Grant’s insides were twisting tighter than a mooring line. He nodded, then took a few paces down the hallway, walking with his head down, thinking, Were they looking for the SEALs specifically? Or were they looking for something of more ‘value’? Suddenly, he broke into a jog, heading toward the stairs. “C’mon. I’ve gotta get to that guy in the cell. Ken, DJ, watch the back alley. Contact Mike. Frank, stay by the door.”
Grant and Adler hurried to the cell, pushing Kwan out of the way. Stepping close to Stalley, Grant asked, “Get anything?”
“Sorry, sir. I don’t think he understands me. I don’t know enough of the dialect.”
Adler didn’t hesitate and pulled Kwan into the room. Grant wanted an answer to the most important question. “Ask him where they took our men.”
Kwan looked at Grant, feeling as if Grant’s eyes were daggers penetrating his brain. He knelt next to the man, whose breathing was becoming more shallow and labored. “Měiguó rén zài nǎlǐ?”
The man grimaced in pain. His eyelids fluttered as he tried to speak. Kwan had to lean close to the man’s mouth, straining to hear what was being spoken.
He looked up at Grant, saying, “I don’t know what he means. It sounded like he said ‘America.’”
“Well that clears up everything,” Adler said shaking his head.
Grant kept rolling the word “America” over and over in his brain, trying to understand. Then, his eyes narrowed as he stared at Kwan. “Get his name.”
“What difference…?”
Yanking Kwan off the floor, Grant pulled him closer. “You know who he is, don’t you, you sonofabitch?”
“I… I only suspected.”
Grant said quietly, “You’re one fuckin’ CIA agent. What’s it gonna take for you to realize we’re on the same goddamn side!”
Adler asked with surprise, “Don’t tell me this is the guy who had the canisters?!”
Grant gave Kwan a shove, knocking him back. “Answer him, Kwan. Tell us the poor bastard’s name.”
“Yes. Yes. It’s him. His name’s Li Ang.”
“How’d you know?” Adler questioned with eyebrows raised.
“Zhu wanted Langley to bring Ang out. Request was denied. That was before Langley knew about the plutonium. I thought I could get him out safely with Zhu the night the SEALs came.
“I gave Zhu a code name for Ang to use, then got a description of him. I wanted to set up a meeting. My plan was to take Ang to the extraction site. But he never showed for the meeting. I guess that’s when he went underground.”
Grant asked with surprise, “You?! You were going to take him?” Kwan nodded.
“How the hell do you think he ended up here?” Adler asked suspiciously.
Kwan wiped a hand across his forehead. “I swear to God, I don’t know. I never had any contact with him.”
Grant said, “Ask him if he knows what happened to the canisters.”
Kwan asked the question, then repeated it. The man drifted in and out of consciousness. Kwan leaned close, straining to understand the response. When he straightened up, he shook his head slowly. “He doesn’t know.”
Grant turned his attention again to the dying Chinese man. He squatted down next to Stalley, and opposite Kwan. “One more question. Who did this to him?”
But it was too late. The final, long breath left Li Ang’s body.
Stalley removed the stethoscope from around his neck. He wiped blood off the cup before tucking it back into the medical bag, then he asked, “What do we do with him?”
Grant stood up, resting a hand on his holstered weapon. “Gotta leave him here with the rest of them, Doc. Pack up.” He brushed past Kwan, going into the passageway before he pressed the PTT button. “Seven-Three, Zero-Niner.”
Novak swallowed a mouthful of water. “Go ahead, Zero-Niner.”
“A.T. coming in. Be ready to depart my signal. You copy?”
“Copy that.”
“Zero-Niner, out.”
Adler stepped in front of Grant, tilting his head as he asked, “So, where the hell are the canisters?”
Grant drew out his .45. “I’m betting they’re wherever our guys are, Joe. C’mon. I’ve got an idea.”
The longer they delayed, the more distance would be put between them and the SEALs — and the plutonium. Grant wasn’t about to turn Kwan loose. He had to contact Mullins. He had to take the chance and use Kwan’s equipment.
Slade opened the door leading to the alley. Diaz and James stood nearby, keeping their focus on both ends of the alley.
Suddenly, they all heard Novak: “Zero-Niner! Seven-Three!”
“Go ahead, Seven-Three.”
“UFs at my three! Coming fast!” The truck was coming from Novak’s three o’clock position, bringing “unfriendlies.”
“Roger! A.T. on the move! Zero-Niner, out.”
Chapter 10
Slade raised the barrel of the Uzi, holding the weapon close to his body, as he ran to the end of the building. Behind him the rest of the Team and Kwan lined up, staying close to the wall.
Peering around the corner, Slade could see the main road. “Clear!” he whispered as he waved his arm, signaling the next two men.
Diaz and Adler took off, crouching low until they reached the opposite building. Diaz took up a position close to the corner, with Adler covering his six.
Slade signaled again. Grant and Kwan took off, getting to the opposite building just as they heard the sound of a vehicle.
“Zero-Niner, Seven-Three,” Novak called.
“Go ahead, Seven-Three.”
“Truck at fifty! Closing!”
“You got eyes on ’em?”
Novak had the crosshairs of his scope trained on the cab of the truck, finally getting a look at the driver. “Affirm. ChiComs. You copy?”
“Copy that. Ready to go. Out,” Grant whispered.
Diaz looked around the corner, still seeing it was clear, then he signaled for Slade and Stalley to haul ass.
Once the two had caught up to the Team, Slade took the point again, leading everyone down the alley, trying to reach the next side street. Turning the corner, they worked their way to the main road before stopping.
The driver pulled the truck in front of Bridge House. Even before the engine was shut down, men started jumping out of the back from under a canvas covering. Each man was armed with an AK-47. Immediately, they lined up in two rows, standing at attention, waiting for orders. Two men got out of the cab, and walked to the front of the truck.
Novak thought, Officers. It was urgent he get the Team safely across the street before the ChiComs got organized, before guards were posted.
Then he heard Slade. “Seven-Three, Four-One.”
“Go ahead, Four-One.”
“Are we clear?”
With his finger remaining poised next to the trigger, Novak scanned the area one last time. “Clear!”
The Team didn’t hesitate. Crouching low, they rushed across the road, not stopping until they were at the back of the building.
Grant pulled on Kwan’s arm, asking in a whisper, “Where’s your truck?”
Kwan pointed. “Three buildings.”
Grant immediately called Novak. “Seven-Three, Zero-Niner.”
“Go ahead, Zero-Niner.”
“A.T. block behind you, one hundred, your west. Do you copy?”
“Copy that.”
“Exit now!”
Novak quickly detached the tripod from his rifle, and stashed it in the rucksack. As he was standing, he put his arms through the straps, then flipped the rucksack over his head and onto his back. While adjusting the rifle sling on his shoulder, he took one quick glance out the window, hearing more than one voice barking out orders.
He rushed from the room, then hustled down the stairs at breakneck speed. Once he was at the door, he took a breath, then opened it slowly. Not hearing anything, he eased himself into the alley, closed the door, and pressed the PTT. “Seven-Three, departing.”