”

  The door buckled again. They heard a heavy crash, followed by the sound of splintering wood.

  “Get the bed, push it over here!”

  Alton slid the metal bunk towards them. Together they pushed both their beds up against the door, then pushed their shoulders against them, bracing their feet against the floor.

  The crashing and splintering continued behind them as the madman pounded against the door.

  “Who the hell is that guy?” Sean shouted.

  “I don’t know," Alton gasped. "I never saw him before!”

  The head of the ax crashed through the splintering wood panel of the door. The thick blade sliced through the thin mattresses of the bunks as if they were paper.

  “You were right!” Sean grunted.

  Alton panted from exertion as they struggled to keep the door closed. “About what?”

  “Things just got worse!”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Caine made his way back upstairs and was surprised to find the first floor of the black jail almost empty. The double doors of the large cafeteria were smashed into jagged fragments of splintered wood. Caine coughed, and his eyes began to tear. A thin, bitter-smelling haze drifted through the air. He recognized the smell. The guards had used tear gas to quell the surge of inmates as they rushed to escape the holding area.

  He walked past the battered body of an unconscious guard. A few men in plain clothes lay on the ground as well, moaning and twitching from their injuries. Caine wasn’t sure if they were detainees, or more black guards like Mole Face. Either way, it appeared most of the inmates had managed to escape the building after the power went out. He could hear the muted shouts and screams of guards outside.

  Jia … is she still safe in the garage? He forced the thoughts from his mind. No time for that now.

  He grabbed a pair of tear gas grenades from the unconscious guard’s belt. A few feet away, he spotted a discarded shotgun lying on the ground. He picked it up and examined the weapon, recognizing it as a Hawk Type 97-1 pump action. Based on the reliable and time-tested Remington 870 design, the weapon was a favorite of the Chinese police. He checked the tube under the barrel and found it still held three of its five loads.

  He slipped his revolver into the inner pocket of the jumpsuit. Then he pumped the shotgun and proceeded to the next set of coordinates on his mental map. He turned the corner and moved towards the main stairs. Another domed security camera was mounted next to the stairwell. Caine assumed that China's Ministry of State Security had a file on him and his past activities. I’m sure that operation in Macau raised a few eyebrows, he thought, remembering an old mission. Such a file would include photographs, and he could not afford to be recognized now.

  He had not yet been debriefed by the CIA. His file still listed him as a traitor, KIA. That was the narrative Bernatto had pushed after betraying him in Afghanistan. To the rest of the world, he was dead. Killed in action while trying to sell the contraband that had disappeared after Operation Big Blind. But he doubted the Chinese government would put much stock in that. Not if they identified him on video assaulting a building in the middle of Beijing.

  He ducked behind a corner wall as the camera rotated in his direction. Popping a gas grenade off his belt, he tossed it under the camera. The grenade detonated with a loud pop, and a cloud of white vapor exploded into the corridor.

  Caine took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He charged forward into the cloud, covering his mouth and nose with his arm. The burning vapor licked at his skin, but he pushed forward. He had experienced the gas many times before. He was trained to push through the pain and discomfort.

  After he ascended two flights of stairs, he opened his eyes and exhaled, then coughed and gagged. His eyes were swollen and watery. He pushed forward.

  He heard a series of crashes on the floor above. Each impact echoed through the vertical shaft of the stairwell. The loud noise cut through the incessant howl of the siren.

  There was no more time to waste. Caine sped up his pace and jogged up the remaining stairs.

  He emerged on the third floor and took a deep breath. The dank, mildewed air was like a fresh summer breeze compared to the stinging haze of the lower level. The crashing was louder now. Whatever was making the noise was just around the corner.

  Caine held out the shotgun and paced down the corridor. He swung around the corner and found himself staring down another long, dim hallway. A series of large glass windows broke up the wall on his left. They looked down on the cafeteria, the makeshift central holding area. A row of doors stood to his right. Most of them were open now that the electronic locks had disengaged.

  As he advanced down the hall, Caine squinted. The spinning red lights illuminated a figure at the end of the hall. It was a slim, lean man, swinging something over his shoulder.

  As he got closer, Caine realized the man was wielding an ax.

  The man threw the heavy weapon forward, striking the door with another loud crash.

  Caine did a quick mental check of the building’s floor plans. The room up ahead was where Sean was being held. This man, whomever he might be, was trying to force his way in.

  The assassin … Red Phoenix!

  Caine raised the shotgun. “Move away from the door! Now!” he ordered. His voice boomed down the corridor.

  The man whirled around and Caine stared in disbelief. Lit by the spinning, crimson pools of light, the figure looked like a ghost.

  The pale, albino man cursed in Chinese. Uttering a high-pitched scream, he raised the ax and charged towards Caine.

  Caine did not hesitate. The shotgun bucked and roared in his hands.

  The man uttered a short bark of pain. He jerked to a stop and looked down at his chest with a curious expression.

  Caine took a few steps forward. Something was wrong. The man was st
ill standing.

  Caine pumped the shotgun, ejecting the old shell to the ground and loading the new one. He fired again.

  The explosion of gunfire echoed through the corridor. The albino stumbled backwards as the slug struck him in the shoulder. His hand shot up and rubbed the point of impact, but again, he did not go down.

  He looked up and stared at Caine. His eyes seemed to glow a hellish red in the overhead emergency light. His thin, pale lips twisted into a smile.

  Caine looked down. In the dim light he could see the spent shell casing of his last shot rolling across the floor in front of his feet.

  Normal shell casings were red. The one on the ground was blue. He couldn’t read the Chinese markings on the side, but he knew exactly what they must say …

  Non-lethal, he thought. Rubber bullets. Should have checked. Stupid, careless …

  Caine debated reaching for his pistol, but there was no time. The albino man charged forward, screaming in Chinese. His stark white skin and shrieking cries were unnerving. They made him seem even more like some kind of malevolent ghost or spirit. He raised the ax above his head in a double-handed grip.

  Caine raised the shotgun horizontally in front of his face, blocking the downward swing of the ax. The metal blade clanged against the barrel of the gun, just inches away from splitting his skull. The pale man was stronger than he looked. The force of his swing knocked Caine back a few steps, and it took all his strength to hold the blade at bay.

  Recovering from the force of the blow, Caine thrust the gun forward, knocking the ax back. He snapped the butt of the gun towards his attacker’s face.

  The albino ducked his head down. As he evaded the blow he pivoted his body, launching a powerful side kick into Caine’s left knee.

  Caine staggered backwards again and felt his leg wobble. If I could just get clear, he thought. Get a shot at a vital organ. At this close range, even a rubber bullet would incapacitate his foe. But the albino didn’t let up in his assault. A forward thrust kick slammed into Caine’s abdomen, sending him crashing to the ground. He gasped for air, struggling to replenish the oxygen that had been forced from his lungs.