Echo Six: Black Ops 7 - Tibetan Fury (20 page)

He raced along the corridor and reached the door where his quarry had disappeared. Guy called him.

"This is Two. Echo One, we can't hold out much longer. We have to pull back."

"Copy that. Get everyone outside, and hold a defensive position by the wall. I'll be out in a few moments."

A short pause, Guy didn't like it. Then he heard, "Copy that."

It’s time to take this
bastard out, to finish
the vicious psycho.

He moved closer to the door and was about to charge, when he sensed movement coming from the direction of the staircase. He stopped, swung up the MP7, and then lowered it.

"Grace! I told you to pull back with the others."

She ignored him. "Is that Major Xilong in there?"

He sighed. "Yeah, now get out of here. I'll finish him and join you outside."

There was renewed firing from downstairs; this time a light machine gun, a Minimi. "Echo Two, what's going on?"

"They brought in reinforcements. Another platoon came in through the front door. I guess whoever is out there doesn't know his business. He just keeps sending in men to get killed. Admiral Brooks brought up the Minimi and took up position to cover the main door. They charged in mob-handed, and it was like a turkey shoot."

So Brooks disobeyed my order and deployed the machine gun inside the building. Good, those twenty men could have overwhelmed Guy's small force.

"Roger that. Now get out of here. The next time they come, they'll start hitting you with heavy machine guns or even rockets. When that happens, we need to be elsewhere."

"I reckon so. We're moving as fast as we can."

"Roger that."

Grace watched and waited, clutching her pistol. He glanced at her, not wanting her there, but she was a trained CIA operative, and she'd know how to use that gun.

"Cover me. I'm going in."

"Roger that."

Was that a smile?

He charged the door and smashed into it, so it swung inward on its hinges. He dived to the floor, out of the inevitable gunfire from Major Xilong. Then looked up.

There was nothing, no sound, no shouts, nothing. He glanced around. The room was empty, but the window was wide open. He climbed to his feet and raced across to look out. A rope ladder hung outside, a primitive fire escape, and the Major was jumping off the bottom rung to the ground.

He immediately screamed at the troops milling around outside, thirty or forty men, obviously reluctant to follow their comrades into the building, into the teeth of the machine gun fire. Talley raised his MP7 to fire a burst at the man, but the other soldiers had seen him, and a half dozen AK-47s hammered at him. He ducked down inside the room as scores of rounds showered hot lead, timber, glass, and concrete around him.

"Did you get him?"

He'd forgotten Grace. She was in the doorway, keeping watch on the corridor outside, as well as glancing inside to see what he was doing.

"He got away. About forty Chinese soldiers are waiting out there to shoot my head off, so forget Xilong. This is our last chance to get out."

"But…"

He grabbed her arm and started dragging her toward the staircase.

"There's no time! We get out now or we die. Those are the choices we have."

She nodded and followed him. As they raced down the staircase, he called in.

"Echo Two, Guy, we're coming down."

"Copy that. They're all out, except Admiral Brooks and me. We thought you might need some covering fire."

"Give us five seconds."

They reached the bottom of the staircase and raced into the corridor. Guy was covering Brooks, who lay prone on the floor behind the Minimi.

"Admiral, we're getting out, now! Guy, get him moving. Another few seconds and they'll be here."

They raced toward the rear of the building, into the kitchen and out through the window, the way they'd entered. Just in time, he remembered the snipers covering the rear.

"This is Echo One. We're coming out the rear of the building, four men, repeat four."

"Understood, Echo One," he heard Vince DiMosta's reply, "We're holding our fire."

There was little illumination in the rear yard, but he was able to pick his way across with the NV goggles. Some of the men had piled abandoned wooden crates and oil drums against the wall, and they were able to climb up without difficulty. The two snipers were perched on the wall, ready to give covering fire, with Virgil Kane who'd managed to bring one of the trucks right next to the wall. He was up on the cab roof with the Minimi, covering their exfil. Talley was about to order them to board the trucks when a volley of shots swept across the wall, chipping masonry from the brickwork only inches away.

A bunch of soldiers had poured out of the building, firing on the run. Talley shouted at his men.

"Waste them! If they get any nearer, they'll be over the wall and shooting up the convoy before we can get clear."

The men were too busy shooting to acknowledge. The Minimi began chattering its message of death, and the soldiers racing out of the building went down like ninepins. The snipers kept up a steady rate of fire, finishing off the survivors, and the enemy fire petered out.

"That's it," he urged them on, "Everybody get aboard the trucks. We're leaving now."

Grace was trying to aim her handgun at a shadowy figure. He was standing in the shadows of the outer door, and Talley recognized Major Xilong. He'd come out to watch his men kill the foreign troops. Grace's bullet chipped off a piece of brickwork almost a meter from his head, and the man ducked back inside the building.

"Enough!" He took hold of her camo jacket and pulled her across to the truck.

Vince made room for them, and they dropped through the hatch into the cab. He pressed Grace into the seat and snarled at her to stay put. Then he was straight out the door, making sure his men were aboard, including the most important person of all, General Chang.

He saw Buchmann toss the Chinese officer casually into the rear of a truck as if he was no heavier than a baseball, then leap in after him. The drivers were starting their engines, and Guy fired a last burst from the top of the wall before he jumped down to the cab of the rear truck.

"There are more of them coming out, go, go!"

Engines roared as they drove away. He was looking in the rearview mirror, and behind them he saw the lights come back on in the building they'd just left.

Xilong pushed the soldiers out through the door into the hail of slugs chewing up the brickwork outside. They'd been nervous and trying to hold back, but he threatened them with the firing squad. With no choice, they rushed outside into the enemy machine gun fire. And died. He'd expected it, but he needed to know what danger lurked outside. Now he knew. He would have to wait for more troops.

By the time the clumsy fools are ready for an assault, the bandits will be long gone!

He walked back through the building, trying to appear calm and ignoring the questions from the frightened troops. NCOs were still shouting orders, even though soldiers ignored them. Chaos reigned, and a frozen fear. They'd do anything other than go outside and face the withering fire from machine guns, sniper rifles, and grenades.

Cowards!

He blinked as the overhead lights came on. He could hear the low hum of the emergency diesel generator in the basement, so at least someone had the wits to get the power back on. But now it meant he had to face the enormity of his situation. The telephone system would be working, and he'd have to contact Beijing. That meant General Hu, who would have heard of their problem by now. Bad news always traveled at the speed of light.

Why is that?

He started back up the staircase, shouldering his way past troops who were spreading out to search the building. He stepped over bodies, pushed medics aside, and reached his office. He smiled when he saw the door to the secure vault still firmly closed. It would stay that way until the one-hour time delay allowed it to open. He'd read about panic rooms and decided long ago to use the secure document storage vault for that purpose, should it ever become necessary. Tonight, it had saved his life.

He'd modified the vault with a small escape hatch cut into the floor. It was a simple matter to climb down to the room below. At the time, he was preparing for a possible fall from favor with his bosses, when he may need to make a fast escape. It had never occurred to him that anyone would have the temerity to attack this building. His foresight had been rewarded.

I’m alive, at least for now. How can I deal with General Hu?

He picked up the phone and shouted at the operator to put him through to Beijing as a priority. He was unsurprised when Hu picked up the phone the moment it rang. He'd been waiting for the call.

"Major Xilong, tell me you have arrested the people who attacked our headquarters building in Lhasa."

His voice was calm but cold as ice, the voice of a predator about to fall on its prey.

"I'm sorry, Sir, but the pursuit is ongoing. I'm confident we'll have them in custody very soon."

"Are you? That's good news, Major." His tone implied his disbelief, "Tell me, what do you plan to do about General Chang?"

Something’s wrong, something bad.

"General Chang? I haven't spoken to him, Sir."

"I'm not surprised, as you allowed the bandits to kidnap him."

He felt his legs go weak, and with an effort, he controlled his churning stomach.

"Kidnapped? I can hardly believe it. The General is an experienced officer. I cannot imagine he would put himself in a position where they could kidnap him. Our Ministry of State Security commanders are chosen at the very highest levels, for their skill and experience."

There was silence at the other end of the line. Hu knew exactly what he was saying. Chang was a fool for being kidnapped, and there could be questions raised about the man who'd put him in command of Lhasa Headquarters. General Hu.

Xilong hurried on, "Of course, I'll take immediate steps to verify this information, and if it's true, I will leave no stone unturned until we have located General Chang."

A pause. "I am unhappy at the ease with which these people managed to break into your headquarters, Major." Xilong noted it was 'your' headquarters. Already, the blame was starting to be laid, "However, if you manage to bring this to a successful resolution, perhaps I may be persuaded to overlook any failings in the command structure at Lhasa. Indeed, it is entirely possible that there will be a chance here for an officer with courage and determination to find an opportunity for promotion. If not..."

He knew the alternative. There it was, carrot and stick, the stick, blaming him for the success of the attack, and the inevitable firing squad. And the carrot, the offer of promotion should he succeed in defeating the attackers.

"General, when we locate the enemy and make our assault, General Chang may be placed in considerable danger. What orders should I give my men under such circumstances?"

The answer was immediate. "General Chang's wife is my niece, Xilong, the daughter of my wife's sister. Make certain he is kept safe. I would sooner face a thousand enemies than my wife's anger should anything happen to him. Clear?"

"I have made a note of your order, General."

And then Hu realized he'd just made himself vulnerable. He could be blamed for the failure to press the attack home.

"Of course, it may become necessary for Chang to sacrifice himself for the good of the nation. I know he would do anything to defeat these criminals. I leave the decision to you. Keep me posted, Major Xilong."

The phone went dead, and Xilong hung up. He had a lifeline. If Chang was killed, he could shift the blame for tonight's fiasco onto the General. He could then save himself from the inevitable fallout from tonight's attack. No, fallout wasn't the right word to describe the punishments handed down by a wrathful Beijing. There'd be executions for this disaster; the only question was who was staring into the gun barrel.

But if I do this right, I could even take over Chang's position. General Xilong? Why not? The question is, where are the bandits? Where have they gone? I need to find them fast. And kill them, all of them, friend or foe.

* * *

"How far?" he asked her.

"About two kilometers. Do you think we'll make it?"

Two military jeeps came from the opposite direction, racing toward the battered State Security Headquarters. It meant they didn't yet know the direction in which they were headed.

Even so, it wouldn't last a long. The moment there was any sign of trouble at the airfield, they'd know where they were, and they'd come a running. And this time they'd be mob-handed.

"We have a chance, a small one. They haven't got us yet. Ask me again when we're in the air and crossing into Nepalese airspace. Even then, we won't be safe. No, ask me when we're on the ground inside a NATO base."

She grimaced. "That bad?"

"Yep."

What was the point of trying to sugar the pill? She was a CIA operative, although unlike any he'd encountered before. She needed to know what they were up against. He heard Guy call in.

"Boss, what's the plan when we reach Tama?"

He realized he'd been so preoccupied with the attack on the State Security building; he'd failed to consider there was any realistic chance they'd get this far.

"Give me a minute."

He looked at Grace. "Describe it to me, Tama Airfield. Quickly, we don't have much time."

She described a bleak, desolate plateau outside of Lhasa, one of the only places with sufficient flat ground to locate an airfield. It was large enough to allow big military transports to land and take off, as well as fighter interceptors and rotary craft.

"They used thousands of laborers to level the ground, and many of them died from exposure and starvation."

"Yeah, they're bastards. I think we got that. Tell me about the perimeter fence."

"Oh, sure. It's what you'd expect, a fence about two meters high, topped with rolls of barbed wire."

It'll be razor wire, no question.

"Watchtowers? Gun emplacements, military barracks?"

"I, er, I'm not sure." She sounded guilty, as if she should have noted those things during the time she spent in Lhasa as a nun. He smiled.

What the hell is she doing? Praying?

There was someone who could help. He keyed his mic. "Admiral, is Campbell riding with you?"

"Sure, he's in back, taking care of his wounded pal."

"I'm calling a halt. I want him here with me. He's the only man who knows the layout of the place."

He nodded to Kaz, and the convoy came to a halt. Brooks had already organized two men to help Campbell down from the rear of his truck. The American ran forward and squeezed into the cab. Talley nodded to Kaz, and they started up again. He looked at Campbell.

"We need a way to get into this airfield, without alerting them we're about to steal one of their aircraft. Any ideas?"

He screwed up his eyes and thought for a few moments. Then he nodded.

"There is one possibility, unless they changed it since I was there last. Close to the concrete revetments they use to protect the fighter aircraft, there's a gap in the fence. The aircrews and maintenance men use it as a shortcut when the route through to the control tower and admin block is closed because of aircraft maneuvers. They screwed up when they designed it. Most of the time, no one can reach the main administration block and engineering stores. A typical military foul up."

"Same the world over. So they drive out through this gap in the fence, and back in through the main gate?"

He nodded. "Assuming nothing's changed."

"In that case, we'll have to hope that's the way it is. And you're certain they'll have one of these Xian Y-7s on the stand?"

"Last I looked, there was always at least one, sometimes two or three. Assuming…"

"Yeah, assuming nothing's changed. I get it."

He keyed his mic, "Listen up, people. According to Campbell, we have a way to get inside the perimeter fence. We're close to the field, so switch off the lights and use your NV goggles to drive. Follow this truck through the gap in the fence, and we'll park up behind the concrete revetments they use for the fighters. All of you, especially the snipers be ready for sentries. If you see anyone on guard, take them out immediately, but no noise. The only chance we have of getting away with this is to get aboard an aircraft and start engines before they know what's happening. Then it's a question of how much they value General Chang."

"And if they don't?"

He smiled at Rovere's question.

"If they don't put any value on him," Rovere clarified.

"In that case, we're fucked."

"Copy that." A pause, "Some consequence, yet hanging in the stars, shall bitterly begin his fearful date, with this night's revels."

"Does that mean what I think it means?" Guy interrupted.

"It means we're fucked. It's just that Shakespeare was more poetic about it."

"He didn't have the Chinese to contend with."

"True. He'd have defeated them with words."

"Can it, all of you," Talley cut them off.

He understood the levity, what else did they have? These men faced with a better than even chance that before dawn, they'd be dead. Either shot to pieces on the airfield, or their wrecked and bleeding bodies would be smoldering inside an aircraft. Utilizing General Chang as their trump card was a colossal risk. Yet, it was the only card they had to play.

He watched the highway ahead of them. It was empty of traffic, and as they crested a low rise, he could see the lights of the airfield. They drew nearer, and the illumination began to interfere with their night vision equipment, so they switched off. There was enough visibility to steer the trucks by the wash of light that spread from the lighting towers dotted around the airfield. Campbell pointed out the south side, and the revetments were dark, ghostly shadows. Concrete structures, each with a fighter aircraft parked in front.

They drove in through the gap in the fence, just as Campbell remembered it, and parked the four trucks. They were out of the direct line of sight of the control tower, and they climbed out. He checked the time, almost 2200. Plenty of hours of darkness in which to carry out their escape plan. But when he looked up at the sky, he cursed. It was bright and clear in the bitter cold. Stars shone, clear and easy to see, an astronomer's dream. Low, heavy cloud would be optimum, even better, a heavy snowstorm to blot out visibility. But as they checked out the immediate area, there was no sign of any snow, and then a call on the commo.

"Sentry, two o’clock!" Jesse called, "Coming toward us from the west side, about two hundred meters away."

"Everybody down," Talley murmured, "and make sure those nuns stay put inside the truck."

They flattened on the snow, almost invisible in their white Arctic camos. He picked him up almost immediately. A man was dressed in standard Chinese cold weather gear, a heavy, quilted parka coat, a knitted ski mask over his face, thick, insulated pants, and high laced boots. His hands were encased in thick gloves, making it almost impossible to use the rifle he carried in his arms. The uniform was in standard military green, an easy target against the snow.

Maybe they thought the opposition wouldn't use night vision gear,
Talley thought to
himself.