Checkmate

40

With a gentle kick of his fins, Fisher eased forward until he felt his belly scrape the soft sand of the beach. He felt a wave wash over his back and his vision was momentarily obscured by froth. As the wave receded, he lifted his head until his face mask broke the surface. Ahead, he could see the line of white beach that followed the base of the cliff, itself a vertical wall of mottled gray rock.

He’d timed his approach to coincide with high tide for two reasons: One, the breakers would be easier to manage, allowing him to crawl into the shoals while remaining partially awash. And two, the higher the tide, the less beach he would have to cross to reach the base of the cliff, decreasing his chance of being spotted.

True to to his reputation, Collins had expertly guided the Houston northward into the heart of the East China Sea, past the Chinese 093s, and finally to the mouth of Hangzhou Bay and the Zhoushan Archipelago. For a standard special ops insertion, the Houston’s forward deck would have been fitted with a clamshell dry dock shelter and an SDV, or Swimmer Delivery Vehicle, but the accelerated nature of Fisher’s mission had made this impossible, so he’d simply exited the sub’s forward escape trunk and swum the half mile to the island.

So far the weather was partially cooperating with his plan. The sky was clear, with an occasional scud of clouds passing before the moon. According to Collins’s weather officer, a tropical storm was working its way up from the South China Sea, pushing a line of rain squalls before it.

Fisher reached back and plucked his binoculars off his harness. He scanned the top of the cliff, looking for movement or headlights. He saw nothing. He replaced the binoculars and moved his left arm forward until his could see the OPSAT’s screen. He punched a button and a map of Cezi Maji appeared in the green glow.

Grimsdottir had done her usual thorough job, having divided the map into three views: standard topographical with geographical features, EM, and infrared, each of which was labeled according to Smith’s brief: cliff road; outer rain forest; inner cutback zone; and the estate proper. A variety of multicolored symbols marked known locations of cameras, sensors, sentry zones, and fences.

Looking at the fortress that was Bai Kang Shek’s island, Fisher felt a momentary tingle of apprehension, but he shook it off. Break it down, Sam, he commanded himself. One step at a time. One camera, one sensor, one sentry.

He lowered his face mask back into the water and started inching forward.

Ten minutes later, he was across the beach and hidden amid the rocks at the base of the cliff. Behind him, waves hissed over the sand and retreated, leaving a cream of froth. He picked his way along the cliff until he had a clear view of the top, then waited.

His wait was short. Eight minutes later, he saw a pair of headlights moving through the foliage. They stopped and went dark. A few seconds later, a flashlight blinked on. In the moonlight Fisher could see a figure standing at the edge of the cliff. The guard played the flashlight over the rock face, then down and over the sand.

The flashlight blinked out. The headlights glowed to life and started moving away.

Fisher tapped the button of the OPSAT’s screen labeled LOCK and the red diamond symbol on the cliff road started flashing. LOCK ENABLED. With the jeep patrols on a predictable schedule, all Fisher had to do was lock in the appearance of one them to track the rest. One by one, the remaining five jeep patrols popped onto the screen at various points along the cliff road.

A set of scrolling numbers next to each diamond showed the time remaining until it reached Fisher’s position. He had six minutes until the next. He punched up the OPSAT’s comm screen and tapped out a message—FEET DRY—and hit send. Given the inordinately high level of the island’s security, he and Lambert had agreed to forgo normal check-in procedures and keep transmissions to a minimum.

He trotted back to the spot he’d chosen earlier and started climbing.

The cliff was at once a climber’s dream and nightmare, a mix of granite, with plenty of lateral cleaves that made for good handholds, and volcanic basalt that was in some places worn smooth by millennia of weather, but in others, jagged, frangible, and as abrasive as steel wool.

By switching between NV and standard view, he was able to slowly pick his way upward, zigzagging from one granite run to the other until he was halfway to the top. His OPSAT vibrated once on his wrist, then again. He locked his right hand into a crevice and lifted the OPSAT to his face.

On the screen one of the red diamonds was moving down the cliff road, nearing his postion. The time display wound down past sixty seconds… fifty-five…

Hand over hand, he moved left, toward a nose-shaped hump in the cliff. When his shoulder bumped against it, he lowered himself until he could duck under the tip of the nose. He shoved his hand into a crack until his knuckles were jammed against the stone, then released his left hand and let it dangle.

Above him, he heard the growl of an engine. Brakes squealed. A car door slammed. Then footfalls on gravel and the rustle of foliage. A flashlight beam skimmed horizontally along the cliff face toward him, then up and over the nose and out of sight. Fisher glanced down in time to see the beam track along the beach for a few seconds, then blink out.

He waited until the jeep’s engines had faded, then glanced at the OPSAT. The next jeep was on the east side of the island, a red diamond slowly marching toward him. Seven minutes.

He kept climbing.

With two minutes to spare, he reached the foliage overhanging the edge. He groped around until his hand found a root and he pulled himself up. He snaked through the underbrush until he reached the edge of the road. A quick EM/NV check up and down the road revealed nothing. He checked the OPSAT: one minute.

The previous day’s rain had left the road muddy — a perfect mold for footprints, so Fisher sidestepped along the grass verge until he found a spot where a pair of flat stones were half-buried in the dirt. He was leaping to first stone when he heard the grumbling of the jeep’s engine. He hopped to the next stone, then to the edge, where he ducked down, slipped into the undergrowth, and dropped flat.

The jeep’s headlights washed over the road. Half a foot away, a mud-encrusted tire rolled past Fisher’s face. The jeep ground to a halt and a car door opened. A voice called something in Mandarin. The reply came from slightly farther away — the first voice from the passenger; the second from the guard who’d gotten out to scan the cliff face.

Half a minute later, the jeep was moving again.

Fisher maneuvered his arm up until he could see the OPSAT. He punched up the map. The outer ring of rain forest lay before him. Three miles of unbroken jungle, two escarpments, three gorges.

He had six hours before dawn.