Flags of Sin (32 page)

Dawson
kicked his leg out, sweeping the soldier supposedly guarding him off his feet.
Rolling over, he planted an elbow directly on the man’s windpipe, crushing it
and snapping his neck. Still rolling from planting the elbow, he reached up and
grabbed the soldier assaulting Jimmy by the belt, positioning his other leg
behind the man’s feet, and yanked. The man fell backward, toward the floor, his
arms flailing for something to hold onto. He hit the floor, his head smacking
hard on the tile, and Dawson slammed the side of his open hand into the man’s
throat, leaving him gasping for air that could no longer reach his lungs.

Dawson
rolled to a knee, punching forward hard, nailing the stunned lieutenant in the
groin. He doubled over in agony, a high-pitched wail erupting from his mouth as
Dawson stood, shoving his palm upward into the man’s chin. The lieutenant flipped
over, landing on his back, dazed and grabbing his boys.

Dawson
fished a gun then a knife off the man’s belt, quickly cutting Jimmy loose.

“Can you
stand?”

Jimmy
made a valiant effort, then shook his head.

“Sorry,
BD, I can’t move.”

Jimmy’s
voice was weak, barely audible. Dawson looked around and saw a gurney on its
end in the corner. He unhooked it from the wall and it slammed on the floor
with a crash. Pulling it beside Jimmy he was about to load him on it when the
door clicked open behind him. He shoved the gurney hard, slamming it into the
door, the surprised guard who had come to investigate staring through the
window.

Dawson
looked at the handle and frowned, pressing the little button on the door knob
to lock it, knowing it wouldn’t hold a good stiff shoulder. Reaching up, he
grabbed hold of a large cabinet on the side of the door and pulled. It tipped
then finally fell with a thunderous rattle, blocking the door. He shoved it
tight against the frame, then hauled the lieutenant, still groaning, to his
feet, pressing the man’s weapon against his temple.

“If I
don’t hear from the United States Embassy, he dies.”

Now he
just hoped somebody spoke English out there to understand him.

Tanze Road, Beijing, China

“Left at the next big intersection, just ahead, then the gate is on
the right!” yelled Li.

Acton
nodded. It had felt like the longest ten minutes of his life. They had been
lucky for the most part, their speed and the openness of the side streets Li
had led them on limiting their pursuers to three jeeps, the tanks unable to
keep pace. But the small arms fire from the lead jeep managed to occasionally
hit them, leaving their rear window shattered, to which Niner had replied,
“Finally!”, repositioning himself so he could return fire out the rear window
as opposed to the side window that had a built in child safety feature,
limiting it to lowering halfway. A limitation that had only lasted a few
minutes before Niner got frustrated and smashed it out with the butt of his
weapon.

“We’ve
got company!” yelled Spock.

Acton glanced
in his rearview mirror but saw nothing other than the jeeps several hundred
feet back. He adjusted his side mirror up with a push and nearly shit his
pants. Two attack helicopters were barreling down on them, and flashbacks of
London filled his mind as he debated whether or not he should slam on his
brakes to let them pass overhead.

But this
wasn’t London, this was Beijing. And this time they were being pursued on the
road too, not just in the air.

He
pressed harder on the accelerator, the intersection he knew led to the embassy
within sight. Spock fished the satellite phone from his pocket, taking the call
he had placed earlier off hold.

“ETA
sixty seconds, we’re coming in red hot!”

The
cannons opened fire, tearing up the pavement, steadily approaching their rear
bumper. Acton swerved to the left, but the guns tracked him, either
automatically or manually, how he didn’t care. All that mattered is there
appeared to be no way to outrun or outmaneuver them. He cranked the wheel to
the right, again to no avail.

Something
flashed in front of him and he gasped as his eyes focused on the new threat.

“Look
out!” he yelled, everyone turning to see what he was shouting about. Two
missiles were screaming down the road toward them, the plane that had fired
them burning up the pavement with its afterburners, as if chasing the
instruments of destruction it had just unleashed.

Acton
slammed the brakes on, his thinking that if they were the target, perhaps a
hotter heat source, like helicopter engines, might attract the missiles. The
helicopters overshot him, both splitting off in opposite directions, the
missiles splitting as well, chasing the choppers down their respective side
streets, their heat signatures their doom.

Acton
hammered on the gas, the car leaping forward as the jet passed overhead, the
three jeeps now upon them. Bullets tore into the driver side. Acton swung the car
to the left, slamming it into the jeep that had overtaken them. The driver lost
control, crashing into the rear of a parked car, flipping it spectacularly end
over end, the occupants spilling out onto the roadway, or atop the line of stationary
vehicles.

They
were at the intersection. Acton cranked the wheel to the left, skidding around
the turn, the embassy, well lit, now on their right, the gate, normally closed,
opening as soon as he had made the turn. Behind them in his rearview mirror
were the two remaining jeeps, not fifty yards behind them, guns blazing, the
muzzle flashes unceasing, the rattle as rounds impacted the light skin of their
car, threatening at any moment to take out a tire or rupture the fuel tank, or
worse, penetrate the compartment and kill one of its occupants.

“Hang
on!” yelled Acton, spinning the wheel to the right as he slammed on the brakes,
then lifting his foot and shoving the accelerator to the floor, sending the car
surging through the gates, two dozen Marines, their M27 Infantry Automatic
Rifles at the ready, letting them pass, then rushing the gate as it began to
inch closed.

Acton
hit the brakes, bringing the car to a stop, as they all turned to watch. Their
pursuers made the same turn he just did, but unlike with their arrival, the
uninvited guests were met with a wall of lead, two dozen weapons opening fire,
shredding the first vehicle to pieces the moment it passed the gate and entered
US soil. The engine exploded, and the vehicle careened to the side, slamming
into a concrete fortification, the driver and passengers full of far more holes
than God had intended.

The
second vehicle slammed its brakes on, the front tires crossing the gate, but
the men immediately threw their hands up, and when the Marines didn’t fire,
bailed from their vehicle, running down the street and out of sight.

Several
Marines pushed the jeep straddling the gate out of the way, then the iron bars
rumbled shut as Acton closed his eyes, resting his head on the steering wheel,
the shouts from outside the vehicle, all in precious English with the
occasional twang he loved so much, counteracting the adrenaline that had fueled
him for hours.

He felt
a hand on his shoulder, a hand he immediately recognized, and gripped it,
tight. His precious Laura, safe, their friends, safe, and one Chinese Public
Security Bureau Inspector, safe.

Dongzhimen Hospital, Beijing, China

A face appeared at the window, shouting, and Dawson pressed the
barrel harder against the lieutenant’s head. This face was older, probably
fifties or sixties, and judging by the artwork on his shoulders, a full-bird
Colonel.

Finally,
someone who can make a decision.

There
was shouting, orders being given, yelps from soldiers obeying those orders, and
the confusion on the other side of the door seemed to settle down.

There
was a knock, and the man’s face peered through the glass.

“Mr.
White? I am Colonel Peng. I am here with a Mr. Redford from your embassy.”

“Let me
see him!”

Dawson
wasn’t going to fall for any tricks. His guard would remain up until he was
back at the embassy.

Colonel Peng’s
face disappeared, replaced a moment later by Redford, a face he instantly
recognized from the security briefings, briefings Dawson remembered the
Ambassador not taking seriously, but which Redford did. Dawson relaxed.
Slightly.

“Can I
come in?” he asked, giving a small wave.

“Just a
second.”

Dawson
looked at Jimmy, still sitting in his chair. “Can you hold a weapon?”

“’Til
they pry it from my cold dead hands.”

Dawson
gave him half a grin, pressing the gun into Jimmy’s outstretched palm. He
pushed the lieutenant against the wall, then with hand gestures that would make
it clear to the young man, said, “If he moves, shoot him.”

Jimmy
nodded, taking aim, as Dawson grabbed another weapon from the body of his first
kill, then unlocked the door, pulling the cabinet out about a foot.

Redford
poked his head inside, frowning at the storage unit still blocking him from
entering.

“Can I
come in?” he repeated.

“What’s
the situation?”

He waved
two passports. “I have two temporary diplomatic passports here, that entitle
you to unfettered transport to the embassy, then out of the country. All you
need to do is drop your weapons, and we can leave. I have an armored vehicle
outside, with two of your friends providing security.”

Dawson
exchanged glances with Jimmy, breathing a sigh of relief that their comrades
were safe.

“And the
professors?”

“Safe,
along with a Chinese police inspector.”

“And his
kids, the ones we came here with?”

“They’ve
been released.”

“And the
Ambassador?”

“Under
Chinese care here, but with our embassy physician observing until he can be
transported back home.”

“I want
the hallways cleared,” said Dawson. “All the way to the vehicle, no soldiers.”

Redford
looked back and Dawson heard orders being snapped in Chinese from the other
side of the door. A few moments later Redford’s head poked back in.

“Done.”

Dawson
pulled the cabinet out of the way, then lifted Jimmy to his feet. They stepped
out of the room, Jimmy covering the lieutenant until they were through the
door. Dawson looked up and down the hall, and the only green uniform he saw was
the Colonel’s. Dawson flipped his weapon around, and handed it to the man butt
first. The Colonel took the weapon, snapping out a respectful nod,
acknowledging it not as a surrender, but as a negotiated peace.

Jimmy
handed his over to Redford, then collapsed in Dawson’s arms. Dawson scooped him
up, then carried him down the hall, through the lobby, and out the automatic
doors. Their car was still parked where they had left it, but a black SUV,
American flags proudly flying from the front corners of the hood, was parked
behind it.

The
doors opened and out stepped two of the filthiest bastards he had never been
more happy to see.

Spock
and Niner.

They
helped their comrade into the back seat, then Dawson climbed in beside him,
along with Redford. Spock took the passenger seat, while Niner drove.

Nothing
was said as they returned to the embassy, but when they passed through the
gates, Dawson couldn’t help but notice the jeep lying off to the side as they
entered, and another one torn to shreds, bodies covered in sheets lined up
beside the vehicle.

“What
the hell happened here?”

Niner
brought the SUV to a stop beside a civilian vehicle that had more bullet holes
than body work left.

“Apparently
we got Actoned,” said Niner.

“What
the hell does that mean?” gasped Jimmy.

But
Dawson had a pretty good idea as a smile spread across his face.

Li Residence, Beijing, China

Li skipped the elevator, it too slow for his purposes, and instead
rushed up the four flights of stairs to his humble apartment. The moment his
key hit the door it was pulled open from the inside, and a pair or arms wrapped
themselves around him. He buried his head in his wife’s shoulder, inhaling her
scent, hugging her hard.

“Daddy!”

The cry
from deeper in the apartment filled his heart with relief and joy. He let go
his wife and rushed toward his daughter as she ran around the corner, arms
outstretched, tears already flowing freely down her face. He dropped to his
knees and she threw her arms around his neck, her chest heaving as she clung to
him.

“I’m
sorry, Daddy, I’m so sorry!” she cried. He held her tight, so tight he was
afraid he’d break her, but he didn’t care. He never wanted to let her go, he
never wanted to let her out of his sight again. His precious Juan, his jewel,
was safe. He felt a hand on his shoulder, his wife dropping to her knees beside
them, wrapping her arms around both of them, and the three of them sat on the
floor, hugging and crying, as the horror of the night’s events slowly receded
into the past, becoming memories that would never be forgotten.

Beijing Capital International Airport, Beijing, China

Professor James Acton watched as the Ambassador was loaded aboard
the US government plane. He followed Laura up the steps, the four Bravo Team
members bringing up the rear. Hundreds if not thousands of troops were in the
area, throughout the airport, surrounding the tarmac, and this was one of the
few flights being allowed to actually leave.

Through
the night and the morning they had all been glued to the televisions at the
embassy, watching the news, reading the dispatches as they arrived. Bo’s forces
had been defeated, the last of which, in Shanghai, had truly held out until the
last man. Those participating were being summarily executed, the ensuing
massacre far larger than what had happened during the actual coup.