He had about thirty seconds before the van reached him. The retired general took a few of those moments to type a message into his cell phone. He considered his options as he typed. There were only two. One was to ram the oncoming van. Even though the compact might not actually stop the men, it would slow them. But if these were not Tam Li’s men and Rodgers totaled his car — and possibly himself — he would have trouble mounting a second assault.
That left the chancier second plan. Rodgers finished the message but did not send it. He switched on the ignition and turned the car around so it was facing away from the complex. As he did, he removed his cell phone jack from the dashboard. He replaced the lighter, pushing it in hard. Then he uncapped the water bottle, pulled his handkerchief from his pocket, and stuffed it into the neck. He left a lot of fabric on top. He needed a big flame. The lighter popped out, and he touched it to the end of the handkerchief. It flared quickly. Leaving the car, Rodgers hurried through the high grass to the middle of the road. The speeding van was just seconds away. Rodgers held the flaming bottle high in his right hand, Mr. Statue of Liberty prepared to play a high stakes, high noon game of chicken with a gang of Chinese soldiers.
It was inelegant, but it felt right. The “Molotov cocktail” would not do much, but it did what he needed it to do: it got the attention of the men inside. He could see their surprised, worried faces as the van approached.
But they did not stop. They did not veer. They sped up. They intended to run him down before he could attack.
Rodgers hurled his little missile at the onrushing vehicle. He needed it to do just one thing, and it did. The flaming bottle hit the windshield hard, transforming it into a fragile webwork of glass. The concussion also extinguished the burning handkerchief with its own water. The men must have felt very lucky. The vehicle did not stop. As Rodgers jumped back toward the grasses, he could see someone in the passenger’s seat trying to push the shattered glass outward.
He had learned what he needed to know. These soldiers wanted to get away from the complex as quickly as possible.
Rodgers got back in his car and floored the gas pedal. Dirt and grass spat from the tires as he ripped his way to the road. Now he intended to catch the bastards and force them to stop.
As he gave chase, Rodgers hit Reply/cc to send the message he had typed. The same text was simultaneously sent to the marine team leader:
IDs confirmed. Am in pursuit. Boosters likely target.
FIFTY-SIX
Prime Minister Le Kwan Po felt anxious as he left the car and entered the Technical Center. On the short drive from the command center he had received word from the security office that one of the helicopters circling the complex spotted what appeared to be a chase along the main road from the complex. Military police from the space center had been dispatched on motorcycles, and the information had been radioed ahead to Xichang City. Several constables were driving out to intercept the two vehicles.
A call to the main gate revealed that no one had left by that route. The other gates were card-activated, with patrols on the inside but no checkpoints. Security cameras revealed that a dark green van had left nine minutes earlier. The card used for egress was a temporary pass issued to one of the security teams.
The unit Le Kwan Po had just spoken with.
The men reporting to General Tam Li.
The prime minister called the command center. The countdown was finally put on hold — a humiliating delay for the vaunted launch — and technicians were en route to the boosters to search for explosives. What worried Le was whether an explosive had been placed somewhere that would detonate regardless of the launch status. The result would be the same, a massive rain of radioactive dust across the complex.
The first thing Le had to do was find out what those renegade soldiers knew. The second thing was to get his daughter out of here. That was why he had not sent a helicopter to chase the soldiers. If they were used for anything, it would be an evacuation.
Paul Hood and Anita were waiting in the upstairs lobby of the Technical Center. Anita was conversing quietly but angrily with Hood, who was pacing in front of the security desk. Upon Le’s arrival, his daughter stared at him for a long moment. She did not brighten as she typically did when he entered a room. No doubt she was surprised by the look of concern on his normally impassive face.
She did not ask what was wrong. She knew he would tell her when he was ready. He regarded Hood, who had stopped pacing.
“The soldiers I interviewed have fled,” Le told Hood through Anita. “Someone is chasing them toward Xichang City. Would that be one of your associates?”
“Most likely,” Hood replied.
“Is he equipped to stop them?”
“If you’re asking whether he is armed, I do not believe so,” Hood replied.
“The pursuit has been joined by agents from both the space center and the city,” the prime minister informed him. “But that may not help us.”
“Not enough time?” Hood asked.
“Scientists are on the way to the boosters. They know the rocket, but they may not be able to find and defuse explosives.”
Le noticed his daughter start when he said that. He was sorry she had to be here. He would get her out as soon as possible.
“I may be able to help,” Hood told him.
“Please,” Le said. He did not ask how. He did not at this moment care. His daughter would have to be evacuated in just a few minutes. There was not a lot of time to talk.
Hood made a call and spoke for several seconds. Anita discreetely translated his end of the conversation. Le’s daughter was a thorough professional again. It was a sad irony that he had to be so frightened for her to be so proud of her. Like her mother, she was quite a woman.
Hood was talking to someone named Bob. He needed to meet the “team” as soon as possible. While Hood was still on the telephone, he turned to Le.
“I need a landmark by the boosters,” Hood said.
Le shook his head helplessly.
“Sir?” said the guard.
“Go ahead,” Le told her.
“There is a large holding clamp on the northeast corner of the pad,” she said. “I have been there. It is painted red, and it is very easy to see.”
The prime minister nodded once. Anita translated for Hood. The American finished his conversation, hung up, then turned to Le.
“I am going to meet some people there, people who have been briefed by Mike Rodgers,” Hood said. “I will meet them alone.”
There was no time to debate this. Le nodded. He indicated for Anita to go with him to his car and explain to the driver.
“You leave him and come back here immediately,” her father said.
“I will,” she promised.
When Anita and Hood were gone, the prime minister went to the telephone. He asked the guard to excuse him. The young woman rose, bowed, and stepped outside. The prime minister did not want her to know that he intended to evacuate his daughter. This girl was also someone’s daughter, and he intended to stay with her. But Anita was neither a soldier nor a politician. She would be ferried to safety.
The space center operator connected Le with the director of security. He told the former PLA officer that he wanted to know as soon as Hood and his personnel had reached the launch pad. Then he wanted one of the helicopters flown to the Technical Center and placed at his disposal.
“I am sorry, sir, but we cannot do that.”
“What are you talking about? This is the prime min—”