Empire Rising (42 page)

Tian frowned, then returned to the kitchen as Garretson opened the top of the laptop, pulling up a satellite image of the Great Hall of the People. Harrison and O'Hara joined the three SEALs around the table as Christine scooped up her new clothes in one arm, the shoe box in the other.

*   *   *

Ten minutes later, Christine returned downstairs wearing her new clothes. They fit perfectly. Harrison and the other four SEALs were still gathered around the laptop, their eyes focused on the screen. Harrison looked up as Christine descended the stairs, but said nothing.

Tian exited the kitchen, appraising his selection of clothing. “You look fantastic, Miss O'Connor. I take it everything is suitable?”

“Yes, Tian. Thank you.”

“If you'll excuse me,” Tian added, “I have a few errands to run. I'll be back in an hour.” Tian grabbed his jacket from the foyer coatrack, exiting the town house without another word.

As the front door closed, Harrison left the other four SEALs and headed toward Christine. O'Hara picked up the platter of baijiu and shot glasses from the table, entering the kitchen as Harrison guided Christine over to the living room where he dropped into a brown, dingy sofa. Christine settled in beside him.

“So,” Harrison began. “How do you feel?”

“Good,” Christine answered. “Although I'm still tired.” She could tell Harrison wanted to talk about something important. He was just breaking the ice.

“That's typical,” Harrison replied. “Long transits in cold water sap the strength from you. Even more so for someone not used to it. You'll bounce back soon enough, though.” There was an awkward silence as Christine waited for Harrison to work toward what he really wanted to discuss. Finally, he continued. “This is a dangerous mission, Chris. I have no idea what we're going to run into once we enter the Great Hall, and I don't want to put you in harm's way. So I'm leaving you outside. Once you unlock the door to the Great Hall, I want you to return to the car and wait with Tian.”

Christine shook her head. “That's not a good idea, Jake. There's no telling how many security doors you'll need to pass through once you get inside.”

Harrison shrugged. “We'll manage.”

Christine knew she had a point, so she pressed it. “We've already discussed this. I'm coming with you. The whole way, not just to the front door.”

Harrison's eyes searched hers for a moment, then he nodded reluctantly. “Okay, Chris. You always were headstrong, and I see that hasn't changed. But I had to try.” He stood, offering Christine his hand, pulling her to her feet.

As Christine stood, the dining room curtains billowed inward, small holes appearing in the fabric as high-pitched zings pierced the quiet town house. Christine froze, watching bullets puncture the bodies of the three SEALs gathered around the dining room table. She watched in stunned silence as the middle of the three SEALs slumped onto the table, his head coming to rest on the laptop, and the other two SEALs fell backward in their chairs onto the floor. She had no idea how long she stood there, but it must have been only a second before she felt Harrison's body slamming into her, knocking her onto the wooden floor.

Shards of glass from the dining room window and chunks of plaster ricocheted throughout the town house as Harrison protected her with his body. Turning her head to the side as bullets streamed into the town house, she spotted Chief O'Hara burst from the kitchen in a crouch, sliding next to the dining room table. One glance at the SEAL slumped over the table told O'Hara what he needed to know—blood trickled from a bullet hole in the center of Garretson's forehead onto the laptop, flowing over the sides of the computer and collecting in a red pool spreading slowly across the table's surface.

O'Hara extracted the laptop from under Garretson's head, then flung it across the floor toward Harrison and Christine. The other two SEALs were still alive, crawling toward the living room, leaving slick red trails behind them. Harrison rolled off Christine, joining O'Hara as each man grabbed an injured SEAL by the collar of his shirt, dragging them into the living room as bullets continued pelting the town house through the dining room window.

“Get the computer!” Harrison shouted to Christine as he grabbed one of the black backpacks and O'Hara grabbed a second. “Stay low to the ground!”

Christine crawled over to the computer, which had come to rest only a few feet away, as Harrison shouted again. “The back of the town house!”

Crawling on her hands and knees, Christine followed Harrison and O'Hara, pushing the computer down a narrow hallway as plaster fragments from the town house walls rained down on her. They reached the back of the town house, where a narrow door led to the alley from which Christine had entered the safe house with Peng two weeks ago. Harrison and O'Hara propped the two injured SEALs against the washer and dryer in the laundry room, then Harrison stood and drew his MP7 from the sling inside his jacket and approached the back door. He twisted the knob slowly, opening the door an inch. As he peered through the slit into the back alley, wood splinters began ricocheting past Harrison's head as the doorframe was peppered with bullets.

Harrison slammed the door shut, then retreated to the laundry room. “Four men to the left.” He squatted to help O'Hara tend to the two wounded SEALs as Christine leaned against the far wall. Harrison checked Andrews's pulse, but Christine could tell he was already dead. Leaning against the dryer, Andrews had a gaping hole in the side of his neck and the blood had stopped flowing; his eyes were frozen open and glazed. Martin was wounded in the chest and was having difficulty breathing. O'Hara ripped open Martin's shirt to examine the wounds. Christine could see red air bubbles forming as blood flowed from two bullet wounds, one on each side of his chest. Harrison and O'Hara exchanged grim looks.

“I know,” Martin said. “Both lungs punctured.” He grimaced as he spoke, then held his hand out. “Backpack.”

Harrison opened one of the backpacks for Martin. “What do you have in mind?”

“The alley,” Martin answered. “It's only a few feet wide. Blow a hole in the wall on the other side, and you can enter the adjacent building while the alley is clouded with debris.” Martin rummaged through the backpack as Christine digested his plan—blow a hole into the building across the alley, then dash across as four men filled the alley with lead.

Piece of cake.
But Christine couldn't think of a better idea.

“We're not leaving you behind,” Harrison replied.

“Yes you are. I'll be dead in a few minutes, and you know it.” Martin paused as he was wracked by a coughing spasm, spraying the floor with red specks. “If there's any chance of escape, you'll have to travel light and fast. That means without me.”

Harrison and O'Hara exchanged glances again, and O'Hara nodded slowly. Harrison turned back to Martin as the injured SEAL pulled four thin blocks of C4 explosive from the backpack, each block wrapped in an olive-drab Mylar film. Martin peeled off the protective paper covering the adhesive on the back of three of the blocks, pressing all four blocks together as he explained.

“Assuming the wall across the alley is one foot thick, you'll need five pounds of untamped C4 placed against the base of the wall to blow a hole large enough for you to pass through.”

Martin reached into the backpack again, retrieving a spool of detonating cord and a Gerber tool—a military version of the Swiss Army Knife—and cut off a four-foot length of det cord. He tied one end of the cord into a triple knot, then cut off the Mylar wrapper from one of the blocks of C4. Martin carefully sliced a wedge from the white, claylike plastic explosive, placed the knot of det cord into the divot, then molded the wedge of C4 over the knot so the det cord was firmly embedded in the five-pound block of explosive.

Another reach into the backpack retrieved a handheld initiator and a detonator clamp. Martin unscrewed the bottom of the small, cylindrical initiator, pulling out the detonator—a thin metal tube three inches long, connected to the initiator by shock tube, even thinner, hollow plastic tubing only three millimeters in diameter containing an explosive charge. Martin pulled out ten feet of shock tube, then slid the detonator into one opening of the clamp and the det cord into the adjacent opening. Martin squeezed the clamp shut, ensuring the det cord and detonator were held firmly in place. All in all, it had taken Martin just over a minute to assemble their
Get Out of Jail Free
card.

“This should do it.” Martin wheezed the words out.

Harrison took the explosive assembly from Martin while O'Hara pulled the MP7 from Martin's sling, handing it to him grip first.

Martin nodded as he wrapped his fingers around the weapon, but then he placed the MP7 on the floor. “I have a better idea. Leave one of the backpacks with me.” His breathing was already turning shallow and the color had drained from his face, leaving it a pasty white, dotted with perspiration.

After another glance between Harrison and O'Hara, Harrison began transferring items from one backpack to another, handing Martin a half-full backpack. Martin emptied the backpack onto the floor, creating a pile of additional blocks of C-4, det cord, and initiators. The injured SEAL began pressing eight more blocks of the plastic explosive together.

The steady stream of bullets piercing the front of the town house stopped, leaving behind an eerie silence. “Get going,” Martin said.

Harrison took the laptop from Christine and placed it in his backpack, then stood and slung the backpack over his shoulder. He and O'Hara pulled their MP7s, taking up stations on either side of the door. Harrison turned to Christine. “Up against the wall, between the door and O'Hara.” Christine complied, pressing her back against the wall. Harrison added, “I'll go first, then you, then Chief. Understand?”

Christine nodded, then Harrison pulled the safety clip from the initiator. He cracked the door open and tossed the block of C4 into the alley against the far wall. The doorframe splintered from another round of bullets, and Harrison stepped away from the door, flicking up a lever at the top of the initiator with his thumb.

An explosion rocked the alley, shattering the door as it blew back into the town house, the pieces flying down the hallway. Debris was still ricocheting inside the town house when Harrison jumped through the doorway, and Christine felt O'Hara's strong hand on her shoulder, pushing her forward. Christine stepped into the doorway, then bolted into the alley.

The alley was clouded with debris and the men guarding it must have been stunned, because there was no sound of gunfire as Christine followed Harrison into a dark opening across the alley. Harrison pulled to a stop a few feet into the adjacent building and Christine almost ran into him. A second later, O'Hara was at her side, the two SEALs assessing the situation.

They were in an old warehouse filled with stacks of crates about thirty feet high, illuminated by a string of lights along the perimeter of the building. The stacks of towering crates formed passageways down the length of the building, and Harrison took off in a sprint into the nearest aisle. Christine and O'Hara followed as Harrison turned right at the first intersection, then left after two more, resuming their original direction.

Christine and O'Hara caught up to Harrison at the other end of the building, where he had stopped in front of a locked door. Harrison fired twice into the lock mechanism, then kicked the door open. After a cautious glance outside in either direction, he disappeared through the doorway.

Christine followed, emerging into a deserted street, faintly lit by street lamps spaced every fifty feet. It was raining and a cold drizzle drifted down from an overcast sky, blocking out the moon and stars. Harrison sprinted toward a door in the building opposite them, firing into the lock mechanism as he approached, knocking the door open with his shoulder. But then he sprinted back toward the center of the street. Christine headed toward him, wondering what he was planning as they pulled to a halt beside a circular, three-foot-diameter manhole cover in the road.

After letting his MP7 fall to his side on its sling, Harrison lifted the heavy cover with both hands, sliding it aside, revealing a rusted metal ladder that disappeared into the darkness. Harrison descended, followed by Christine as the sound of voices and footsteps raced toward them from inside the warehouse. O'Hara dropped down into the hole after Christine, pausing at the top of the ladder, his chest still above street level. He took aim on the nearest two street lamps, one in each direction, squeezing off two quick rounds, dropping their section of the street into near darkness. He then pulled the manhole cover back into place. A low metallic grinding sound reverberated in Christine's ears until the plate dropped into its recessed location with a metallic clank, enveloping the two SEALs and Christine in pitch black.

Harrison's voice reached out to her in the darkness. “Sit tight.”

Christine froze where she was, gripping the metal ladder.

A few seconds after Harrison's order, Christine heard a commotion above them; men shouting, accompanied by the sound of heavy boots. As she waited in the darkness, clutching the rusted metal ladder rungs, the ground trembled, followed by the rumbling sound of a distant explosion. Martin had detonated his C-4.

There was a burst of commotion from the men above them, but the sounds soon faded, eventually ceasing altogether. There was no sign of movement from the two SEALs, until the darkness surrounding Christine was dispelled by a beam of red light. Glancing down, she spotted a flashlight in Harrison's hand, which he shined around them, then down. They were in a concrete access shaft about five feet in diameter, descending another twenty feet into a tunnel. The light reflected off the tunnel floor, and Christine heard the sound of running water. She wondered if they were about to wade through a sewer pipe, but there was no offensive smell, only the ferrous tang of rusted metal.