Guarding Savage

by Edlund, Dave;

  The second black beret started to unlimber his rifle when the seventy-pound canine collided with him. Sharp teeth ravaged his hand, and then the bones crunched as the jaws drew tighter. His scream of pain soon became one of horror as his mind focused on priority number one—survival. But the more he struggled and fought to free his hand, the more violent became the shaking of the muscle-bound canine head, serving only to lacerate more flesh.

  Quickly, Peter regained his balance. His eyes swept the room, the rifle following his gaze. The Security Director, who had been leaning over an illuminated display, apparently in conversation with a technician, straightened his body at the sound of the commotion. Upon seeing Peter, his hand went to his holstered pistol.

  Peter snapped off a single shot, the bullet passing through the Director’s forearm. His grip slackened and the weapon clanged on the floor.

  Through a tight grimace, Pehin said, “That was a mistake. You should have killed me when you had the chance.”

  Peter shrugged. “Sorry, I missed.”

  Two other guards were in the process of raising their rifles. “Stop there. Lower your weapons, or I will kill your boss.”

  The men hesitated momentarily and exchanged eye contact with Pehin. Reluctantly he nodded and they placed their rifles on the floor.

  Peter finished his survey of the control room and finally spotted Robert and Jade, sitting bound and gagged in a corner. He motioned to one of the guards. “Untie them.”

  Robert rubbed his wrists as quickly as the bindings were removed. “Glad to see you again. What took so long?” He strode to the closest weapon and picked it up, checking the magazine and then ensuring the safety was off. While Peter kept a keen eye on his prisoners, Robert removed the magazines from the other rifles, stuffing one in his pocket and giving two to Peter along with Pehin’s pistol.

  “There’s one more outside.” Peter cocked his head to the entrance and Robert went to strip the magazine from that rifle as well.

  Peter eyed the pistol and then shouldered his M4 rifle. “Berretta model 92. You have good taste in firearms.” He pushed the slide back only a quarter inch, just enough to show the shiny brass 9mm cartridge case.

  Jade rushed to Peter and threw her arms around him. She was weeping. “It’s okay now,” he said. But he knew it would take time to heal from the grief she was suffering. Her mother was dead, and her grandmother and cousin were responsible.

  Jade felt Diesel brush against her leg. She kneeled next to the dog and rubbed his head and ears. Despite her tears, she smiled at the adorable face that once again appeared to be grinning at her.

  “Where is Guan-Yin?” Peter demanded.

  “She’s not here,” Pehin answered with a sneer.

  “I can see that. Where is she? I came through her apartment, and it was empty.”

  “I don’t know.”

  Peter looked around and for the first time noticed a collection of four monitors mounted in a row on a long instrument console. The displays showed various images. One appeared to be a photograph taken from high altitude, perhaps from a high-flying plane or satellite. Another was graphical and had red and blue symbols overlaid on a regional map of the South China Sea.

  “What is the function of all this equipment?” Peter asked.

  Pehin returned an icy glare.

  “You control the operation from here, right?” Peter pointed toward one of the screens. “Are these images in real time?”

  Robert answered since Pehin refused to. “Based on what I overheard, its satellite imagery. Somehow they’ve tapped into one of our satellites, and they’re downloading data.”

  Pehin snorted a contemptuous laugh. “Your arrogance has blinded you to logic and reason, causing you to completely underestimate your enemy.”

  “Well then, please, enlighten us,” Robert answered.

  Peter’s mind was racing, trying to fit the puzzle pieces together. “India!” he blurted. “You bought a satellite and hired India to place it in orbit.”

  “Very good,” Pehin said. “Two satellites, actually. One for detailed reconnaissance and one for guidance.”

  Peter studied the screens again, squinting his eyes as he leaned closer. He pointed at the collection of blue symbols, still north of the Spratly Islands. “This is the carrier strike force that you attacked. It’s the same formation we saw on the tactical display onboard the Royal Seeker, just after they fired that missile.”

  “Too bad you didn’t succeed,” Robert added. “The Gerald Ford carriers a helluva lot of fire power. Seems to me your little operation here is over.”

  “Typical American. There is no limit to your over confidence. Look again.”

  Peter and Robert turned their attention to the screens, trying to discern whatever Pehin had referred to. But nothing was changing. And then a series of red lights illuminated on the console.

  Peter shot upright and turned to Pehin. His hand was pressing against the console he’d been standing next to. “What did you do?” Peter demanded.

  “The terminal phase has just been initiated.”

  “But you don’t have any more missile ships. We destroyed both of them.”

  “Yes. Unfortunate, but not unexpected. From the outset, I knew it was only a matter of time before you discovered our ruse. Still, it served its purpose.”

  Peter’s jaw fell agape as understanding set in.

  “That’s right,” Pehin said. “Manipulating your national paranoia was child’s play. Naturally, your military and political leaders would draw the conclusion that it was China attacking your ships. After all, only China had both the motivation and the capability to do so. The disagreement over the Spratly Islands proved to be a convenient locus for your mutual mistrust.”

  “The missile attacks…”

  Pehin completed Peter’s sentence. “Only provided the provocation. It was never intended, by itself, to be a decisive action. We knew the United States would not withdraw militarily over the loss of a few ships. Instead, your resolve would be hardened. Your anger and lust for revenge would blind your leaders to the truth.”

  “You want a war between the U.S. and China.” Peter paused, trying to think what the next move would be. Why was Pehin acting so confident? “But you failed. Our countries are not at war.”

  Pehin smiled, reminding Peter of a serpent, as the pain from his gunshot arm seemed to vanish, replaced by the exuberance of knowing he had won. “That will change the moment one of your Harpoon anti-ship missiles sinks a Chinese warship. Those red markers—”

  Peter studied the display again and quickly counted eight red symbols.

  “That is the Liuzhou battle group. As you can see, they have been ordered to reinforce China’s military presence in the Spratly Islands. And they are just about to be within range of the American battle group.”

  As a former Navy man, Robert stiffened his back at the perceived insult. “The U.S. Navy is extremely well disciplined. They would never fire upon that task force unless there was very good provocation.”

  “Nevertheless, in about seven minutes, the Chinese radar will detect a volley of incoming cruise missiles. Their detection instruments will identify the radar seeker frequency as that of an American Harpoon missile. They should have enough time to report the attack before the first missile strikes. Naturally, having been fired upon, they will react in kind.” He pointed to a digital clock on the wall. It was showing seven minutes and eleven seconds, and ticking down in time.

  Peter mumbled, “And the war will begin.”

  “How do you know this?” Robert said.

  “It’s the terminal phase of the plan,” Peter answered. “With enough money, anything can be bought on the black market, and Harpoon missiles are no exception. I’d imagine there are several new multimillionaires in India. But that wasn’t the only contribution purchased from Indian sources. The guidance system on the ballistic warheads came from India. The warheads themselves from Chinese technology. And the rocket motors, of course, were
readily sourced from North Korea. Isn’t that right?”

  “Very good, Mr. Savage. At any rate, while your intelligence resources were focused on finding and neutralizing our theater ballistic missile weapons, several fishing trawlers armed with the much smaller anti-ship cruise missiles have moved into location. There really is nothing you can do to stop it.”

  He moved his hand a few inches on the console and turned a dial. The satellite image was enlarged, and as he continued to turn the knob individual ships appeared—it was the Chinese task force. Then the adjacent monitor showed a similar satellite image, only this was the Ford Battle Group. “You are welcome to watch,” Pehin said.

  Peter focused his eyes back on the Security Director. He raised the Berretta and cocked the hammer. Then he punched several buttons on his cell phone with the thumb of his left hand. “Lieutenant Lacey. I want you to listen very carefully. We don’t have much time, only a matter of minutes to stop the outbreak of war.”

  Although she wanted to ask a dozen questions, she had the discipline not to, and she listened as Peter relayed exactly what he’d been told.

  Pehin’s face grew flush with hatred at the realization of what Peter was attempting to do. “No!” he screamed, and he charged Peter.

  Boom!

  The clang of the brass cartridge bouncing on the hard floor displaced the fading echo of the gunshot. The room fell into an eerie silence.

  Pehin stopped in his tracks, a hand placed over the center of his chest. His face contorted in pain and the realization that assurance of victory had been snatched from his grasp. He fell onto his knees, and then his face, as the life force left his body.

  “What was that?” Lacey asked. “It sounded like a gunshot.”

  “It was. I’ll explain later. First, the Ford is sailing toward a Chinese naval task force. They must know that, so they’ll have armed fighters in the air, correct?”

  “I would assume so,” she answered, her voice touched with confusion.

  “Those aircraft need to intercept and destroy Harpoon cruise missiles that will be launched from fishing trawlers in…” he glanced at the digital count-down timer. “In just over five minutes.”

  “Fishing trawlers? Where? We have to know the location of those boats!”

  “I don’t know! But they must be in the general vicinity of the carrier battle group. The Chinese have to believe they are under attack from the U.S. That’s the only way this plan works!”

  “Understood. The escorts will have the location of all nearby surface ships pinpointed. Hopefully, there aren’t too many. I’ll get the message out, flash traffic, but still it will take several minutes to reach the theater commanders.”

  “You have to try…”

  “Wait!” Lacey said before the call ended. “How about you?”

  “Time to get out of here.”

  Chapter 38

  Istana Nurul Iman Palace

  August 26

  “What about them?” Robert asked, pointing toward the black berets. “I say we tie them up.”

  Peter nodded. Following the example in the reception room, Robert ordered them to remove their bootlaces. While he was busy binding their hands and feet, Peter conducted a more complete examination of the instrument consoles. In particular, he wanted to identify the pathway of the electrical power cables. If he could disable the power, there could be no further actions from the control room if other personnel came to staff it.

  It didn’t take long to determine that the conduits extending downward from the commercial ceiling panels almost certainly carried the main power to each instrument cluster. Peter climbed from a chair to the top of a console and lifted the ceiling tile. Confirming his suspicions, the drop ceiling concealed a tangled array of cables. Judging by the shape and insulation, many were communication wires, but some were definitely power cables.

  Robert had just finished his task. “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “These metal conduits,” Peter ran his hand along the nearest, “enclose communication and power cables. We need to sever these, and this equipment will be nonfunctional for at least a day—long enough to get help and close this operation down for good.”

  Robert wrapped his hands around one of the conduits at shoulder height and pulled, but the metal resisted his efforts. He tried again, more forcefully. Although the conduit bent, it sprang back to its original position. “That’s not gonna work. An axe would probably do the job nicely.”

  “Sure. Did you happen to see one laying around?” Peter said.

  “No. A fire axe doesn’t exactly fit into the Asian décor Guan-Yin was obviously fond of.”

  Peter placed the muzzle of the Berretta 9mm pistol against a length of conduit. “Cover your eyes.” He pulled the trigger once… twice. On the second shot he was rewarded with a bright blue-white flash indicating the metal bullet had, for just an instant, shorted the high-voltage wires.

  Robert followed the example and shot through a conduit with his rifle, also achieving the same brilliant-white flash caused by the electrical short circuit. Together, they severed the remaining four electrical conduits. With no power to illuminate the screens and indicators, all of the instrument clusters became dark.

  “Okay, now what?” Robert asked.

  Jade came to Peter’s side. “I don’t want to stay here,” she said. “What if she returns?”

  “I promised your mother that I would not let anyone harm you. I intend to keep that promise.”

  Robert clicked the safety on his weapon to on. “So, what’s the plan?”

  “Since I shot our free pass, I suppose we have two choices: we can stay here, and hope that eventually someone who is not a party to this conspiracy finds us; or we can take our chances and leave the palace. If we can make it past the outer gate, it should be safe.”

  “Then what?” Robert said. “When word reaches the Sultan, he’ll have the police and army hunt us down. We won’t make it out of the country.”

  “If that’s the case, we’re in greater danger staying here. Our best chance is to escape and contact the U.S. Embassy.”

  “They’ll have police in front of the entrance. They won’t let us in.”

  Exasperated, Peter said, “Look, I’m doing the best I can. If you have a better idea, let’s hear it.”

  “I say we leave,” Jade said before Robert could speak. “We have to escape.”

  Robert’s eyes moved from Jade to Peter. “Okay, let’s do it. I’ll take the lead. Jade, you’re in the middle. Single file. Ready?”

  After leaving the reception room and entering the outer hallway, they stayed close to the wall. Diesel stayed close by Peter’s side, his blocky head moving from side to side, always searching for danger.

  They hadn’t travelled far before they encountered their first black beret. Robert was faster to respond and had his rifle aimed at the young man. “Don’t do it. Just put the gun down, and you will live to see another day.”

  The man hesitated and then complied. He placed the rifle on the carpet and raised his hands.

  “Do you have any other weapons?”

  He shook his head. “No. Only the rifle.”

  “Go, get out of here.”

  The guard started to turn back the way he’d come. “Wait!” Peter said.

  The guard froze. “Is that direction to the exit? To the palace grounds?”

  The black beret nodded.

  “Thought so. Other way,” Peter ordered.

  The man turned and hugged the opposite wall as he passed the armed trio. Once clear, he dashed out of sight.

  “What was that all about?” Robert said.

  “Didn’t want him alerting any friends on the other side of the exit.”

  “Good thinking.” They advanced again and reached the exterior door without any further encounters. The double door was massive in proportions—wide, tall, and constructed of tropical hardwood. Robert gently eased one side open.

  “Looks clear. Ready?”

 
Jade and Peter nodded.

  “Once we get out the door, I’ll go left. Wait three seconds, and if there isn’t any shooting, Jade, you and Peter go right.”

  Robert disappeared out the opening, and Peter mentally counted down the seconds. All was quiet, so he exited and turned right with Jade and Diesel close behind.

  Coming from the air-conditioned interior, the tropical heat felt like a blast furnace, and before long Peter was dripping with sweat even though they were in the shade of a covered portico. Carved stone lions flanked the entry. A driveway extended both directions, disappearing around the corners of the palace.

  Looking away from the building across the palace grounds, he saw more expansive lawns with gardens dotting the landscape. In some of the gardens, there were fountains. Others had benches to encourage visitors to sit and enjoy the beauty. Some gardeners were working in the distance, but no black berets were visible.

  “This way,” Robert said. “The entrance to the palace is on the far side of the building. There’s a high wall around the grounds, so the only way out is through that entrance. We’ll follow the colonnade until it ends and then cross through the gardens.”

  Together they moved at a brisk pace, Peter and Robert constantly looking around for danger. They stopped at the last white marble column. Robert searched ahead for any sign of guards while Peter frequently checked to the rear. That’s when he noticed the surveillance cameras high along the wall. “I hope no one’s monitoring those cameras,” he said. Robert looked up, following Peter’s gaze.

  “I don’t know. They’re constantly changing and updating the security procedures. But so far the coast is clear.”

  Just then the crack of multiple gunshots and bullets impacted the marble column Peter was leaning against. The trio sprinted around the corner of the palace and into the garden, aiming for the nearest group of shrubs that might offer some concealment—a dense boxwood hedge four feet high. They ducked behind it, Diesel hugging Peter’s side.

  “Now we know—they’re monitoring the cameras,” Peter said.