Zhun Be eyed the fog and wondered how far he would get if he started running. Tang was weak. Was he too weak, too unsteady to get off a good shot? It would be a calculated gamble.
Tang gestured Shu Li toward the car again and Zhun Be seized the opportunity. He bolted into the high grass and didn't look back. He heard Tang's shout and then a shot. There was a sudden, bone-jarring pain in his lower back and his legs went out from under him. He stumbled, pitched face first into a tangle of tall weeds, and rolled over, clutching his stomach. When he looked at his hands, they were covered with blood and there was a spreading red-black smear across the front of his tailored silk suit. Already his lungs had begun a frantic search for air. He began coughing up blood and a fire burned in his stomacha pain unlike any he had ever experienced. He wanted to cry out. Instead, he rolled over on his back and stared up into the swirling fog. Any moment he expected Tang to stumble into the thicket after him. If he lay still enough, there was the slim hope that Han Ki Po's assassin would not find him. Zhun Be held his breath and realized that he was praying.
An eternity passed before he heard the Renault engine sputter to life. There was the grinding of gears, and then the sounds of Shu Li's car splashing back down the road toward the old commune and Haikou.
Finally, when he thought it was safe, he tried to get up. He fell back and began coughing, choking on his own blood.
Quan frowned as the two Flanker pilots described their encounter with the Covert. At last he cut them off. "Did you establish visual contact?"
Both men shook their head.
"If there was no radar and no visual contact, how can you be certain?"
"Radar signature on such an aircraft is not possible," Feng reminded him. "However, both Lieutenant Chang and I were able to profile heat-sensor indications of the aircraft's engines."
Quan waited for his senior officer to continue.
"At the time of impact, our target was flying at an altitude of less than two hundred feet."
"Why did you not fire your missiles?"
"It was not necessary," Feng said. "All heat-sensor significations terminated at 0651."
"Meaning?"
"The aircraft's flight had been abruptly terminated."
"And your position?"
"FLC 21.2 and 57.7, approximately fifty nautical miles due east of the Anxi atolls." Feng pointed to the charts. "The Covert's flight would have been terminated right herejust east of the first atoll."
Quan walked across the room to a map of the Gulf of Tonkin on the far wall of the ops center. He traced his finger from Danjia, across the tiny Anxi atolls, to the coast of Vietnam. He paid particular attention to the water depths around the atolls.
Feng cleared his throat. "Colonel Quan, sir, both Lieutenant Chang and I have wondered why the Russian would attempt such a flight."
Quan lit a cigarette and continued to study the map. Then he turned to his security officer. "Perhaps Lieutenant Yew would like to explain that. It seems our Danjia security is somewhat embarrassed by what has happened in the last few hours."
Yew looked at Quan before he began. His voice was strained. "Major Borisov was not flying the Covert aircraft. We discovered Major Borisov's body less than an hour ago."
Feng looked at Yew. "Then who was piloting"
"Perhaps you should also ask Lieutenant Yew about our esteemed colleague Dr. Schubatis," Quan said.
"There has been a breach of security," Yew admitted. "One of the perimeter posts has been knocked out and Dr. Schubatis is missing."
"Missing? But how is that possible?" Feng asked.
Quan studied the faces of his young officers. "It is possible only because our security people have been derelict in their duty. We have determined that Major Borisov was murdered, thrown from his window to make it look like an accident. Within the last hour we learned that our perimeter had been violated at some point during the night. The security tower at E-7 was disabled and the fence cut. The security patrols discovered the intrusion. It is quite apparent that we have had visitorsunwelcome visitorsand it is equally apparent that they came to Danjia for the specific purpose of stealing the Su-39 and releasing Dr. Schubatis."
Feng looked around the room. "But it would take someone who was familiar with the aircraft to attempt such a flight."
"Precisely," Quan said.
"The Russians would have no reason," Chang speculated, "and if not the Russians, who?"
Quan was silent. Schubatis's escape and the theft of the Covert were indefensible; Han Xihui would be outraged. He turned back to the map. He was running out of time. His patrols had still not located Tang Ro Ji, and the young officer had indicated that General Han would soon be on his way to Danjia.
In the power struggle with Han Xihui, he had counted on his relationship with Isotov and possession of the Covert to influence the leaders of the Fifth Academy to rally behind him instead of the son of Han Ki Po. Now, because of Tang Ro Ji's blunder, he would have to find a way to assuage the General until he could regain his advantage. That meant he had to be able to turn over Tang and convince the other 5A leaders that the Covert had crashed during a test flight.
With heavy fog covering the entire island, Quan knew that Han's flight would have trouble getting off the ground at Huanglui. The fog would buy him time, but he still had to produce the body of Tang and convince Han that Tang was acting on his own.
Quan turned to his security officer. "Have the body of Major Borisov taken to the docks and have one of the patrol boats made ready. Inform the Captain we will be going to Anxi."
Yew saluted and left the room. When Feng and Chang looked at him, Quan smiled. "Does it not seem obvious that if Major Borisov was flying the Covert at the time it crashedhis body would be found at the crash site?"
Feng nodded.
"Then it is incumbent upon us to tend to the obvious."
Even though he had managed to tunnel his way under the perimeter fence through a drainage covert, Bogner had to work his way north and east in the general direction of Zebo by staying close to the fence. He knew it was sunrise, but the fog blotted out the sun and hung like a damp cloak around him. In the last thirty minutes it had seemed to grow thicker, limiting his visibility to no more than a few feet. As far as Bogner was concerned, the good news was that the rains had stopped and the winds had gone calmand although he couldn't see Quan's patrols, he could hear them long before they got close to him.
To throw the patrols off, he had ditched the truck along one of the camp's side roads, headed it in the opposite direction, and lifted the hood to make it appear as though it had motor trouble.
For the last hour there had been increased patrol activity. It was obvious now that Quan's patrols knew the security systems weren't working and the tower at E-7 had been knocked out. As the fog had increased, the Komiskos had returned to base. In all, Bogner had counted five returning choppers. To the best of his knowledge, they had not gone out again. That was more good fortune; the fog had rendered that part of Quan's search effort useless. Bogner knew he had been places in the last hour where there would have been no place to hide from the Komiskos.
What he didn't know was whether or not they had located the man accused of assassinating Han Ki Po or why Driver had left him behind.
Bogner was still trying to put the pieces together, but there was every indication Driver had escaped. He hadn't heard the Covert take off, but Quan had scrambled his Flankers. Now they were back; Bogner had heard them return to base. None of it made sense.
Now it was a matter of survival, of avoiding Quan's patrols, and heading in the general direction of Zebo. He made his way through the undergrowth, keeping the fence in sight, always heading north.