Authors: Craig Reed Jr
Red Ice (21 page)
By the time they reached the fifth floor, the trio of OUTCASTs couldn’t see anything due to of the smoke. They slowed to a crawl, staying low as they moved up the stairs to the landing between the fifth and sixth floors. Without the masks, the smoke would have burned their lungs, as some of the chemicals that made up the smoke — Zinc chloride and chlorosulfuric acid — were toxic to humans.
With visibility reduced to only a couple of feet, they listened hard for the enemy as they moved forward, keeping the wall on their right as the team advanced.
When Tanner felt the corner where the two walls met, he heard shuffling, coughing and gasping. He aimed the MP5 in the direction of the noise and opened fire, moving the German-made weapon back and forth to widen the bullet sweep. Liam followed with a shorter volley of his own, as did Naomi. They heard a grunt and at least two people crashing down the stairs.
Tanner slid his feet across the landing floor until he felt a body with his feet. He pointed the MP5 down and knelt. The body was Asian, and from the bloody chest and unblinking eyes, he was dead. A MAC-10 was clutched in his dead hands. Still, Tanner pulled the weapon from the slack fingers, tossed it across the landing, and pressed his fingers to the man’s neck. There was no pulse. He stood and pressed forward again. “One down,” he said softly.
He saw another pair of legs and went to the head, kicking away a Skorpion machine pistol as he did so. He checked for the second Asian’s pulse. “Two down.”
Stepping past the body and starting up the stairs, the smoke was beginning to thin out, but was still a hazard. He heard coughing ahead of him. Near the rail and the top of the stairs, he took two more steps up and the smoke thinned just as a red-eyed man leapt at him from the landing above.
#
The knife-wielding fanatic took a step forward, but a hand gripped his other leg by the ankle and yanked. Danielle’s hand grabbed her pistol and pulled it clear of the holster. She saw Halverstaff, face twisted up in pain, but with an expression of determination, pull hard on the North Korean’s leg with his good hand. The commando hissed something and stomped down on Halverstaff’s wrist with his free leg; there was a sickening crunch as the wrist shattered under the blow.
But it gave Danielle the precious seconds she needed. She brought the pistol up and fired twice. Both .45 slugs slammed into the man’s chest with audible thuds. The man staggered and blood spread across his shirt. Still, he didn’t go down.
She adjusted her aim upward and fired twice more. This time, both rounds slammed into the attacker’s face, one in the mouth, the second right above the nose, both exploding out the back of his head. The nearly headless man collapsed instantly, knife still tightly gripped in his fist.
Danielle heard scraping from the landing above her and saw movement from the two men she had wounded in the legs. She turned and bolted up the stairs, taking them three at a time. She reached the landing just as one of the opponents, leaving a blood trail from his crawl, grabbed the MAC-10. Before he could swing the blocky submachine gun, Danielle fired twice, both slugs erasing most of the man’s face and dropping him hard. She swung her pistol toward the second foe, but from the way the man’s head was twisted, he was already dead from a broken neck.
She looked up, seeking another target, but there was nothing. She heard gunfire from below and launched herself down the stairs, her hand reaching for a fresh magazine for her pistol.
#
Seonwoo emptied a full magazine up the stairs, grinning with vicious pleasure as his target, the pesky woman, scrambled to safety. When the Uzi ran dry, he reached for a fresh magazine, only to find he hadn’t any left for the Israeli-made submachine gun. He dropped the now useless weapon, pulled out his Baek Du San and started up the stairs.
He reached the landing and kicked a strange-looking weapon into the corner. The woman, a short-haired redhead, was crawling up the stairs to the next landing. He stayed close to the railing and raised his pistol, but before he could fire, someone yelled, “Hey, asshole!”
The shout came from the stairs to Seonwoo’s right. He spun as three bullets struck him in the torso. His knees buckled, but he stayed up, eyes blazing with rage when he saw the shooter was John Casey, his target. He muttered a curse and raised his pistol, only to die when DuPree fired her own SIG Sauer P229 three times, each round finding its target in Seonwoo’s neck and head. The North Korean captain fell over the rail and dropped into the wispy smoke. He was dead before he hit the bottom of the stairwell.
#
If Tanner had been standing with both feet on the same stair, the charge would have knocked him down the stairs and possibly killed or crippled the OUTCAST leader.
Instead, his left foot was two steps higher than his right, giving Tanner a strong base with which to put his weight forward. So when the North Korean commando slammed into him, it was the commando who was off-balance. A knife appeared in the soldier’s hand and he slashed at Tanner, the blade bright in the still-smoky stairwell.
Tanner smashed the MP5’s barrel into the knifeman’s forearm, then fired off a burst into the man’s chest. The assailant writhed in pain, but managed to grab the MP5’s barrel with his free hand while thrusting at Tanner with the knife.
Two shots distorted the man’s face before exploding out the back of his head. The attacker dropped to the stairs like a puppet with cut strings. Tanner turned to see Liam reholster his pistol. He nodded to him and then moved up the stairs to the next landing, just as a shadowy figure fell past them beyond the rail and disappeared into the swirling smoke.
“Prime to Six! Who just fell down the stairs?”
“A Tango, Prime. We have one critically injured team member up here — Casey’s aide — and the Secret Service agent with us has a wounded hand.”
From somewhere below, doors opened and the clamoring of boots echoed up the stairwell. Tanner looked down and saw that the smoke had dissipated enough to see armed police officers racing up the stairs, as well as a body sprawled at the bottom of the stairwell.
“Police are here,” Tanner radioed.
“Casey says to get up here. He says it’s easier to explain to the police if we’re all together.”
It was after 2pm when Tanner and Liam walked into the incident command center. The center was in one of the hotel’s smaller ballrooms, guarded by several SFPD SWAT and police officers in riot gear. The pair made their way through the personnel, tables, and equipment to a small table in the back of the room. Casey sat in a chair with DuPree standing behind him, her hand bandaged, but holding Danielle’s P-90, and still trying to look alert. Naomi and Danielle sat at the table with Casey, both women looking drained.
“Well?” Casey asked as Tanner and Liam sat down.
“The protection team was nearly wiped out,” Tanner said. “Only two survivors, both of them wounded. We’ve counted ten Tango corpses, two in the suite and eight in the stairwell. One innocent bystander is dead, and the police are sweeping the building floor by floor with their SWAT teams, making sure no more Tangos are hiding. We checked the attackers’ bodies, and I’m certain they’re all North Koreans.”
“I think we have Rhee’s attention,” Casey said.
“What about Halverstaff?” Tanner asked, concern etching his face even though he knew the young man was not well-liked.
Casey exhaled. “In the hospital. Multiple bullet wounds, broken arm, leg and his other wrist is broken, but it looks like he’ll live.” His chuckle was short and almost amused. “He told me before he was wheeled into surgery that he resigning as my aide.”
“Can’t say as I blame him. So what’s the latest out there?” Liam asked.
Casey leaned back in his chair. “The acting mayor has declared a state of emergency and requested state and federal assistance. He’s also enacted a dawn to dusk curfew for the city. The National Guard has been activated and there’s a Marine battalion en route from Twenty-Nine Palms. Both Oakland and San Jose are sending first responders to help. I’ve talked to the president and he’s already set things in motion at the federal level.”
Tanner eyed his other two squad members. “You two all right?”
“Legs ache,” Naomi said. “Otherwise, we’re ready to roll.”
Tanner stood. “We’d better get going. If Rhee’s behind this, we need answers and we need them now.”
Casey tipped his head toward the door. “Go. I need to wait for the replacement protection team from the local Secret Service office. They should be here any minute.” He shifted his gaze to Danielle. “You want to go up and get your equipment?”
Danielle shook her head. “I have my main laptop in my bag. Everything else up there I can replace with a run to any electronics store.”
“We do need to get our stuff from our rooms,” Tanner said.
“Let’s get moving,” Casey reminded. “Rhee’s upped the ante and we have no telling how far he’s going to go. Call me if you need something.”
#
The San Francisco Emergency Response command center was a beehive of activity. With four major scenes of disaster, the tension was high as the city’s emergency management team tried to coordinate rescue and recovery on a scale none of them had ever expected to see. Everyone was speaking at once, communicating with the small band of senior decision makers who looked harried as they deployed resources to the crime scenes.
In the back of the room, Acting Mayor Norman Kwan watched the people and systems he had helped fund and hired do their jobs. He was exhausted in both mind and body, having slept only a couple of hours in the last day and a half. He had no proof, no insider knowledge of the attacks, and yet he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt who was behind them.
Rhee.
He felt a spark of anger ignite within him. That bastard had invaded his city, killed hundreds of innocent people, and for what? Why had he done this? He inhaled slowly. The bastard had done one thing — he’d destroyed any lingering loyalty Kwan felt for his homeland. Too much time and too much blood had flowed for him to feel anything but contempt for the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea.
“Sir?”
Kwan turned his head slowly to see his aide. Sammi Jakes had been his personal assistant for ten years, and the youthful, stunning blonde had fueled rumors that she was his mistress. The reality was more mundane — Kwan loved his wife and family, while Sammi had her own wife with whom she was in the process of adopting children.
“What now?”
“The press is demanding an update.”
“What time is it?”
“Two-thirty.”
“Tell them we’ll have a news conference at three. That’ll give us time to get the latest updates on the scenes.”
Sammi nodded. “You should get some rest, sir. Right after the press conference.”
Kwan snorted. “Not likely. The city’s going to hell. I’ve got no time for rest.”
“I think you should go and freshen up, at least.”
“All right. Stay here and monitor the situation. If anyone asks me where I am, I’ll be in my office.”
“Yes, sir.”
As soon as Kwan stepped outside, he was surrounded by police officers wearing vests and armed with M-16s. “My office,” Kwan told them.
They walked to his office in silence. The tension in the halls was nearly as high as that in the emergency center. Armed National Guardsmen and SFPD officers were everywhere, either guarding areas or on roving patrol. People hurried along, their expression anxious and a few looking like they had been crying. Kwan decided that as soon as he could, he’d call the entire staff together and thank them for their service.
Two more heavily armed peace officers were guarding his office. Kwan waited until two of his detail went into the room and checked for hidden threats before he entered himself. Inside, his staff had the same look of worry and fear as everyone else. His secretary glanced up as he passed her desk, but before she could say anything he told her, “Press conference, three pm.”
After the officers with him completed the sweep of his office, Kwan motioned for them to stand outside while he went in alone. He headed to the attached bathroom, where he let the water run for a few seconds, then splashed some on his face, letting the coldness seep into his skin.
His private cell phone rang. His mouth tugged down at the corners. Only a few people knew about it, close friends and family members. He took the phone out of his pocket and eyeballed the number, but didn’t recognize it. He answered it, ready to hang up. “Hello?”
“Enjoying your new job, Mr. Mayor?”
Kwan felt his body shake, out of both fear and in anger. “How did you—”
“It wasn’t that hard, Mr. Mayor.” Rhee’s voice was relaxed, and Kwan knew he was enjoying this.
“What the hell do you want?” Kwan demanded in a soft, though strident tone. “The city’s in shambles!”
Rhee sounded amused. “Consider it a chance to demonstrate your leadership potential.”
“What insanity are you committing? The police are scouring the city for you and your people.”
“They won’t find us. Americans are mostly stupid and lazy.”
“Why are you calling me?”
“I’m checking to see if you’ve had a chance to carry out your instructions.”
Kwan felt a shiver go down his spine. “In case you haven’t noticed, you son of a bitch, I’m a bit busy at the moment!”
“Temper, temper, Mr. Mayor.”
“I’m too busy trying to get a lid on the damage you and your murderous bastards did to this city.”
Rhee’s tone grew colder. “Careful, Mayor Kwan. Or I might begin to think your loyalty lies elsewhere.”
A knock at the door. “Sir?” a guard’s voice asked. “Are you all right?”
“I have to go,” Kwan said softly. He disconnected the call, walked to the office door and opened it. A trio of guards clustered around the door. “I’m fine.”
“We thought we heard voices—”
“I was practicing some opening lines for the news conference.”
“Are you ready, sir?”
“Yeah. Just let me turn off the bathroom light and I’ll be right with you.”
“Please leave the door open, sir.”
He walked back to the bathroom, turned off the light, then looked around the office. Was all this worth the price innocents had to pay? He reached into his pocket and slid his fingers over the case Rhee had given him.
“Everything all right, sir?”
“Fine, yes.” Kwan withdrew his hand from his pocket. “Let’s get this press conference over with.”