The Korean Intercept (11 page)

Kate was about to respond angrily when something happened that surprised everyone.

Scott raised his head. His chin had remained slumped against his chest since he'd been dragged in, and he looked as if the act of raising his line of vision to Chai Bin was painfully difficult. There was, however, keenness to his eyes that suggested that he had been conscious for a while and had heard most of what had been said. He stared defiantly at Chai for a moment before he spoke.

"Piss up a rope, Fu Manchu. You're not getting jack shit from us; do what you goddamn well want."

Chai displayed no anger. Instead he addressed the group of Americans in general. "Who among you is in command?"

In a weak voice Scott replied, "I am, damn it!"

Kate glanced down at her commander. "Sir, are you sure about that?"

"I'm sure." The barely-conscious man maintained eye contact with Chai. "I am in command."

"Very well," replied Chai. He nodded to Han.

Han swung the butt of his rifle, hitting Scott along the side of the head, not forcefully enough to knock him unconscious but hard enough to knock him to the floor. Han then placed a boot on Scott's splinted, broken leg.

Kate was already moving toward Han, calling over her shoulder to Paxton. "Bob! What are you waiting for?!"

The scientist, staring pointedly at the ground, pretended not to hear.

Han began grinding his boot heel into Scott's fracture, leaning all of his weight onto the broken leg to inflict more pain than Scott's system could possibly tolerate. The flight commander cried out once, a short yowl of pain, then lost consciousness again. Han Ling whirled, next aiming his rifle at Kate.

From the dais, Chai nodded at Scott's inert and sprawled form. "This man cannot command."

Kate turned to face Chai. "Then I am the ranking officer of the space shuttle
Liberty
, you heartless bastard!"

"You are not in command," Chai said flatly. "You are a woman. A woman is good for only one thing." He scrutinized her from head to toe. Lewd fires shone in his eyes. The corners of his mouth quirked. She felt naked before him. She shivered as if at the callused touch of a rapist's hand. Chai said, "Han, seize her. Bring her to me."

What happened next was instinctual reflex melded with training.

Kate brought up her hands defensively and bent her knees. The weariness of her uninterrupted ordeal—since waking up to an alarm clock that morning at Cape Canaveral (how many lifetimes ago?) until this instant—suddenly vanished. Her estranged husband had instructed her in martial arts, and Trev Galt had been a very good teacher. He had trained in Kung Fu at the Shaolin Temple off Victoria Road in Hong Kong, personally taught by the Tung-Chia, the Master of the Temple. The deal struck between Kate and Trev was that, in return, she would teach him gourmet cooking. However, Trev quickly lost interest; he was a hopeless beer-and-ham-sandwich man, not a gourmet. But his instruction in the martial arts continued during their years together.

The sight of a woman preparing to defend herself in such a manner made Han Ling guffaw in shared amusement with his boss's obvious snickering. Han then returned to the business at hand, snapping a command at his three men who moved swiftly toward her, one coming in from behind, another rushing in from the left, and the third approaching from the right.

She drew a deep breath and delivered a direct kick to the solar plexus of the man behind her, exhaling as she struck his body, instantly paralyzing him. He crashed to the ground even as she whirled to face the next man who was almost upon her, his rough hands reaching for her throat. She deflected his attack with her left arm, and with an explosive yell, dealt him a
seiken
fist blow to the Adam's apple. Choking and fighting for breath, the man collapsed, sagging backward. Kate readjusted her feet and swiveled to smash the third man a killing blow to the forehead. Then she wheeled around to resettle into her original defensive position, facing Han and Chai.

Chai had stopped laughing. "Most impressive, Miss Daniels."

"It's called equality." She spoke calmly and was not out of breath. "Where I come from, sometimes the girls have to beat up bad boys."

Bob Paxton was watching all of this with wide-eyed, slack-jawed amazement. "Kate, what are you—"

She did not have time for him right now. The adrenaline was pumping through her every fiber; yet her exterior countenance appeared relaxed, yet strong and alert. Push your advantage, Trev had taught her. Never let up. Without relaxing her combat stance, she directed her focus to Chai.

"Must the mighty warlord take a puny woman by force?"

Han stiffened and implored something of his leader. Kate couldn't understand their language, but she followed Han's intent. He was asking Chai Bin for permission to blow her brains out on the spot. After hearing Han out, Chai raised a hand in a placating gesture and spoke to her in English.

"You are indeed most impressive."

She released herself from her martial arts stance, absently brushing away a stray wisp of chestnut hair that had fallen across her forehead. "Have you not thought of the obvious, Chai Bin?"

His furry eyebrows creased in a frown. "Share your thoughts with me, woman."

"You were talking about the equipment aboard the shuttle, of selling it to the Chinese or the North Koreans."

"I was."

"Well, why deal with your enemies? You can't be high on the popularity list of either one of those countries."

He sighed. "Sad, so sad, but true." In a mock display of chagrin he gazed toward the ceiling, then abruptly shot his glare back at her. "Your point being… ?"

"My point being," she replied with an exaggerated show of patience, "why put yourself at risk? Why not deal with the rightful owners of the shuttle? Why not ransom it and us back to the United States government?"

Chai studied her, stroking his chin, no longer amused, nor lewd. "The Americans have no love of me, either. I hold you as my hostages. Unlike the Chinese or the North Koreans, your government could possess the power to destroy me."

"The power, yes…" she conceded, "but not the will. My government will do anything to get the
Liberty
back. I can assure you that they do not want it falling into the hands of the Chinese or the Koreans. Anyone who prevents that from happening will be considered America's friend, not their enemy! Okay, maybe 'ransom' was the wrong word… what I mean to say is that you negotiate with the government for the return of the shuttle and for us."

Bob Paxton stepped forward, his face pale. "Kate, are you sure this is what the commander would want?"

Commander Scott's voice croaked thinly from the floor behind them. "I'll damn sure tell you what I want. We give these bastards nothing!" Scott remained stretched out on the earthen floor, too weak to rise. He propped himself up on one elbow.

Kate crossed over to kneel beside him and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Commander, please. You have to trust me. I'm assuming command. I have to do what I think is best."

He stared up at her uncertainly. "And what do you think is best, Kate?"

Overhearing this, Chai stepped down from the dais. "Young lady, I have considered. And I agree. You are right. I will do as you suggest. But first, of course, I must know the location of the shuttle."

Kate remained at Scott's side, returning Chai's gaze. "I'll show you."

Paxton muttered under his breath, "Traitorous bitch!"

Chai threw his head back and enjoyed another hearty laugh. "Mr. Paxton, I recommend that you mind your manners. Has not the lady proven herself to be of considerable personal resource?" He glanced around at the sprawl of men she'd taken down. "Miss Daniels is prone to respond severely when displeased. If I were you, I'd mind what I said!"

Scott reached up with tremendous effort and placed a hand weakly on her arm. "Kate, please. Don't…" His touch was so feeble that she barely felt it. His voice was so faint, she could hardly hear it.

She leaned forward, lowering her voice for his ears alone. "Commander, please trust me. I don't see that we have a choice. I know what I'm doing."

This communication, beyond Chai's earshot, elicited a snort of displeasure from him. "Enough. There will be no delay. You have yourself a deal, as you Americans say."

He barked a command to Han, who responded by smashing the butt of his rifle into the back of Bob Paxton's head. Paxton grunted and collapsed to his knees, his head hanging. His body rocked back and forth.

Kate heard Scott's soft words to her. "Kate, don't trust these bastards. Whatever you do, don't show them where
Liberty
is!"

Chai lashed out with a boot, kicking Scott in the temple. Scott's eyes again rolled back in his head, and once again he passed out. Then Kate felt violated before the naked, direct gaze of Chai Bin.

"And now, dear lady, considering your, uh, proficiency in the martial arts, we will summon a unit of men who will accompany us. And remember, no martial artist can outfight a well-aimed bullet. In any event, I never leave here without my bodyguards. I have enemies in these mountains who would like very much to see my head on a pole. Do you understand?"

"Believe me," said Kate, "I understand." Chai nodded agreeably. "Very well. You will lead us to your precious space shuttle, and you will not try any tricks. If you do, I can assure you, Miss Daniels, that you will pray for death for a very long time before you die. Come, we prepare for departure."

 

Washington, DC

 

"So much for rehearsing tomorrow's press conference," grumbled the president. He eyed the street scene sailing past outside the limo's tinted windows. "There's no way we can contain what's happened. And with our nuclear forces at DefCon Three, it is time the people were told."

Galt frowned from where he rode in a seat facing the president. "Sir, have you considered that going public will endanger our rescue and retrieval of the shuttle?" He had been summoned to join this motorcade en route from a scheduled media event where the president had addressed a national convention of high school honor students.

The convention was only eight blocks from the White House, but moving POTUS (President of the United States, in White House-speak) always required a security package minimum of six black-windowed vans and SUV's to sandwich the limo as the motorcade traveled a cordoned-off route.

Wil Fleming, the president's chief of staff, rode be side the president. He pocketed a cell phone, having fielded a call, and reinserted himself into the conversation as if he hadn't missed hearing a thing. The chief of staff runs the West Wing of the White House, and parcels out the president's personal time. Fleming was short, trim and dapper, age thirty-something. "I understand that you have a very personal stake in this, Galt, in that your wife is among the missing crew personnel. Believe me, we are utilizing every means necessary to—"

"Save it for the sound bites," said Galt.

He had never cared for Fleming. The president's fair-haired boy had political savvy and vision aplenty, but Galt had never trusted people, like Fleming, who reached maturity without any lines creasing their faces.

The president made an irritated sound. "Knock it off, both of you. I know you don't like each other. No one said you had to. But we do have to work together on this. Trev, you've got to ratchet down. Wil is right on this one. We have every ball in play, and you know it."

Galt nodded. "My people are monitoring every
Liberty
-related report as it comes in, sir. My wife and the crew could be just as dead as the crew aboard
Challenger. Liberty
could have smashed into those mountains and ended up in a million pieces."

"Trev, don't do this to yourself."

"I'm just being realistic." Galt turned to the chief of staff. "And yeah, Wil, you're right. It's personal with me, big time. But considering who I am and what I do, is that a bad thing?"

Fleming bristled. "We've mobilized every resource available, as the president said. Why must we repeat ourselves?"

The motorcade wheeled onto Pennsylvania Avenue.

Galt returned his attention to the president. "Sir, there was a Defense System Satellite onboard
Liberty
. If there's any of it left intact, that satellite needs to be retrieved ASAP before the neighborhood bad boys over there get their hands on it. If North Korea or the Chinese gain possession of that technology, the world will become a different place. The potential is there to set back U.S. electronic warfare capabilities by a decade."

Fleming's cell phone beeped. He reached for it, glaring at Galt angrily. "Do you think that we haven't considered that? Do you think we're not keeping every option on the table? Jesus, Galt, you're impossible." He shifted his focus to a muted telephone conversation without waiting for a response.

The president reached over and placed a hand on Galt's arm. "Trev, I sent for you because I want you to get this not just as an order from your commander in chief." The president's eyes crinkled with the trace of a grin. "I know you well enough to know that you'd disobey even a direct order like that, if you felt strongly enough about something, as you do in this case."

"Sir—"

"Let me finish. So I'm not only issuing an order as your commander in chief. I'm telling you man-to-man. Fleming's right about us working all of the angles. We're leaving every option open. But I will not have you screwing things up with some cowboy play. You're right. Either Kate is dead or she's over there on the other side of the world, maybe in hostile hands. But you are not going to go off half-cocked. I will not have you disobey these orders the way you did that day when you saved my ass."

Galt looked outside. The security gatehouse, then the grounds of the White House, rolled past beyond the limo's windows. "Uh, sir, I thought we weren't ever going to mention that."

Fleming completed his telephone call. Again, he seemed not to have missed a word of their conversation. He eyed Galt with an openly bug-eyed surprise not generally associated with chiefs of staff. "You saved the president's life?!"