The law of unintended consequences.
It had not been repealed, thought Maxwell as he jogged over the soft ground toward the darkened Building One. You planned an operation down to the tiniest detail. You allowed for every contingency, looked for every glitch. Then something you didn’t expect jumped up to bite you in the butt.
The fuel tank fire, for instance. The gunship crews had done a brilliant job of flaming the fuel tanks. The fire even had the effect of drawing off most of the security forces to fight the blaze. It also had the unintended consequence of bathing Chouzhou air base in an ethereal orange glow.
Now the damned place looked like a Fourth of July celebration. Bonfires, fireworks, crowds milling around without direction. Everything on the base was in view, illuminated by the fire.
The sounds of battle crackled from every direction. Chiu’s commandos had occupied tactical positions — rooftops, security towers, revetments — from which they were firing on the PLA troops wherever they tried to organize themselves into cohesive units. So far it was working.
Even without his NVG, Maxwell could see running figures at the far end of the complex. Silhouetted in the soft glow of the fire, soldiers were racing across the open ground like shadow figures on a screen.
Another pair of muffled explosions came from the flight line, where the PLA fighters were dispersed. Maxwell winced as he thought about the carnage caused by the anti-personnel mines. They were nasty, inhumane little weapons — but highly suited to their purpose here.
The commandos had come to a halt. A hundred yards ahead lay the first objective. Building One housed the life support equipment shop. Not only did it contain the helmets, oxygen masks and radio fittings specific to the Black Star, it had the special UV goggles that, according to Mai-ling, were supposed to penetrate the Black Star’s cloak of invisibility. If it were true, it meant that the Chinese had developed a precious new item of technology.
Chiu was studying the buildings with his NVG. He motioned for Maxwell and Bass and Mai-ling to join him.
“Where is the door to the life support shop?”
Mai-ling gazed at the building. “I think it’s the one at the right corner. Over there, maybe.”
“Maybe?” He gave her a menacing look. “What do you mean, you don’t know? I thought you worked there.”
“I worked in the photonics shop. In the next building.”
“If you have given us false information…” Chiu left the sentence unfinished. His hand went to the holstered pistol at his hip. Mai-ling’s face was a frozen mask.
“We’re wasting time,” said Maxwell. “Let’s find the shop.”
Chiu’s eyes blazed at Maxwell, then he swung back to Mai-ling. He snatched her sleeve. “You first, in front of us. Show us the door.”
Bass stepped toward them, and Maxwell grabbed his arm. He said in a low voice, “Butt out. This isn’t your show.”
“What if he shoots her?”
“He won’t.”
“He’s nuts. What if he does?”
“I won’t let him.”
Bass started to open his mouth again, but Maxwell shoved him in the direction of the commandos, who had already started off toward the building.
As they neared the building Maxwell could hear the deep-throated sound of large caliber rifles. That was good. It meant Chiu’s snipers were in position, finding targets back on the tarmac.
A dense cloud of black smoke from the fuel tank fire was drifting across the field, obscuring the landing zone where the Chinooks had dropped them off. Maxwell had lost sight of the helicopters. Even the gunships were out of view. He hoped the pilots had moved them into the smoke cloud to stay out of PLA gun sights.
They covered the last fifty yards in a dead run. The sound of the sniper rifles was continuous now. Not a good sign, thought Maxwell.
With Chiu shoving her from behind, Mai-ling reached the door at the right corner of the two-story, slab-sided building. She nearly stumbled over something — the crumpled body of a PLA soldier, still clutching his assault rifle. Another lay spread-eagled on the ground next to the door.
She stepped around the bodies, carefully avoiding looking at them. The commandos formed a defensive perimeter around the corner of the building while she tried the door.
It wouldn’t move.
“Is this the door, or isn’t it?” demanded Chiu.
“I don’t know. It’s locked.”
A look of pure rage passed over Chiu’s face. Keeping his eyes on her, he snatched his automatic pistol from its holster and seemed to aim into her face. Mai-ling recoiled in shock.
“Don’t!” yelled Bass, six feet away.
“Shut up.” Chiu swung the muzzle of the pistol down to the lock mechanism. Shielding his eyes, he fired at the deadbolt. The bullet twanged into the metal, creating a flash and a shower of fragments.
It still didn’t open.
He fired again. Another flash, more sheared metal.
He stepped back and gave the door a kick. It swung open.
He shoved Mai-ling through the open door. “Take us to the equipment shop. No more excuses.”
She hated him. She despised him with the cold, unthinking abhorrence one feels for a rabid animal.
Chiu was a madman, Mai-ling decided. She had been certain that he was going to kill her when he was forcing open the door of the equipment shop. If his second bullet hadn’t shattered the lock, the next one probably would have gone into her skull.
Now she felt his hand between her shoulder blades, shoving her. “Move!”
Where was the shop? She prayed that it was in this building, somewhere on the bottom floor. She had never been in the crew life support equipment shop. She only knew of its existence from Shaomin.
The door into Building One led them to a wide hallway with branches to separate bays on the ground floor. Chiu was holding a floor plan of the building in front of him, studying it under the red beam of his flashlight.
“Where is it? You said it would be at this end of the building.”
She stared at the plan. Vaguely she remembered seeing the Dong-jin crews emerge from the building on the northern side, the side facing the shelters. If so, then the equipment shop would be to their right.
She saw the hostility in Chiu’s face.
“There,” She pointed to the place on the map. “Maybe.”
Another flurry of gunfire from outside caused all their heads to swivel. Chiu listened for a moment, then stuffed the plan into his pocket. He seized her shoulder and steered her on down the hallway. “Be quick. We’re out of time.”
She moved down the darkened hallway, following the red beam of Chiu’s flashlight. Behind them Maxwell and Bass followed, keeping their silence.
They came to another door. It too was locked. Again Chiu produced his pistol, but this time he blew apart the lock with only one shot.
He swept the darkened room with his flashlight. From a row of pegs on one wall hung several hard-shelled flying helmets. A shelf contained oxygen masks and emergency equipment. Cabinets lined two walls, and another rack held torso harnesses with the fittings that secured the pilot to a jet’s ejection seat.
The life support equipment shop.
Mai-ling took a deep breath. Chiu would let her live, at least for five more minutes.
It took Maxwell and Bass less than a minute to find suitable helmets. Then oxygen masks. They attached them to the helmets with the peculiar Chinese bayonet fittings.
Mai-ling was conducting her own search, pulling out drawers, opening cabinets. At the far end of the room she yanked open a wall-length metal cabinet. It contained an array of peculiar-looking lenses, similar in appearance to the NVG they were wearing.