Darkness Under Heaven (36 page)

“I'm going to assume that's good. Are we going to Hohhot?”

“No. About halfway there we take the 206 Highway north. Through Chinese Inner Mongolia and right up to the Mongolian border.”

“How long before we get there?”

“Oh, no,” said Avakian. “I'm not doing that again. You remember what happened when I angered the gods the last time.”

“Okay,” she said. “Then how far?”

“Ballpark estimate? Little over two hundred miles.”

“Okay, I see what you mean. The last hundred did take us a little longer than we expected.”

S
unrise only made the investigators sluggish after the long day in Beijing and a sleepless night in Zhangjiakou.

The road zigzagged as it followed the river and the path of the valley floor. Commissioner Zhou positioned the roadblock directly after a turn so there would be no early warning of its presence. With the river on one side and a grove of substantial trees on the other it would be impossible to drive around.

He had thought about using the vehicles to create a hidden roadblock—only springing out from concealment at the last moment. But he remembered the warning of the lieutenant on the bridge. They were in plainclothes, after all. If someone mistook them for thieves, who had been known to use counterfeit police cars, it might well result in two groups of police shooting at each other. No matter that the sergeant who collected the patrol car had also shown the foresight to obtain a list of the local Public Security and Armed Police radio frequencies. Commissioner Zhou wished he could remember his name.

They set up the block with the marked patrol car across one lane and the plastic police barriers in the other to force approaching vehicles to reduce speed. They had left one
of their confiscated civilian vehicles at the station. The other was parked inside the trees.

It was still dark when they did this, and they were prepared for anything. But vigilance relaxed with the passing of the hours. There was no traffic coming from the west into the city. The news had made its way quickly, as it always did in China. No cars leaving the city, but about two trucks every hour. Those with cargos destined beyond Zhangjiakou. Tired of waiting to pass and heading back to begin the very, very long drive to circle around the city.

The first truck had everyone swarming over it. But after the fourth load of coal or dirty sheepskins interest flagged. Commissioner Zhou allowed Inspector He to post two men at a time and allow the others to rest. Though he would not. He spoke with every driver, seeking any sign or rumor of Avakian.

He knew the sergeants, and most likely He, regarded it as a fool's errand. And Commissioner Zhou himself had absolutely no idea how Avakian could possibly make his way through Zhangjiakou. Only that he would.

Once the riots died down and order was restored he could arrange to have the appropriate forces placed on the road to relieve them of this task. Perhaps a day, no more than two.

He had felt more alert in the darkness. The rising sun was like grit in his eyes. The sergeants had made a fire to brew tea. Perhaps that was what he needed.

 

“I can take the wheel if you'd like a break,” Judy said.

“I'm just droning along on adrenaline right now,” said Avakian. “When we get on the 206 Highway you can spell me for a while. Why don't you take a nap until then?”

“I couldn't sleep right now if you threatened to shoot me.”

“How did you know that was going to be my next move?”

“Just an educated guess.”

“That's right, you doctors are used to staying up for days at a time, aren't you?”

“When we're young doctors, Pete. And then later we make the young doctors stay up for days at a time. Except when we get the shit scared out of ourselves repeatedly.”

“Okay, now which one is this?”

“The third part.”

“Scared shitless?”

“Right.”

They came around a turn and Avakian saw the white police barriers. “Take the wheel,” he said, springing over to her side, continuing to steer with one hand, before she'd fully comprehended what he'd said.

Judy slipped underneath him and grabbed the wheel.

Avakian had the rifle out and was jamming magazines into the crevice in his seat. “Get down low so you can just see over the wheel,” he instructed her calmly. “Steer so the wheel is centered in the front tire of that police car. Lock your elbows against your body so the wheel doesn't move. You're going to ram them and continue on down the road.” Then he added, “You can step on the gas now.”

Judy followed his instructions to the letter.

Avakian leaned his shoulder against the door and braced his left foot against the dash to give himself a solid shooting platform.

The two sergeants held up their hands to signal the truck to stop.

Commissioner Zhou had just been handed a mug of hot black tea and was blowing to cool it.

“Hit the horn,” Avakian said.

“Where the hell's the horn?” Judy shouted after a frantic but fruitless search.

“Never mind,” he said.

One of the sergeants raised his rifle to fire a warning shot over the top of the truck.

Avakian leaned out the window.

The sergeant did not see him in the glare of the rising sun and fired the warning shot.

Inspector He was dozing in the confiscated civilian car parked amid the trees. The sound of a gunshot woke him with a start.

No precision shooting from a moving truck. Avakian had the selector switch on full auto and, noting the vests, dropped his aim point to the policeman's knees. He held a breath and squeezed the trigger.

Commissioner Zhou dropped his tea and fumbled for his pistol.

The sergeant who fired the warning shot went down under the first burst. His partner ran for cover as bullets kicked up dirt all around him.

Avakian leaned farther out the window and fired three fast six-round bursts at the fleeing target, emptying the magazine. He ducked back into the cab and grabbed a fresh one.

Commissioner Zhou could not believe it. Avakian. Finally confronted by the object of his search, he stared transfixed and forgot he had a pistol in his hand.

Inspector He snatched up his rifle and leaped from the back seat of the car.

Avakian rocked in the full plastic magazine and yanked the charging handle back. He aimed over the hood and put a burst through the windshield of the police car, the only other target he could see. The impact moments away, he pulled himself back into the cab.

Inspector He took up a good kneeling position and aimed for the truck door.

Still following her instructions, Judy had the truck lined up on the front of the police car. She prepared herself for the collision.

Inspector He opened fire.

The side mirror exploded right in front of Avakian's face, and his thigh felt like he'd gotten the world's worst white-hot bee sting. He yelled in pain and twisted around to see where it had come from. The shooter was kneeling out in the open. Avakian emptied the magazine at him one-handed before the collision threw him up against the dashboard.

The truck hit the front of the police car and spun it like a top. Commissioner Zhou had to dive out of the way to keep from being hit.

Speeding down the road with no apparent mechanical problems, Judy yelled, “How about that?” Receiving no answer, she looked over and saw Pete with a bloody hand clamped to his thigh. She swung the wheel to pull over.

“No, no, no,” Avakian yelled. “Keep going!”

He started thrashing around, and Judy wondered how she was ever going to restrain him. Then he settled down, and she saw he had cinched his belt around his thigh above the wound. Quite a feat, doing first aid on yourself after being shot. But she realized, with another jab of ice to her stomach, that he'd probably seen people bleed out before.

“Switch over again,” said Avakian. “And you can take a look at this.”

He pulled himself back into the driver's seat and she jumped over again. With his right leg extended across the passenger's seat, he was steering with his left hand and working the pedals with his left foot. His right fist was up
in the air, grasping the free end of the constricted belt. “The knife is in my right pants pocket.”

She pulled it out and opened up the blade, and carefully sliced open the seam of his jeans. Definitely a gunshot. No exit wound. “Give the belt some slack, just a bit,” she said.

He followed her instructions, and there was no arterial bleeding. “Okay, tighten it back up.”

“There's a first aid kit in that Chinese equipment harness,” he mentioned helpfully.

She had to open every pouch until she found the two plastic-wrapped five-by-seven compresses with the gauze wrappings. But Pete had been swimming through sewage all night long and the wound field was totally contaminated. Who knew when they were going to reach somewhere she could treat him properly? Infection was a certainty. Better to risk tissue damage. She furiously rooted through her bag and then reached under the seat. It was going to be a total insult to orthodoxy. “This is going to hurt.”

“It already hurts,” he said through gritted teeth.

She poured Chinese moonshine into the wound and over his leg.

“FUUUUCK!” Avakian yelled.

While he was yelling Judy inserted one of her tampons into the bullet hole, placed the battle dressing over that, and secured it with the dangling gauze. The femur wasn't broken, and thank God no major vessels had been compromised. “Okay, release the belt.”

The tampon and dressing were containing the bleeding. He'd lost a bit of blood, but not like some gunshots she'd seen. It would have been much worse if he hadn't stopped it himself so quickly. “There's nothing here to splint it with. Let me back behind the wheel, and don't move too much.”

Avakian pulled himself over again, wincing at every bounce. He picked the rifle up off the floorboard and checked the magazine. “I suggest you drive as fast as you can.”

C
ommissioner Zhou ran out into the road. The truck had disappeared around the next bend. He burned with shame that he had not even fired his pistol.

One of the sergeants at the roadblock was dead and the other was wounded in the legs and groin. The other pair was attending to him with the patrol car first aid kit.

One glance at this and Commissioner Zhou was running for the patrol car. The front was crushed and the windshield peppered with bullet holes. Ducking into the front seat, he snatched up the radio handset. Dead.

Furious with himself for not thinking of it before, he flipped his cell phone open. No signal.

Inspector He came panting up. “Comrade Commissioner, I shot at him but do not know if I hit him. It was a white man.”

“It was him,” said Commissioner Zhou. “Get the car, He.”

“Yes, we must get Sergeant Fan to medical attention. He is badly wounded.”

“No. Leave one man and tell him to flag down the next passing vehicle.”

Inspector He could not believe his ears. “But who knows when that may be? If we take Fan back to the city
we can call forward to arrange for blocks on the highway ahead.”

“Who knows what disorders are on the road ahead to prevent this?” Commissioner Zhou shouted. “The man is a demon! If he can get through Zhangjiakou last night he can get through some halfhearted roadblocks. We must pursue him. Carry out your orders.”

Inspector He doggedly stayed put for a moment or two, then turned and ran for the road. He stopped and bent over his wounded sergeant, exchanging a few words before he and one of the surviving investigators headed for the car.

Commissioner Zhou stood out on the road to spur them to action. They left a cloud of dust pulling out of the trees. He got in the back seat, saying, “There is no way that truck can outrun a car. Do not worry. This will be finished soon.”

 

“Better ease up on the gas a bit,” Avakian said. “Don't want to blow the engine with this heavy load.” He was kneeling on the seat with his good leg, keeping an eye on the road behind them through the window.

“We're not going to outrun anything in this,” Judy said.

“This is true,” he said. “Let's hope that police car isn't in any condition to run until we pick up a new and faster ride.”

“But they must have radioed ahead.”

“Hey, easy there,” he said. “Never expect unfailing efficiency from any bureaucracy. Mountains block radio waves. Riots happen. Shit happens.”

“I appreciate you trying and make me feel better. Even though I don't necessarily buy it.”

“By the way, you looked real good back there. Didn't Bogart say that to Bacall one time?”

“The Big Sleep,”
Judy said automatically. “Thanks, but
after all this time I finally got a chance to work inside my own skill set.” She smiled. “I'm only sorry you didn't get shot sooner.”

“I'm going to try and take that in the spirit you intended.”

“It's probably not the first time it happened to you.”

“Actually, it is. It's something I've always worked hard to avoid.”

“Hurt bad?”

“Doesn't hurt good. But I'm still here, so it's all good.”

“I wish you wouldn't do that.”

“Hey, you're always okay as long as you've still got your sense of humor.” Oh, shit. He leaned farther out the window to be sure. “We've got company. Looks like they had a plainclothes car we didn't see.” He turned around to check the road ahead. “Okay, when we go over the next hill slow down and let me out. Then park down at the bottom. When I wave come back and get me. If anything unfortunate should happen, remember 110 to 206 right to the border. You've been watching me steal cars. The tools are in my bag.”

“Are you kidding?” Judy shouted. “I'm not letting you out. You can't hop around on that leg. You shift that bullet you could cut a major vessel and bleed to death.”

“Like you said,” Avakian pointed out calmly. “We're not outrunning anyone in this truck. You stick to the driving and the medicine and I'll do the shooting. Let me out on the reverse slope of the hill so they can't see you do it.”

She really, really hated when he was logical and reasonable.

As they crested the hill he opened the door and hopped onto the running board on his good leg. Every movement
was like sticking his finger in an electric socket. He watched the top of the truck to make sure it was out of sight. “Okay, stop.”

Judy wasn't used to truck brakes, and almost threw him off. Dangling from the handrail for a moment, he let himself down amid red flashes of pain every time he blinked his eyes. “Go!”

She pulled out, and he hopped all the way across the road so he'd have a better angle on the driver. Every hop was like an ice pick being stuck into his brain. Reaching the dirt on the other side he dropped to his stomach and crawled to the top.

The pain left him trembling and bathed in cold sweat. Not the best state in which to do some precision shooting. He pulled the last two thirty-round magazines from the equipment belt and laid them on the ground close to his hand. Now that he wasn't moving the pain had subsided. He wiped the sweat off his face with his shirt and concentrated on steadying his breathing. The roadside weeds were high enough for good concealment. They'd be looking for the truck, anyway. He looped the sling around his arm for a good tight firing position, peering through the rear sight aperture at the front sight post and shifting a bit for a better sight picture. When he was moving he'd been afraid he was going to pass out. But now was as ready as he was ever going to be. A good ambush was like cold-blooded murder. One that went bad meant the ambusher got murdered.

“We will have them on the next hill,” said Commissioner Zhou. He was holding the driver's rifle. It had been a long time since he fired one, but it felt comfortable in his hands. They would shoot out the truck tires, surround
them, and wait. Perhaps to take Avakian alive once he realized it was hopeless. What an achievement that would be.

 

Avakian remembered a sergeant major at the Special Warfare School, who had run recon into Cambodia during the Vietnam War, telling them to never get anxious and open fire too soon. If the enemy was going to oblige by running right up onto your front sight post, let them. And all the better since he was low on ammo anyway. He moved the selector switch to single shot.

They were almost to the top of the hill now. Commissioner Zhou leaned over the seat partition in order to see better. With the ground they had gained the truck should be in sight.

The sound was exactly like a rock hitting the windshield. The driver's head snapped back and Commissioner Zhou recoiled as he was sprayed with blood.

Inspector He reached over and grabbed the steering wheel as another round came through the glass and hit him in the breastplate of his vest. The vest stopped the bullet but the force of the impact threw him back and he lost his grip on the wheel. With the driver's foot still on the gas pedal, the car began to swerve off the road. All Inspector He could do was grab the shift lever and throw it into park. The car shuddered and lost speed to the shrill accompaniment of grinding metal. Inspector He pulled the emergency brake.

Commissioner Zhou bent over to pick up his dropped rifle and more bullets came through the windshield.

With the car stopped and the engine still roaring, Inspector He pushed his door open and laid his rifle across the top of the frame to fire.

There he was, Avakian thought. The guy who liked to shoot from out in the open. Hope you have
your
own doctor, motherfucker. The car was less than thirty yards away. Anyone could make that shot.

The bullet caught Inspector He under the chin and blew out the back of his neck, severing his spinal cord and killing him instantly.

Commissioner Zhou spilled out his door onto the ground and scrambled around the back of the car, trying to determine where the gunfire was coming from. Heart pounding, hands shaking. Both his men wounded, perhaps dead.

Avakian wasn't about to hang around all day waiting for a clear shot. He blew out the front tires and the left rear, only the angle of the car preserving the last one, followed by four more rounds through the radiator. Those dinky little 5.7mm bullets weren't going through any engine blocks.

Thinking he was under fire and Avakian advancing on him, Commissioner Zhou leaned his rifle around the bumper and fired rapid bursts to hold him back.

Avakian remained untouched. If they didn't hit you or come close enough to make you duck it was just noise. Only rookies thought everything they heard was going to hit them. The trouble with these sprayers and prayers was that nobody ever told them full auto didn't guarantee anything. You could miss just as easily with ten as one if you didn't sight carefully and concentrate on your shooting. It offended his professionalism. Anyway, it was time to move on.

Commissioner Zhou yanked the charging handle back three times before realizing his magazine was empty. And the rest of the ammunition was with the dead men. But there had not been any more firing. Perhaps he had killed
Avakian? He cautiously raised his head above the trunk for a look before pulling it back down.

Too fast for Avakian to make the shot. But he couldn't believe it. Commissioner Zhou. How the hell? They'd been waiting there for him. And that brought with it a whole avalanche of new worries. Well, if he didn't have time to kill him, there was still a little matter of face. “Hey, Commissioner!” he shouted. “You better hitchhike back to Beijing. You're a smart guy but you're no gunfighter.”

He turned around and waved to Judy.

Commissioner Zhou had once put his hand on a hot stove as a child. This humiliation burned like that. Avakian waving farewell to him. He pounded his fist on the trunk. Wait. What was that? He stopped pounding. The sound of a truck.

Handling the truck more confidently, Judy swung it around inside the span of the road. Avakian grabbed the handrail and pulled himself in.

“I'm assuming that went well,” she said.

“You're not going to believe it,” said Avakian.

Commissioner Zhou bolted over to Inspector He's body, pulled a magazine from his pouch, and ran for the top of the hill.

“What am I not going to believe?” said Judy.

Commissioner Zhou reached the top of the hill just as the truck reached the bottom. He fired the whole magazine at it.

Judy automatically hunched down. “Someone's shooting at us.”

“Don't worry,” Avakian said. “We're out of effective range, with about four tons of steel between us.”

“What if they hit a tire?”

“Then we have a flat. Nothing we can do about it right now. He's just trying to get some face back.”

“He?”

“I told you you wouldn't believe it,” said Avakian. “You know who was on that roadblock? Commissioner Zhou.”

“Get out.”

“I kid you not.”

“But that means…?”

“Yeah, he tracked us all the way from Beijing. And, believe me, at first I was sweating the load over that. But then I thought about it. A commissioner of police on a roadblock with a handful of cops? Doesn't add up. But so close to the city I'm thinking maybe he had a lot of the same Zhangjiakou problems we did, and this was the best he could do. Not to say he can't call up ahead for more help. Which is all the more reason for us not to dawdle.”

“You didn't shoot him.” She said it as a statement, not a question.

“Would have, but I didn't get the chance. His car isn't going anywhere. And maybe it's better this way instead of us at each other's throats atop Reichenbach Falls.”

“I just totally missed that allusion.”

“Sherlock Holmes and Professor Moriarty.”

“Ah. But who is which?”

“I've got the doctor as my partner. I think that settles it.”

“Yeah, well, we are talking about The Napoleon of Crime, after all. So I may have some different ideas on that.”

Commissioner Zhou threw the rifle onto the road and slumped down beside it. He put his hands over his face as tears came to his eyes.