Beyond all Limits (24 page)

‘But as for what I am saying, Mr. Hoffmeyer,’ Wu continued, ‘I am intimating that there might soon be another location whose resources can be exploited.’

Cole shifted in his seat, interested in this development not only as a negotiator for TransNat Drilling, but also as the head of Force One.

‘And what location is this?’ he asked with genuine interest, though tinged with equal parts trepidation and anxiety.

‘If I was to say Chunxiao and Longjing,’ Wu said with a raised eyebrow, ‘would that be sufficient to answer your question?’

It took Cole longer to make the connection than it would Hoffmeyer, but not enough to make a difference. After a quick mental rundown, Cole’s memory cross-referenced the vaguely remembered names and got an answer.

Chunxiao and Longjing were unexploited gas fields within the East China Sea; unexploited because they sat in waters which were part of an ongoing territorial dispute with Japan.

‘Japan?’ Cole asked breathlessly, not quite believing the implication. ‘Have they agreed to let you have the fields?’ he asked, not wanting to think about the alternative.

Wu laughed. It was a short laugh, vicious, like the bark of a dog; and for the first time, Cole was able to see behind the pleasant façade, recognize the man for who he really was.

‘They have not agreed to anything,’ Wu said. ‘But – very soon – their agreement will not be required.’

Cole shook his head in wonder, his fears confirmed. And suddenly it all made sense. The crippling of the USS
Ford
, the invasion of the Senkakus and of Taiwan. The whole of the East China Sea was unmonitored, and an entire Chinese battle group could be on Japan’s doorstep with nobody ever the wiser. And by the time anyone could respond, it would be too late.

Despite himself, Cole was impressed; the sheer speed with which Wu had deployed his plans was incredible. But then again, the military
was
the government in China now, and Wu had to ask permission from no one. And, Cole reminded himself, invasion plans for all of China’s neighbors had been around for years, practiced and rehearsed in endless war games. All that was required was the will to give the order, which Wu had now done.

‘You’re serious,’ Cole said finally.

‘Of course I am serious, Mr. Hoffmeyer,’ Wu replied. ‘We have been sleeping for a long time, but now the dragon is awake, and we will take what is ours by divine right.’

‘But the Americans?’ Cole asked. ‘Are you not worried that they will interfere?’

Wu laughed again, waving his hand in front of his face in a signal of disdain. ‘Americans?’ He shook his head with barely concealed disgust. ‘Do not talk to me of the Americans. We tested their commitment to Japan with the Diaoyus, and look what happened – a few strongly worded communiques from the State Department, nothing more. Again with Taiwan –
nothing
. And don’t forget that we still hold four thousand of their people hostage, not to mention the thousands more right here in Beijing. Now, you tell me what America has done to save the people aboard the USS
Ford
? Not one single thing. No rescue attempts, no counterattack.
Nothing
. Why will Japan be any different?’

Cole knew Wu was right, to a certain extent at least. For all he knew, the United States
was
doing nothing. But that was all about to change, with the death of General Wu himself. Cole understood his commitment now, the absolute necessity of killing the general. Despite the presence of the other military leaders, the coup was clearly a one-man show, the regime held together purely by the force of Wu’s personality. When he died, the regime would crumble, the invasion of Japan more than likely called off altogether.

Cole knew that if it came right down to it, he would kill the man by whatever means he had to in order to get the job done, even if it meant dying himself in the process. Invading Japan would mean countless deaths if allowed to go ahead, those of Japanese and Chinese citizens alike. And the United States
would
get involved, would come to Japan’s aid. It was one thing for China to take the Senkakus – just uninhabited hunks of rock – or to take Taiwan back under mainland control, as the US didn’t even recognize Taiwan’s Republic of China government anyway.

It was another thing altogether, however, for China to invade a full ally of the United States, and one whose people she had pledged to protect. Abrams would give the order to assist Japan against China, as she would have no real choice to do otherwise. And then Heaven only knew where it would all end.

With a man like Wu, the nuclear annihilation of Japan – perhaps even America – could never be ruled out. Wu’s love for ‘his’ people was well reported, but that didn’t mean that he didn’t have a very different, distinctly lower, view of the sanctity of human life than Western leaders had. It was well within the man’s capacities to risk nuclear reprisals against his own nation if it meant achieving what he wanted; or even as an act of revenge.

With the thought of nuclear attack against Japan, Cole froze, his mind reeling as a horrific thought occurred to him.

Michiko.

She had been sent on an airplane to Tokyo – surely the number one target on Wu’s list.

Even without the threat of nuclear weapons, the city would be the primary target of a conventional invasion force.

He felt his heart start to beat faster and faster in his chest, hoped that Wu wouldn’t notice his efforts to control his breathing, to get a grip on his suddenly freewheeling emotions.

Centering himself, knowing that the best way to protect Michiko was to succeed in his mission to kill General Wu, Cole nodded his head in agreement with the man.

‘Perhaps you are right,’ Cole said. ‘The Americans are cowards at heart.’

Wu smiled, pleased at Hoffmeyer’s appraisal. ‘Good,’ he said. ‘That’s good.’ He laughed again. ‘And if they
do
suddenly become brave, we have a few thousand nice little warheads which I am sure will make them think twice.’

The look in Wu’s eyes told Cole that his earlier assessment was right – Wu would use his nukes if he felt he needed to, with none of the usual morality-induced second-guessing that inhibited any non-sociopathic world leader.

An aide came up to Wu, whispering in his ear before retreating quietly. ‘Mr. Hoffmeyer,’ Wu said, and from his tone, Cole could tell that the meeting was coming to an end, ‘I am afraid duty calls. The races are due to begin any minute, and I must return to my place outside. But does my proposal interest you?’

Cole nodded quickly. ‘Oh yes, absolutely,’ he confirmed. ‘And I am sure that I can manage to work out a similar deal to the one we proposed for the Diaoyu Island deposits.’

‘Excellent,’ Wu said. ‘Our sources indicate there may even be more untapped potential off the coast of Japan, and whoever we deal with, I would like to pursue those sources too. Full exploration of the area.’

Cole nodded. ‘Of course. I will get to work on it.’

Wu pushed himself out of his chair, surprisingly light on his feet for such a big man, and Cole also stood, heart racing despite himself, understanding that the moment of truth was almost upon him.

‘You work out your figures,’ Wu said, ‘and contact my people to arrange a further meeting in . . . let’s say . . . three days’ time?’

‘I can do that,’ Cole said confidently, extending his hand across the space between them, offering it for General Wu to shake. ‘Thank you General Wu, it’s been a pleasure to meet you.’

There was a pause, and Cole was terrified that Wu would not take his offer of the Western custom.

But then Wu smiled and extended his own hand towards Cole.

Cole could feel the sensation of relief trying to flood his body, but didn’t let it; not yet, anyway.

Like a sniper observing the target through an optical scope, he had yet to make the fatal shot. And like the sniper, Cole calmed his breathing and his heart rate, and entered the zone – an area of flawless control where everything seemed so clear, so easy, so
perfect
.

Cole’s hand touched Wu’s, the general’s huge paw enveloping Cole’s completely. They shook firmly, Cole’s thumb depressing a tiny nerve inside the notch between the general’s own thumb and forefinger.

At the same time, Cole’s other hand came out naturally, clasping the general’s forearm in a gesture of Western friendliness, fingertips finding a second nerve cluster.

He knew he couldn’t put a hand towards the general’s neck or face – such a gesture would be far too intimate for such a meeting – but allowed his hand to leave the forearm and rise higher, just above the elbow.

The gesture was so smooth, so natural, that nobody would think anything of it, and his hand moved swiftly up, fingertips about to deliver the third strike, the coup de grâce which would interrupt the energy flow all down one side of Wu’s body causing a seizure and then a fatal cardiac arrest later that same afternoon.

But then – before his fingertips could do their work – Cole sensed movement to his side, felt the sudden, wrenching force of a hand ripping Cole’s own away from the general’s elbow.

Cole turned, half in shock, Wu’s own face registering surprise as the force of the pull separated them completely.

‘
Sha shou!
’ Zhou Shihuang screamed, gripping Cole’s arm with unbelievable strength. ‘
Sha shou!
’

The call reverberated around the room, and Cole could see weapons instantly being engaged around him. Cole knew why – his basic knowledge of Mandarin told him what the word being shouted around the room meant.

Killer. Murderer. Assassin.

What he didn’t know was how the huge bodyguard could possibly have realized what Cole was doing.

Unless Zhou Shihuang also knew the method, Cole realized with a cold fear in the pit of his stomach.

Cole had studied the
marma adi
death strikes of the Indian
Kalaripayattu
system, but the Chinese also had a version within their own traditional martial arts known as
dim mak
.

Had Liu said that Zhou was a renegade Shaolin monk?

Cole’s heart sagged as understanding hit him like a sledgehammer and – perhaps for the first time in his life – he knew he was going to die.

PART FIVE

1

Jake Navarone looked around the sewer tunnel, nodding at each member of the Force One rescue team.

‘It’s time,’ he said simply, his heavily-modified H&K 416 assault rifle held across his armored body.

Barrington nodded in return, performed one more check on her instruments – the area above them clear, positions of friendlies and hostiles noted by everyone – and gave the ‘go’ signal to Collins and Davis.

As one, they reached up and yanked away at the cords securing the ballistic nylon mesh that had been strung tight across that portion of the sewer tunnel’s ceiling, supporting the colossal weight above them.

Barrington had filled the drilled holes with military grade non-explosive demolition gel, which had been gradually hardening and thickening over the past few hours, cracking through the concrete and earth above them, silently destabilizing a portion of the structure.

The nylon mesh had kept the entire thing in place, seemingly intact; but now that it had been removed, the weight no longer supported, the cracks had weakened it so much that it collapsed in on itself, tons of rubble tumbling down into the tunnel below.

Navarone watched as a perfect hole appeared in the ceiling above them, the concrete and earth falling onto a specially-prepared inflatable mattress they’d brought along to help absorb the sound.

Whoever was in the immediate vicinity of the collapse would know what had happened, but those outside the hall would – hopefully – not have heard a thing.

Navarone’s hand chopped forward, and Grayson, Barrington  and Collins leapt forward with ladders, placing them at the edges of the hole which had been created above them.

Navarone and Davis followed, feet on the rungs as soon as the ladders touched the sides, sprinting upwards into the Hall of Imperial Supremacy, weapons up and aimed, the other three team members hot on their heels.

Navarone made it up first, just a quarter of a second before Davis, and his eyes took in everything around him in an instant, confirming the layout he’d committed to memory, and the positions of the people they had studied from below.

He turned to his left flank, his suppressed H&K barking four times. He didn’t even wait to see the Chinese guards’ dead bodies hit the floor, racing through the hall to the next position, the sound of Davis’ own weapon spitting to his right.

He didn’t have to look for Davis to know what he was doing, nor the others – he had supreme confidence in them.

From the imagery, they had identified eight armed hostiles located within the hall itself; the plan was for Navarone and Davis to take these men out, while the other three started rounding up the members of the Politburo who – Navarone noted subconsciously – were stood around open-mouthed, incredulous at the speed and ferocity of what was happening around them.

Navarone swept west through the hall, his weapon firing again, and again, and again, his movement so swift and sure that the guards had hardly had the chance to place their fingers on their triggers.

In seconds, it was over, and Navarone made the call, surrounded by scared, bewildered politicians. ‘Clear!’

‘Clear!’ came back Davis’ reply from the other end of the hall.

Navarone nodded to himself. Eight men down in under four seconds, no enemy shots fired. Textbook stuff.

He looked around, saw that Barrington had taken charge of the extraction effort, cajoling the Politburo members down the ladders and back into the sewers, speaking to them in Mandarin as Collins rushed around the building, urging the slower men and women on towards the hole while checking for hidden weapons and covert enemy personnel.

Grayson was back down in the sewer, helping the Politburo members down and counting them off as they came into the tunnel, also ensuring that they didn’t simply run off in a stress-induced panic. Despite their elevated rank, they were made to sit on the wet concrete floor, legs crossed and hands folded behind their heads.

Navarone and Davis checked out of the windows of the hall, checking the courtyard for the six other Politburo members whose body heat hadn’t registered on the images taken from below. From their hours of monitoring, Navarone knew that there was a regular movement of people from inside to outside, and vice versa, although the military personnel had tended to stay where they were.

He spotted two members to the north, strolling in front of the Palace of Peace and Longevity, and called to Davis. ‘Two to the north, three guards that I can see.’

‘Other four are right here,’ Davis whispered back, ‘in the southern courtyard. Five guards.’

Navarone nodded. Eight guards inside, eight outside.

‘Come here,’ he said to Davis, who raced over, past the descending, frightened members of the Politburo.

‘I’ll take two, you take one,’ Navarone said, and Davis nodded, aiming his suppressed muzzle out of the window towards the northern courtyard. ‘Now,’ Navarone said, shooting his own weapon once, twice, two men’s heads exploding in a shower of blood and tissue within half a second of one another; and at the same time, the third guard’s head also disappeared in a fine red mist.

They burst out of the doors together, grabbing the Politburo members before they could scream in surprise, ushering them back inside, pushing them into the queue which waited to go down the ladders.

They raced south to the other end of the hall, lining their weapons back up along that side, guards in their sights.

‘You take the two on the left, I’ll take the two on the right.’

‘Yes sir,’ Davis agreed, knowing it would be a race to see which of them could take out the fifth guard first.

‘Now,’ Navarone said, and again, five heads exploded within two seconds, the fifth man hit by two bullets almost simultaneously.

‘That was me,’ Davis said as they opened the doors, racing to the politicians who stood there open-mouthed.

‘I don’t think so,’ Navarone replied, grabbing  two of the men by their suited arms and pulling them back inside the hall while Davis manhandled the other two. ‘I’m pretty sure it was me.’

Despite the stress and pressure of the situation, Davis chuckled.

By the time they made it inside, Barrington had cleared the hall and Collins had followed the politicians back down below to help Grayson handle them.

Navarone pushed the remaining six members over to her, then started moving quickly around the complex with his bag of tricks, Davis doing the same on the opposite side with his own.

With every second counting – they had no way of knowing when the courtyard doors would open and their activity would be discovered – they rushed outside, connecting their devices to the walls of the palace compound.

And then finally, everything in its place as planned, they dragged the dead soldiers back inside the Hall of Imperial Supremacy and sealed the doors behind them.

Navarone looked down at his watch, noting the time with satisfaction; from the collapse of the tunnel ceiling to making it back to the ladders, just four minutes had elapsed.
Perfect.

‘Come on,’ Barrington called impatiently from the hole, ‘hurry up you two, we don’t have all day!’

Navarone smiled; trust Barrington to rain on their parade.

But she was right too; they could always go a little faster, and Navarone tried to do as she suggested and hurried up some more.

‘What the hell is going on?’ hissed Vice Premier Chang Wubei, careful not to catch the eyes of the commandos who watched them with fearsome guns scanning continually.

‘It is a rescue,’ Kang Xing explained patiently, wondering how Chang hadn’t realized.

‘A rescue?’ Chang said excitedly, and Kang understood that his protégé must have thought they were to be assassinated. Chang really was weaker in the head than he’d ever thought. But that was also the beauty of the man; it meant he was easy to manipulate.

‘Yes, a rescue,’ Kang said, looking around him as the other members of the Politburo started to shift around, some beginning to argue loudly, demanding answers from the commandos – who Kang was sure must be Americans. Others shouted at them to be quiet, and then two rose to their feet, swinging punches at one another.

They were jerked back down by one of the soldiers and quickly lost their spirit, but tempers continued to flare throughout the chamber.

What’s going on? Who are these people? Let’s get out of here! Do what? Are you crazy, they’ll kill us!

‘Sit down!’ the female commando shouted at them in Mandarin. ‘Right now! If you haven’t figured it out yet, we’re here to rescue you, and if you don’t stop messing around you’re going to get us all killed!’ She scanned the crowd with her assault rifle, face stern. ‘And I am
not
going to let that happen, do you understand me?’

There were murmurs of acquiescence, but Kang could feel the mood was sour; so many days cooped up within the Forbidden City, rubbing each other up the wrong way, cliques developing and friendships deteriorating, had made them less than they once were. At once more fearful, and yet at the same time perversely more confrontational.

Kang leaned into Chang’s ear. ‘This is it,’ he said quietly. ‘Look at them.’ He paused, allowing Chang to take in the sight of the fragmented communist leadership, rudderless and broken into factions. ‘They need a leader, now more than ever. I suggest that you step up and get everyone organized. This is the start of your big chance, right here.’

Kang watched the greedy ambition flash across the man’s face, flare brightly in his eyes, and he knew that Chang was ready.

Without another word to his mentor, Chang merely nodded and stood; the uncertainty gone now, all his inner fears replaced by an entirely convincing façade of iron leadership.

All eyes turned to him, including those of the American commandos, whose guns tracked instantly towards him. ‘Please,’ he said to the soldiers in English, ‘let me talk to them. I think I can help.’

The female soldier nodded, and Chang turned to his colleagues.

‘My brothers and sisters,’ he began, ‘this is hardly the time for fighting among ourselves. These people are here to rescue us, and I for one intend to go with them. What have we managed to achieve trapped up there?’ He pointed to the hole above them, and shook his head sadly.  ‘Nothing – we’ve achieved nothing. But out there, back in the real world, we can really do something, work – together – to take back this country for the people. So let’s stop fighting and arguing, and help them’ – he pointed to the commandos – ‘to help us get the hell out of here.’

Kang was impressed; not so much with the man’s words, as with his manner and delivery – truly the performance of a future world leader. The other members of the Politburo merely sat there and observed him, perhaps finally seeing the man in a new light; the light that Kang had designed for him.

Two more men dropped down into the tunnel from the chamber above, one of them huge and strong, the other lighter, more agile.

The lighter one nodded his head, and the woman spoke to them again in their native language. ‘Okay,’ she said, glad that they had been placated by Chang, ‘let’s move. It’s time to go, come on.’

And with that, the entire Politburo of the Chinese communist party were marched off down the sewer tunnels in stony silence.

Kang was pleased with Chang, and more than pleased to be finally leaving; but in the back of his mind, he couldn’t help but wonder exactly how they were going to get out of Beijing.