Kim tapped away at her console.
"No, sir. I think it's another signal. Banshee Two is flying a sweep, trying to triangulate… Looks like it's originating from near the target."
What the hell?
"Banshee One is turning back towards the monastery, sir. It's losing altitude. It'll be out of the clouds soon."
"Get Banshee Two there ahead of them. Track down that signal. I want to know where it's coming from, exactly. Get us out of the clouds and give us eyeballs if you need to."
What did we miss? Nichols wondered. What's going on out there?
"Roger that," Bruce Williams said. "Popping below clouds… now."
"Improving triangulation," Jane Kim reported.
Telemetry data superimposed itself on the enhanced camera feed.
"There!" Williams called out.
The screen zoomed. A black sedan. An Opal. Chinese plates. Su-Yong Shu.
Becker's mouth turned into a hard line. "Can you take her alive?" he asked.
Nichols shook his head. "Not with those fighters out there."
Becker cut the connection the Boca Raton, dialed National Security Advisor Carolyn Pryce with his personal phone.
Get proof, she'd told him, and you'll have your clearance to go after her.
The phone picked up.
"Dr Pryce, we have a shot on…"
"I'm sorry, sir. Dr Pryce is with the President. Can I have her call you back?"
Fuck.
"This is Deputy Director Becker at ERD Enforcement. I need to speak with her urgently."
"That won't be possible, sir. She's with the President."
"Then get her, please."
"Sorry, sir. It's an important meeting."
"This is absolutely urgent."
"I can see about sending her a note in a few minutes."
Fuck.
Becker ended the connection, slammed the phone down onto his desk.
It was all going to be on him. Election year, he remembered.
He reconnected to the Boca Raton.
"Mr Nichols," he said.
"Yes, sir," Nichols answered. The man looked flustered.
"Mr Nichols, do you concur that video shows a Chinese Confucian Fist commando attacking a US military helicopter?"
"Yes, sir."
"Mr Nichols, does evidence show that this Confucian Fist has just killed multiple US soldiers?"
"Yes, sir," Nichols repeated.
"Mr Nichols, does evidence lead you to believe with a high probability that said commando is the driver and personal bodyguard of Dr Su-Yong Shu?"
"Yes, sir."
"And Mr Nichols, is it your professional opinion that the Chinese vehicle in your sights is engaging in electronic warfare with a US military aircraft and attempting to hijack that aircraft?"
"Yes, sir. Definitely."
Becker looked down at the phone. There would be no help. This was all going to be on his head.
He looked up at Nichols. So be it.
"Mr Nichols, take out that vehicle."
"Yes, sir. With pleasure."
Nichols gave the order.
Banshee Two turned nose down. It fired missiles as it lost altitude to come in low to the monastery again. The AGM-101s zoomed down at the black Opal at ten gees.
Shu felt the missiles fire. They were aimed at the car. She couldn't penetrate the security of the second helicopter, but these missiles were a different matter. They depended on an external source to inform them of their targets. She twisted their primitive minds, sent them spiraling back up at the craft that had fired them.
"Missiles way off course," Williams reported. "Coming back around at Banshee Two. Countermeasures."
Banshee Two fired decoys port and starboard and the missiles went after them, bracketing the stealth chopper in explosions. It flew through the flames, a black shape emerging from a roiling cloud of red and orange, dropping altitude fast for a shot at the car.
"Switch to guns," Nichols said. "Nothing with guidance."
Jane Kim nodded, relayed the orders.
"Roger that," Williams said as Banshee Two spiraled down down down. "Firing." Flames burst from the muzzle of the Banshee in a meters-long gout.
Foot-long, spent uranium-cored shells streaked out from its one-inch chain gun in rapid-fire, rained down on the Opal sedan, ripped it to shreds. The vehicle slumped as its suspension failed. The antenna disintegrated in the first half second. The shells found the engine and the fuel tanks and punished them, tearing sparks from the metal of the car into the escaping fumes, detonating the gasoline, sending up a fifty-foot fireball that tore the car in two.
"Target killed," Williams announced.
Shu almost had the helicopter back. She could see it now, just a few hundred meters away. She would get them back, then she would turn this helicopter on its mate.
Bullets rained down on the car, tearing it to shreds. The connection to the helicopter dropped in the first instants. The car nearly disintegrated, then exploded. Shu watched from the shadow of the meditation hall, angry. They'd tried to kill her. Again.
She reached out with her own mind for Banshee One. It was at the extreme end of her unaided range. She just barely had her mental fingertips on it. There, she had it. It responded to her thoughts. She would bring it home, extract her people, and then show these arrogant Americans who they were fighting.
Oh yes, she would show them.
Then Banshee One's masters started fighting her.
• • • •
"Banshee One is starting to respond," Kim said.
Then she grunted in frustration. "It's still fighting me. Someone else is still in there working against me."
Williams tapped to triangulate. Banshee Two collected data points as it circled above the compound.
"Signal's weaker but still there," Williams said. "Originating from near one of the buildings. If it's Shu, she's still alive."
"Take her out," Nichols ordered.
"Missile launch! Missile launch!" Williams called out. "RTAF fighters are back. Four darts in the air."
"Fuck," Nichols said. "Evasive maneuvers. And activate the spiders. Weapons free. Shoot to kill on primary targets."
"Roger that. Weapons free."
Shu pulled the Banshee towards her. Signals from the Americans fought her, tried to turn it back. She ordered it to lose altitude. The Americans ordered it to climb. The chopper did a crazy dance in the air as they struggled over it.