by Jack Du Brul
“It’s over. Operation Red Island was a foolish risk to begin with. I tried to tell the premier that you couldn’t do it, but he thought you deserved a chance.”
“You told the premier I couldn’t . . .” Liu wasn’t sure he’d heard right. “It was you who recommended that I propose this operation to him.” And then he understood just how well he’d been set up by the man he considered his mentor. “There aren’t any missiles on this ship, are there?”
Yu smiled as if to say of course not. “Only the small circle of workers who assembled them know they are mock-ups. Partially for your benefit, had you chosen to inspect them, but also because several of the more militaristic members of the politburo wanted to be on the docks in Shanghai to see them loaded. Captain Wong doesn’t even know they are dummies. The Korvald’s true reason for being here is to return the launcher/erectors, which, I might add, are genuine.”
“You did all of this just to get me out of Hatcherly.”
“Oh, it’s much more than that. It’s also to teach your generation that you only have power because we decide you can. There are thousands of companies under the COSTIND umbrella, each headed by men such as yourself, men who sometimes forget their place. China is going through dynamic changes, sweeping economic shifts that sometimes threaten to spill over into full-blown capitalism. Which we both know fosters thoughts of democracy. These thoughts must be crushed.
“Tiananmen taught us that punishing the people just gives our enemies more reason to denounce us. However, targeting men like you, men whose overreaching ambition makes them vulnerable, is just as effective at reducing capitalistic, and thus democratic, aspirations. The people don’t care about men like you. They resent that your grand lifestyle is a result of their labor. They love to hear about a corrupt executive being executed for misappropriation of state funds. They see your downfall as the state protecting their interests.”
“While we both know it’s just the state clamping down harder on their rights.”
Yu smiled. “It’s like Ronald Reagan’s trickle-down theory. Executives, factory managers, and many others will know by what happened to you that they aren’t as free as they believe. Your defeat will keep their dreams of autonomy dormant for another ten years at least. And with them subdued, the people who work for them will remain compliant.”
“What if I had succeeded?” Liu asked.
“I would have reaped the rewards, but the risk of failure was too great to back you completely. I chose to give you just enough to encourage you but not enough to embolden you. That you did on your own.”
“How much has this cost you? The gold, the mining equipment, all the ships. Was this power play worth all that?”
“To maintain absolute control of China for another ten years? Of course. Besides, the ships are all tired rust buckets destined to be broken up. The remainder of the gold you didn’t turn over for Quintero’s televised photo opportunity has already been recovered from your vaults by Mr. Sun here. Certainly there were costs, but it seems enough damage has been done to the canal to ensure they will be recovered by Hatcherly. Freight still has to move across the isthmus and our railroad and oil pipeline are the only way.”
“So there are explosives on the ships?”
“More than enough for even one detonation to choke off the Gaillard Cut for at least a year,” Yu said. “Don’t you see, I took the best of your operation and discarded the rest. We don’t need to threaten America with nuclear weapons to take Taiwan. Eventually China will be rich enough that they will want to return to the fold on their own. I needed you as an example to the men who will make China rich that they do it for the good of the party, not themselves. A lesson you forgot long ago, I’m afraid.”
So thoroughly outmaneuvered, Liu was speechless. General Yu had manipulated him perfectly, pushing him ever onward toward his own downfall. He felt the deck vibration change slightly as the engine RPMs were increased. The eight large trucks could be loaded in fifteen minutes or so since the dry dock was serviced by two overhead cranes and there was no need to be as delicate as if they were unloading the volatile strategic missiles.
“Will I be going back with you?” he finally asked the general.
Yu shook his head as if he was actually saddened by this. “I’m sorry, my young friend. Someone needs to remain behind and take the blame for this attempt at a corporate takeover of an entire country. I brought a briefcase full of documentation that shows this operation was entirely your doing. President Quintero and the canal director, Felix Silvera-Arias, were told this morning that it is in their best interest to keep quiet about their involvement.”
“My family?”
“Won’t share your fate. I promise you that.”
“That is very generous of you.” Liu was serious. Usually wives, parents, children and other family members would be purged because of the mistakes of one man. That fear was one more way the government maintained its iron grip. “What happens now?”
“We have a little time.” Yu reached into his jacket for his cigarettes. He offered one to Liu. “I know you quit, but considering the circumstances . . .” The general lit his own cigarette first and held his lighter for Liu. “Sergeant Huai, would you care for one?”
“Thank you, General.” Huai was left to light his own and stepped back into the shadows to wait for his orders.
The three smoked in silence.
“What about the treasure, General?” Liu asked, dropping the spent butt to the deck and grinding it with his heel. “Will you try to recover it?”
“I hadn’t thought about it. I guess if it really is there, then in a month or a year we will find it for the Panamanians and turn it over to them as a gesture of goodwill. Learning about a billion dollars in gold, even if it’s already yours, is a powerful diplomatic tool.”
An officer approached and saluted General Yu. “With Captain Wong’s compliments. The cargo is aboard. He reports that the Englander Rose has cleared the Miraflores Locks and believes it might be heading toward us.”
“Damn. Tell the captain we can cast off in a moment. Wait, I’ll come to the bridge with you. Sergeant Huai, your sidearm, please. Give it to Mr. Liu.”
“Sir?”
“Your sidearm. The least we can do is let him do this honorably. But keep him covered just in case.” Yu grabbed a large briefcase from the first officer’s cabin and locked it to Liu’s wrist with a pair of handcuffs. “When it is done, take his body to his office, give some explanation to his staff and get your men out of Panama as quickly as possible.”
“I understand, sir.” The veteran eyed Liu then turned back to the general. “May I ask one thing?”
“What is it, man?” Yu snapped, irritated that Huai saw any ambiguities in his orders.
“When you mentioned the costs incurred in this operation, you didn’t mention the men I’ve lost.”
Something in the sergeant’s tone made the general pay more attention. “It’s a soldier’s duty to do as ordered, Sergeant. It is the price of war.”
“That’s what I thought, sir.”
General Yu turned to follow the first officer up to the bridge.
“The price of war,” Huai repeated and slid his pistol from its holster.
Lauren had moved next to Mercer and slipped her arm around his waist, snuggling her head against his shoulder to wait for the inevitable. The Frenchmen spoke quietly among themselves, offering prayers perhaps or recounting the bravery of how past Legionnaires had faced death. Harry smoked through another cigarette and guzzled the last of the Jack Daniel’s. Mercer refused his offer of a hit knowing his old friend would enjoy it more.
A nagging voice, tinny and remote, tickled Mercer’s hearing. He tried to ignore it, but it was insistent. The uncomfortable radio earpiece dangled down his chest on its slender wire. He realized that was the source of the voice and he pressed the speaker back in place. “Angel Two, this is Heaven. Over.”
He had forgotten the guided-missile destroyer. “Hea
ven, this is Angel Two. Go ahead. Over.”
“We’ve got a rescue helo in the air. ETA is seven minutes.”
With a shout Mercer repeated what he’d just heard. The laughs and cries returned even louder than before. “Roger that, Heaven. We’ll be standing by. Make sure the pilot knows he’ll only have two minutes to pick us up and get clear again.”
“I’ll make sure she knows,” the female comm officer replied, emphasizing the inbound pilot’s gender.
Foch got back on the radio with Rabidoux. “Helo extraction in seven minutes.”
“I’ve got even better news. Munz has almost got the bomb disarmed. Once into the timing device, there were no more booby traps. It’s a straightforward job from here on out.”
“How long?”
“A minute, maybe less. The wiring will be disabled before the water can cause a short. Tell Mercer to let the ship sink in deep water. If we can stay afloat long enough, sail her right under the Bridge of the Americas and let her go in the Bay of Panama.”
“Will do. Good job.”
“Munz almost has it.” Foch’s report was met by a stunned silence. “The timer. He almost has it deactivated. The ship’s not going to explode.”
“He’s sure?”
“Bomb disposal men aren’t known to boast when their butts are on the line.” Foch grinned. “He says that if the ship can make it to try to let her sink in deep water.”
“Never happen,” Harry said. “We’ll be lucky to make it out of the canal. I can’t tell how fast we’re shipping water, but I can’t see us getting more than another couple of miles out of her.”
“Okay,” said Mercer. “What’s out there in the next couple of miles?”
Lauren thought about it. “Balboa and the abandoned navy fueling depot at Rodman are on the right side of the canal. On the left is all Hatcherly facilities.”
As soon as she said it, Mercer, Harry, and she exchanged a look. “What about it, Harry?” Mercer asked.
He chuckled. “I can’t imagine a more fitting burial for this old girl than right up Liu Yousheng’s asset.”
Mercer waited for confirmation that Munz had succeeded before calling the USS McCampbell. Two minutes later, the German and his French partner ambled onto the bridge. Their uniforms were soaked from the flooding holds, but nothing could diminish their sense of accomplishment. “I don’t care where you two are on the promotion lists,” Foch gushed and kissed his men on both cheeks. “You’re each getting bumped a grade.”
“Angel Two to Heaven,” Mercer called after adding his congratulations.
“Go ahead, Angel.”
“Slight change of plans. The bomb’s been deactivated. We’re going to try to reach the Hatcherly container port. We can’t see it yet. Can you give me an idea of shipping around it?”
“One moment, Angel. Ah, are you sure about the bomb?”
“We’d be screaming for that chopper if we weren’t.”
“Roger, Angel. There’s only one ship at the facility at this time. It’s just now emerging from an enclosed dry dock.”
Mercer had a sneaking suspicion he knew what ship that was. “Heaven, any chance you can read its name?”
“We can read the magazine stuffed into the back pocket of a deckhand by her jackstaff. She’s the MV Korvald, registered in Liberia.”
“Korvald’s coming out of the dry dock,” Mercer told Harry.
He goosed the throttles a little farther “Say no more.” Harry looked up to speak to his ship. “Okay, baby, you hold together for old Captain Harry and he’ll give you a send-off befitting a dreadnought.”
“Are you going to ram the Korvald?” Rene asked.
“If the Rose’ll let me.” Harry smiled and patted the wheel.
“Are you insane? We’re loaded with thousands of tons of explosives and the Korvald’s carrying eight intercontinental ballistic missiles. You are going to kill us all and level five square kilometers.”
“Don’t worry, Rene.” Mercer interceded before Bruneseau completely lost it again. “Harry’s making another of his bad jokes. He’s not gonna hit her. What we’ll do is box her in and keep her from escaping. Those missiles are the perfect evidence against Liu Yousheng.”
The French spy seemed satisfied, but the scowl didn’t leave his face. It was clear that he would never trust Harry White.
Mercer moved close to his friend so Bruneseau couldn’t overhear. “You really weren’t planning on ramming the Korvald , were you?”
“Oh, I’m still planning on it.” Harry cackled. They were a half mile from the Hatcherly port. Against the backdrop of the storm, the tall Hyundai gantry cranes stood like colossal scaffolds. Behind them was a maze of shipping containers. Immediately next to the cranes was the dry dock. The tail of a ship was slowly backing from the cavernous entrance. “Take the wheel.”
“What?”
Harry stepped away from the ship’s controls. “I said take the wheel. We’ve got a couple minutes and I wasn’t kidding that I have to take a leak. Just keep her on course for the dry dock.”
By the time Harry returned from the head, the Englander Rose had started to list to port at an angle that deepened remarkably fast. They were separated from the dry dock by a quarter mile of choppy water and the Korvald was almost free from the enclosure. With the load of water filling her bilge and starting to swamp her lower cargo decks, the Rose became more sluggish. Her speed fell away to the point that Harry didn’t think they were going to make it. He eased back on the throttles.
“Okay, folks, this is what I want to do,” he said. “If we go, we’re going to roll to port. She won’t flip completely because the water here isn’t deep enough. She’ll just settle in the mud on her side. All of you go out on the starboard wing bridge and wait for it to happen.”
“What about you?” Foch asked.
“I’ve got to hold her on course as long as I can.”
“Someone find some rope,” Lauren ordered. “We can tie a loop around your waist and haul you up when the ship capsizes.”
Gathering the weapons, the group moved outside while Mercer jury-rigged a climber’s harness out of some rope and secured Harry to the wing-bridge railing. “How’s that?”
“Feels like a damned straitjacket,” Harry complained.
“You’d know.”
Mercer stayed at his friend’s side as the ship moved closer to its target and slid closer to overturning. By the inclinometer screwed into a bulkhead, her angle was twenty-two degrees. The measuring device had a mark stating she could recover from a forty-degree dip, but not with her holds flooded and probably only when wave action would help to right her. Harry leaned into his harness while Mercer was forced to hold the console.
They could see the Korvald clearly. She was newer than the Rose; larger too. Her cargo wasn’t heavy enough to hide the bright line of antifouling paint along her waterline. Men stood at the fantail, and others were visible on her wing bridge. Three were in dark naval-like uniforms while two others wore suits. Both civilians were shorter than average, although one had a thick build. Something nagged at Mercer about the thinner of the pair. He groped for the binoculars, swinging them up one-handed, and spreading his feet farther as the ship’s list deepened past thirty degrees.
He dialed in the focus, zeroing in on the men guiding the refrigerator ship from under a tarp protecting the exposed bridge from the rain. Facial features became clear. All were staring at the tired tramp steamer limping toward them. Mercer recognized none of the crew, nor the heavy-set civilian, but he knew the frail figure.
His hand tightened on the binoculars and began to tremble. “Sun’s on that ship.”
“Who? The torturer?”
“Yes.”
“Well, goddamn.”
“Harry, we can’t let them get away.”
“I’m working on it, pal, I’m working on it.”
Although she was barely moving under her own power, the current rushing down the canal was enough to keep the Rose charg
ing at the Korvald. The range dropped to a hundred yards, then eighty. Armed men suddenly appeared at the rail of the Chinese ship. They opened fire, sporadically at first, and then more sustained and concentrated. For the third time, bullets ricocheted around the bridge. Harry and Mercer dropped to the deck to find cover.
“Shit!”
“What is it?” Mercer asked over the din, fearing Harry had been hit.
“I need to see which way the Korvald’s going to turn. She could back around and head straight for open water or she could cut inside us and circle the harbor to get out behind us.”
“How can you tell which way she’ll go?” A round blew the stuffing out of the chair Lauren had been using.
“I need to see the wash from her bow thruster and how her rudder’s cocked.”
Lauren shouted from the protection of the offside wing. “Get out here, you two. You’re going to get yourselves killed.”
“It isn’t worth it,” Foch added.
Mercer ignored them and tried his radio. “Heaven, come in. This is Angel Two. Where’s that chopper?”
No sooner had he asked than the beating rotors of an SH- 60 Seahawk filled the bridge with noise as it thundered twenty feet over their heads. The downblast whipped a brutal wind through the shattered windows. The chopper had come in low, using the drifting hulk of the Englander Rose as cover, popping into view at the last moment. It pirouetted to get an angle for a door gunner to rake the missile ship with his M-60.
Hitting only two of the Chinese soldiers, he still managed to clear the railing as the others dove for cover.
Mercer helped Harry to his feet. There was a frothing patch of water near the Korvald’s bow. Using the powerful athwartship thruster she was beginning her turn, hoping to beat the Rose by swinging herself to shoot directly down the canal.
Harry spotted it immediately. “We’ve got them.” He cranked the wheel toward the big reefer ship.
Maneuvering her bow so that it was perpendicular to the dry dock but still pointed toward shore, Captain Wong had hoped to beat the derelict by dancing inside her. Had he known what Harry White knew, he would have spun out the other way and easily outflanked the sinking ship.
