The First End (18 page)

Hu did as requested, but held on tightly as Bill
swooned, nearly collapsing again. His entire body hurt. His lips
had been shredded against his own teeth, his chest felt like
someone had done a Russian dance upon it, and his entire head
pounded like some blasted rock concert.

“Where is Mouse?”

“Gone.”

No surprises there. “Smart lad. We got to get
out of here.”

“American’s fight strangely,” Hu said as they
limped towards the alley entrance. “I never see man use head like
that.”

Bill chuckled. “Trust me. It’s not something you
want to do on a regular basis.”

Suddenly the booted feet and clatter of
equipment of approaching soldiers reached their ears. “Come!” Hu
hissed. “We must flee! Hurry!”

They weren’t going to make it, at least not in
Bill’s condition. He needed at least one night to recuperate enough
to be anywhere near effective. He might have even suffered a
concussion from the blows to his head. Right then, he knew he
wouldn’t escape.

“Get out of here Hu,” he ordered, trying to
dislodge himself from his companion. “I’m only going to slow you
down.”

“No! I no leave you.”

“Do you want both of us to get caught? Get out
of here!”

Hu took a long look into the American’s eyes,
and then turned them to the alley entrance, where the noise of the
approaching soldiers echoed off the alley walls. He nodded once,
then let go of Bill - who promptly staggered next to a wall for
support. Hu ran back down the alley, abandoning the American to
whatever fate was in store for him.

Bill slumped against the wall, sliding down it
to a sitting position. He half hoped the soldiers would miss him in
the darkness and simply run by him. But that was his foggy mind at
work, for no sooner did the soldiers rush into the alley then he
was surrounded by three of them, each pointing a lethal looking
automatic weapon in his face.

A command in Chinese was issued and the soldiers
stepped back a pace, but didn’t lower their rifles. A fourth man,
this one wearing an officer’s uniform strode up and stood over the
American.

“Bill Gardner,” the man said affably. “You still
live.”

“You know my name?” Bill asked in confusion.

“Of course, Mr. Gardner. We met very recently at
a military exhibition in the Middle East. You seemed quite curious
about my plane.” He smiled sadistically. “I’ve been tracking your
movements since you came across the Vietnamese border, but let me
tell that with a guy like you, it wasn’t an easy task. You have
managed to escape us quite often.”

Bill felt his heart sink.

“My name,” the man went on, “is Wong Lee, and
you are my prisoner.” He grinned evilly. “Which is an improvement,
Mr. Gardner. I intended to kill you, but now that I have you, I
think there are some questions you can answer for me.” His grin
grew even larger. “I’ll kill you after.”

Bill could see nothing. And he hadn’t been able
to see even a flicker of light for hours…days even—for all he knew.
After being captured, Lee had not said another word to him, nor had
anyone else for that matter. He knew they had taken him to the
warehouse where the plane was being kept, but they had promptly
thrown him into a room and slammed the door, extinguishing all the
light.

Gardner staggered around until finding a wall
and then slumped down, slipping into unconsciousness. When he had
waken, he had no concept of how much time had passed. His head
still throbbed and his chest felt sore in ways he never thought
possible.

It took some effort to regain his feet, and then
only the concrete wall kept him upright. Slowly, he began to
explore the room. He inched along, sliding his feet parallel to the
wall while remaining in contact with his hands. He hoped to find a
bed, or at least something softer than the concrete floor. He found
nothing. The room seemed to be no bigger than a large broom closet,
perhaps three feet by five feet, hardly enough room to even stretch
out in. And empty, completely empty.

Sighing, he sat down once more and put his head
into his hands, trying to clear his mind and thoughts. He had been
stripped of everything, wallet, backpack, even his shoes. He still
wore his other clothing, at least they hadn’t shoved him in here
stark naked. No doubt they were trying to find out if he had any
connections to the US Government, or if he was acting alone. They
suspected much, but they wanted to have as much information as
possible before questioning him.

Very well, then I need to stick to the cover
story.
General Hynes had every trail begin and end with
Wastend. He remained on their payroll and no doubt his efforts as
their lawyer was well documented and easily assessable online.
Fine. Stick to the cover story. He could do that.

Only one problem with it though,
he
thought bitterly.
The moment they believe it, they’ll have no
use for me and kill me.

He sighed. The only use the cover story had was
to give the US Government plausible deniability. That worked well
for the armchair politicians who never found themselves on the
front lines, but it was about to get him killed. He honestly didn’t
know how he felt about that. He had made peace with God a long time
ago. He wasn’t afraid to die, but he idly wondered if this was the
best way to die. Even if he admitted his role with the US
Government, the two nations would dance around it, point fingers,
make speeches in the UN and do nothing. Neither nation wanted to go
to war with each other—that would be tantamount to destruction on
such a wide scale that only the US stood a chance of coming out of
it with something intact, though barely, giving other nations
something to drool over.

So, if he allowed himself to become a bargaining
chip, they would be forced to keep him around. It wouldn’t be much
of a life though, since he would no doubt remain in a tiny cell,
much like his present one, for the rest of it. Finally, he just
gave up trying to figure what to do and decided to roll with the
punch. He would just have to see which way the wind blew.

Some indeterminable time later, the door opened.
Bill immediately shielded his eyes from the glaring light,
squinting against it. Two figures rushed into the room and hauled
him to his feet, twisting his arms down to his side. They dragged
him forward to where the man Lee stood silhouetted in the
doorway.

“Good evening, Mr. Gardner,” he said, his
Chinese accent reminding him of some movie he couldn’t quite
recall. “It’s time for you to answer some questions.”

Bill said nothing. Until he knew what they knew,
he couldn’t even begin to develop a strategy to keep himself alive.
Not that anything he came up with would matter. Two deaths could be
laid squarely at his feet and everyone here knew it.

“Bring him.”

They dragged him out of the cell and down a
dimly lit hallway. Guards were posted in strategic locations, all
of whom eyed him with deadly intent. He intentionally slumped in
their grip, trying to give the impression of weakness. The sleep,
even as uncomfortable as it was, had improved his stamina greatly.
Now, beside a dull ache, he felt hungry.

Eventually, they dragged him into the main
hanger of the warehouse, spot lights shown on the fighter plane
sitting like a bird of prey in the middle of the hanger. The sleek
design, painted mostly black, gave him an ominous feeling.

The guards tossed him onto the floor in front of
Lee, who turned to put a hand on the nose of the fighter jet. “Do
you know how much money went into this project?” he asked.

Bill didn’t know, and he really didn’t care. He
glanced at the two guards, both of whom had drawn handguns pointed
in his direction. Feeling the need to keep the conversation going,
he said, “Not really. I’m sure that all the stops were pulled out
on this one though.”

Lee cocked his head. “I’m unsure of the idiom.”
He turned to look at Bill more directly. “English is such a crude
language. It is a wonder that you can communicate more than grunts
with each other. What means this…‘stops were pulled out?’”

“It just means you used a lot of resources to
make this particular aircraft flyable.”

“True.” Lee turned again to pat the plane. “In
terms of dollars, the number is into the hundreds of millions. The
part we found in Somalia surprised us. We couldn’t crack it and we
determined that trying would only destroy it. So we built this,
intending to give it to another country for a fraction of what it
cost us to build it.” He swung back around. “And do you know why,
Mr. Gardner?”

“No.”

“To prevent the US from doing something stupid.”
He gestured to Gardner. “Your presence here is stupid.” He poked a
finger into the lawyer’s chest. “You would risk an international
incident just to destroy this plane and the technology we
recovered?” He said something in Chinese, and one of the guards
came over to hand him Bill’s pack. Lee reached in and pulled out
some of the C4. “This will be looked upon as an attack on China by
the US, you fool!”

Realizing that he had better start saying
something, Bill shook his head. “I was hired by the CEO of Wastend
to recover or at least destroy the technology.” He shrugged. “I
don’t even know if the US Government is aware of the situation.
Wastend wanted to keep this matter private. I was sent by
them.”

Lee seemed to ponder that for a time. “It is
true that everything we can discover seems to lead back to Wastend,
but I’m not convinced. Though…” he trailed off, looking at the
backpack in his hands. “You are ill prepared for a task like this.
Either they had a lot of faith in your abilities, or they didn’t
really know what they were doing.”

Bill suspected the latter, but all he said was,
“I don’t know. All I know is the CEO of Wastend is fit to be tied.
He is scared that the US Government will discover his incompetence
and shut him down, throw him in jail even. Apparently, a pirate
ship recovered the item from one of Wastend transport ships. We
were looking for it when we discovered you had already found
it.”

“This is completely a waste,” Lee muttered.
“We’re already seeking to reproduce the technology. Now that we
know what it can do and that it is possible, we will eventually
make one of our own.”

Bill had his doubts on that score. Without a
real starting point or the ability to reverse engineer the
technology, it would take years if not decades to even get close.
“We’re not concerned about that. We just don’t want the US
Government to discover that we lost it to begin with. If you come
up with your own technology, that’s none of our business.” He
nodded to the plane. “What you have there is.”

“Are you saying that this Wastend CEO will keep
trying?”

“The man is desperate. No telling what he might
try. Look, Mr. Lee, if you give me the part, or at least give me
evidence that it is destroyed, we can call it even. That is all we
want. We want to make sure it is destroyed.”

Lee shook his head. “I’m not sure I believe you.
It seems to me the US should be aware of the problem, unless they
are totally inept. This is why they would never really believe that
we destroyed it, and the Iranians are now involved.”

“So what happens now?”

Lee’s grin spread across his face like an oozing
oil. “You get to die, Mr. Gardner. You are a murderer. You have
killed Chinese nationals. If what you say is true, the US
Government doesn’t even know you exist. They don’t know you’re over
here, and they won’t miss you when you are gone. In fact, even if
they do know, they’ll pretend that they don’t. Killing you will be
a pleasure.”

Bill licked his lips. “Are you sure that is your
best move? I mean, Wastend doesn’t have the political liabilities
that the US Government has. If I disappear, they can raise a media
storm that will hurt your country’s image. Wastend has a lot of
money. They may not be able to make waves big enough to cause your
government any problems, but they can make
you
a liability.
What happens to you then?”

Lee’s smile slipped away. Both knew exactly what
would happen if Lee became a liability. The Chinese government
wasn’t exactly known for its tolerance. At a minimum, the man would
be sent into the most remote part of the government to languish the
rest of his days in obscurity. At most, he would be brutally
tortured and executed.

Bill knew the entire thing to be nothing but a
bluff. Knowing Frank Vellore, the man wouldn’t so much as spend a
dime on Bill. The man was about as tight fisted as they came. No,
if Bill disappeared, Vellore wouldn’t even notice. As it was, he
was only using company resources because he had no choice. Wong Lee
didn’t need to know that.

Lee’s eyes narrowed into slits as he regarded
his prisoner. No doubt he was weighing the pros and cons of killing
Bill right then. The lawyer allowed his eyes to roam around. He
needed to escape, and escape quickly. Beside Lee, only the two
guards stood near. A couple of unarmed workers tinkered with some
equipment at the back of the hanger, but they looked harmless
enough.

The fighter sat at an angle to the rest of the
warehouse hanger, a small rollaway staircase nestled up against the
nose to provide easy access to the cockpit. Bill briefly
entertained the insane idea of trying to actually fly the fighter
plane out himself. His surveillance of the warehouse had revealed a
long stretch of road that probably doubled as a runway.
Unfortunately, he had no idea how to fly that kind of plane, and
even if he did, he doubted the Chinese had designed an aircraft
with an American in mind. Fuel tanks sat off to one side and a fuel
truck sat towards the back of the hanger, wreathed in shadows.

If he could take out the two guards and Lee, he
could still set the charges and blow the plane. He wouldn’t get out
alive, and he doubted his ability to take out three armed and
violent men, but it seemed a better plan than just standing still
for a bullet.