Plug opened his mouth to complain, but decided not to say anything. A torpedo load had taken them forever the last time they’d tried it. Boss was acting crazy.
She turned to Juan and said, “Are you good to fly?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Alright, you’re with me. Go get us an air crewman and have one of your sidekicks here”—she pointed at the other 2Ps—“write a flight schedule. We need a twenty-four-hour watch bill. Plug, you and whoever’s on tonight should hit the rack soon.”
That was the first good news Plug had heard all day.
The phone rang in the wardroom. Boss picked it up. “Air Boss. Yes, sir, I’ll be right there.” She turned to the group. “Alright, get your asses in gear, gentlemen. Vacation’s over. Juan, follow me. The captain’s going to have the TAO give us a mission brief. He wants it incorporated into their GQ exercise.”
They left, and Plug looked at the two remaining pilots. “This is ridiculous.”
The noise of the ship’s engines increased as they left the channel. The high-pitched whine grew higher still. The white wake of the ship threw thicker and longer as they gained speed.
13
Lena clutched the overhead bar of the jeep as the vehicle bounced around on the weathered mountain roads. They passed several small villages. The sunburned faces of the poor looked back at her, their tired eyes squinting.
The villagers always stared at her longer than they did the soldiers she was with. At first, she thought it was because of her race. She had grown accustomed to those types of stares. When she had worked for the CIA, she had spent much of her time deployed to regions of the world where she looked nothing like the locals.
But that was not why they gawked at her. Not anymore.
Her fingers traced the ugly river of red skin up the side of her face and to her right ear. It was blotchy and wet looking. She was still beautiful, if you looked at her from just the right angle. But the frightened look in the children’s eyes told her all she needed to know.
She thought of him when she touched the scars. Chase. A part of her longed for revenge. To humiliate him. To make him feel the same pain she had felt. The pain of fire igniting her clothing and melting away her skin. The pain of lifelong stares and humiliation.
She regularly had to shake herself out of her daydreams now. They always led her mind back to that horror-filled and helpless moment up on the rooftop of the Burj Al-Arab hotel in Dubai. They were close to getting away when Chase Manning had thrown Molotov cocktails at the helipad. She had lain pinned down by gunfire, helpless as the hellish bath of flame erupted around her.
There was the other part of her inner psyche that was equally infuriating. The part of her that longed for him. All those nights they had spent together in Dubai. He was just a plaything at first. But then, oddly enough, it had morphed into something more.
Lena had looked in his eyes and seen a courage and conviction that demanded respect. She had slept with him. For professional reasons, at first. Her physical beauty and sexuality had always been a powerful weapon. It clouded men’s vision and gave her access to a wide set of information. But if she was honest with herself, she knew that Chase was different.
Chase had amplified the clash of two emotions within her. Love and hatred. Beauty and ugliness. Her face had become an outward expression of who she truly was. Her lust for violence. The fulfillment she received from killing and maiming others — that was the ugliness. Something she could never explain. The quality had been with her since the incident at Junxun years ago. Logically, her euphoric reaction to inflicting pain on others — especially men — must have had something to do with her ability to control her own fate. To exact revenge and inflict pain upon the stronger sex, who had tried to harm her.
But what of the other side of the coin? Her beauty — what was that a symbol of? Goodness? Righteousness? That was what drove her each day, was it not? Serving China with honor. Creating the picture of the better world that Jinshan had painted for her so many years ago. That vision was now being executed.
And Lena was his chief executioner.
The jeep drove off the pavement onto a reddish muddy road. Jungle branches towered overhead. She could hear the troops conducting live firearms training. It sounded like fireworks. The jeep rounded another corner and pulled up to the range. A mile of cleared-out fields stretched in front of them. Wooden huts and tables. A makeshift military gun range. Dozens of men fired on paper targets. They trained on several different types of weapons. Two different style uniforms.
The Chinese Special Forces soldiers were training the Ecuadorian soldiers to use the weapons. She observed one of them demonstrating how to change the magazine on a QBZ-95 rifle.
She thought about what Natesh and the Chinese intelligence analysts had told her. Using standard Chinese weapons meant needing standardized Chinese ammunition. And that meant a long supply chain across the Pacific. Natesh’s solution was to get the factories in South America working on parts and materials so that when the war began, the supply lines were shorter.
He had set about accomplishing that as soon as he’d signed on to join Jinshan’s team, over a year ago.
“Good morning, Lena.”
Speak of the devil. “Hello, Natesh.”
He dabbed at his sweaty brown skin with a handkerchief. “Warm day.”
“Yes.” Her voice was calm. Inside her mind was the pain and burning of ten thousand battles. Outside she was composed. “How are things coming?”
“Alright. I’ll have a status report on your desk later today.”
“Very well.”
She looked down the firing range. About two platoons’ strength, by the looks of it. Ecuadorian regular army. They were being instructed in how to use their newly purchased weapons by Leishen Commandos.
The Leishen Commandos were an elite Chinese Special Forces unit. They were part of the People’s Liberation Army Air Force. For the past few years, this particular unit had been taking part in several training exercises a year in Central and South American nations. It was part of China’s national security policy to strengthen relations with Latin America through training and education.
Lena walked over to a tarped area about twenty yards back from the firing range. The gunfire had ceased for the moment. A mixed group of soldiers — both locals and Chinese — were going over weapons-cleaning procedures. She approached one of the Leishen Commando officers. His head was shaven. His face looked gaunt and tanned. Glossy with sweat and oil.
“Good day, Captain.” She spoke in Mandarin, her words measured. “Perhaps you have a few moments to spare?”
He looked up, a suspicious frown on his face. “Who are you?”
“My name is Lena Chou, and I work—”
Recognition hit him, and he nodded and spoke rapidly. “Of course, of course. My apologies for not recognizing you. They told me you would be coming. If you please.” He held out his hand to direct her to the far side of the covered area. Out of earshot. “How may I be of service?”
Lena said, “How many of our men are now on this base?”
“As of today, we have two battalions of Leishen. And about two hundred support troops for support and logistics. More are coming in every day now, including the Junxun recruits. Almost fifteen hundred in total.”
“How are the preparations going?”
“We have been working with the same two Ecuadorian battalions for the past two weeks. Some of them are making good progress in weapons proficiency. Obviously, their knowledge of the local area is very good. But they have very limited knowledge of strategy and tactics. And…” He frowned, looking concerned.