At the sight of the rifle pointed at his face, the chef stopped and raised his hands. Peter placed a finger to his lips, and then slowly backed away, exiting the safety of the service hallway and re-entering the magnificent room with the huge chandelier. Not wishing to wait for more palace guards to show up, Peter and Diesel quickly ascended the staircase. He didn’t know exactly where he was going, but it would be foolish to merely retrace his path back to the control room.
He recalled Guan-Yin’s words that it might prove beneficial to have a couple American hostages. What was she planning? And would she still hold Robert and Jade in the control room? If they were moved to another location, how would he find them?
At the moment, Peter had no idea how he was going to rescue his friends and escape. But he was certain he had to try.
Chapter 35
Istana Nurul Iman Palace
August 26
Peter took the stairs two at a time. At the top, he turned left, knowing that was the general direction back to Guan-Yin’s apartment and the control room. Again, the wide hallway was deserted. It reminded Peter of a large luxury hotel with its numbered doors extending down the corridor. Lining the walls were a mix of side tables supporting vases stuffed with fresh tropical flowers, pairs of silk-upholstered chairs, and plush love seats.
Their footsteps were muted by the thick carpet under foot. Ahead, Peter heard a sound and noticed one of the doors was ajar. Diesel focused on the sound, too. It took a few seconds to recognize the noise—a vacuum cleaner. And then laughter rose above the mechanical din.
Hugging the wall, they took several swift strides toward the sound. The vacuum noise stopped and was replaced by conversation. The voices sounded feminine and carefree. Peter turned to a nearby love seat and shoved the rifle underneath the cushions. Just as he straightened, the door fully opened and two maids entered the hall. They startled upon seeing Peter, and then one of the women noticed Diesel. His tail was wagging and his lips parted in a way that many viewed as a smile.
“Oooh. Your dog is handsome,” she said in heavily-accented English. She was young, maybe twenty. The other woman was older and Peter immediately noticed the familial similarities. Mother and daughter, perhaps?
“Hello,” Peter replied as he closed the distance to the two women. The younger housekeeper leaned over and ran her hand along Diesel’s head and back. His warm tongue lapped her hand and arm, earning a cheery giggle.
“He’s beautiful. What is his name?”
“Diesel,” Peter replied. “He’s a good judge of people, and he obviously likes you.”
Diesel’s nose found a pocket in the light-weight uniform jacket the younger woman was wearing. She removed a wrapped cereal bar. “Are you hungry?” The canine sat at attention and stared longingly at the food bar. “May I?” she asked Peter.
“Sure. But I warn you, he’ll be your friend for life.”
She peeled back the wrapper and began to feed small bites to the canine.
“My daughter has always loved animals,” the older woman said.
“My name is Peter. You speak English very well.”
“Of course. It is taught in our schools. Also, the Sultan has many foreign guests.”
“So these are rooms for visitors?” Peter motioned down the long hall.
The mother nodded empathetically. “No one is here now. But next week there will be many visitors. From all over. There are more than 400 guest rooms in the palace.” She held up four fingers.
Peter smiled. “Everything is beautiful. Reminds me of photos I’ve seen of the English palaces.”
As the daughter gave Diesel plenty of attention, her mother eyed Peter suspiciously. “I am a guest of Lim Guan-Yin,” he said, hoping to place her at ease.
She nodded.
“Actually, I’m lost, and I hope you can help me. I was walking Diesel through the gardens, and came back through a different entrance. I’m not sure where I am.”
She smiled at Peter’s chagrin. “What is your room number?”
Do they know about the shootout in the garden apartment? He quickly thought up a lie, not wishing to take the chance.
“Actually, I’m a friend of Eu-meh Lim and her daughter, Jade, and have been invited to meet Guan-Yin. Can you point me in the right direction?”
“I can show you the way,” the daughter said with bubbly enthusiasm.
“We have work to do,” the mother admonished, turning her daughter’s smile to a frown.
Facing Peter she said, “Go down this corridor to the end and turn right.”
“How will I know which door is hers?”
“There is only one. As the mother of the Sultan, Lim Guan-Yin is revered. Her apartment is the entire east wing. But her offices are on the ground floor. If you are meeting over business, the grand stairway is also in the east wing. You’ll see it.”
“Thank you. It was nice to meet you.” Peter and Diesel started to leave. “Oh, is there a restroom nearby?”
The daughter pointed back the direction Peter had come from. “Just beyond the stairway,” she said.
“Got it. Thank you again.” Peter and his ever-present companion turned and casually walked away. He had no trouble finding the restroom—the door was marked with a man silhouette. Like every other space Peter had seen in the palace, the restroom was also opulent. Designed to be used by only one person at a time, the large space was divided into two compartments of unequal size. The marble counter and gold-plated sink with matching faucet occupied the larger area.
Peter locked the door and phoned Lacey. She picked up on the second ring. “I have some information on the location of the control room,” Peter whispered. “This place is like a hotel, and I was talking to a couple of the housekeepers—”
“Do you think that’s a good idea? What if they report you to the palace guards?”
“I don’t think they know what’s going on. Most likely the security details are rarely shared with the housekeeping staff. Besides, I don’t plan on staying around very long. So, like I was saying, they told me that Guan-Yin’s apartment is the east wing.”
“Where in the east wing?” she asked while pulling up a floor plan of the Istana Nurul Iman Palace. Her contact at the NSA had emailed the map just before Peter called. It was dated back to the construction of the palace, so it would not reflect any remodeling that may have been done. Still, it was the most detailed information she had on the building layout.
“No, her apartment is the east wing. All of it. And the control room is adjacent to her office which is on the ground floor. The entry to the control room that I saw was a hidden door, disguised to blend in with the wall of the reception room of her office. Sorry I can’t be more specific.”
“I’ve got it. East wing… Assuming the original layout hasn’t been altered… Okay. This is extremely helpful. I’ll forward this to Commander Nicolaou.”
“Good. Now I’ve gotta go.”
“Wait. Are you in a secure location? A place you can lay low until help arrives?”
“I still have a job to do. Don’t try to reach me. I’ll call back when I can.”
Peter turned off his phone and placed it in his pocket. “Okay Diesel, you ready?”
The pitty looked expectantly at Peter as he opened the door, awaiting the next command. “Let’s hope the coast remains clear and there really aren’t any guests here today.”
Swiftly and silently the pair advanced down the wide hallway. Peter paused just long enough to retrieve the rifle he’d placed beneath the cushions of the love seat. The high-pitch whine of the vacuum cleaner was coming from one of the rooms they passed. At the end of the hall, Peter stopped and carefully peaked around the corner. About twenty-five yards away was a solitary gilded door adorned with flower bouquets in wall-mounted vases on either side of the entrance. It was a little farther, maybe thirty-five yards, to the grand staircase that the housekeeper had mentioned.
Knowing that guards could come by at any time, Peter took a deep
breath and dashed across the open hallway for the door.
Chapter 36
Over the South China Sea
August 26
Lieutenant Lacey efficiently completed her briefing of Commander Nicolaou in just under five minutes. “All right men, listen up!” He shouted to be heard over the roar of the massive Osprey engines. Their transport had completed a mid-air refueling and, under new orders from Colonel Pierson, was racing west on a new course for Bandar Seri Begawan.
The team gathered around Boss Man. “Bull, log onto the SGIT secure server. Lacey has uploaded a briefing packet including the floor plan of the Istana Nurul Iman palace. That’s the home of the Sultan of Brunei.”
Bull set to work typing furiously on the touchkeys of a ruggedized mil-spec tablet. Each team member had one as part of their mission kit. Once he retrieved the file, he’d disseminate it over short-range, encrypted Wi-Fi to the other operators.
“Are we gonna go knocking on the Sultan’s door?” Iceberg asked.
Jim nodded. “That’s right. The intel is still sketchy, but here’s what we know.” He ran through the key elements of the situation at the palace, being clear to indicate what was known and what was speculation.
“The palace guards are to be considered hostile. They’ve already engaged friendlies, killing two. Based on human intel, we know the control room is located in the east wing. Lieutenant Lacey’s team has narrowed down the exact location to the ground floor rooms indicated on the floor plan in the docs you’re about to receive. Memorize it. This structure is massive in size. The interior may seem like a maze if you are not familiar with it.
“Our primary objective is to secure the control room. Since we do not know it’s complete purpose or function, we are to apprehend all technicians and other personnel on the site and render inoperative the main consoles. Questions?”
“Sir, how will we identify the main consoles?” Ghost asked.
“Communications and radar. Our people do not believe there is any fire-control capability at this facility. Rather, they speculate it is the nerve center of the operation to coordinate missile launches from multiple remote facilities. We’ve taken out two of those launch facilities, but we don’t know if there are more.”
Homer looked confused. “Sorry sir, did you say two launch platforms were removed?”
“That’s right. The second was the Royal Seeker, another oil exploration ship very similar to the Panda Star. Friendlies boarded her and captured the captain and bridge crew, but not before a missile was fired. Fortunately, they were successful in destroying the guidance-control equipment while the missile was in flight.”
Iceberg raised his index finger, receiving a nod of acknowledgement from Commander Nicolaou. “You said that’s our primary objective. Is there a secondary?”
Jim folded his arms. “There is. We have reason to believe there are three hostages, perhaps being held in or near the control room. Two are American.”
“Is this intel good?” Bull asked.
“It is. The source is Peter Savage. He’s inside the palace, although communication is sporadic. But he’s relayed key information already. He was also involved in boarding the Royal Seeker.”
“We’ll get him, sir,” Homer said. “Just like before.”
Jim recalled the many SGIT missions in which Peter had participated—with this same team of operators—and knew he was tough, but equally reckless. “As you all know, the situation with hostages is always fluid. Hopefully, they haven’t been moved to a different location. We focus on the primary objective: The control facility must be neutralized. Am I clear?”
He received a unanimous reply. “Yes, sir.”
“We’re working multiple channels to get assistance from the Brunei Special Forces, but I have no guarantees at the moment.”
“Shooters or intel?” Ghost asked.
“Both. Obviously, they will know the layout of the palace and grounds better then we will. And it would be a whole lot better going in with an elite team of shooters, guns hot.”
“How are we to tell the good guys from the bad guys?” This question from Magnum.
“The palace guard is a paramilitary force, so their uniform is common to the Brunei military. However, the palace guards wear black berets, and the Special Forces are issued maroon berets.”
“Just the color of their hat? That’s not much,” Iceberg complained.
Jim had the same thought, but he still gave Iceberg a stern look. “It’s what we got, soldier. Deal with it.”
Bull looked up from his tablet. “Briefing packet is coming across now.”
The chatter ceased while everyone studied the electronic files. In less than an hour they’d be on the ground, and they had a lot of preparation to complete.
Chapter 37
Istana Nurul Iman Palace
August 26
Peter was standing before the entrance to Guan-Yin’s apartment. Naturally, the door was locked. So far, he’d cheated the odds with minimal contact with others and no significant resistance. His options for breaching the entry were limited—shoot the lock out or try to break the door down by throwing his shoulder into it, repeatedly. The first option was likely to draw attention, and the second option had a high probability of failure if the entry was of robust construction—most likely the case given the importance of the person living there. And repeatedly pounding the door would only further injure the wound in his side.
With no other solutions coming to mind, he lowered the barrel of the rifle and fired a single shot into the latch bolt at the point where it would enter the wood frame, hoping to break the metal bolt and shatter the wood door frame. The report was deafening. But would it be heard a floor below in the control room? Probably not if Pehin had been truthful with his comment about the degree of soundproofing incorporated in the palace construction.
A small circular hole marked the point where the bullet entered, yet the door remained closed. Peter pressed against the handle… no go. He threw his shoulder into the door and was rewarded with the cracking of wood. He slammed into the door again, only harder this time, and the door swung open as if it was never latched in the first place. He nearly fell through the entrance, just catching his balance and managing to remain on his feet. Diesel followed him inside.
Fearful that the gunshot had drawn unwanted attention from the maids and perhaps other staff, Peter closed the door and quickly surveyed his surroundings. The room was generous in proportions and decorated with lacquered carved wood panels in various shades of red, brown, and black. Traditional Chinese tapestries adorned the walls, and beautiful pottery, demonstrating the pinnacle of Chinese artistry, rested atop wood chests and tables.
The apartment seemed vacant, as no one came running to investigate the break-in. Across the room, a staircase led downward. Peter and Diesel covered the distance and descended into Guan-Yin’s private office. To the left was another door. Making as little sound as possible, Peter reached the door and pressed his ear against it—silence.
With measured movements, he turned the latch and eased the door open just a crack. He peered through the slit. The reception area lay on the other side. The table and sofa that he’d hastily used to barricade the entry to the control room had been put back in place. He eased the door further, holding the rifle at the ready.
Standing with his back toward Peter was a man dressed in a green military uniform and wearing a black beret. In two long strides, Peter closed on him and pressed the business end of his rifle into the guard’s back.
“Don’t say a word,” Peter ordered. His voice was firm and commanding, but not too loud.
The guard froze, and Peter reached around to relieve him of his weapon. “Do you speak English?”
He hesitated a moment and then answered, “Yes. It is required.”
“Good. That will make this easier. On the floor, hands on your head.”
Not wanting to risk a rifle bullet in the back, the fearful guard complied without objecti
on.
“Remove the laces from your boots.”
The guard stared back at Peter, not understanding what he was being ordered to do. “Your shoe laces,” and Peter kicked his foot. “Remove them, now!”
Reluctantly, he untied his boots and pulled the black cord, handing it over as instructed. Diesel was beside the guard, baring his teeth and emitting a low, threatening growl.
“Face down. Hands on your head. Legs together.” Then Peter proceeded to wrap one lace around the man’s ankles, knotting it securely. He bound his hands with the second cord.
Diesel remained only inches from the man’s face, putting on a very convincing threat display. His inch-long canines glistening white.
“I don’t know you,” Peter said conversationally. “But you seem like a reasonable guy. I imagine you are just following orders. So, here’s the deal. If you move or make a sound, my dog will eat your face. Trust me, you don’t want him to do that—very messy.”
Upon hearing this, the guard’s eyes widened in terror and beads of perspiration dappled his face. His lips parted, just a bit, as if he wanted to speak, but Peter interrupted him. “Ah. Not a word. Be absolutely still. He’s quite hungry—all he’s eaten in the last twelve hours is a granola bar. He’d much rather have meat.”
Satisfied the guard was terror-stricken and unlikely to attempt an escape, Peter turned his attention to the location of the hidden entrance. He recalled the motions Pehin had executed to open the door. Push this section of chair rail, and then…
The panel opened.
Peter rushed the opening. Two black berets were just inside the control room, their rifles slung over their shoulders. They were facing toward the interior of the center. Peter lowered his shoulder and rammed into the nearest guard. His body whiplashed as he was driven forward, his face colliding violently with a metal console. Unconscious, the man crumpled to the floor.
Guarding Savage Page 24
