Tony heard the man coming and ducked between two stacks of wooden boxes. He was armed with the Makarov, and a two-foot long, straight cutting blade he’d unscrewed from the industrial strength wire slicer. It looked like a samurai sword, but lacked a pointed tip. Nevertheless, Tony found a use for it.
The guard passed so close Tony could have tapped him on the shoulder. Instead, he waited until the newcomer approached the dead man in the chair. Then Tony crept up behind the man and slipped the noose over his head.
When the guard was dead, Tony slipped the AK–47 off his shoulder, fished through his pockets and belt. This time he came up empty. One clip of ammunition for the assault rifle was not enough to do squat, not against upwards of thirty men.
On top of that, Tony knew this guard was sent to wake the first man he’d killed. Soon the Cubans in charge would be wondering where he went, too.
Tony would have to strike quickly. He wanted to finish off the last two guards before they could raise the alarm, then secure the hangar. With the help of the hostages, they could probably hold out for an hour or so, even if the commandos attempted a counterattack to retake the position.
In any case, Tony knew there was a time limit now. Ryan Chappelle had warned him about the bombing. Tony also knew Jack Bauer was coming — they’d established a rendezvous point and a time during their telephone conversation ninety minutes ago. All Tony had to do was hold out until the cavalry arrived, or until the bombs fell.
Either way, the siege of Area 51 would end in the next couple of hours.
Megan Reed’s stomach rumbled and she shifted uncomfortably. She was hungry, thirsty and she needed to go to the bathroom. They’d had no water since six AM, around the same time they were last allowed to go to the restroom. More than a third of the prisoners were still asleep, and Megan admired those who managed to find peace despite the tension and discomfort.
They must be shock, or suffering from some type of stress reaction, she deduced, wishing she could
sidle over to Dr. Toth and ask his professional opinion. Only then did she notice that the physician was sleeping, too.
Unfortunately her bladder was too full for her to sleep. She had to go, and soon. At first Megan decided to wait for the other guards to return before making the embarrassing request. Then she mentally kicked herself.
What the hell is wrong with me? Do I have Stockholm Syndrome or something? I’m the victim here. Why make it easy on them?
Megan raised her hand. “Hey there. You. Hello!”
Boca and the other guard glanced in her direction. “I don’t know about these other people, but I need to use the ladies’ room pronto.”
Sneering, Carlos looked away.
“Hey, buddy,” Megan cried. “I’m talking to you.”
Face curled into a cruel sneer, Carlos Boca stood up, faced her. He slung his rifle over his shoulder and slowly approached the woman. Megan could tell he was angry. The closer he got, the more pissed the Cuban looked. The other guard watched from the sidelines, snickering. The prisoners around her grew uncomfortable, upset she was rocking the boat. But Megan didn’t care.
They’re going to kill me anyway, she thought. At least I’ll die with an empty bladder.
Tony had been observing the hostages for a few minutes. The guards were so far apart, Tony couldn’t see how he was going to neutralize them without firing a shot. But then, thanks to the reliably annoying Dr. Reed, he got his best opening yet.
While Boca loomed threateningly over the defiant Dr. Reed, Tony gripped the cutting blade with both hands, raised it over his head and burst from hiding. With a powerful downward thrust, Tony split the snickering guard’s skull from crown to jaw. The dead man dropped without a sound, blood pooling around Tony’s sneakers. Unfortunately, the guard dragged the blade down with him — it had wedged so deeply in the Cuban’s torso, Tony could not yank it free.
Carlos Boca was still a few feet away. Turning, the Cuban tried to drag the AK–47 off his shoulder to fire. But Megan Reed grabbed the assault rifle and hung on with both hands like a tenacious pit bull. With the strap tugging at his arm, Boca had no choice but to release the weapon. Still, the Cuban commando was not unarmed. Boca drew a long stiletto out of his high boot and lunged at Tony.
The man was an experienced knife fighter, so fast Tony did not completely sidestep the blow. The razor thin blade raked his ribcage. Tony howled. Shutting out the pain, he locked Boca’s knife arm under his own and stepped around the helpless man. A quick jerk, and Tony felt the bone snap in Boca’s arm. Tony used his elbow to strike the man three times. The first blow smashed Boca’s nose. The second shattered his jaw. The third strike killed him.
He stepped back and the dead man pitched to the floor. Tony reeled as blood streamed down his flanks. Megan was instantly on her feet to steady him.
“Antonio? Is that you?” she cried, recognizing him despite the layers of grit and grease. Tony took in the woman’s pink Meow, Meow Kitty teddy and matching panties. “That’s a new look for you, isn’t it Doc?” he grunted.
“You’ve been wounded!”
By now, the hostages were starting to rise. “Get down, stay in your places. At least until I close the hangar door.”
Tony limped to the control panel and hit the switch. It took a minute for the door to come down. When it did, he visibly relaxed but did not slow down.
Tony tossed Boca’s assault rifle to a young airman with dark hair and Hispanic features.
“Go stand in that doorway—” Tony pointed to a narrow door adjacent to the blast-proof steel gate. “—pretend you’re a guard. The longer the bad guys think they’ve got us, the longer they’ll leave us alone.”
Dr. Reed kept her arms wrapped around Tony while he moved across the hangar. She clung so tightly Tony wasn’t sure who was supporting whom. Tony opened the idle generator and reached under the hood. The Glock was right where he left it. With his fist around the familiar weapon, Tony felt complete.
Dr. Alvin Toth touched his arm. “You’re bleeding, young man.”
“I don’t have time to bleed,” Tony replied.
“I saw that movie, too,” Toth replied with a sly smile. “I also have a First Aid kit right here. Let me fix you up…”
Tony nodded and leaned against the generator. He lifted his arm while Toth smeared a disinfectant on the ragged gash. Tony winced, sucking air.
“Be careful, Dr. Toth! You’ll hurt him,” Megan cried, arms wrapped around Tony’s broad shoulders.
23. THE FOLLOWING TAKES PLACE BETWEEN THE HOURS OF 10 A.M. AND 11 A.M. PACIFIC DAYLIGHT TIME
Yizi drifted through Hangar Five like a shadow. Ignoring the others, she approached Jong Lee. Her master had his back to the open door while he admired the sleek design of the experimental stealth helicopter. A few commandos were with him in the hangar. Many more had been deployed across the base, anticipating a military response from the Americans
“The jamming ceased approximately one hour ago,” the woman reported in whispered Chinese. “I was able to re-send the emergency message to our base in Mexico. They acknowledged receiving it, but offered no timeline for our extraction.”
Jong Lee frowned. He’d suspected the truth, but only now did he know for certain that he’d been abandoned by his own government. It was a stinging blow, but not unexpected after their setbacks. If Jong Lee were back in Beijing, he probably would have issued the same command.