Beyond all Limits (34 page)

12

Cole saw it first, the olive-green metal launch tube standing tall of the pines which surrounded the small clearing.

‘There,’ he said, pointing through the windshield of the attack helicopter, and the Chinese team picked up on it, the pilot acknowledging it immediately, swinging the aircraft down towards the missile truck.

Cole prayed he wasn’t too late, knowing that Wu would be targeting Japan, almost certainly Tokyo, his fears for his estranged daughter pulsing through his heart.

Before Cole could say another word, the helicopter started taking gunfire, soldiers down below firing up at them through the trees.

Cole and the team fired back out of the open doorways, laying down a stream of fire into the tree line; and then the chopper was directly above the clearing and the pilot opened up with the wing-mounted cannon, 23mm high-velocity rounds showering the small clearing, tearing the truck and the two other cars that had accompanied it to pieces.

Men ran for cover, scattering like flies.

The damage to the launcher looked severe, but Cole had to be sure; they could take no chances.

‘Take us down,’ Cole ordered the pilot.

13

The son of a bitch!

Where had that chopper come from?

Damn them all to hell!

And where had his men run off to? Some were laid on the grassy clearing, bodies torn apart by the cannon fire, but others were nowhere to be seen, having run away into the woods.

Cowards!

Wu spat with disgust, even as he took over the controls of the
Dong Feng
.

It was ready, absolutely ready, fuelled and ready to go, all the data inputted, all he had to do was just reach in and enter the codes; enter the codes and press the launch button, that was all.

As he started furiously typing in the code, his mind filled only with the thoughts of his revenge, of Tokyo’s annihilation, General Wu never heard the helicopter coming in behind him.

Zhou Shihuang, on the other hand,
did
hear it; saw it, too, through the sights of his
Hongying-5
, the Chinese version of the venerable Russian SA-7
Grail
shoulder-launched surface-to-air missile launcher.

And as soon as he saw it, he fired, the 1.15kg direct-energy blast fragmentation warhead streaking through the clean mountain air towards the incoming helicopter.

14

‘Incoming! Incoming!’ yelled the pilot as he saw the heat signature on his monitors, and then everyone could hear it, the high-pitched shriek as the missile honed in on their aircraft.

Cole clung tight to the sides as the pilot banked heavily, thought he would slide right out but stopped inches from the edge; two others weren’t so lucky, falling out to the plain below.

Cole’s hand shot out to catch a third soldier sliding past, helping him back inside as the helicopter leveled again, and then dipped savagely to the other side.

Cole saw the exhaust fumes of the missile as it shot past below them, relaxed for a moment, then felt the sudden, shocking, heart-wrenching impact as it hit the chopper; understood in an instant that it must have pulled back round and hit from the other side.

‘We’re hit!’ screamed the pilot as the cabin exploded in sparks, then flames, the whole of one side gone now, three more soldiers pulled out into the clear air behind them.

Cole hunkered down as the pilot struggled to control the bird, its tail rotors gone now as it entered into a terrible spin.

Cole looked out the open door at the ground below, coming up toward him faster and faster, turned to look at the flames heading across the cabin, already setting men alight, and did the only thing he could.

He jumped.

15

Zhou watched with satisfaction as the helicopter shuddered through the air, flames licking all the way through its interior, until the vehicle was out of sight, lost behind the trees.

But Zhou heard the crash as it landed hard, the explosion as the fuel tanks finally went, and saw the flames licking high up into the sky.

Portable rocket launchers like the one he had used were standard equipment on the mobile missile launchers, kept for last-minute area defense. If the crew had managed to keep from panicking, they would have thought to use it themselves.

But, like so many people, they had lost their courage and fled.

But Zhou had remembered, and had done what needed to be done.

He personally couldn’t care less about striking back at the Japanese; what use would it do them now? But he also didn’t begrudge General Wu his revenge, and knew he owed the man; without his timely intervention, Zhou would be in jail right now for killing the son of that governor.

So he would wait for Wu, let him launch the missile, and then help him get out of there.

He was walking casually back over the clearing towards the missile command truck when he saw him, and despite himself, he allowed the shock to register across his face.

The American was here.

16

When Cole had thrown himself clear of the helicopter, it had been just ten feet from the treetops; and although he’d hit them hard, the thick, supple branches had absorbed the energy of his fall.

He had tumbled through the branches, the big trees around him shielding him from the explosion as the chopper finally crashed, and he even as he fell painfully to the ground, skin cut, ripped and blistered, he immediately found himself hoping that he wasn’t the only one to survive.

Liu and most of Force One had remained behind to secure the bulk of the missiles, but Chad Davis had been there, on the far side of the chopper. He hadn’t seen him during the chaos of the attack, and prayed for his safety even as he rolled around on the needle-covered floor, agonized by the fall.

But in the end, he’d managed to struggle to his feet, his ribs aching so hard he knew they must be broken, and had started heading back toward the clearing.

The cannon had hit the launcher, but he had to be sure; for Michiko’s sake, for the sake of millions of others, he had to be sure.

The massive form of Zhou, a look of utter surprise across his face, was the first thing he saw as he left the tree line.

And then there was the launch module, missile tube still held aloft, pointed toward the sky. And inside the command car, at the launch controls, was General Wu.

He looked around; there was just the three of them left.

This was it.

Determined, despite his pain, despite his injuries, he strode out into the clearing to confront them.

17

Wu couldn’t believe it; here it was, fully fuelled and ready to go, but the damned launcher had been blasted out of position by the chopper’s cannon.

All the instruments had said the same when he’d tried to launch; two more degrees of elevation were needed.

Damn it!

He’d tried to sort the problem electronically, but it was clear that the problem was mechanical; and so, knowing exactly what he was doing and hoping he just had enough time to do it, he grabbed the huge toolkit from the cabin and went to work.

Zhou was impressed; the American was even more formidable than he’d thought.

Beaten, tortured, mutilated, the man had still followed them here; and must have thrown himself out of the chopper when it was hit, survived the fall – had he hit the trees? – and now he was walking into the clearing completely unarmed, obviously willing to take Zhou on single-handed.

Zhou had to hand it to him – there weren’t many men who would have the courage to do such a thing.

He must have been someone of substance to know those moves he’d used back in the pavilion at Beihai Park; only a handful of people in all the world were capable of using the delayed death touch.

But unfortunately for the assassin, Zhou was one of them. Still, he had seldom seen the operation of those skills used so smoothly, so effortlessly; the attack had been so good, Zhou had almost missed it.

Almost
.             

He’d been looking forward to getting answers from the man back in the Zhongnonhai basement cells, and not just from the obvious questions about who he was, and who had sent him; no, Zhou was far more interested personally in who had trained him, where he had learned those special skills he possessed.

But he accepted now that he would never know, because the man was about to die.

For despite Zhou’s admiration for the American’s bravery, nothing in the world was going to stop him from destroying the man completely.

18

Cole saw General Wu race around the missile truck, toolbox in hand, and he knew he still had a chance; all he had to do was get rid of Zhou.

The trouble was, Zhou was three hundred pounds of highly trained, psychopathic Shaolin monk, and Cole was exhausted, beaten, and at the very ends of his endurance.

He was also suffering from suspected broken ribs, and was completely unarmed, his weapons lost and destroyed in the helicopter crash.

But still, what had to be done, had to be done, and on he strode across the clearing, the challenge to Zhou clear.

A fight.

One on one.

To the death.

The thought of Michiko, of those millions of unsuspecting, innocent people, drove him onwards, gave him strength.

And as Zhou strode forward across the clearing to meet him, Cole knew he was going to need it.

‘You have my respect,’ Cole heard Zhou say to him as they faced each other, just six feet apart.

Cole could only think of the razor blade, the diabolical look in the man’s eye as he’d used it on him.

‘Well, you definitely don’t have mine, you sick son of a bitch.’

The comment – as well as being completely true – was also designed to anger the man, make him slip up somehow; he had to use all the leverage he could get.

Zhou’s face remained impassive though, and the men began to circle each other, assessing weaknesses, gaps, openings.

Zhou only had one functioning eye, and Cole knew that it might affect the man’s depth perception; although from what he’d seen already, that didn’t seem to be the case. He’d probably had such faults trained out of him.

He was heavy also, perhaps too heavy; although it didn’t seem to interfere with his movement, it must have restricted him in some way, Cole believed.

Well, he supposed he was about to find out.

Cole accelerated in towards Zhou – one step, two steps, covering the six feet in a sudden blur, and then his booted leg was lashing out in a vicious Thai round kick aimed at Zhou’s knee.

The big man barely moved, took the full force of the blow and just smiled.

Cole could barely believe it; the muscle around the man’s knee must have been tremendously strong, and he felt his will lessen for a moment.

But then he silenced his doubts and attacked again, ignoring the pain that shot through his ribs as he did so.

He threw out a powerful straight right towards the man’s jaw, not as fast as he could have gone, allowing Zhou the time to move his head to the side to avoid it and then he followed through with the
real
punch, a short-cocked left hook that came out of nowhere.

But instead of connecting with Zhou’s temple, Cole’s fist was instead stopped by one of the man’s giant hands.

In a blur of movement, Zhou grasped Cole’s wrist and bent at the waist, his other arm firing through underneath Cole’s legs, hoisting him onto his shoulders.

Just an instant later, Zhou offloaded the body by flipping it over in front of him, kneeling with one knee bent, pulling Cole powerfully downwards.

Cole knew the impact would fracture his spine and managed to turn out at the last minute, body twisting through the air, his groin terribly sore from where Zhou’s forearm had pulled up into it during the lift.

Coe landed on his feet to one side, but Zhou still had hold of his fist and pulled him forwards, the bunched fingers of his other hand lashing out towards Cole’s heart.

Knowing he would be dead if the spear-hand hit him, Cole turned quickly, the iron-like fingertips hitting him in shoulder instead, spinning him around to the side.

But still the giant had hold of his fist, and this time Cole moved in, hitting the inside of Zhou’s wrists at a nerve juncture that made the man’s hand spring open, finally releasing the captured fist.

His elbow flashed across Zhou’s body, hoping to connect with a point just below the navel, a follow-up blow after the strike to the arm which would leave Zhou paralyzed, unable to breathe.

But Zhou had anticipated the movement and dropped his weight, taking the elbow strike to the pectoral muscle instead; painful, but far from fatal.

The men broke apart, circling each other once more.

Cole could see that Zhou was surprised; he had probably expected the encounter to be over almost as soon as it had begun; he wasn’t used to a challenge.

And perhaps, Cole thought,
that
was Zhou’s weakness – fitness. He had never been forced to go longer than a few seconds, and he was already showing signs of fatigue.

But then Cole saw the hurried movements of General Wu out of the corner of his eye, and he knew he might not have enough time to wear Zhou down.

Sensing Cole’s preoccupation, Zhou lashed out quickly, his huge foot sailing up towards Cole’s face, his flexibility uncanny for a man his size.

Cole barely got out the way in time, arching his head back; but that was just what Zhou wanted, and he landed a long, thrusting straight punch to Cole’s exposed gut that sent him staggering back across the clearing.

Unable to breathe, gasping for air helplessly, Cole fell to his knees.

Zhou moved quickly towards him, ready to deliver the killing blow, the coup de grâce.

Cole saw Wu moving back towards the command truck, knew he was running out of time.

And then time itself seemed to stand still as Cole’s eyes moved back to Zhou, taking in everything around him as the man-mountain rushed in toward him – he saw the man’s chest heaving, and he knew the man’s fitness
was
an issue; saw a wobble in one leg, knew immediately that his earlier kick to the man’s knee
had
done some damage; saw the pines, the leaves, the twigs that littered the grassy clearing; knew in a heartbeat exactly what he had to do.

Cole could breathe now, but carried on pretending he couldn’t; and then Zhou was upon him, huge fists reaching out for Cole’s head.

In the blink of an eye, Cole moved, ducking forward, head low as he struck out with one fist in a hugely powerful hook, knuckles impacting Zhou’s knee on exactly the same point as before; but this time, the knee buckled and then Cole burst upwards, pulling the broken stick he’d seen on the floor up with him.

In the next moment, in a flash of incredible speed, Cole had whipped the stick up past Zhou’s huge, sagging body, and embedded it in the man’s one good eye.

Jellied liquid burst out of the eyeball around the hard stick, covering Cole’s face, and the man screamed – a feral sound, inhuman, that chilled Cole to his very core.

Cole pulled away as the big man started to thrash about, arms and legs hitting out at the air around him, determined to hit anything, anything at all.

Zhou was entirely blind now, both eyes useless; but then Zhou stopped his thrashing and calmed down, seeming to center himself, attune his other senses to make up for his missing eyes.

And Cole knew he couldn’t give the man the opportunity, didn’t have the time – Wu was back at the truck, right now, inputting the codes, trying to launch – and Cole flew forward, striking the man on the arm, the leg, the shoulder, one nerve cluster after another; never letting the man rest, keeping the pressure on, hitting a multitude of points rather than just one or two, purely due to the man’s immense strength, the density of his body.

Just two more points to go and Zhou would surely die – nobody could live through such an assault – but then the big man’s instincts took over and he seized Cole with both of his enormous hands, pulled him in towards him, arms crushing him, and Cole couldn’t breathe, the pain in his broken ribs on fire as they rubbed and grated together.

Cole’s teeth lashed out, catching hold of Zhou’s lower lip, and he whipped his head around, back and forth, side to side, until the pain became too much for Zhou to bear and he loosened his hold, only a little, but enough for Cole to slip out an arm.

Cole knew he only had one chance, he would be back in Zhou’s enormously strong grip in the next couple of seconds, and he used what little time he had to lash out towards Zhou’s unprotected throat, the flesh weakened by his exhaustion, the multiple nerve strikes he’d already been hit with.

Cole fingers, incredibly strong and vice-like, clamped down firmly around the thick flesh, digging through the layers of skin and fat until they found the windpipe; and then they constricted with an unbelievable strength born of sheer desperation, until the skin itself was torn under the pressure, and the fingers wrapped around the windpipe and wrenched it outwards in one savage, powerful jerk.

Blood sprayed over Cole’s face as Zhou’s throat was torn out from his neck, flesh and blood and thick, hot tissue covering his hand.

The man released his grip as blood pumped wildly out of the opening in his neck, and his life drained out of him with a sickening, thick, gargling noise, hands going to his torn throat as he fell to his knees, then to the ground, the impact felt all around the clearing.

Cole took a single breath, at once appalled by what he had done but at the same time glad beyond measure that the man was dead, and turned immediately towards the missile command truck.