Vital Force (16 page)

The lone gunman had still not been identified.

The entire detachment of special agents from the Air Force Office of Special Investigations from Elmendorf Air Base in Anchorage had caught a flight and were conducting the investigation. But, Colonel Powers knew there would be more to come, he was sure.

The colonel was in his office behind his desk, making the OSI agent wait in the outer office. He didn't like the cocky special agents, who didn't wear the Air Force uniform, and could have been a sergeant or a captain. Thank God for his new computer system, he thought. While the man waited outside, he had pulled up the agent's record. He was a Captain Dave Eyler, the detachment commander in Elmendorf. What he didn't know, though, was the man who accompanied him. He had simply flashed a badge to his secretary.

He called his secretary and told her to send the two in, but remained behind his desk. He had no intention of letting the power of his position and rank be diminished by the two of them.

Dressed in suits, with pants tucked into Sorels, the two agents came in and stood in front of the colonel's desk. Captain Eyler was short and stocky with a beard that was long even for an OSI special agent. The man to his left was a tall, thin man with a chiseled jaw that jutted out like that cartoon Canadian Mountie.

The colonel considered them in silence. Then he waved his hand toward two cushioned chairs. “Take a seat.” It wasn't a request.

They sat and the captain pulled out a small notebook, flipping a few pages.

“Anything on the shooter?” Colonel Powers asked.

The two men looked at each other. The captain was about to speak, but was halted by the colonel standing and approaching them.

“First of all,” the colonel said. “I like to know who I'm talking with. Let's see some I.D.” He stood there with his hands out.

Without thinking about it, the two men produced their badges.

“And your I.D.s,” Colonel Powers said.

They pulled them out and the colonel looked them over carefully before returning them to the men. That's interesting, he thought, as he took a seat behind his desk.

“I understand OSI being here,” Powers said, “but why is the Agency involved?”

“Is this room secure?” the Agency man asked.

“My comm people swept it just before you arrived,” Powers assured him. “They're in the process of sweeping every building now.”

The Agency man seemed pleased with that. “We're involved because of a breach at one of the contractors on this project.”

“Which one?” the colonel asked.

“We can't say,” Captain Eyler said.

“You can and you will,” the colonel told him. “This is my fuckin' project. Anyone has the need to know, it's me.”

The two special agents looked at each other. Finally, the captain said, “Brightstar.”

“Shit! That's the lead contractor. The software that was just delivered came from them. Same with most of the hardware.”

“We know that, Sir,” the Agency man said. “Our people are working on it now.”

Sir? Not bad from an Agency weenie. “How?”

“That you don't need to know.”

“Fair enough.” Colonel Powers had only been trying to push to see how far he could go with them. “What do you guess the shooter was trying to accomplish?”

They both hunched their shoulders, glancing sideways at each other.

“Speculate,” the colonel said, more seriously now.

The Agency man spoke first. “Could have been working with those in California. We'll know more once we find out who he is.”

“Is this espionage homegrown or foreign?” Powers asked.

The OSI captain started to talk, but was shut up with a foot sliding from the Agency man.

“We didn't say anything about espionage,” the Agency man said.

“You just did, boys.” The colonel smiled. “You two gotta work out more subtle signals.” He hesitated and then said, “Let's cut the bullshit. Just tell me how much of my program has been compromised. And I don't want a long cock and bull tale from you about need to know and we're not sure and all that crap. The test is tomorrow. I need to know that when we go to shoot down phase we got a good chance of hitting our target.”

There was a long silence. Then the Agency man spoke. “We honestly don't know, Sir.”

There came that Sir again. Maybe this wasn't one of those arrogant fucks from Washington. “Now that's an honest answer. I don't like people bullshittin' me. Give me the straight skinny and let me work with it. Good, bad or ugly. So, you don't know who took the Brightstar shit?”

“We know who took it,” Agency said. “We're not sure why. The guy is being tracked now.”

“Trying to lead you to someone?” Powers asked.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Which country is involved?” the colonel asked.

The OSI officer looked at the Agency man, who said, “Don't know.”

“Now, that's a lie Mr. Agency man. That's too bad. You were doing great up to that point.”

“I can't tell you that,” he said.

“The Chinese.”

The Agency man's eyes shot up.

“I was just guessing,” Colonel Powers said. “But now I guess I got my answer.”

“We don't know anything for sure,” the Agency man said, trying his best to back track.

“That's the truth, Sir,” special agent Eyler said.

That was one truth, the colonel knew. But these two would never give him the full story.

The sun was just coming up over the Lesser Khingan Range in northern Manchuria, when Jake and Su reached the valley. They were both exhausted from running most of the night. And, although their clothes had turned from wet to frozen, neither seemed overtly hypothermic.

When they reached a small wooden bridge that crossed the river, they stopped for a moment to catch their breath.

“Which way from here?” Jake asked her.

“We cross the bridge and then it's two miles, maybe more, before we reach my uncle's village.”

Jake set his backpack down and searched inside for the camera and phone. He had to get those pictures sent. He turned on the phone and still got no signal.

“What the hell is going on here?” he yelled.

“It should work,” she assured him. She pointed off to the southwest. “We put a cell tower some five miles up there.” She pulled out her phone and also got no signal.

“Someone must have fucked with your tower,” he said.

She nodded her agreement.

“Let's go.”

They packed up and shuffled off across the bridge. They got about halfway across when they saw the helo. Perhaps the same one that had flown over them as they flew down the mountainside into the river a few hours ago.

They were trapped. To turn back, they might make it across the bridge before the helicopter reached them. But then what? To run straight ahead, they would be running toward the helo.

In a split second, they had no choice. Coming from behind them was a military truck. About a mile off in the distance moving fast toward them.

“This way,” Jake yelled, pulling her across the bridge.

Just after they reached the other side of the bridge, the helo lowered and turned sideways, its wash blowing snow up everywhere and pushing Jake and Su together.

Jake turned his head, his arm over his eyes, and tried to see how far away the truck was now. It was less than half a mile away.

Turning back toward the helo, he noticed the side door had opened and someone was waving arms, wanting them to approach.

“You know them?” Jake yelled to Su, barely above the rotors and wind.

She looked confused, shaking her head no.

And then he thought he heard something familiar. At first it was almost an echo, and then it became more clear. Jake. The man was yelling his name.

He had only a few seconds to make a choice, because the truck was now on the bridge some fifty yards away. Stopped. Men hopping off with rifles.

Jake pulled on Su's arm and hauled her toward the helo. Things became clearer as Jake got closer. Under the hat and headphones was Brian Armstrong, the Agency officer from Beijing.

“Get in,” Armstrong yelled at Jake.

“How'd you find us?” Jake asked as he slung his backpack in before helping Su with hers.

“Just get in. They don't look too friendly.”

As the Agency officer said that, the first bullets started hitting the side of the helo.

Su climbed aboard, struggled to lift her frozen legs, and Jake grabbed her by the pants and shoved her inside. Then he launched himself inside.

Armstrong slammed the door shut and yelled for the pilot to take off. Bullets smacked into the door, and they all dove to the deck.

The helo lifted off and shook about as it turned and swept off to the south.

Jake pulled himself to a sitting position and leaned against his backpack.

“That was close,” he yelled to Armstrong.

Something wasn't right. The Agency officer lay on his stomach. Still. Then Jake saw the blood seeping from his lower back. He turned Armstrong over.

“Armstrong. You all right?” Jake shouted.

His eyes were open, but his face said it all. He wasn't all right. His breathing was labored and a stream of blood trickled from the side of his mouth.

Jake turned to Su. “Find a first aid kit. He's been hit.”

She searched the compartment while Jake held his hand on the blood spot.

“Can you talk?” Jake asked him.

“I'll be all right,” Armstrong said, his words barely making it from his lips. “You get the photos?”

“Yes.”

“Don't send them on the phone.”

“Why?”

“Compromised.”

“I don't get it.”

Su came to them with a first aid kit, and pulled out a bandage and tape. As she pulled up his coat to access the wound, Jake lay onto the floor next to Armstrong.

“What do I do with the photos?” Jake asked him.

“Shemya . . . Alaska.”

“What about it?”

“Bring it there.”

“A Agency officer there?”

“No.” He writhed in pain.

Jake looked at Su, who was trying to cover the wound, but was losing the battle. Her hands were full of blood; the compress bandage had turned from white to completely red. And Jake realized she must be in pain herself, with her left wrist broken.

“Who then?” Jake asked.

“Colonel Powers. Only him.” Armstrong's eyes started to close.

Jake shook him. “No. Stay awake. How'd you find us?”

“G. . . P. . .S. . . Inside backpack handle.”

“Shit! Just hang in there, man.” The horror of this was just starting to hit Jake. He had worked with Armstrong's brother in the Ukraine, and that officer had died. Sure Jake had had no part in that, but maybe he could have seen it coming. And now another Armstrong, who was only trying to save his ass, was now dying.

Su pulled on Jake's arm. “I can't stop it.”

Armstrong's eyes were now closed; his breathing had stopped. Jake checked for a carotid pulse.

Nothing.

Jake shook his head. “Damn it!” He slammed his hand against the deck.

Su put her hand on Jake's back. “You good friends?”

He shook his head. “No, we just met a few days ago.” He hesitated and then said, “It's a long story.”

Jake took in deep breaths, trying his best to maintain control. He had to think about their current situation. Who was flying this beast? And where were they heading?

He pulled the headset from Armstrong's head and put it on. Then, through the microphone, he asked, “Hey, you speak English up there?” He could only see the back of the pilot's head, which was covered by a helmet.

The pilot turned around. It was a black man in his 50s. “What the fuck you think, Bitch? What's up back there?”

“Armstrong took a bullet in the back,” Jake said.

“He all right?” the pilot asked.

“He's dead.”

“Dat ain't all right.” The pilot turned back to flying.

Jake moved forward. He saw they were flying low, the trees to the side even with them. Then he saw why. They were following the river downstream.

“I'm Jake Adams.”

“I'd shake your hand and all that shit but I'm a little busy right now,” the pilot said. “Armstrong told me about you on the flight up. We coulda picked ya up last night in the mountains but we had no way of contacting you. Had to go back for fuel.”

“Phones weren't working,” Jake said.

The pilot nodded agreement.

“You work for the Agency?” Jake asked.

“I work for whoever pays my ass. Been in these parts for more than thirty years. After Nam I just couldn't go back. Damn pussy is just too damn good.” He peered around behind him toward Su. “She can't hear this. You get any of that yet? She fine.”

Jake changed the subject. “Where we heading?”

“Changchun for fuel. Then Shenyang. You can catch a flight from there to Beijing.”

“What about Armstrong?”

“We had a contingency for all this shit. You let me take care of him. I fly. You get the hell outta China. You better bring her with you?”

“Why?”

The pilot hesitated and then finally said, “They been roundin' up her relatives. She can't go back.”

Jake looked to the rear at Su, who was now curled up in a blanket trying to get warm.

What in the hell was going on? This should have been a simple job. Get in, take a few photos, get out. But nothing was ever as easy as that. Now he had to tell Su that she would have to leave China with him. Would she go?

He watched the landscape fly by below as the sun rose higher on the horizon. He had left his stuff in Beijing at the hotel, but he had no real desire to go back for it. It was only clothes. He could get those anywhere.

Glancing back at Armstrong on the deck of the chopper, he wondered how he would ever be able to justify his death to himself or anyone else. And why Alaska of all places? Did it matter? He had already been paid quite nicely, and the job was not over.