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“Yes, sir. A hundred miles to the south, near the old rock quarry,” Ming replied, managing to look contrite. “We tried to land to see if there was anything we could do, but the terrain in the area made it impossible.”
“And we didn’t radio in immediately for help because…”
“We couldn’t! The colonel had ordered a halo of full radio silence around the dam.”
Removing the pipe, Shen-wa smiled. “Exactly. Such a shame.”
“Sir, what if they don’t believe me?”
“Then kill them all and throw the bodies into the gorge. In fact—” he gave a hard smile “—do it anyway. It’s time that we took over this facility. I’m tired of listening to these cowardly paper-jugglers.”
“Yes, sir!” Ming replied eagerly, giving a fast salute.
Shen-wa almost smiled at that, then it hit him. Less than thirty-six hours had passed since the attack on Kazakhstan. There was no way the CIA could have dispatched an agent to China in so short a time period. The colonel knew the bureaucracy of the Agency was horrendous. Whomever Colonel Weng had tried to capture was merely somebody pretending to be a CIA agent. That was the only logical answer.
Exhaling a long stream of smoke, Shen-wa grunted. The old bastard may have done the project a good deed, accidentally uncovering an unknown enemy before he could get close.
“Something wrong, sir?” Ming asked in concern.
“Yes and no,” Shen-wa replied, removing the pipe. “After you terminate everybody in the political office, go to Hong Kong and find out who it was that entered the island. He isn’t a CIA agent, and we need to know who this man actually works for.”
“Perhaps the American…ah…NAS?”
“NSA,” Shen-wa corrected. “But no, they are code breakers. More paper-pushers. This was the act of somebody with blood in their veins. A professional. A killer.”
“Perhaps the Mossad.”
“Yes, that could very well be,” Shen-wa answered slowly. “The Israelis are very good at what they do, almost as good as us!” He chuckled, and the sergeant joined in for the sake of solidarity.
“Find this man,” Shen-wa said. “Question him thoroughly. Then poorly hide the body, and blame it on the Russians.”
“What if he is Russian, sir?”
“Blame it on them anyway. Who can keep track of their internal politics, eh?”
“Sir, yes, sir!” Ming replied with a crisp salute.
Puffing on his pipe, Major Shen-wa watched as the sergeant strode away, loosening the massive .50-caliber Norinco pistol holstered at his side. Just for a fleeting moment, Shen-wa almost felt sorry for the poor bastard, but then it was gone, a random thought lost on the breeze.
Leaving the small heliport, Shen-wa walked to an iron door and waved his identification card before the scanner. There came a subtle hum, and the door unlocked, then cycled open to the sound of working hydraulics.
Stepping inside, the major walked past a huge soundproof room full of technicians busily operating the complex controls of the gargantuan power station. A pretty woman at one of the consoles smiled at him in passing, and Shen-wa politely touched his cap in reply. Lieutenant Lee Jade was a distant cousin, and he had gotten her the job in case he needed some insider information about the daily operations of the dam. So far, he hadn’t, but it was nice having family nearby, anyway. After all, family was why he was trying to help China conquer the world.
Reaching a private elevator, Shen-wa showed his identification card to the wall scanner once more, then pressed his hand on a glowing sensor plate. There came a slight tingle as the plate sent a few volts of electricity through his fingers to make sure the hand was still alive, and not detached by an enemy spy in order to facilitate entry. This was another Chinese invention, although he had heard rumors that the West had also created a similar device, for the exact same reasons.
It was a very long ride down to the bottom level, and Shen-wa emerged from the elevator in a cloud of tobacco smoke. Tapping out the glowing ashes into a trash container, he then slowly walked toward a sandbag nest with two soldiers stationed behind the waist-high barrier. They looked strong and fit, even though one was clearly much older than the other. Both men were in full dress uniform, heavily armed and wearing class four body armor. Field soldiers got class two armor, and special forces wore class three. Class four was much too heavy to wear in combat, but the bulky armor was perfect for soldiers who could sit down and rest for most of the day.
“Major!” a young private called out crisply, snapping a strange weapon to his chest in lieu of saluting. The barrel of the weapon was ridiculously large, the ammunition clip even bigger, and there was a bandoleer of 35 mm shells draped across his chest, with two more tucked into loops at his side where he normally would have had a sidearm.
“So, it finally arrived,” Shen-wa said softly, looking over the QLB 35 mm grenade launcher. “Yes, Major!”
“And you passed the mandatory testing?”
“Of course, Major!” the young private stated proudly. “I can fire the QLB in my sleep, and repair it in the dark!”
Hefting his own QBZ assault rifle, the older private grunted in acknowledgment. “He actually can, Major. I’ve seen him at the gun range. Fast. Faster even than Sergeant Ming.”
“Show me,” Shen-wa commanded, pointing down the corridor. “Destroy that light, third from the end.”
In a blur of motion, the young private crouched as he swung up the oversize weapon and fired. Hot smoke and flame belched from the muzzle, and a hundred feet away a light fixture exploded into debris, leaving a fist-size dent in the steel wall.
“Why nonexplosive rounds?” Shen-wa asked sternly.
“Only the first two are solid,” the young private replied crisply. “The next three release hundreds of razor-sharp fléchette rounds. The last shell in the clip is high-explosive, armor piercing.” He grinned. “In case an invader is also wearing body armor.”
“Very wise. Carry on,” Shen-wa said, walking around a corner. Just a few words now and then, a touch of courtesy, and the troops would die for him. It was a good investment.
An iron gate closed off this section of the corridor, and the major again pressed his hand to a sensor plate. The gate unlocked with a clang, and he went through, closing it tight behind. Electronics were all well and good, but he would always put his real trust in simple cold steel.
An unmarked door was at the end of a short corridor, and sitting at a plain wooden desk nearby was a mature woman in a long civilian dress, the flowing black fabric decorated with colorful flowers. A plate on the desktop had her name in both Mandarin and Cantonese. She was industriously typing away on a computer keyboard, and looked up at his approach.
“She’s waiting in the office,” Wu Cassandra said without any preamble, not pausing in her work.
“Thank you, Miss Wu,” he said, walking past and opening the door, which gave a musical chime.
Across the office, a tall woman in a tan outfit looked up in surprise at the noise, then jumped to her feet and gave a salute. “Good evening, sir!” she cried out.
There was a canvas duffel bag on the floor near her chair, along with a nylon travel bag locked with a red security seal. Shen-wa recognized it as a weapons kit. “At ease, Zhang,” he said, closing the door.
“Yes, sir,” Lieutenant Zhang Meiron replied uneasily, but stayed erect. It had been a long flight from Taiwan, and she was more than a little tired. However, she was also grimly determined not to show any weakness before the dreaded old man.
A veteran of numerous wars, the major had helped create the Red Star, and had personally terminated over a hundred enemy spies during his long career. It was rumored that he had even helped design the August 1st Building, the headquarters for the entire Chinese military. The only reason Major Shen-wa held so a low rank, instead of being in charge of the CMC, was that he was a maverick, a loner who hated politics, and disliked obeying the rules, being much more interested in getting results.
Just like me, Zhang thought proudly.
Six feet tall, and built like a professional weight lifter, Zhang found that nothing in the world easily accommodated her. Beds were too short, doorways too low, shirts too tight, and romance was mostly a matter of finding somebody drunk at a bar, and leaving quietly in the morning before finding out his name. Only the military had accepted her with open arms, in spite of its many reservations to a woman serving in combat.
Automatically cycling closed, the armored door to the office shut with a muffled boom.
“Why are you out of uniform and dressed like a civilian?” Shen-wa demanded.
“Sir, I…I was told to remain inconspicuous in my travel here,” she replied.
“Logical and reasonable,” he agreed, starting across the office.
Resembling a research library, the metal walls of the domed room were lined with bookcases stuffed with bound technical manuals. There were no personal effects anywhere in sight. No sports trophies, family pictures, knickknacks or executive toys. It was neat and impersonal, a place of work, nothing more.
The single humanizing aspect was a small black lacquered cabinet set under a large flag of China. The cabinet was made in the style of the Hung Dynasty of the fourth Century BCE, and whatever had been its original purpose, it was now well stocked with liquor bottles, glasses, an automatic ice dispenser and a tobacco humidor.
“So, how much do you know about this project?” Shen-wa asked, going to the liquor cabinet.
“Nothing, sir.”
“Then why did you agree to the assignment?” he asked pointedly, making a stiff drink of whiskey, then taking a seat behind a large redwood desk. Covered with piles of reports, and computer monitors, the desk was set kitty-corner to the rest of the room, so that his back was protected by the plain steel walls.
Zhang paused uncertainly. “Because I wish to work with you, sir,” she replied honestly. “You’re a living legend!”
“No matter what the project is?”
“My faith in you is absolute!”
“How touching,” Shen-wa whispered, almost smiling. “Make yourself a drink, Lieutenant. Relax.”
“Not while on duty, sir.”
Taking a sip from his glass, Shen-wa said nothing.
Suddenly, Zhang realized that she was being tested, not merely interviewed, and wondered what would happen if she failed.
“You’re smarter than you look,” Shen-wa said, turning on a monitor. “Very good. I suspected as much. You hide your intelligence to catch an opponent by surprise.”
“It is a man’s world,” Zhang stated, keeping the emotion from her voice. “A woman is either smart or pretty. Nature made my choice for me.”
Clearly, that confused him. “But you are both,” he said hesitantly.
She scowled, but said nothing. Did he really mean that?
“Ah. I see that we disagree.” He smiled, typing briefly on the keyboard. “Good! I like that. Now sit down. I prefer to talk at eye level.”
She wavered, wondering if this was another test.
“That was a direct order, Lieutenant.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir,” she replied, sitting down and stretching her long legs. She was in traveling clothes of a loose tan jacket, white blouse, pleated tan skirt and flats. High heels made her long legs look good, but the additional height only served to alienate her more from the rest of scurrying humanity.
Briefly, Shen-wa glanced at her legs in frank appreciation, then went back to the monitor.
Pleased with his controlled reactions, Zhang warily studied the officer behind the desk. Major Shen-wa Fen was old, but clearly in excellent health, his face and hands braided with muscle. Her guess was that he was a student of kung fu, probably Southern style, from the appearance of his fingers. The bent pinkie was a dead giveaway to those who knew what to look for. Old, but fast and accurate. That would make him a very deadly opponent, indeed. It would seem that the major also liked to attack with surprise. She liked that and felt a growing warmth in her stomach. She liked that a lot.
In spite of the outside environment, Shen-wa had a deep tan, and his thick black hair had natural wings of silver at the temples. There was no other word for it but dashing.
Then she saw his eyes looking directly at her face in mild disapproval, and felt a chill. Oh yes, she knew that look well enough. She had seen it a thousand times before in combat zones across the world. It was the face of a killer, as cold and merciless as an open grave. Briefly, Zhang wondered what he would be like in bed.
Thinking along similar lines himself, Shen-wa grinned as a report scrolled on the monitor about a drone attack on the Tokyo computer complex that controlled the coastal defense guns for Japan.
“Sir?” Zhang asked.
“One moment,” he replied curtly. Ah, the backup computers in Osaka had also been destroyed, along with a busful of technicians racing to effect emergency repairs. More food for the demons of hell, he thought. There could never be enough dead Japanese, but it was merely the beginning. France would be next, then Russia again, followed by the United States.
“Ahem, sir?”
He looked up with a broad smile. “Yes?”
“When did Colonel Weng die?” Zhang asked, crossing her legs at the ankles.
“How could you possibly know that he…” Shen-wa scowled. Was she testing him now?
“Weng is—was—the head of security for the Three Gorges Dam,” Zhang stated with a neutral expression. “If you need another, then he must have failed in some gross manner involving your private project, and now you require a replacement. Why else would you summon me?”
Templing his fingers, he openly smiled. “Publicly, he fell out of a Z-8 transport.”
“And actually…?”
“I slit his throat and threw him out alive. The man acted foolishly, and may have alerted enemy forces to my plans long before I was ready to openly act against them.”
“Is the project compromised?” she asked, leaning back in the chair. Her jacket spread wide, exposing a holstered 9 mm Norinco pistol and spare ammunition clips.
“Not at the moment. But for want of a nail…” He made a vague gesture.
She dismissed that with a wave of her hand. “I know the allusion, sir. Will my first duty be disposing of the body?”
“Already taken care of by Sergeant Ming. You will meet him later at the general staff meeting tonight. However, at the moment I need you to take over all matters involving security for Project Keyhome.”
“I accept,” she said.
“Excellent!” He rose to offer a hand.
She stepped closer and they shook, maintaining the hold for much longer than necessary. They could each feel a bond start to form between them that was more than just impersonal business.
“Do I need to know what Sky Tiger is?” Zhang said, reclaiming her chair. “Or would it be better for me to work in the dark?”
“It would probably facilitate matters if you were fully informed,” Shen-wa said, reaching for a thick security folder. He was starting to like this bold woman more and more.
Pressing his thumb to the metal clasp, Shen-wa waited until it hummed twice, announcing that the explosive charge was deactivated, then tossed it onto the desk.
Uncrossing her legs, she leaned forward to pick up the massive folder, and started riffling the pages. As her fingers touched the paper, it turned bright red at that exact spot.
“Let me summarize,” Shen-wa said, excited, and slightly embarrassed, by the brief glimpse down her blouse. Her breasts were small but firm, and the lieutenant was obviously not wearing any sort of undergarment.
“Not necessary, sir,” she replied, speed reading through the pile of reports and documents. “Is…is this already in operation? Wait…yes, I can see that it is from the dates the cargo boxes were shipped.” She looked up, her eyes bright with excitement. “I gather the drones are a success.”
“Eminently so!” Shen-wa beamed proudly. “Every few hours a new flight is unleashed to secure a critical bridge, destroy a vital airfield or assassinate a potential troublemaker. In two days, we will be ready to move.”
“And then…?”
Tapping the keyboard, he started the printer humming, and said nothing in reply.
Sexy or not, he was a reticent bastard, Zhang thought. “What about the CMC in the August 1st Building?” she asked, spreading her legs on impulse to see if the major would notice.
