Park followed up with a hard roundhouse kick which whistled over the table top, but Cole rode backwards out of the way, intercepting the kick with his hand and jamming the leg down onto the tabletop. At the same time Cole’s hand snaked out to the next table, picked up a meat skewer from a customer’s plate, and jammed it down through Park’s extended leg.
The two men from outside were racing into the restaurant now, guns out, and Cole dived to one side as they opened fire, scrabbling with Wong across the littered floor to the double swing doors of the kitchens.
‘Who are you?’ Wong demanded as Cole ushered him through the cramped, steaming kitchen, staff members cowering on the floor; all except for one of the chefs, who launched himself towards Cole and Wong, a meat cleaver in his hands.
Cole sidestepped the attack and knocked the chef out with a clean punch to the point of the chin.
Hearing noise from behind, Cole stooped to pick up the cleaver and rotated, hurling it towards the doorway.
Cole was pleased to see the cleaver hit its mark, sharpened edge hitting the first man from outside right in the chest. The agent dropped to his knees, the life instantly draining from his eyes.
Cole pushed Wong towards the rear service doors — he wanted to question the arms broker, but he would have to be alive if Cole was ever going to be able to do that — just as the second agent from outside clambered over the body of his dead colleague, Browning up and aimed.
Cole sprang forward, one hand grabbing the man’s gun arm while the other struck out towards his throat with the web of skin between thumb and forefinger. The agent pulled his chin down in response to the blow, but Cole used the distraction to grab his jacket lapel, dropping suddenly backwards, foot to the agent’s stomach, throwing him straight overhead in a flying somersault.
The man landed squarely on the hot plates, the scalding heat burning the man’s skin instantly, and he screamed as his body recoiled off the grill unit; but his body fell again, and the man had to sacrifice his arm, protecting his body as he rolled off, writhing in agony on the kitchen floor next to the unconscious chef.
Cole saw Wong reach the rear doors, and grabbed a handful of plates as the swing doors to the kitchen moved again, Park and Chae rushing inside, Park visibly limping from the skewer in his thigh.
Before they could shoot, Cole started hurling plates towards them one after the other in rapid succession, smashing into the walls, the doors, and the two agents themselves.
The men were forced to raise their arms instinctively to protect themselves, and in his brief moment of opportunity, Cole turned and raced for the fire exit, out in the open air and slamming the heavy door closed to the sounds of dozens of 9mm rounds which peppered the other side of the steel exit right behind him.
4
Cole saw Wong fleeing down the alleyway ahead of him and sprinted after the arms broker, catching up with him at the end of the block.
‘Xiang!’ Cole said, taking hold of his arm. ‘Where are you going? Those men are going to kill you, do you understand? I’m here to protect you!’ Cole hoped he could build trust with the man, capitalize on the situation so that he would be more likely to get information out of him later. If they survived.
Wong looked at Cole suspiciously. ‘But who the hell are you?’ he asked in confusion, events having erupted so fast he still hadn’t had time to mentally sort himself out.
Just then, the steel door crashed open at the other end of the alleyway, and Cole pulled Wong into the street with him. ‘Later!’ he said as they raced together out into the light traffic of Cikini 1.
Cole waved his hand for a taxi, and no sooner had he done so than a bright orange three-wheeled Bajaj — Indonesia’s version of the auto rickshaw — pulled up next to them, the driver smiling with a mouthful of golden teeth. ‘Where to?’ he asked in English, in deference to Cole’s appearance.
‘Anywhere!’ Cole said, jumping into the back with Wong as he eyed the Korean agents hightailing it down the alleyway after them. ‘Just move!’
‘No problem!’ the driver said jovially. ‘I —‘
The next words caught in his throat as a 9mm bullet entered the side of his head, skull and brains showering the windscreen.
‘Get down!’ Cole ordered Wong, who was already curling himself into the Bajaj’s cramped foot well. Stepping over the driver, Cole slammed his foot down hard on the gas pedal and pulled the wheel around sharply, making the three-wheeler perform a tight U-turn in the middle of the road, the little vehicle teetering violently to one side as it did so, threatening to turn over completely.
But it regained its traction and Cole leaned over the dead body in the driver’s seat, saw the men approaching, and accelerated off into the oncoming traffic.
Park looked on in disgust as the American escaped with their target.
Who the hell was he? The throbbing in Park’s leg told him that whoever he was, the man was good. Park had removed the skewer, and luckily it hadn’t done any real damage; it had passed through the meat of his leg, and the wound was now merely uncomfortable. But it would be nice to kill the man who had done it.
But what were they going to do now? The target was getting away and the Third Bureau didn’t tolerate failure.
Indecision, however, was a foreign concept to Park, and he immediately turned towards the street and aimed his gun at a passing car, forcing it to a halt.
Park was pleased to see Chae responding immediately, opening the door and reaching inside to pull the driver out onto the street, slipping in behind the wheel and gunning the engine. Park made for the passenger door, and saw that Song Soo-chul, the man who’d been stationed at the front of Vietopia with his now dead colleague, was about to climb in the back.
‘No!’ said Park, noticing a passing motorbike. He fired a single shot from his Browning which hit the rider in the chest, knocking him from the bike, and pointed towards the fast two-wheeler which skittered on its side to a stop in front of them. ‘Follow him on that!’
And just seconds later, they were on their way, following Wong and his American guardian angel into the oncoming traffic, ignoring the chaos they were leaving behind.
Cole saw in the Bajaj’s small wing mirrors that he was now being pursued by a car and a bike. Each had advantages and drawbacks; the car would provide a stable platform for shooting but was less maneuverable in traffic, while the bike would be more likely to catch up to them but would be difficult to shoot from. Combined, however, the agents had both firepower and maneuverability. Cole knew that the bike would try and cut them off, and the car would approach to perform the executions.
Watching the two vehicles in his mirrors as he weaved the dented Bajaj in and out of the oncoming traffic, Cole opened a door and — waiting until the time was right — kicked the driver’s dead body out into the street, wrenching the sagging door closed behind it.
Song saw the body hit the ground and roll towards him and instantly veered left, cutting across an approaching sedan and straight back in, avoiding hitting the dead man. He knew what the American’s plan had been — make the bike hit the corpse, which would have sent Song flying off.
But it hadn’t worked, and Song accelerated again towards the orange three-wheeled rickshaw.
Behind Song, Chae leaned on the horn to clear the traffic ahead of them, Park hanging his body out of the side window, handgun aimed down the street on the off-chance he could squeeze a few shots off at the Bajaj. He saw Song skillfully avoid the driver’s body, and smiled as Chae took the direct route and ran straight over it, the car rocked by a heavy thumping as it passed underneath the wheels but kept on course.