Flags of Sin (27 page)

“Everybody
up!” yelled Spock, and Acton leapt to his feet, grabbing Laura’s hand and
hauling her up. He quickly looked for his companions and saw they all appeared
uninjured, Li already running away from the burning hulk of the attack
helicopter, and toward the same street Jimmy had turned down.

We
need a vehicle!

Approaching East Tiananmen Blockade, Beijing, China

Dawson had rescued enough civilians in his time to know there was no
point asking the girls huddled behind the front seats to be quiet. The
explosions in the distance each signaled the possible death of Li Juan’s
father. He wasn’t about to tell her to keep quiet so he could think. Besides, it
wasn’t necessary. His training had taught him how to think under circumstances louder
than the wailing of two teenage girls.

But not
much louder.

He
winced at one particularly shrill wail.

“Shit,
BD! Look!”

Dawson
saw Jimmy eying the rearview mirror. He leaned down and looked out the side
mirror.

Shit,
indeed!

Two
choppers were roaring up the road behind them. Dawson knew they weren’t the
intended target, but these guys seemed to be engaging targets of opportunity
whenever it suited them, and they could definitely be classified as one based
upon the indiscriminate killing he had seen take place.

“Evasive
maneuvers, Sergeant.”

“You got
it!”

Jimmy
cranked the wheel to the left, pulling on the emergency brake, sending the car
into a rapid ninety degree turn while killing its speed, the car bouncing
sideway on its tires before he disengaged the handbrake and floored the
accelerator, sending them leaping into an alleyway there was no way a chopper
could follow them into.

He raced
toward the street lights at the end, the choppers roaring past them, then
spilled out onto what looked like the massive boulevard north of Tiananmen where
they had been earlier. Dawson looked over his shoulder and saw the square,
enveloped in smoke and flame, about a mile back.

“Problem!”

Dawson’s
head spun forward, and he cursed as he looked for a way around the blockade
half a mile ahead. The blockade they were on the wrong side of. Traffic was
backed up on the other side, being turned around, but their side was devoid of
almost anything beyond police and army vehicles. He looked for gold flags but
didn’t see any.

He was
about to tell Jimmy to just pull up to the blockade when four Z10 attack
helicopters roared over their heads, rockets rapidly erupting from their
weapons pods, 30mm cannons blazing, the barricade and several police cars
exploding into fireballs that flashed against the cloud cover overhead.

“Gun
it!” yelled Dawson.

“Gunning
it!”

Jimmy
floored it and the car leapt toward the remains of the barricade as the
helicopters turned for another pass. The lightly armed police were firing on
the choppers, to no avail, their armor too thick for the small caliber bullets
to make any difference. Jimmy angled the car toward a section of the barricade
that had been torn apart, and gripped the steering wheel hard as he braced his
arms.

“Hold
on!” he yelled as Dawson turned around to shove the girls’ heads down. A jolt,
slicing half the speed off the car, sent him flying forward, his side slamming
painfully into the dash, the girls in the back screaming as the Ambassador
rolled onto them. Dawson shoved with his foot, pushing himself back toward the
rear seat as Jimmy barreled through the debris. Dawson, with the help of the
two girls, lifted the Ambassador back into the rear seat, then turned around
just as another volley of rockets streaked over their heads. He instinctively
ducked, picturing one of the rockets streaming through the front window and out
the rear, but thankfully the imagined moment never occurred, the rockets
instead passing overhead, slamming into the vehicles and barricade behind them.

Dawson
looked forward and saw something glint off a glass and steel tower. He stuck
his head out the window and looked up as an entire squadron of fighters banked
toward their position. He looked down the road, realizing this was the ideal
route for a strafing run.

“Get off
this road, now!”

North of the Forbidden City, Beijing, China

“Keys!” exclaimed Niner, climbing in the abandoned car. It turned
over, then roared to life, a triumphant Niner gunning it several times. “Get
in!” he yelled. Laura, Acton and Li scrambled in the back, Spock in the front,
and Niner peeled away from the curb, their commandeered vehicle fortunately bigger
than the cramped car their companions had been forced to take.

“Weapons
check!” ordered Spock, removing the clip from the Type 80 machine pistol,
inspecting it, then slapping it back in. “Ammo?”

“I’ve
got two clips,” said Acton, handing them to Spock.

Spock
took one. “I’ve seen you shoot, Professor. You keep that.”

Laura
offered up her two clips.

“You
definitely keep one,” said Spock with a grin, stuffing the clips in his
pockets, and a handgun in the back of Niner’s belt.

“Oooh,
Sergeant,” cooed Niner. “Dinner first!”

Acton
chuckled, then looked at Spock as an eyebrow shot up his forehead. Then he
outright laughed. Laura began to giggle, and soon the entire car was laughing.
Acton wasn’t even certain Li had caught the joke, but whether he was laughing
at the joke or just at them, he had tears coming from his eyes. The tension of
the past hour let up a little as they laughed at what might have been the
corniest, oldest joke in the book, but it didn’t matter. Their minds demanded
relief from the horrors they had witnessed, and Niner’s typical inappropriate
humor was just the ticket. Acton wrapped his arm around Laura’s shoulders and
planted a kiss on top of her head, his nerves calming for the first time since
the opening shot had been fired in Tiananmen earlier that afternoon.

Suddenly
Niner hammered on the brakes and they all tumbled forward. He slammed the car
in reverse and floored it, retracing their path using only the mirrors, Acton
assumed so he could continue to see what was in front of them that had him so
worried. As Acton righted himself, he looked down the street and saw nothing,
but in the distance an office tower reflected the sky above, and a fireball lit
up the glass, followed by another explosion. But it was so distant Acton
couldn’t believe that was what had Niner reacting like he was.

“Hang
on!” yelled Spock, who had apparently seen what had Niner so concerned. Acton
noticed Spock was leaning forward and looking up. Acton did the same, leaning
between the seats.

“Holy
shit!” he exclaimed as what appeared to be the fuselage of a fighter, with only
one wing attached, plunged from the sky. He pushed himself back, throwing his
body over Laura as Inspector Li did the same, he having spotted the excitement
through his open side window.

The car
shook as the plane impacted the ground. Acton dared a glance over his shoulder
and saw the wreckage sliding across the pavement, disintegrating into thousands
of deadly pieces, secondary explosions bursting forth as the ordnance detonated
along with the remaining jet fuel. Niner continued to reverse as the jet gained
on them, it seeming to follow them as it slid across the road, toward them, and
into their lane.

“It’s
following us!” exclaimed Niner as he swerved into the other lane. Acton
watched as the plane continued to drift across the road, then sighed as it
slammed into the curb, bouncing up and burying itself into the façade of a
commercial building he hoped was deserted at this hour.

Niner
hit the brakes and they all exchanged glances, checking each other to see if
everyone was alright.

Spock
turned to face the back seat.

“Inspector,
is there an underground parking lot around here?”

Li
nodded. “Just down this street—”

“Wait!
What’s that?” interrupted Laura, pointing at an electronics store across the
street, several televisions playing in the windows. Inside and out, people from
the neighborhood seemed to have gathered, watching the screens, a CNN
International logo in the corner of one of them, the carnage from Beijing
prominently displayed.

“I
didn’t know you got CNN here,” said Acton.

“We
don’t,” said Li. “That’s an unauthorized signal. They probably have a satellite
dish.” Li looked at his phone. “No signal. The cellular network must be down.”

“Taken
out?” asked Niner.

“More
likely shut down by the authorities. Which means the Internet is probably
down.”

“I know
that man,” said Laura, pointing at the screen as a recording played on the
background. “Who is that?”

“It’s Bo
Yang. Very prominent businessman or at least he used to be. His wife was
accused of murdering a British subject. That’s probably where you recognize him
from.”

Laura
shook her head then gasped.

“The
flag!”

“What?”
Acton leaned closer to try and make out the image.

“He’s
got a gold flag behind him.”

“Just
like on the tanks,” said Spock. “He must be the guy behind this little
operation.”

Laura
jabbed her finger at the screen.

“But
he’s the guy I nearly shot when we were escaping that mobile headquarters!”

Bo Yang’s Mobile Headquarters, Beijing, China

“Our aerial units are being engaged, sir!”

Bo
Yang’s head spun at the junior officer shouting the report from his console.
General Liang looked panicked, and his General who had guaranteed him air
superiority was nowhere to be seen.

“By who?
I thought we had the airfields surrounding Beijing secure?” His voice was
almost a growl, the fury he felt barely contained. Things were starting to go
wrong. The armored response had been swifter than expected, the Internet and
cellular shutdowns far ahead of schedule, and the destruction of the television
broadcast tower was executed so swiftly, it was as if they had been prepositioned
to do it. And now their air superiority was threatened.

“Elements
of the 32
^nd
from Qionglai Air Base, several squadrons of J-10
fighters, sir!”

“Qionglai!
That’s nowhere near here!”

“We’ve
been betrayed!” hissed General Liang. He looked about. “Where is that coward?”
He stormed from the room, Bo barely noticing as this new piece of intel
percolated. If fighters had already arrived from Qionglai, they were either
betrayed, or someone had tipped off the Politburo at least fifteen minutes
ahead of schedule.

Again
his mind came back to the escaped prisoners.

It’s
always the unanticipated eventualities that scuttle a well-laid plan.

“Send
everything we have at Tiananmen to the Zhongnanhai Complex. We need to take
down the bureaucracy now, before it’s too late. Our message has been sent, our
job there is done.”

En Route to Hospital, Beijing, China

“Oh shit!” exclaimed Jimmy. Dawson looked forward as the car slowed,
his attention having been momentarily on the Ambassador. Two tanks were
positioned across the road they were on, dozens of PLA regulars surrounding it,
rushing toward the lone vehicle stupid enough to still be out during a coup.

Jimmy
came to a stop as a platoon’s worth of soldiers rushed their position.

“Gold
flags, Sergeant Major, gold flags,” muttered Jimmy.

Dawson
grunted, having already seen them. He turned back to the girls, who he had
learned spoke nearly perfect English.

“Stay
calm, tell them the truth. Your dad is a police officer, and he begged us to
take you. You don’t know who we are, and neither does he. Understand?”

Both
girls, still crying, thankfully quietly now, nodded, the terror in their eyes,
the trembling of their entire bodies, indication enough to Dawson that they understood
the gravity of the situation.

Somebody
yelled something in Chinese, a lieutenant, judging from Dawson’s understanding
of Chinese insignia. Both Jimmy and Dawson raised their hands slowly.

“What do
you think, BD? Make a break for it?” Jimmy’s voice was low, his lips barely
moving.

“Too
risky. We’ve got civilians here. They could have shot us already. Let’s hope
this unit has different orders than those at Tiananmen.”

“And
that they aren’t looking for you and the Ambassador.”

Jimmy
rolled down his window and leaned out, his hands held up and out the window.

“I’m
sorry, I don’t understand. I’m American, from the Embassy.” He patted his shirt
pocket. “Identification, okay?” He slowly reached into his shirt pocket, the
weapons seeming to take a bead on his chest as he did so. Dawson controlled his
breathing, pretending to be intent on the exchange about to take place, but in
reality assessing the troops that surrounded them. There were twelve, all armed
with standard issue weapons, nothing heavy.

Except the
two tanks.

But
tanks reacted slowly. They weren’t designed to take out small cars, swerving on
civilian streets. They were meant to take out prepared defenses, roadblocks,
other large military vehicles.

And to
roll over infantry positions, or based upon tonight’s performance, civilian.

He
glanced down at the gearshift and observed Jimmy had the vehicle in reverse,
ready to go at a moment’s notice. The passport was out of Jimmy’s pocket now,
and being handed out the window. A glance in the side view mirror showed two of
the troops were directly behind the car, facing away from the bumper as they
covered the approach. Hitting reverse should take them out of the picture.