Operation Barracuda

31

I open my eyes inside an ambulance. Coen is sitting beside me with an expression of concern on her face. The vehicle shakes and bounces over the road and I hear the piercing siren above the rumble of the engine. I take stock of my body and am happy to find no oxygen mask attached to my face. I feel pain in my side but for some reason I’m not dead.

“Hey,” Coen says. “Look who’s still with us.”

“What’s going on?” I manage to ask. My voice comes out hoarse.

“You’re on the way to the hospital, pal. Doesn’t look too serious, so you can relax.”

Then I remember. “I wiped out.”

“Yeah, but your bulletproof vest saved your life. And the air bag.”

Damn, I forgot about that, too. Lambert and Coen made me put it on under my civvies before I left the Sofitel.

“They have to X-ray you,” she continues. “You’re gonna be pretty bruised up. And your face looks like a pizza. But other than that you’re probably gonna be fine.”

I’m suddenly overwhelmed by fatigue. “Then if you don’t mind, I’m going to take a nap until we get there,” I say.

“Go right ahead.”

And I do.

I’m released from the hospital around dinnertime. Coen was right, it wasn’t too bad. I have two cracked ribs that should heal on their own if I take it easy. There’s a bad gash on my left leg from when the limo crashed into the truck. That required eight stitches. My shoulders hurt like hell from the impact but thankfully nothing was broken or sprained there. I suppose my neck might have been broken, but as they say, I was lucky. Finally, my face looks like I’ve been through a perforator. Again, it appears worse than it is. The nicks and scratches should heal within days and leave me with no permanent scars.

However, for the wound on my heart — Katia’s death — they couldn’t do anything.

In the morning I’ll be flying to China via Osprey. Lambert and I had a long talk at the hospital and we agreed it was the best thing for me to do. If I went home to Maryland now I’d simply go nuts. I’d be so consumed with the thirst for revenge that I’d probably go berserk in a shopping mall. Cracked ribs aside, I’m in good enough shape to go after the bastards. Mentally, I’m focused and determined. I have to see this mission through to the end.

The three characters in Enemy Limo got away, of course. By the time the police arrived at the scene, the dead driver had been thrown onto the road and someone else had taken the wheel. Because of the rainstorm there were no police helicopters in the air to follow the car. However, the limo was found abandoned off of one of the freeway’s exits. We figure the passengers were Oskar Herzog, Eddie Wu, and Yvan Putnik. Where the trio is now is anyone’s guess but Lambert believes they’re already out of the country. A chartered plane registered to GyroTechnics and carrying three passengers left Burbank Airport a couple of hours after the freeway incident. An hour ago, when the FBI figured out that GyroTechnics was now a defunct company, it was too late to stop them. The plane had already landed in Hawaii and was left on a private runway. The three fugitives must have caught another means of transportation back to Hong Kong or wherever they’re headed. My guess is that they’re going straight to China to meet up with the controversial General Tun in Fuzhou. And they’re most likely carrying the MRUUV guidance system device.

As for the outspoken general, Tun has stepped up his television appearances in China. For the past two days he’s been delivering barbed speeches against his own government, accusing them of not having the guts to take what naturally belongs to them — that is, Taiwan. He pointedly states that China is afraid of the United Nations and the United States. The main thrust of his rhetoric is that it’s time for him to take the matter into his own hands, with or without the support of the Chinese government. Of particular concern is that Tun’s army, which has mobilized in Fuzhou across the bay from Taiwan, appears to be readying for an offensive strike.

The vice president has flown to Beijing to speak with China’s president. So far the word is that General Tun has been sternly warned to temper his statements but we all know that means nothing. General Tun apparently has the support of most of the CCP Politburo. The highest authority in China rests with the Standing Committee of the Politburo, which comprises twenty-five members, and, below that, a 210-member Central Committee made up of younger party members and provincial party leaders. The CCP also controls the State Council, which supervises the day-to-day running of the country.

Another wild card in all this is the power of the military branch in China. The nearly three million members of the People’s Liberation Army are divided into seven military regions, each with its own leadership and strong territorial affiliations. The Chinese army, navy, and air force function under one banner and stand as a very strong voice in the actions of the government. General Tun is considered something of a folk hero in his region and has been successful in recruiting the common men and women from the rural areas around Fuzhou to join his cause. To discipline Tun would be embarrassing to the Chinese government. As we all know, the culture there is about saving face. I suppose if General Tun makes a stupid blunder, attacks Taiwan and fails miserably, then the government can then discipline him and say, “I told you so.” On the other hand, if he attacks and is successful, the government could rally to his defense and challenge the rest of the world. It could be an extremely serious situation.

Lambert provided me with satellite photos of General Tun’s camp on China’s southeastern coast. His army is nearly 200,000 strong, consisting of land, naval, and air forces. There are three suspicious structures built right on the coast that appear to be airplane hangars. I have a feeling they’re submarine pens. It’s difficult to determine what kind of firepower Tun’s got up his sleeve but we know about the MRUUVs, of course. And we know he probably has the missing nuke that was shipped to Hong Kong from Russia. The problem is that our intelligence has no idea what the general plans to do with the MRUUVs. Attacking Taiwan with a nuke doesn’t make sense. But the presence of the submarine pens tends to refute that line of thinking, doesn’t it?

My job is to find out what the hell the guy plans to do with his nuke.

When we get to Edwards Air Force Base, Coen and I spend several hours going over my equipment. She helps me restock my supplies and ammo, fixes the bullet hole in my backpack, and provides me with maps, papers, and passports. It’s tricky going into a Communist country on a Third Echelon assignment. I’ll have to enter illegally and for all intents and purposes I do not exist. Coen will not be going with me; it’s just too dangerous. The political ramifications of being caught in China would be a public relations disaster for the NSA. I’ll pick up my equipment and be in direct communication with an official at the U.S. Consulate General in Guangzhou, but even the consul will Protocol Six me if I’m arrested. I don’t relish the thought of being accused of spying in the People’s Republic of China. The unfortunate souls who have had that experience most often do not live to talk about it.

Before I retire for the night, I arrange for five hundred dollars’ worth of flowers to be delivered to Katia’s mother. Coen tells me that Katia’s body was shipped to San Diego, where she’ll be buried after a quick Jewish funeral. The official explanation for her death is that she was a victim of gang violence and caught a stray bullet. I suppose her mother is not going to question why gang violence erupted at Beverly Center, one of the more fashionable parts of Los Angeles.

In my note to Katia’s mom, I say that I was one of her daughter’s students and was very fond of her. I also provide my personal contact information in case there’s anything I can do to help settle Katia’s estate in Maryland. There will be the Krav Maga class to deal with and all… hell, perhaps I should offer to take it over. I’ll have to think about that. It would be a good way for me to honor her memory.

As I settle in for the night, I think of Regan. I haven’t thought about my former wife in depth in a while and I try to define my feelings for her at this point in time. I’ll always love Regan even though she’s a distant figure in my past. Katia would never have replaced her. No one could. After a stormy and intense relationship, Regan and I ultimately couldn’t continue living together. She’s been gone a long time but our hearts were always linked. At least I still have the result of our union, my dear Sarah. I’ll have to call my daughter in the morning before I leave.

As sleep overtakes me, I wonder who will occupy my dreams tonight. Will it be Regan or Katia? One or the other would be nice. I just hope it’s not both of them. I couldn’t face being in the same dream with two lost loves.

I don’t think I could handle the guilt.