Dancing with the Dragon

Chapter 28

The rain was light but steady as Scott and Jackie trudged back toward the airport after dark. Although they were still registered at the nondescript hotel, they had all of their belongings with them. In shock after finding out about the savage and deadly battle in the Taiwan Strait, they were on edge.

Hartwell Prost had given them the go-ahead by 6:00 P. M. Chengdu time, but he had made it clear that it was up to them to proceed or cancel. The Chinese were not in a good mood, and that meant an even higher risk if something went wrong.

"Scott?"

"Yes."

"What do you think?"

"I'm not sure at the moment."

"Should we ditch this operation — before we get in over our heads?"

He talked quietly as they approached the airport. "We're here, so we might as well try to accomplish our objective."

"What if we are successful and we make it back here with Dr. Cheung — and find the airport closed and our Lear impounded?"

"I don't believe that's going to happen."

"You can't be sure."

Scott thought about the possibility. "The Lear isn't a warplane and we aren't soldiers — we're civilians."

"But we're going to be dressed like commandos."

"Let's just stick to our plan and see how things go."

"Okay," she said reluctantly. "But I don't have a good feeling about this deal — especially now that we're in an undeclared war with China."

"I know what you're saying, but the risk factor is the same, at least the way I see it. Besides, now that we're in an all-out shooting war with China, there's even more reason why we need to know what Cheung knows."

"Yeah, no kidding." She watched a commuter airliner take off and disappear in the rain and low clouds.

"Have you already filed?"

"Yeah, it's in the can."

She had used a handling agent specializing in international flight operations in order to obtain a weather report and file an instrument flight plan to Chongqing, China, the Double-Blessed river port at the confluence of the Yangtze River (long river) and the Chialing River. The intended destination was in the opposite direction from Mianyang.

Hartwell Prost was at the White House having a working breakfast with the president, Secretary of State Brett Shannon, Defense Secretary Pete Adair, and air force general Les Chalmers. They were closely monitoring the provocative situation in China and waiting to see what Beijing would do next, if anything.

The president's press secretary was keeping the media informed of the events taking place in the Taiwan Strait. Macklin had instructed her to be completely open and honest about the explosive crisis, whether the news was good or bad.

While keeping an eye on the Chinese campaign the president and his team of advisers were anxiously awaiting news from the operatives who were about to embark on the precarious mission to Mianyang. If the operation was a success, Dr. Richard Cheung could provide extremely vital information about China's laser weapons, and he could furnish further proof about Beijing's deadly secret.

The parking ramp was dimly lighted and quiet when Jackie and Scott reached their helicopter. They quickly unlocked the Agusta and climbed inside to get out of the rain. Working in the dark, they unloaded the two canvas bags and donned their apparel.

Dressed in a black jumpsuit, body armor, helmet, and jungle boots, Jackie stepped outside and performed a thorough walk-around on the Agusta while Scott checked all of his gear and weapons. She also removed the engine covers from the Lear in order to save time when they returned to the airport.

Satisfied that everything was in order, he tested the pair of small, lightweight wireless headsets that would provide hands-free two-way communication between them.

While Jackie brought the helicopter to life, received her IFR clearance to Chongqing, and then strapped on her 9mm Glock, the Smith & Wesson .357, and the H & K 9mm, Scott liberally applied camouflage to his face, neck, and hands.

Dressed in specially made black-and-green fatigues, full body armor, helmet, and jungle boots, he carefully checked his 9mm Sig Sauer, the S & W .357, the H & K 9mm, and his extra clips of ammo.

Next, he placed the Sig Sauer in a holster on his right hip, the .357 on his left hip, and the H & K in a slot near his lower back. Finally, he filled two compartments in his fatigues with extra ammo and a waterproof flashlight, and then hung two grenades in straps on each side of the H & K He capped off his outfit by strapping on his K-Bar knife, a sturdy and deadly weapon for those intimate moments in hand-to-hand combat.

"Are you ready?" Jackie asked.

"All set." Scott secured the rest of the grenades and the two H & K MP5 compact submachine guns.

After calling the tower and receiving permission to take off, Jackie eased the Agusta into the rainy sky, raised the landing gear, and set a course toward the southeast. She contacted the departure controller and climbed slowly as they rapidly distanced themselves from the airport.

Finally, after flying into conditions that were solid IFR, Jackie called the controller and said she was in visual flight conditions and canceled her instrument flight plan. The controller acknowledged the cancellation and gave her a different code to squawk in her transponder, the avionics device that emits a discrete signal from an airplane or helicopter and allows the controller to identify a particular aircraft. She turned the volume down on the radio, turned the transponder off, and then concentrated solely on flying.

The controller would lose their transponder return before the helicopter changed course and disappeared in ground clutter on the controller's radar screen. Without a primary return on the radar — and no information from the transponder — the Agusta became a stealth helicopter.

"We'll have to fly lower and slower because of the rain." Jackie began a shallow descent and turned off the exterior lights. Seconds later, she leveled the Agusta.

Even though Scott continued to have doubts about the mission, he remained quiet and concentrated on the instruments.

She turned the helicopter to fly parallel to the ridge on the west side of the long elevation of land and then squinted to see lights on the ground. She needed to fly lower and began a gradual descent. Off to her left, she could see the soft glow of the lights from Chengdu. As the altimeter slowly wound down, her pulse began to increase.

After trying to suppress her nagging doubts, Jackie breathed a sigh of relief when she began to see lights on the ground. "Ah, yes — we'll fly this heading until we cross the railroad tracks extending east from Chengdu. When we get there, I'll make a fortyfive-degree cut to the left until we pick up the tracks leading to Mianyang."

Scott looked up from the enhanced satellite photographs of the Mianyang complex and studied the view through the windshield. "The forward visibility is zero point zilch, and it's raining harder."

"I know, but I can see the ground."

"What do you think?"

"Press on." She dimmed the interior lights to see the terrain better. "We'll just take it easy."

"Flying low at night in rainy conditions in unfamiliar territory ain't the smartest thing to do — not to mention that we're well below the tops of the ridge on our right."

"We're paralleling the ridge."

"We think we are."

"We'll be okay as long as we slow down," she said calmly. "Back me up on the gauges and I'll try to stay visual."

"You got it. Too bad we can't get a clearance, climb to a safe altitude, and go direct via the GPS."

"Yeah, then we drop off the radar at the restricted Mianyang complex," she said. "We might as well call them and let 'em know we're coming."

The rain intensified, causing Jackie to slow the Agusta even more. She concentrated on keeping the helicopter level.

Scott stared into the dark void and again had second thoughts. This really isn't looking good, especially if there's a tower out here that isn't on the chart.

She took a peek at the GPS and visualized where they were in relation to Mianyang. "The railroad should be coming up anytime."

A minute passed, then another, as they began to feel ill at ease.

Scott decided not to wait any longer. "You know, we may have flown past it and never saw the—"

"There it is," she interrupted. "I see the track."

Still concerned about their close proximity to the ridge, Dalton could barely make out the single-track railroad. "Yeah, that's it — let's come port forty-five degrees and get away from the ridge."

"Coming left to a heading of three forty-five." She began a smooth turn and a controlled descent.

"Not too low," Scott cautioned, feeling uneasy about trying to remain in visual flight conditions. Were off to a bad start and making it worse. "If the rain gets any heavier, we need to abort and try later tonight."

"If the rain gets worse, it'll mask the sound of our rotor blades better."

"How much rain does it take to mask the sound of a crash?" Scott asked.

They flew in silence, each contemplating the unknowns awaiting them. Without warning, two blinking strobe lights appeared in the dark. A second later, powerful landing lights flicked on. Moving very rapidly, the bright lights startled Jackie and Scott into action.

"Descend!" Scott said, fumbling for the exterior lights. "Hit the searchlight — they're almost on us!"

The unlighted Agusta appeared almost dead ahead to the pilots of the Air China International Boeing 737–300. At the same instant the powerful searchlight turned night into day, the Air China captain abruptly pulled the airliner's nose up and banked sharply to the right, abandoning his approach to the Shuangliu Airport.

Caught completely off guard, Jackie held the controls firmly as the Agusta was violently rocked in the turbulence generated by the Boeing's wingtip vortices.

"Sweet Jesus," Jackie said, extinguishing the searchlight and exterior lights. "That was close."

"Ah, Mother of mercy," Scott said, and took a deep breath. "We don't want to ever know how close."

"I'd better monitor the radio."

"That might be a damn good idea. We're going through an approach corridor and no one knows we're here."

They remained quiet while Jackie listened to an air traffic control supervisor at the Shuangliu Airport reassure the Air China International pilot that the controller didn't have any radar returns in that sector — except the 737 airliner.

Scott unrolled the high-resolution photographs of the Mianyang complex. He studied the landing spot behind a tall hill in the valley close to Mianyang's on-site living quarters. Next, he took a long look at the recent photograph of Dr. Richard Cheung. I sure as hell hope he's there.

A few minutes later, Jackie spotted the primary road from Chengdu to Mianyang and then saw the rail line on the west side of the road. Cloaked in darkness, she banked the Agusta to the right to follow the tracks northeast to Guanghan and then to Deyang.

She switched radio frequencies to monitor approach control at the Mianyang Nanjiao Airport. "As long as we stay low, I don't think they'll get a primary target."

"Let's hope not."

The rain subsided as they neared Luojiang, allowing Jackie to increase the airspeed. Less than ten minutes later, she lowered the landing gear and began her visual approach to Mianyang. The GPS was incredibly accurate. It placed the Agusta in the exact position Scott had circled on the satellite photographs.

"Any doubts?" she asked without taking her eyes off the scattered lights on the ground.

"Doubts, are you kidding? If I had any brains, we'd be doing something rational — like having a nice dinner at a fine restaurant where they don't allow firearms."

"Do you think we need some kind of counseling?"

"Counseling? No way — this is perfectly normal behavior," he said with a nervous laugh.

The rain increased, causing Jackie to lose sight of her ground reference points. She kept her instrument scan going as she eased the helicopter down. Finally, in near zero-zero conditions, she glimpsed the muddy field and began her approach.

Scott made a final check of his weapons and gear. "You keep the engines running, and we'll stay in touch by radio. If anyone comes near you, get the hell out of here and we'll work something out."

She nodded. "If you find him and he doesn't want to—"

"If he doesn't want to go, he won't be of any further use to the Chinese — end of story."

When Jackie began her flare for the landing, some of the lights in the Mianyang compound began to disappear behind the hill. As the Agusta touched down in the mud, all the lights had vanished from sight.

"Good luck," Jackie said, and squeezed his hand.

He reached for one pair of the night vision binoculars and a set of large bolt cutters. "Thanks — keep your eyes open."

"I will."

Scott stepped out into the cold, driving rain and hurried toward the isolated housing area. He stopped for a radio check after he had rounded the hill that obscured the helicopter.

"Eggbeater, how copy Nighthawk?" he asked while he panned across the area with the enhanced binoculars.

"Loud and clear."

"Same with you." Scott cautiously approached the complex. He dropped to the wet ground and began crawling toward the back side of the housing units. There were bright lights at each corner of the compound, one shining inside and two others casting beams of light into the darkness outside the compound.

He stopped and raised the binoculars to check on the poorly lighted areas on both sides of the housing complex. He didn't detect any movement and continued to crawl toward the living quarters.

About fifteen feet from the high chain link fence, Scott froze when he saw the glow of a cigarette. The sentry was sitting in an unlighted guard-shack near the rear entrance to the compound. The simple structure reminded Scott of a firecracker stand.

Approaching the wooden shelter, Dalton drew his K-Bar knife out of the sheath. When he was about three feet away from the guard, Scott started rising to his feet. After he was upright, he stepped on something that snapped. "Shit!"

The sentry spun around and Scott lunged at him, driving the knife deep into the chest of the Chinese guard. The soldier silently slumped to the ground. Dalton sheathed his K-Bar and then grabbed three keys off the wall and opened the gate with the second key he tried. He tossed the bolt cutters on the ground and wiped mud off his fatigues and body-armor vest.

"Eggbeater, Nighthawk," he whispered into the wireless radio. "Nighthawk, go."

Scott reached for his Sig Sauer. "I'm about to enter the compound."

"Copy."

There were three buildings, each with a central hallway and four apartment-like living quarters. Scott quietly entered the closest building and heard Chinese music coming from the first apartment.

"I'm in the southernmost building."

"Copy — everything is okay here."

"Good."

He passed the closed door and crossed the hall to the next apartment, glancing through a partially opened door. Two men, both middle-aged Chinese, were playing a board game and watching television.

From the sounds coming from the next two apartments, one a very animated conversation, Scott could tell the occupants were Chinese.

He left the building with grave doubts about finding Dr. Cheung, let alone rescuing him. What am I doing on this boondoggle?

"No joy in the first unit." He moved slowly toward the next. "I'm entering the second building."

"Roger." Jackie searched for any movement near the helicopter and then glanced at the engine instruments.

Scott quietly entered the building and wondered how long his luck would hold out before someone spotted him.

He stopped and whispered into his radio. "I'm in the middle building."

"Copy."

Scott approached the first of the four living quarters. No discernible sound came from inside the apartment. He slowly opened the door and did a double take. Scott's heart caught in his throat as Dr. Richard Cheung, who was lying on a couch, looked up at him in slack-jawed silence.

The stupefied physicist turned pale and bolted upright to a sitting position, rigid with fear at the sight of the camouflaged, mud-covered warrior with the 9mm Sig Sauer. Stepping inside, Scott quickly closed the door and motioned for Cheung to keep quiet.

"I'm here to help you."

"What?"

"Don't say a word — just listen to me, understand?"

Overwhelmed with shock, Cheung swallowed hard and nodded his head. Jackie listened to Scott's conversation and maintained a careful watch for intruders.

"Do you want to get out of here?"

The plump man's face reflected raw fear and indecisiveness. "Yes," he answered in a faltering voice, "but I'm not sure if I should go back home — back to the United States — right now."

Monitoring the communication between the two men, Jackie spoke forcefully to Scott. "Tell him the truth — tell him what he's facing."

"Your laser project for the Red Chinese has been exposed. You've been found out and you're in deep shit, my man — up to your neck."

Stunned by the revelation, Cheung sagged against the couch, his eyes wide. "Oh, no, what have I done?" His voice was barely audible. "What have I gotten myself into?"

"You're facing a charge of treason — know what that means?"

"Yes — yes, I do." Cheung grimaced as he considered the enormity of his offense.

"On the other hand, if you cooperate with the U.S. authorities, they'll go easy on you — that's straight from the White House."

A blank look crossed Dr. Cheung's pasty face.

"Do you comprehend what I'm telling you?" Scott said, and grabbed the man by the collar of his shirt. "We don't have a lot of time to waste!"

Cheung had reservations, and it showed in his darting eyes. "I understand, but I'm not sure if that's what I should — if that's the right thing for me to do."

"Dammit, do you want to go back to your country or not — your decision, but make it quick!"

"Yes, I want to go home, but they'll kill me if I try to escape — they've made that clear."

"Listen to me. They're going to kill you anyway — when you're no longer useful to them."

Cheung's pleading eyes grew even larger as fear paralyzed his ability to think rationally. "No, they told me that I could go home when I completed the last of the tests and—"

Scott grabbed the man by the collar and twisted it. "Six of your colleagues — Mills-Morrison, Aycock, Owens, Douville, Fitzpatrick, and Kalenkov — have been murdered in the past three weeks. You and Dr. Nash will be next. It's just a matter of time — do you understand what I'm telling you?"

Like a guppy out of water, Cheung opened and closed his mouth without uttering a sound.

"Let's go," Scott said harshly.

Cheung began to tremble and his body went limp.

"Look, we don't have a smorgasbord of options here!" Scott snatched Cheung to his feet and shoved him toward a small closet. "If you have a raincoat, get it."

At the same moment, Jackie's concentration was broken when she saw beams from flashlights near the side of the hill. She immediately added power as a rifle round penetrated the clamshell door covering the right engine. Lifting free of the mud, Jackie raised the landing gear and pushed the Agusta to its performance limits as more rounds struck the helicopter.

"Scott, I'm taking fire and heading east! Do you copy?"

"Roger."

"We're going to have to use a different pickup point."

"I'll work on it — stay low."

"If I get any lower, I'll be plowing ground."

Dr. Cheung grabbed his weatherworn raincoat and shut the closet door. Frightened about having to face a charge of treason, he searched his mind for a bargaining chip. I was kidnapped, held against my will, and I have the hard drives from the laser project they forced me to work on.

Shaking from fear, Cheung looked straight at Dalton and spoke rapidly. "I can give you the hard drives — all the laser technology. I have access to the computer room."

Scott looked intensely at Cheung. "How many are there?"

"Four."

"The entire project is contained on four hard drives?"

"Yes," Cheung said in a whisper. "The Chinese were very suspicious of everyone. They kept the project very tightly controlled." Scott paused, unsure if he should take the chance. "Where's the computer room?"

"It's in the building in front of these apartments."

"Is it guarded — anybody there at this time of night?"

"No." Cheung clutched his hands together to keep them from shaking. "An alarm sounds if the wrong access code is used."

"Okay, let's go."

They hurried outside and quickly walked to the building. Using his left hand to steady his shaking right hand, Cheung punched the code into the door lock and they went inside. The hallways were well lighted, but the computer room was dark. After they entered the room, Scott quietly shut the door. He used his flashlight to illuminate the computers while Dr. Cheung removed four hard drives and placed them in separate static sensitive bags. He bundled the hard drives together and put them in a large waterproof satchel.

A few seconds later the door flew open with a loud bang and two rounds from a 9mm Beretta blew holes in the wall next to Scott's head.