by Jack Du Brul
Her bravado evaporated. “No, the elevator and stairs are the only way up.”
“What do you think, Rene?”
“Three men? One will come up the stairs, two in the elevator. One of them will remain in it so he can hold the car while the second comes to the apartment to kill her.” He put the phone back to his ear. “Foch, wait until they enter the building then send in one of the men. As soon as two of the Chinese get in the elevator tell him to take out the man coming up the stairs. That’s how we’ll be coming down.” He turned his attention back to Mercer. “We’ll be gone before the Chinese in the elevator know we have Maria or that army patrol hears anything.”
Rene opened the apartment door and checked the hallway, which was clear. With Maria between the two men, they moved toward the enclosed stairway. Like the rest of the building it was cement and they clearly heard a door opening four floors below. That would be the first of the Chinese. A moment later the door swung open a second time and someone whistling the opening bars of “La Marseillaise” entered. The Legionnaire.
Mercer glanced at Maria, trying to judge how she was handling the situation. He had just an instant to recognize the defiance before she screamed. “Help! Help me, please.”
With a startled grunt, the Chinese soldier climbing the stairs began racing upward. Bruneseau unceremoniously punched Maria in the stomach to choke off her shouts. Mercer readied himself in case the Legionnaire couldn’t stop the assassin in time.
Before the soldier came into view, everyone in the echoing stairwell heard the racking slide of his weapon being cocked. Mercer used his knee to buckle Rene and Maria just as an eruption of automatic fire burst up from below, sparking off the cement in a maddened swarm of ricochets and cement shrapnel. The soldier then turned because the next fusillade sounded like it was fired down the stairs.
Amid the deafening roar, Mercer heard Lauren’s cell phone ringing in his pocket.
He also heard a keening wail of a mortally wounded man down below. The French soldier had been hit.
“Merde!” Bruneseau looked ready to kill Maria for giving them away.
Mercer chanced opening the stairwell door and spied a Chinese assassin armed with a silenced automatic running down the hall. His partner, who’d been waiting in the open elevator car, raced after him, pulling one of the compact type 87s from under a coat.
Lieutenant Foch must have heard the gunfire outside, but Mercer didn’t know how close the Panamanian patrol was to the building. He didn’t know if Foch and his partner could storm the place. He had no choice but to go on the assumption that he and Rene were on their own.
He fired through the partially opened door, startled that the snap shot actually hit the lead gunman. He fell awkwardly, clearing a lane of fire for the other assassin. Mercer slammed the door as bullets from the assault rifle pounded the metal. Another burst exploded from below.
The phone chimed again. Bruneseau laid down suppressing fire and peered around the corner of the scissor stairs. The Chinese commando had ducked out of view. The gunfire against the closed door abated, probably because the gunman was checking his wounded comrade.
Maria had regained her breath, but wisely realized her only chance of surviving the next few seconds lay with Mercer and the heavyset Frenchman. Bruneseau fired down the stairwell again and slithered forward. The gunman had retreated at least one flight, maybe hoping to lure them down or to wait for his partners to break through the steel door. The air swam with acrid clouds from the spent ordnance.
Then came a sound more incongruous than the ringing cell phone. A single shot from a silenced pistol. And then a wet voice. “Monsieur Bruneseau, tout clair.”
The Legionnaire gunned down in the first seconds of the exchange had survived and had either climbed up behind the Chinese assassin or had lain in wait for him to come down. Mercer grabbed on the door handle to keep it closed while Rene led Maria down the stairs. He gave them a few-seconds lead then took off after them, leaping from landing to landing as he spiraled toward the first floor. Fear and adrenaline buzzed in his veins like champagne. He was halfway down when the door above opened and the Chinese gave chase. They were too far back to stop him now.
He leapt to another landing and would have fallen down the remaining stairs had he not clutched for the railing. Like a horrible Rorschach blot, the floor was painted in blood. The Chinese soldier had been hit in the side of the neck and much of the blood in his body had pumped from the grisly wound. Through the red pool, Rene and Maria’s footprints continued past the gruesome scene.
Lieutenant Foch stood at the bottom landing, his wounded man thrown over his shoulder. He had an automatic in his free hand and waved Mercer toward the small lobby. The third Legion trooper had pulled the van to the front of the building. Rene was already bustling Maria inside.
Mercer gave the street a perfunctory scan. Uniformed soldiers of Panama’s National Police were at least a hundred feet away and showing no interest in the apartment house. The only thing that had gone in their favor all morning. He waited for Foch and helped him gently lay the bleeding soldier across the van’s middle bench. The two clambered in and the driver pulled from the curb.
Mercer looked out the rear window in time to see the uninjured Chinese gunman rush from the apartment building. He quickly pulled the type 87 from view and plucked a phone from his jacket pocket.
Mercer threw him the finger. “How’s your man?” he asked Foch.
“Three hits, two in the stomach, one in the thigh.” Foch tore off his shirt and used it to stanch the blood. The wounded Legionnaire moaned as pressure was applied to the oozing holes. “He needs a hospital.”
Mercer addressed the driver, “Head toward Avenue Balboa on the waterfront. That’ll take us to the Paitilla Hospital.”
Although they were far from safe, Bruneseau didn’t protest the detour. In the past weeks he’d learned that no matter what, the Foreign Legion always took care of their own. He nodded to the young soldier behind the wheel. “You’ll have to stay with him.”
“I understand.” Because these were gunshot wounds, it was likely the driver would be detained by the police. He was the logical choice to remain behind.
Mercer was well aware that including Foch, only five Legionnaires were in fighting condition. If Lauren’s father couldn’t come through for him, Liu would likely succeed through sheer attrition. Thinking of General Vanik reminded him of the cell phone. He turned it on and hit the automatic call-back button. Rather than a long international exchange, it dialed a seven-digit local number.
“Hold on,” a female voice answered after four rings. For a moment Mercer thought it was Lauren.
The next sound he heard was tires squealing on asphalt and the concussive blast from a handgun.
What the hell?
“One more second,” the woman said.
It sounded so much like her that Mercer’s heart flopped in his chest. He couldn’t help himself. “Lauren?” His voice quivered.
“Hi, Mercer. Give me a sec.” The gun exploded again and Mercer could hear the rising snarl of a vehicle under heavy acceleration. Foch and Bruneseau had looked at Mercer when he called Lauren’s name. He gave them an enthusiastic thumbs-up.
His hand tightened on the phone as the past fifteen hours of misery lifted from his shoulders. He had no idea how or why, but Lauren was alive. Alive! So overcome with emotion, he couldn’t speak as he listened to what sounded like a running battle over the cellular connection.
He heard the Doppler wail of a tractor-trailer truck’s air horn and the sharper bark of a smaller vehicle’s tires losing grip. Lauren gave a little moan as if her voice could control the events around her.
“Yessss!”
“What happened?”
She sighed, relieved. “Some of Liu’s goons were following me. I just played chicken with an eighteen-wheeler and got him to jackknife across the road behind me. I think I’m in the clear. I’m about ten miles from the city.”
M
ercer laughed along with her breezy description, loving the melodious sound of her voice. “Are you going to tell me how you pulled off the greatest Lazarus impersonation since the Bible?”
“It can wait.” She became almost frantic with the need to tell him what she knew. “Liu’s going to take out the canal tomorrow! Sun told me because he thought I wasn’t getting out of his horror chamber. The ship carrying the explosives is called Gemini.”
“Jesus. Are you sure?”
“His exact words were that Gemini is going to be detonated in the canal tomorrow.”
“Anything else?”
“Isn’t that enough?” she cried.
“I’m just making sure, that’s all. I, ah. .” Mercer didn’t know how to broach the next subject so he just plowed in. “I spoke with your father this morning. I told him you were dead.”
“Thank you.” Lauren was serious. “I wouldn’t want him hearing about it from anyone else. I’ll call him in a minute.”
“Anyway, I brought him up to speed and told him some stuff even you don’t know. Like how there are eight missile launchers in the Hatcherly warehouse we broke into.”
“I never saw them,” she protested.
“I think we both did, but you made the same assumption I did, that they were cranes of some sort. They were on the other side of the building from the gravel pile, painted yellow. Rene Bruneseau is the one who recognized them when I drew a picture of one.”
“What’s my father doing?”
“Mourning you for one thing, but he’s taking the threat seriously. He’s checking with the CIA and others about recent Chinese missile movements. Also, Rene is going to get in touch with his people to corroborate our findings. With any luck we can get an Army Rapid Reaction Force down here before tomorrow.”
“Easier said than done,” Lauren said grimly. “You can’t just whistle up the cavalry to come to your rescue. The United States no longer has bases in Panama so they’ll have to mobilize out of Fort Bragg and then fly down. Unless they parachute in, the Panamanian authorities could deny them landing permission.”
“Maybe we’ll get lucky and there will be an assault ship in range with a load of marines.” Mercer’s voice betrayed that he doubted there would be such an eleventh-hour deliverance.
“I’m not too optimistic either,” Lauren agreed, then added, “but if there are marines close by, my dad will get them for us.”
“Listen, I just want to say. .” Mercer was at a loss at how to continue. He sounded more intimate than he intended. “This sounds lame, but I am glad that you’re okay. I thought, we all thought that, well. .”
Lauren laughed. “Please, don’t underwhelm me with sentiment.”
“You know what I’m trying to say.”
“I do, but it’s fun to hear you tongue-tied,” she teased.
The van made the turn from Avenue Balboa to Calle 53 Este. The hospital loomed on their left. “Lauren, I have to go. Can you get to the Radisson Royal?”
“Is that where you’re staying?”
“Yeah, we’ve got a couple rooms under Harry’s name.”
“Okay. I should be there in half an hour or so.” Her tone darkened. “Tell Lieutenant Foch that I’m sorry. Tomanovic died at the lock.”
“I’ll tell him. And Lauren, I can’t wait to see you.” Mercer smiled as he said it.
“Me too,” she replied and the phone went dead.
“Vic?” Foch asked when Mercer folded the cellular and shoved it back into his pocket. Mercer shook his head.
The Legionnaire had already accepted the Serb’s loss once and took the news with little outward reaction.
“How did she escape the lock?” Rene asked.
“I have no idea. I guess she’ll tell us in the hotel. We all set here?”
The driver swung the van toward the emergency room entrance, braking just shy of the busy doors.
Rene turned so he was looking at Maria. “You see what happened back there when you warned Liu’s men. If you try a stunt like that again, I will kill you myself.”
“I won’t.” Maria was still in shock from what she’d witnessed. Or maybe her numbness stemmed from understanding that had she not double-crossed her husband she’d be far wealthier than what Liu had promised.
Foch spoke with the driver and returned his crisp salute before whispering to the injured soldier. He kissed the man on both cheeks and followed Mercer and Maria out the side door of the van. The driver proceeded to the ER and what would no doubt be a long police interrogation. There were a number of cabs waiting at the hospital and a minute later the group was en route to the French embassy so Bruneseau could use their secure communications equipment to alert his people back home.
Mercer kept a close eye on Foch to make sure he didn’t strangle Maria Barber. Not that he wouldn’t blame him if he tried.
El Mirador
The confusion following Lauren’s escape had abated. The fury had not.
After learning what had happened, and the failure of a pursuit team to bring her back, Liu Yousheng locked himself in his office for twenty minutes. When Mr. Sun and Captain Chen were finally ushered into the room, they found the executive barely in control of himself. Liu’s face was red with suppressed rage and he had to turn his back on the two men before he could muster the discipline to speak clearly.
“I will deal with your pathetic excuses later,” he seethed when he faced them. “For now I need to concentrate on reducing the damage this can cause.”
He blew on his fingertips as if they’d been dipped in acid.
Captain Chen couldn’t meet Liu’s eye.
“Killing you two won’t make up for Ruiz’s stupidity, but don’t think the decision was an easy one to make. Ruiz has already paid for his idiocy. Your time will come.” Liu’s hot gaze fell on Sun. “What does she know and how can it hurt us?”
Sun had already considered his answer. “She knows the name Gemini-”
“Practically meaningless,” Liu snapped. That wasn’t exactly true, but he doubted anyone would link the code name to anything tangible.
“And,” Sun continued as if Liu hadn’t spoken, “she knows that our action is planned for tomorrow.” No matter what happened in Panama, Sun’s position within the Chinese military was too secure for him to worry about the anger of a man of Liu’s stature. That authority allowed him to remain tranquil in the face of his towering rage. “Telling her was part of my breaking her,” Sun stated, although there was no real need to explain himself.
Liu’s expression had narrowed and he regarded the torturer with utter contempt. Yet he was well aware of Sun’s influence in Beijing and maintained his silence. No doubt General Yu and Sun had spoken, probably this morning before the general’s flight back to China, which explained why Sun hadn’t arrived at the house until late morning. The sadistic torturer enjoyed Yu’s full protection.
For a frantic moment Liu wondered if the powers back home weren’t setting him up. Perhaps diplomatic lines had already been opened with the American authorities to explain how a rogue agent, without any support from Beijing, was planning on blowing up the canal. They might justify Yu’s unprecedented trip to the isthmus as an attempt to rein in an out-of-control COSTIND executive. If that were true, did they consider the forty million dollars in gold a small price to pay to untangle themselves from Red Island?
That concept alone dissolved Liu’s concern. If nothing more, Beijing was tight with their purse strings. If there was even a remote chance of Red Island’s success, they would protect their investment. However, Liu was wary. Factions back home would likely want his removal from COSTIND whether he succeeded or failed. That was one of communism’s many sins; triumph was met with as much condemnation as praise.
“Very well,” he said at last. He picked up the phone on his desk and dialed the Hatcherly headquarters in Balboa. A quick conversation with one of the executives confirmed the refrigerator ship Korvald, carrying the eight DF-31 ballistic missiles, was approaching Pan
amanian waters and would be ready to enter the dry dock tonight. More proof that Beijing is still behind me. He turned his attention back to Sun and Chen. “The rockets are almost here. We’ll make the assumption that Panama’s infernal rainy season will maintain its steady pace and tomorrow morning will enjoy its daily typical storm. I’ll call Felix Silvera-Arias to have Gemini’s scheduled transit moved to eight A.M. I told him last night that we’d send Gemini through in the afternoon.”
He added sourly, “It’s time he pays us back for the bribes he’s taken. Other than turning interest away from the Pedro Miguel Lock when we positioned the diving chamber and explaining away the incident on the car carrier, the canal director has done little for our cause.” He paused and changed the subject. “Chen, anything further on establishing the identity of the commandos?”
“The dive equipment recovered from Captain Vanik and the body we found last night came from a shop in Panama City. I have two men watching it this morning, but no one has shown up. I suspect they might have been warned to stay away.”
“What about the corpse?”
“Other than it being Caucasian and in excellent shape, nothing.”
“H’m. So we have a female American army officer, a mine engineer and one of the bodies we recovered near the volcanic lake had the tattoo of a European motorcycle gang. What is the connection?” Liu’s question was met by silence. He looked pointedly at Sun. “More disturbing, we have no way of knowing if she reported her findings to her superiors.”
“If she had,” Sun croaked, “we would already see a greater interest out of Washington.”
“It’s a risk to make that assumption.”
“Young captain”-Sun’s cold eyes seemed to shrivel Chen in his seat-“everything in life is risk. The Vanik woman has had a week since the trespassing at the warehouse to inform her chain of command. We’ve seen and heard nothing to indicate that she’s done so. There’s been no diplomatic pressure, no increase in American military preparedness. Nothing.”
