by Chuck DeVore
As the door slammed in his face it was Taylor’s turn to be comforted by Donna. She lightly put her hand on his back and said, “We’ll do all right. They still think of us as bargaining chips, otherwise they would have simply killed us.”
Taylor felt as helpless as he did the day his wife died of breast cancer. He drew strength from Donna’s touch and turned to face her, “Donna, I know this is an extreme situation, but if we get out of this alive I would like it if we could see each other.”
“I would like that too.”
Taylor heaved a sigh of relief and pulled Donna into his chest, wishing he could protect her but knowing life was too fragile to be assured by his power alone.
The remainder of Wednesday passed slowly. It was well into Thursday afternoon when two very hungry Americans, a CIA analyst and an Air Force general, quietly discussed their situation.
“I’d say we march right out of here and demand a bowl of rice,” Taylor grumbled.
Donna replied soothingly, “Tim, not being fed is a bad sign. Either things are going very badly for our hosts or they intend to kill us. In any event, I don’t think we should draw attention to ourselves just right now.”
“Damn it, I wish I knew what was happening.”
“I just wish I could take a bath.”
“So do I—wish you would take a bath, that is, you stink!” Taylor cracked a grin.
“You don’t exactly smell like roses yourself.” Donna said, tossing a wadded ball of paper at Taylor.
Taylor swatted it aside and said, “I can’t smell anything. You’re obviously not a very good analyst. . .”
Donna cut the banter off with a wave of her hand. “Do you hear that?”
“What?”
“It sounds like a chain saw or something.” Donna sprang over to the heavily curtained window and parted it slightly to reveal a gray shaft of overcast afternoon light. “There, look at that!” she said triumphantly, excited to be seeing something different that she understood.
“What is it?” Taylor glanced out the window.
About five stories below them a motorized “V” winged hang glider was climbing in a loose circle, arcing out away from the building then coming back. It passed right by their ten-story window with a loud drone. Its pilot wore goggles and the camouflage uniform of a PLA commando. “I wrote these things up in a report at headquarters. It’s a poor man’s solution to air assault. It doesn’t surprise me to see it here.”
“Why do. . .”
They heard footsteps pounding down the hallway outside. There was a shout at the door, “Away from the door!” Three seconds later the door splintered asunder and four masked soldiers burst into the room. Taylor instinctively stepped in front of Klein.
Two soldiers roughly grabbed Taylor, one man to an arm, and hustled him off. The other two painfully grabbed Donna and half carried her out the door into the dimly lit hall.
“Where are. . .” Taylor began to demand.
“Shut up!” a commando hissed in English.
Donna was surprised to find that when they hit the darkened stairwell, they went up, not down. Five frenzied flights later and Donna was on the roof, out of breath and blinking towards the ruddy western sunset.
The graveled roof of the hotel was packed with hang gliders, commandos, and a few Chinese officers. Donna saw Fu Zemin near the edge of the roof talking to a tall, well-muscled colonel. Donna heard another group of people pounding up the stairs. The soldiers pulled her forward and out of the way of the entrance to the stairwell. She saw Fu look in her direction and do a double take. He frowned and turned to Colonel Chu.
Donna looked over her shoulder just as Bob Lindley came into view, a commando on either arm. “What’s going on here? I demand to speak to your commanding officer! This is an outrage!”
Before she could process this unexpected development she heard Fu Zemin and Colonel Chu walking towards her carrying on in Mandarin. “. . .I have no idea why the Americans are up here sir, I thought it was your idea,” Chu said loudly enough that the small group of regular PLA officers heard it. Donna noticed Chu’s right hand flash a signal behind Fu’s back as the two walked in lockstep to where the three Americans stood with their six commando escorts.
A squad of commandos moved in amongst the knot of four officers.
Lindley raised his voice to Fu above the confusing din of shouts and sputtering ultralight motors, “Mr. Fu, what is the meaning of this?”
Fu, a deeply troubled look on his face finally turned to Colonel Chu and said in Mandarin, “Yes, colonel, what is the meaning of this? You call me up to see you off on your raid. Only a few special staff officers even know about this mission, and the three Americans show up. . .” Fu turned to face the Americans, reaching with his right hand into his khaki jacket and stepping away from Chu. Fu took one fluid step away from Chu and turned toward the commando, gun in hand. “Now, what is going on Colonel Chu?” Fu spat the colonel’s name out with contempt.
Chu stood his ground, “Comrade Fu, you have been under much stress recently. Please, I must be allowed to begin my mission. We are on a tight schedule.”
Donna saw one of the officers tap a colleague on the shoulder and point in their direction. Chu took a gliding step forward, angling slightly towards Fu’s gun hand.
Fu jumped back and screamed, “No! I know who you are now! I know why you looked so familiar. I won’t let you kill me like your father killed my father! Get away from me! Guards! Guards!” Fu raised the gun, a black 9mm semi automatic. Chu lunged at the Party man, sidestepping the gun barrel and grabbing the older man’s right arm and hand. The gun discharged, gouging out a dusty hole from the concrete housing of the stairwell just above Lindley’s head. Chu spun into Fu, turning his back to Fu, then kicking his right foot out behind him and right into Fu’s groin. Fu let loose a cry and crumpled as the pistol fired again, this time hitting the commando to Lindley’s left in the forehead. The three Americans dove for cover while their commando guards scattered reflexively.
Donna had seen and heard enough to understand what was happening. She urgently yelled at Taylor, “The commando officer is mutinying. I think we may have a ticket out of here!”
Donna looked over to where the officers were standing just a moment before and saw the last one falling to the ground, grasping futilely at the strand of wire that was being tightened around his neck by a burly commando. She started to get up.
“You don’t have a ticket anywhere!”
It was Lindley! Donna spun around.
Lindley was aiming an assault rifle past Donna at Colonel Chu.
“You son-of-a-bitch!” Taylor growled from a crouch then struck.
Lindley squeezed the trigger. The powerful weapon loosed a round that caught the general in the chest, knocking him back on his rear.
Chu hip shot Lindley three times in the chest. The weapon flew out of Lindley’s arms as he staggered back, then fell forward, face down next to General Taylor.
Taylor struggled to one elbow and made a great effort to turn Lindley over. “Why?” he asked hoarsely, “Why the hell did you do it?”
Lindley stared up at the darkening pink clouds, “I. . . I thought they were unbeatable. That it would be better not to stop them. . . Destiny. . .” he coughed and lost consciousness.
“So did Benedict Arnold, ass hole.” Taylor grimaced and sat up straight. Blood had soaked through his shirt down to his waist.
“Oh God, Tim!” Donna choked, kneeling at his side and helplessly trying to staunch the flow of blood.
Taylor didn’t need to see Donna’s horrified face to know he was badly wounded. “You gave me a chance to love again Donna,” he coughed, a small dribble of blood ran down the side of his mouth.
Several ultralights whiz overhead. Colonel Chu barked orders and two commandos ran up, grabbed a still balled-up Fu, and dragged him to the nearest motorized hang glider. They began strapping him in to the back seat.
“Ms. Klein, Ms Klein!” Chu addressed D
onna in Mandarin, “I believe you will want to fly with me.” It wasn’t a question.
Donna ignored the commando and stayed at Taylor’s side.
Taylor looked up at the officer. He saw the look of urgent professionalism on the man’s face. “Donna, you have to go. . . No time. Leave now!” He grabbed Donna’s hand then let go, removing his Academy ring, then his wedding band. Both came easily off his blood-soaked fingers. “I want you to have these! Give the Academy ring to my son.” He dropped the rings into Donna’s fingers then shut her hand around them. “Keep the other ring. . .”
“Ms. Klein, we must go now!” Chu clamped his hand around Donna’s wrist and wrenched her painfully away from Taylor’s side.
“No!” She moaned, tears streaming from her face, “No! No! No!”
“Donna!” Taylor spat blood, “You have to go. I love you!”
Chu hustled Donna to his ultralight. She cried over her shoulder, “I love you Tim!”
Taylor heard the stairwell begin reverberating with the sound of a hundred boots.
Donna looked back to General Taylor as Chu was strapping her into the ultralight. A commando was helping Taylor get to his feet when one of his colleagues rushed by and tossed two grenades down the stairwell. Two dull thuds echoed out but the sound of boots came on. Taylor yelled, “I’m not flight worthy. Tell your friend to have his men take me next to the door and leave me with a few grenades.”
“I can’t do. . .”
“Do it, Klein, that’s an order!” Taylor coughed.
With fresh tears running down her face, Donna communicated the general’s suggestion to Chu who instantly yelled orders to a squad of commandos. The men ran over to Taylor and set him up near the open door.
Donna forced herself to look away from Taylor. “Where are we going?” She asked the Chinese officer mechanically.
“The American ambassador’s residence, of course. We are defecting.”
“Defecting?”
“Look, no time to talk now!”
Donna didn’t want to talk anyway.
One commando held each wing tip. Chu gunned the motor and the small craft leapt forward with surprising power. Only 30 feet before reaching the three-foot high wall at the edge of the building’s roof, Chu pulled back on the stick and the collection of nylon, aluminum tubes, cable, and a large two-cycle motor scooter engine was airborne.
Donna looked back and saw General Taylor pulling the pin on a grenade and rolling down the stairwell. Her tears rolled straight back to her ears as the air rushed against her face.
Chu circled once around the hotel, picking up wingmen, organizing his formation. It was all precision and purpose.
Chu swooped down to about 100 feet off the ground and flew away from the sunset, towards the east and Taipei. He followed the darkened lines of Tollway 1 below.
The road soon became almost impossible to see. Chu shifted to the softly glowing readout of a GPS receiver clamped to the metal frame in front of him. Chu pulled back on the stick and began climbing.
Donna’s butt was beginning to grow numb from the hard metal seat and its severe vibration from the motor mounted just to her back. She figured they must have been airborne at least an hour. She thought about Taylor the entire time, praying for him as she had never prayed for anyone or anything before.
Suddenly, Chu jinked the aircraft’s wings back and forth, then climbed steeply. They circled tightly gaining altitude for at least three minutes. Then the engine died. Donna immediately panicked, “What’s wrong?” she asked.
“I want to glide in. I assume your people are not expecting me?”
“Right.”
“Then as we come in over the Ambassador’s roof I want you to call out to the guards, ‘Don’t shoot! I’m an American!’ Can you do that?”
“Yes.” Donna suddenly wasn’t so sure everything was as it seemed. “Why are you doing this? Why should I trust you?”
Chu began strapping on his night vision goggles. He remained silent, busy with his controls. Donna saw the big man’s frame heave. He spoke just above the tugging wind, “I’m doing this for my nation. My father. My mother. Fu Zemin’s father was a corrupt Party boss back in my home county. His father tried to squeeze every last drop of sweat and blood from my father, then he asked for more. My father confronted him one day. The authorities say my father was an assassin. I don’t really care why he killed Fu Zemin’s father, only that he did, and was in turn killed for his rebellion. My mother is now in jail. The Party says they may be lenient with her if I perform well in combat. They’ll never let her go. She’s a Christian, a true danger to them. She isn’t afraid of the Party. Now I am no longer afraid as well. I finally realized that China could never be great with leaders such as these. I am only sorry that my father didn’t live to hear me say that.” Chu fell silent again.
Donna put her hand on Chu’s shoulder.
“Look, we’re 500 meters away and about 200 meters above the target. I’m going to line us up and bring us down. There may be antennas and wires on the roof, so hold on. When I say so, start yelling at the top of your lungs. If something were to happen to me, take the skyrocket out of my right cargo pouch and fire it, then ignite the flare that’s in my left cargo pouch. Do you know how to use those?”
“No.”
“Well, I guess I’ll try to stay alive. My men need them to find us. I’d hate to have them drop in behind enemy lines right now, especially without a good explanation.”
Donna chuckled, she was beginning to like this colonel.
“Now, start yelling!” Chu was madly sweeping his goggles back and forth, trying to make up for their lack of a wide-angle view. At the last instant he saw it, a large antenna probably supported by guy wires that extended right across their path.
Donna couldn’t see a thing, “Don’t shoot, don’t shoot! This is Donna Klein! I’m an American. I’m an. . .”
The ultralight’s left wing caught a guy wire, spinning the small craft violently around then flipping it upside down. Donna heard a snap and felt a wrenching pain in her shoulder. “Owwww! Help! Damn that hurts! Heeeeelp!”
Two seconds later Donna heard a gruff voice command, “Quiet! Shut-up!” She heard footsteps on the roof running towards her.
“Just hurry up Marine! I think my collarbone is broken! Get a medic up here quick!”
The Marine flashed a small red-lensed pen light in Donna’s inverted face, “I recognize you, you were here a couple of days ago!”
“Right, now cut me out of here!”
“Who’s your friend?”
“Colonel Chu, PLA commando. He’s defecting.”
“He’s in bad shape.”
“Look, he has flares in his pocket. We need to signal the rest of his men that we’re all right and show them where to land.”
The Marine cut Donna down with his K-bar. With only one arm working to break her fall she landed painfully on the roof.
“We can’t do that. One guy I can handle. A flock of commandos at night at this place—you’ve got to be out of your mind, ma’am. Besides, we’re expecting the extraction force to arrive any minute now.”
“Extraction force?” Donna asked from behind a rush of pain as she stood up.
“Yes. Marines out of Okinawa. They’ll be here in a few minutes to evacuate the Army troops.”
“Day late and a dollar. . .” Donna was angry at an Administration that had obviously waited until the Chinese situation deteriorated to the point where they knew they could get away with snatching the potential hostages out from under China’s nose.
Donna turned back towards the fabric-covered aircraft. She could barely see it in the dark. Its ID strips glowed softly. She reached down to a softly groaning Chu and found the cool metal cylinder of the skyrocket in the pocket of one of his dangling legs. She remembered once from a movie how the devices worked. If this one worked the same way, she’d set it off. She tried to work the cap loose with her good hand, but couldn’t.
The
Marine called back to her, “Are you okay ma’am?”
“I think I need a stretcher.”
Donna put the tube’s cap between her knees and pulled hard. The cap came loose and clattered to the roof.
“Hey! What are you doing?” the Marine asked.
Donna found the cap and, cradling the tube between her knees, placed the cap on the other end of the tube. “Doing the right thing,” she said as she firmly smacked the end cap and tube on her thigh. A blinding flash and loud pop announced the ascent of a green star cluster skyrocket. The rocket soared about 200 feet up then broke into five balls of green light. The roof of the ambassador’s residence was momentarily illuminated by the flare. Donna could see a few other soldiers on the roof coming her way. She looked at Colonel Chu. He was stirring to life painfully.
The Marine ran at her and raised his rifle to butt stroke the insolent civilian when he heard the sound of far off helicopters.
Colonel Flint and newly promoted Lieutenant Colonel Ramirez were in the lead CH-53E Super Stallion only a mile off from the ambassador’s residence when the pilot’s voice came over the intercom, “I see a star cluster over the LZ. I don’t remember a star cluster being part of our command and signal.”
“It wasn’t.” Rez replied.
“What do you supposed is going on down there?” Flint asked.
“Well, I’d say someone’s trying to signal someone else. Of course, there is a war going on down there. Maybe the flare was popped from somewhere nearby the target.”
The copilot’s voice came on the intercom, “I see a number of faint heat signatures above the target.”
“Looks like we have company, Rez.” Flint said.
Rez shook his head in admiration, “Hard to believe they’d use those things on a night like this.”
The pilot, not privy to all the details of the previous 11 days’ fighting said, “What? What? What things? What are you talking about?”
