Shots sounded from another portion of the building.
"George," Jishin commanded, "tell those trigger-happy slobs to wait until you've sorted them before they start shooting people who don't resist."
George lowered his shotgun and went to obey orders. He was clearly irked that he had to put aside his work to straighten out the amateurs.
"Don't you two start without me," he barked at his fellow jackals.
The door at the end of corridor three was locked. Jishin used a front kick to smash the catch. The door swung back with so much force that the knob smashed the plaster wall. A diminutive Oriental woman looked up from one of the electronics workbenches. She seemed more curious than startled. Jishin tried to place the country of origin, but could not. The small woman looked Vietnamese.
"Where's Dr. Lao?" the terrorist leader demanded.
Although the small face retained its Oriental calm, Jishin detected a flicker of amusement in the eyes. The hands continued to solder small parts.
"Dr. Lao's busy and doesn't wish to be disturbed," the woman said. Much to Jishin's surprise, the English had the accenting given by Japanese.
Jishin had her concentration broken by a heavy dose of firing somewhere in the building. If those long-noses did not learn discipline soon, she would kill them herself. A deep boom derailed her train of thought. She knew that nothing her forces carried spoke with such authority.
She reached into a coverall pocket, pulled out a compact communicator and hit the red broadcast button.
"Is the perimeter patrol on channel?" she asked.
"Perimeter patrol leader here," the small unit answered almost immediately.
"We're under attack. Move the perimeter force in-for backup," Jishin ordered.
"Move in, roger."
She did not bother acknowledging, but put the communicator back into her coveralls.
"Roger," she snorted to herself. "Baka!"
The small woman overheard the muttered "fool!" and laughed. "It must be terrible to attract such incompetent people to serve such a worthy mistress," she sympathized. Her Japanese was so heavily inferior addressing superior that it was insulting.
A mere technician would never have thought to use language in that sarcastic fashion.
"Youare Dr. Lao," Jishin stated.
"So I am," the woman agreed.
Jishin strode to the computer terminal in one corner of the lab.
"What is your access code?" she demanded.
"None of your business," Dr. Lao told her in a quiet, calm voice that was still faintly tinged with amusement.
Jishin sighed. "I suppose I must do some persuading."
She walked around the edge of the workbench and approached Lao. Lao slid off the stool she was using and stood waiting. She seemed expectant, not alarmed.
Jishin noticed the relaxed stance, the careful placement of the feet. She knew she was meeting a martial artist, but was uncertain of the art practiced. The style hardly mattered. Someone that frail was not going to be able to block ashotokankarate blow.
Jishin launched a feint at Lao's head, followed by a fist to the chest. It was nothing fancy, but it would serve to demonstrate that nothing could stop a well-launched blow.
The chest was not there. The fist went by the slim woman. There was a tug on Jishin's sleeve, her forward momentum increased and she stumbled into a wall. She straightened up and shook her head. Now she knew the fighting style. This small twerp was about to die because she trusted aikido. Useless bunk, it meant standing around and waiting for the other person to attack.
Jishin executed a roundhouse kick, followed by a snap punch toward the face, followed by a knee lift to the groin. She had never seen aikido effectively used against a determined triple attack. The roundhouse kick received the nudge that Jishin knew it would. She was braced to counter it. She used her counterforce to launch the blow toward the face. The small aikido fighter spun away from the blow, receiving the knee lift to the rump instead of the groin. She stumbled into the wall.
Jishin laughed and kicked the small rear end, sending her opponent slamming harder into the wall. Lao hit the plaster with a loud slapping sound, but instead of bouncing back into Jishin's waiting hands, she spun away along the wall. Lao stopped about ten feet away, obviously dizzy and confused.
Jishin closed in rapidly, noting with satisfaction the cut over the scientist's right eye. The terrorist promised herself that before she was through, she would use that cut to peel away the entire damned face. Jishin felt great; it was a relief to find someone who could put up even a bit of a fight.
Jishin's punch was thrown too rapidly. Another tug at her sleeve and she spun from her own momentum. Suddenly Jishin's back was to her opponent, who quickly planted a small foot on her rump and shoved the terrorist into the wall so hard she broke plaster with her face.
Jishin bounced off the wall straight at the small scientist. The terrorist's fist shot out but it never connected; Lao deflected it up and outward, using the force picked up from her attacker to spin and plant a small fist in Jishin's armpit. The shot would have rendered most fighters unconscious, but it merely made Jishin stagger back and plant her feet firmly, ready to be rushed, but waiting for her head to clear.
Lao did not make the mistake of rushing an experienced fighter simply because she was groggy. The aikido fighter waited, calm, composed, just out of reach. There was no attempt to escape or call for help. For the first time Jishin wondered if she could beat the diminutive woman who stood, eyeing her curiously.
There was more gunfire, but Jishin forced herself to concentrate on the job at hand. She had a killing to perform. There was no way she would allow her troops to discover that such a small person had even slowed her down. Jishin erupted with a savage yell and a high kick at Lao's chest.
The kick was deflected with a small hard fist to the calf. Jishin found her leg painful to stand on. Even more painful was the way the small woman stood, patiently waiting to see what would happen next.
The door to the lab was splintered off the frame, falling flat on the floor. Nogi entered, closely followed by two of the experienced terrorists.
"Shoot her," Jishin told her followers.
As soon as they hit the ground, the members of Able Team cut parachute harnesses and let the breeze play with the empty chutes. They took off toward the building from which emerged screams and the sound of gunfire.
Two of the perimeter guards had moved in to investigate the parachutes. There was no mistaking the fit figures in olive drabs from the terrorists in coveralls. The two terrorists stopped and steadied their M-16s on target.
Gadgets checked over his shoulder and saw the two dropping into firing position. He shouted the one word that he knew would bring instant reaction from his companions.
"Ambush!"
Instantly, the three running warriors dived for the ground. Hastily fired .223 tumblers swarmed over their heads, humming their sound of angry destruction. Gadgets did a shoulder roll to the left, coming back to his feet in a crouch, facing the enemy. Lyons and Pol landed in opposite ditches, eyes peeled for other terrorists.
Gadgets's Uzi, without the folding shoulder stock, easily yanked free of the clip on his left thigh. He worked the first bullet into the chamber and acquired the target. Before the would-be assassins could readjust their aims to allow for the sudden scattering of their targets, a figure eight of 9mm manglers had blown them both backward onto the road. Able Team was on its way again before terrorist boot heels stopped scraping the pavement.
The three warriors took the front door into the reception area. One look at the minced body of the receptionist told them they were already late.
"I hope we can still save some of them," Pol rumbled.
They ran through the reception area without slowing, turning left to find themselves in a large, open office area. Four men and a woman in coveralls, held captive an office force of eleven. Lyons broke right, seeking an angle of fire. Pol and Gadgets dropped flat in the doorway. Gadgets's Uzi spoke first, a three-round burst that took the legs out from under the terrorist closest to the captives. The stutter of the Uzi grabbed attention away from Lyons. Automatic rifles stopped zeroing in on the large blond man and swung back toward the doorway.