"I have orders direct from General Han. The General will soon assume leadership of the Fifth Academy."
"Han?" Quan laughed. "Your General Han is nothing more than a puppet. He holds his rank only because he is the son of Han Ki Po. Now, with the passing of Chairman Han, it is I, not your General, who will assume command of the Fifth Academy."
Instead of being intimidated, the officer leaned forward with his hands on Quan's desk and lowered his voice. "I was assigned here for a purpose, Colonel. We have known of your ambitions for some time now. We were aware that you had dispatched the man called Tang Ro Ji to assassinate Chairman Han."
"Lies," Quan said with a smirk. "If you knew, then why did you not stop him?"
"Because you were playing right into our hands, Colonel. General Han had it within his power to stop your man at any time."
The statement had caught Quan off guard.
"What you do not realize, Colonel, is that we have waited a long time for the passing of Chairman Han. We have watched the energy of our mission erode as the Chairman grew feeble and inept. Tonight, thanks to you, the Fifth Academy passed into the hands of an energetic new leadership, the command of General Han Xihui."
"Then you know that Tang Ro Ji" "General Han observed the assassin throughout. There was only one Haw: We did not capture the assassin before he escaped. Consequently, we were unable to force him to confess that you are the perpetrator of this insidious plot."
"Your allegations are groundless," Quan shouted. "You can prove nothing."
"On the contrary, Colonel, we have witnesses who will testify to what I have just said. Within the next few hours, General Han will board a flight to Danjia. His purpose will be to assume command of this installation. You see, Colonel, it is not a matter of if, it is merely a matter of when."
For the first time, Quan was unnerved. He edged his chair toward his desk, put a cigarette in the ebony cigarette holder, and reached across the desk for his lighter. It was a gesture designed to distract the young officer. He did not see Quan open a desk drawer and reach for the revolver with his other hand.
Tang Ro Ji pulled the wet blanket tight around his head and shoulders and turned toward the dim and distant lights of Hua's orphanage. Even now, the lights were little more than a faint yellow glow in the distance.
Behind him, in a water-filled ditch, lay the bodies of the old man and the boy. Despite his shattered arm, he had managed to gather enough brush to hide the bodies. They would not be found for days. As a final precaution, he had led the horse, still hitched to the cart, down a steep incline into the water-filled wash beneath the bridge. He put the barrel of the Barkai tight up against the animal's forehead between the eyes, and pulled the trigger. There was a muted crack, a small explosion like the sound of a bullwhip, and the horse, still tethered between the traces, dropped and lay motionless.
Ro Ji squinted into the rain, looked off toward the lights, summoned what little strength he had left, and started up the hill. His pain had become intolerable, and he fell twice before he made it to the road. Each time he called on his inner resources, closed his eyes, and attempted to gain his equilibrium. He had come a long way from Huangliu. Zebo was now less than a kilometer away.
Bogner watched from the shadows as the figure in the G suit climbed down the cockpit of the Covert and crossed the floor of the hangar toward the maintenance area. He still couldn't be certain. He dropped to one knee, brought the SMG up to his shoulder, and held his breath. Then Driver passed momentarily through the faint illumination of a security light and Bogner recognized him.
"Harry, over here," Bogner whispered.
"You made it. Did you get Schubatis?"
Bogner nodded and motioned over his shoulder. "I've got him stowed away back there in one of the storage areas. He's a little the worse for wear, but at least he's alive."
Driver's eyes darted to the hangar doors and the first gray traces of daylight. Despite the rains and the low churning deck of clouds, in the last thirty minutes it had become perceptibly brighter. He pointed to the Covert and kept his voice at a near whisper. "There's our baby. I checked her out. She's had all the flight prep she's gonna get… and she's as close to ready as she's gonna get. That's assuming I've figured out what all those damn Russian words mean on the gauges."
Bogner stayed in the shadows. He checked his watch: 0617. Sunrise was only thirteen minutes away. They would lose what little edge they had with the coming of daylight.
Suddenly the access door at the end of the darkened corridor opened and three men entered. Bogner and Driver slipped back into the shadows. The men were wearing black rain slickers. Grim faced and weary, they were members of the refueling crew. They passed within ten feet of the two Americans and headed for the maintenance area containing Schubatis.
One of them flicked a switch and light spilled out into the hallway. When he heard their excited chatter, Bogner knew the refueling crew had discovered Schubatis. Bogner stood up, slipped the SMG off his shoulder, moved back down the hall, and stepped into the doorway.
With Driver right behind him, he leveled the SMG at the three men and shouted, "Freeze!" There was no way of knowing whether or not Quan's men understood English, but they understood the 9mm SMG.
Driver slipped around him, past the three men, and pulled Schubatis to his feet. The Russian, gagged and terrified, saw the Russian flight suit, took a step, and crumpled. Driver bent over and hefted the man over his shoulder. He circled past Bogner and headed back out into the hangar. "They're all yours, swabbie. Finish 'em off. We're runnin' out of time."
Bogner backed the three men through a door into the latrine and herded them into the emergency showers. Then he slammed the door and opened the valve on the water main. At the door of the latrine he pulled the latch, dropped the pin in place, and turned off the light. By the time anyone heard them, or they figured a way out, the Covert would be long gone.
As Bogner rounded the corner into the main hangar, he saw one of the Danjia security patrols pull up in front of the door. Two men crawled out; one headed for the north end of the hangar, the other stopped and lit a cigarette. When he saw Driver crawling out of the cockpit of the Covert, he shouted.
Bogner leaped out of the shadows, coiled his arm around the man's neck, spun him around, and threw him to the floor. He had one hand cupped over the man's mouth and the other wedged under his chin. The maneuver was straight out of the pages of the survival manual. He shoved up and twisted, all in one motion. He heard the muffled scream, the stiffening in protestand then the man went limp.
There was a marionettelike series of disjointed convulsions while the man's brain triggered commands to arms and legs no longer connected to a spinal cordand then there was no movement at all.
As Bogner straightened up, he saw Driver running toward him. The first move brought the butt of the short-barreled SMG up into Bogner's stomach and crushed the wind out of him.
Dazed, Bogner doubled over, gasped for air, and pitched forward. He managed to get out the words "What the" before Driver caught him with a second blowthis one to the side of the head.
He thought he heard the words "Sorry, swabbie" as he slumped to his knees. His brain was rattling around inside his head, and by the time he hit the floor there was the god-awful bitter taste of bile in his mouth and nowhere to go but down a long tunnel into his own private oblivion.
Chapter Eleven