Code of Honor

39

It was a straightforward mission — a pregnant woman, two teenagers, and a man in his fifties. Soft targets. Kang could have handled the job all by himself. He brought Rose and Lily, in any case, mainly to help keep an eye on the boss. Wu Chao had insisted on coming along. The major was handy enough to have around when the rough business began, but he took no joy in the work. It was as if he felt embarrassed. Guilty. And too much guilt could make one slow. Rose and Lily certainly didn’t have that problem. They enjoyed this work as much as Kang did — a rarity in women, as Kang had come to find over the course of his career.

The Li home was a huge affair, built, like all the other houses in historic Fort Sheridan, in the 1890s of blond brick. Located on one of the quiet side streets east of Leonard Wood Avenue near the old parade ground turned park, the three-story house was nestled among great oaks and Colorado blue spruce. Conveniently for Kang and his group, it was the last on the loop, adjacent to a steep wooded slope that led directly down to the shores of Lake Michigan and a quiet nature preserve.

Kang and the others approached in the rain, under cover of darkness, in an inflatable skiff. Dressed like tourists who’d been caught in the weather rather than commandos, they beached the boat and dragged it into the underbrush at the edge of the woods. They didn’t have to worry about extreme high tides, but Lake Michigan had wind and waves, so Kang looped the bowline around a stout bush before leading the others up the tree-choked incline.

As always, he’d come well prepared for the evening’s events. He’d studied real estate floor plans of similar houses and reviewed social media accounts for the woman and her two teenagers. Li wasn’t active on social media, so Kang had to rely on a dossier put together by MSS and Central Committee operatives over the years. Li was retired military, which could be an issue when it came to violence. But the man was in the Navy and sailors prosecuted wars from far away, not nose-to-nose, the way Kang preferred. No, this one would pose no challenge whatsoever.

Chinese blood ran through Peter Li’s veins. He’d completely forgotten his heritage, his responsibility. Li worked for the Americans — making him doubly culpable in Kang’s book — less than a dog.

A spotter in the neighborhood above, out walking her bichon frise, had confirmed earlier that Li had dropped his car off at a garage in Lake Forest for some repairs. His wife had picked him up. Both children had arrived home in the late evening.

Kang and his team had to bushwhack through dense foliage, but reached the top of the hill with little trouble. A familiar warmth began to spread through his belly when the house came into view. A second-floor light was on, but it was just before dawn and everyone would be in bed — the groggy time, the best time to attack.

Each member of the group was armed with an identical Beretta Storm Compact nine-millimeter pistol with a threaded barrel and suppressor. All but Wu Chao also carried a knife. The women preferred short, scalpel-like blades for close-in work, which accounted for why they often removed their clothing before they did a job. Kang’s weapon of choice was a thick beast with a slightly curved blade that resembled a stubby cutlass. He’d had it custom-made by a smith in Shanghai. The black Micarta handle was scored to help him retain his grip when it might otherwise grow slippery from the inevitable blood and gore.

Kang took his eye off the house long enough to check his team. The women were both locked in on the mission, but relaxed in the way professionals relax before doing something they know well. Wu crouched at the edge of the brush, turning his head this way and that, as if he were attacking a fortified sentry post instead of a house of soft targets. He used a night-vision monocular to scan the grounds, and then returned the device to his pocket. There was enough ambient light that flashlights or night-vision goggles were unnecessary.

Wu gave Kang a slight nod, permission to advance, though Kang had been about to move forward without it. This was his realm of expertise.

Taking a mobile phone from the pocket of his vest, Kang entered a six-digit code, accessing the security application on the Li boy’s cloned device. On Kang’s signal, the team sprinted through the blue-black darkness across the lawn to the side door — off the kitchen, stacking in teams of two on either side of the frame. Lily put her right hand on the knob, then raised her left to signal she was ready. The alarm would make an audible chirp the moment it was deactivated, alerting Li that something was amiss. They had to move quickly.

Kang, standing directly behind Lily, entered the disarm code, counted to three, and then gave her thigh a squeeze — signaling for her to go. She rolled in through the open door, careful not to let it bang against the inside wall. Kang followed tight on her heels, pistol up, raised tritium night sights glowing over the barrel of his suppressor in the dim light of the pantry. Rose filed in behind him, fluid, inaudible. Wu Chao brought up the rear, easing the door shut.

The group crept through the mudroom and pantry single file, padding softly into the kitchen, following the edge of a wraparound granite counter toward the stairs to the left. The front half of the second floor was open to the area below, and light from an open bedroom door above poured over the balcony, illuminating wood floors and ornamental throw rugs.

A sleepy woman’s voice carried down over the railing above. She must have heard the electronic chirp. “James. Are you up messing with the alarm?”

The boy coughed. “Huh?”

“I asked if you were messing with the alarm,” the woman said.

“It’s not me!” the boy said, hoarse with sleep.

The teenage girl spoke next. “Oh my gosh, James! It’s the middle of the night, could you just shut up?”

Kang was surprised they’d all awoken so easily. No matter.

In the hall below, Lily trained her pistol upward at the balcony, her back to the stairs. She gestured to her left, then directly in front of her, and whispered, “Girl… parents,” indicating who was in which room. Then, pointing over her shoulder at the bedroom that would be across the upstairs hall, she said, “Boy.”

Kang and the others signaled that they understood. The plan was to grab the parents first, specifically the pregnant woman. They would all be killed eventually, but Wu Chao insisted on questioning Peter Li, learning what he knew, what others knew — if anything — about the incursion into the “vault” computer in his office. Once the woman was under control, everyone would fall into line. Li was sure to answer any questions to save his wife and unborn baby. After that… Kang smiled inside. After that, the fool would realize it would have been better if everyone had died in the initial attack.

Kang raised an open hand toward the stairs. His foot had just hit the bottom step when the boy called out again. He froze.

“Something’s weird,” the boy said, half shouting so his parents could hear him. “My app is acting up. Sorry, Mom. I’ll go down and arm it at the pad.”

A light flicked on upstairs. Good. It would destroy the boy’s night vision.

Kang motioned for Wu Chao and Rose to move quickly across the hall and into the dining room. He took Lily with him to wait around the corner in the kitchen. The boy would walk directly between them to reach the security controls.

Young ears, especially those attached to the heads of youths who do not have the misfortune to live in noisy cities or places of war, have excellent hearing.

James trotted down the stairs, whistling “We Are the Champions” by Queen as he skipped every other step. He was barefoot, dressed in a pair of running shorts and a T-shirt. His bare feet hit the base of the wood floor as his whistle crescendoed. The kid spun toward the kitchen, then stopped cold.

He’d heard something.

Kang eased around the corner, allowing him to make out a narrow slice of the hall. Movement flashed in the shadows as Rose stepped out of the dining room, mere feet behind the boy, her suppressed Beretta coming up. She fired, but Wu Chao swatted the weapon away at that exact moment, deflecting the round upward, over the top of the boy’s head and into the kitchen cabinets behind Kang and Lily.

The shot was a quiet pop compared to the shattering dishes and the teenager’s terrified yowl. The spent cartridge rattled on the hardwood. To his credit, instead of freezing as so many did when confronted with sudden danger, the boy tried to flee up the stairs while he worked to make sense of it all. Wu Chao grabbed a handful of T-shirt, dragging him back. He brought his open hand down flat on top of the boy’s head, stunning him into submission.

Wu Chao glared at Rose, hissing in rapid-fire Mandarin. “Not yet! If you kill him, we lose all leverage!” He flicked his free hand up the stairs, shoving the boy ahead of him.

Rose shot a look at Kang, no doubt seeking permission to punch their impudent boss in the face — or worse.

The master bedroom light flicked on. “What was that?” Sophie Li shouted. “James? What broke? Are you okay?”

“M… Mom…” the boy stammered.

Wu Chao prodded the boy forward, following on his heels. The two women were next. Kang brought up the rear, covering the stairs with his pistol.

“Tell them to come to the balcony,” Wu Chao said, giving the boy a shove to show he meant business.

“Mom… Peter,” the boy said, his voice remarkably calm. “They… They want you to come here.”

Sophie walked out immediately, clutching the neck of the knee-length football jersey she used as a nightgown. The nylon stretched tight around her pregnant belly.

“What do you mean they?”

She stopped short, her mouth falling open, her face stricken when she saw her son with a gun to his head.

Down the hall, the girl screamed. She ran out of her room clutching a cell phone by her side but had yet to place a call. Rose rushed in and knocked the phone away. She slapped the girl hard, driving her to her knees, then spun to grab Sophie by the arm and drag her back to the landing. Peter Li was still nowhere to be seen. Coward.

A new, more vulnerable hostage under control now, the entire team advanced. Kang took possession of a trembling Sophie.

She tried to scream, but Kang planted a vicious knee in the small of her back. She winced, arching in pain, whimpering now. “Please… I’m begging you. Don’t hurt my baby.”

Wu Chao took a half-step forward, using the boy as a shield. He glanced sideways at Kang and Sophie, then turned toward the master bedroom.

He raised his voice. “Peter Li! If you call anyone on the phone you will force my hand.”

No answer.

“Peter!” Wu Chao barked again. “We can resolve this like men. We need to ask you some questions. Come to the door.”

The bedroom light went out.

Rose shot a look at Kang like she wanted to go in.

“No,” he hissed. “Not yet.”

Kang intertwined his fingers through Sophie’s hair, then yanked her head backward so she faced the ceiling. Her neck arched toward the door, delicate, exposed. He used the curved blade of his knife to lift the hem of the football jersey, pulling it up slowly, exposing her panties and then her swollen belly. She found her voice, screaming, trying to jerk away. One hand reflexively cradled her unborn child; the other went to the nightshirt, attempting to pull it down. Kang used the blade to slap her hand away, slashing her forearm in the process. Blood poured from the wound. The boy lunged for his injured mother, but Wu Chao slammed a fist into the back of his head, staggering him and pulling him closer.

Kang spoke now, loud but in complete control. His voice dripped with venom. “Peter Li! Come now. Stop hiding and show yourself or I will carve out your baby and paint this house with your woman’s blood.”

“Peter,” Wu Chao said. “You must listen. I will not be able to stop him if you do not—”

A massive boom shook the house at the same instant a blossom of orange fire erupted from the darkness of the master bedroom. Wu Chao’s knee burst as if he’d been shot with a cannon. He listed sideways like a felled tree. A second blast took off the side of his head, leaving him in a twitching heap behind the quivering boy.

Kang had no time to register dismay.

A third shot tore at the air to his right. Something hot slammed into the bend of his elbow, causing his hand to convulse. The blade slipped impotently from an open palm. He backpedaled, intent on keeping the pregnant woman between him and what had to be a shotgun. Sophie Li had other ideas. Screaming with rage, she spun, clawing at Kang’s face, flaying skin off his nose and cheeks with her nails. He ducked, striking out blindly, shoving the crazed woman away before he lost an eye. Another shot shook the walls, blasting a gaping hole in the Sheetrock next to Kang’s ear. He scrambled over the railing, landing halfway down the stairs. A fifth blast, followed rapidly by a sixth, sent Rose and Lily fleeing down the steps after him. The women fired pistols over their shoulders as they fled, but hit nothing.

Kang squatted low, behind the relative cover of the landing. He’d regained the use of his hand, so the wound to his elbow couldn’t have been too bad. Probably birdshot. He ducked his head, pistol drawn now, ready to rush the stairs. They did not need to talk to Peter Li that badly. The important thing was to tie up loose ends. Li had to die. Kang would kill the family for sport. Retribution for… fighting back. The odor of gun smoke and urine from Wu Chao’s spilled bladder made Kang pause — which saved his life.

Rather than retreat, Peter Li advanced with the shotgun, blasting well-aimed shots down the stairwell now that his wife and stepchildren were out of the way. Lily crumpled forward, clutching her stomach. The next shot clipped away her ponytail, hitting her squarely in the back of the neck, nearly decapitating her at this close range. An anchor shot. Li was picking them off, one by one. He kept shooting, reloading from cover, then blasting away each time he topped off his weapon.

The man knew how to fight.

Kang and Rose fled the house, bursting out the back door at a dead run. Both were heaving from frustration and adrenaline by the time they crashed into the dark wood line above the lake. The police were surely on their way.

Crouching behind a clump of scrub oak, Kang turned to give this place of utter failure one last look. To his astonishment, bright flashes lit the second-floor windows. Li was still shooting. He didn’t know the intruders were gone, or how many were in his house. Amazingly, the shots inside the brick house were inaudible from just a few dozen yards away. It was as if Li were watching a John Wick movie inside with the sound off. The neighbors would not have heard anything, certainly nothing that would make them call 911.

“Lily…” Rose whispered. “That bastard killed Lily…”

“And he will pay for it,” Kang said. “He will pay dearly.”

“We must report in,” Rose said.

“We will,” Kang said. “When the mission is complete. Go down to the boat and get the RPG. The pregnant woman is injured. The police will transport her to the hospital. When Li comes out to ride with her…”

“But the police will search the grounds—”

The garage door flew off its tracks and a gray Mercedes SUV burst out, shooting down the driveway carrying the door on the bumper for several dozen yards before it fell away. Taillights flashed and tires squealed as the vehicle fishtailed through the darkness, rounding the bend toward Leonard Wood Avenue.

“This is shit!” Rose spat.

“No,” Kang said. “This is good. This is very good. I do not think they called the police.”

“Lily is dead!” Rose said, seething. “Wu Chao is dead! The man we came to kill still lives. His fat cow wife still lives. This can only be called a disaster.”

“But we are not dead.” Kang tipped his head toward the road where the SUV had disappeared. His lip trembled as the reality of what had just occurred crashed down on his shoulders. “It does not matter where Li runs. Do not forget that we still have the means to track him. Neither he nor his precious family will live to see nightfall.”