Grant suspected he was about to hear more. He was right. “Alpha Tango, you are to handover deuce canisters to a Colonel Chiu aboard gunship number zero six three. Do… you… copy? Over.”
“Copy that. Zero six three. Over.”
“At completion, make contact with us. We have boat standing by for your extraction. Do you copy? Over”
“Copy that. Number for extraction is one three. I say again. One three. Do you copy? Over.” Better to be ready, than surprised, Grant thought.
There was a moment of silence before Gregson responded, “One three. Copy that. Out.”
Grant let the mike drop. “Put her in neutral, Joe. But just… ”
“I’ll be ready, Skipper.”
Grant nodded, then walked near Diaz. “Frank, you got the two cans?” As Diaz opened his rucksack, Grant looked at Novak. “Mike, keep your eyes open.”
“Roger that, Boss,” Novak responded, continuing to look through the scope. The other men slowly knelt down, keeping their weapons in hand but out of sight.
“DJ! Quick! Cut some of that net to hold these things!”
James went out through the starboard door and quickly sliced up a long section of net with his K-bar, then grabbed one of the bamboo poles hanging off the roof. He rushed back into the cabin. “Here ya go, Boss. Think this’ll work?” he asked laying the pole on the deck.
“Good idea, DJ. C’mon. Help me.”
Both men got down on their knees, unraveled the net, then carefully rolled it around the canisters until they were completely encased. James sliced a short section, just enough to tie it to the pole.
Grant stood. The end of the pole bent from the weight. “It’ll have to do.”
Novak reported, “Gunboat coming alongside our port.”
“Heads up, guys.” Grant stood near the wheel, port side, hearing a continuous sound of rumbling engines.
He stepped on the narrow deck, then watched the approaching gunboat. Standing with his legs apart, balancing himself on the rolling boat, he waited, keeping the pole securely in his hand. The tip of the pole bent further from the weight. The canisters swayed back and forth.
Men lined the sides of the gunboat. Each man held an AK47. Each weapon was aimed at the fishing boat. Two men stood by the forward gun mount.
At the starboard bow a Chinese Army officer adjusted his cap. A bandage was visible just above his eyes. Then he stepped closer to the deck rail, looking directly down at Grant. Following close behind the officer was an enlisted man.
The gunboat coxswain had already backed down the engines to all slow, then brought them to idle. The boat was within a few feet of the fishing boat, drifting against it, knocking the smaller vessel sideways.
Grant held steady, giving Chiu a nod. He showed him the netting, then lifted the pole high. The net sagged from its heavy contents. Grant stretched up as far as he could.
The Chinese enlisted man bent over the rail, grabbed the pole tip, and pulled it from Grant’s hand. Then, holding the pole vertically by his side, he stood at attention as the officer inspected the contents.
Waiting until the officer gave him a nod of approval, Grant snapped a quick two finger salute, then he ducked back into the cabin.
Chiu examined the canisters again before motioning for the enlisted man to take them away. Then he turned his gaze to the fishing boat. A call from Beijing had been totally unexpected, especially when he was given the order to stand-down. He had to let all of them go, those who he suspected had maimed and killed his comrades from the Peoples Liberation Army.
Beijing did indicate that it had an interest in hearing his theory about the CIA operative, especially when they learned of the intercepted transmissions, when an American spy had become so careless.
Chiu turned away, and slowly walked to the bridge as he began to wonder. Maybe the operative hadn’t been so careless after all. Maybe he, Chiu, was the careless one. Had he been lured to that house on purpose, at that particular time, allowing the others to destroy the property in old Shanghai and then escape?
He stopped just outside the bridge doorway. He turned and leaned forward, trying to get a glimpse of men inside the cabin of the fishing boat. Was it possible? Was the operative with these other Americans? Or would his search continue once he returned to Shanghai? He began walking along the deck toward the bow.
Standing just inside the cabin, Grant said, “Okay, Joe. Get us outta here.”
Adler nodded, then pushed the throttle forward, barely enough to get the boat moving. Old tires, hanging from the port side rail, dragged along the hull of the gunboat.
“Are we clear?” Adler asked as he kept his eyes straight ahead, with one hand on the throttle, one on the wheel.
Grant leaned his head out the doorway, looking forward then aft. “Clear.” Adler advanced the throttle.
Taking a step outside the cabin, Grant glanced back, seeing Chiu standing at the bow. The gunboat’s engines roared to life, almost simultaneously of the coxswain swinging the wheel hard to port. A wash of seawater sprayed over the small boat as swells caused it to rock back and forth.
Once they were in the clear, Grant returned to the cabin, wiping seawater from his face before he reached for the mike. “Alpha Tango calling Ageless Warrior. Come in Ageless Warrior. Over.”
“Ageless Warrior. Go ahead, Alpha Tango. Over.”
“Transfer complete. I say again. Transfer complete. We have you in sight. Will wait for transportation. Do you copy? Over.”
“Copy that. Captain gives a thumb’s up. Over.”
“Roger. Out.”
Grant stashed the mike in the small compartment with the radio, then said, “Okay, men. Guess you can go out on deck and get some fresh air.”
“Thanks, Boss!” Novak said, finally standing up, stretching his back.
“Almost couldn’t hold my breath much longer,” Slade laughed.
James chimed in. “We could all do with a wash-down!” he stated, sniffing under his arms.
“You’ll all get your chance soon enough,” Grant laughed. “DJ, Frank, it’s time to uncover our ‘guests.’ Get rid of the duct tape on their mouths, then bring in the one named ‘Lin.’” As Stalley started to go on deck, Grant said quietly, “Doc, keep an eye on Kwan. Here.” He reached behind him, taking out the Norinco. “Hold this. If he asks for it, tell him I said he’ll get it back when we land in Virginia.”
“Roger.”
Adler asked, “So, you gonna finish your story?”
Grant leaned against the doorway, breathing in the refreshing sea breeze. He folded his arms across his chest, then responded, “Just a theory, of course, but I’ll bet your ass we’ve got ourselves another CIA or embassy ‘turncoat.’”
Adler snapped his head left, staring at him with surprise. “What?! Are you shittin’ me?!”
Grant shook his head. “Only explanation I can come up with, Joe. How the hell do you think he was able to learn about the plutonium being stolen, or our men being captured, then being held at Bridge House?”
Adler got the picture. “He intercepted one of those transmissions between Kwan and Langley.”
“Roger that.”
“Holy shit!” Adler spit out. “How come we keep finding these bastards on our watch?”
“Good thing we do,” Grant answered as he watched Diaz bringing Lin through the starboard side doorway.
Lin’s face and hair had streaks of dried salt water. His lips were white and chapped, his clothes wet, rumpled.
Grant walked closer, motioned to Diaz, who immediately grabbed the man’s arm, pulling him down on the deck. Diaz stepped back. “You want me to stay?”
“Go take in more of that fresh air.” Diaz nodded then left.