Section 8 (25 page)

* * *

On board the second Combat Talon en route to Jolo Island, the Australian team leader heard the radio traffic and nodded. Everything was going smoothly. He cinched down the straps on his parachute harness one last time, then checked his submachine gun to make sure there was a round in the chamber.
He signaled to the loadmaster that they were ready. Each team member switched over to his personal oxygen, and the cargo bay began to depressurize.

* * *

Vaughn moved down the tunnel, the stock of the weapon tight to his shoulder. He felt as if he were walking into the belly of the beast, but so far they had yet to encounter any opposition. He had opened three doors off the tunnel, and all the rooms were empty.
He reached a fourth and paused as the other members of the team deployed around him. He still had no idea who the new member of the team was, or where Hayes had gone, but they had all been trained the same way so they were functioning well tactically.
The others covered him as he pushed open the door. Another tunnel beckoned. And at the end of it Vaughn could see the glow of moonlight and something else. A bright red dot. He realized it was someone smoking. Not a cigarette, but something larger. A cigar, he could tell by the odor wafting in.
Vaughn moved forward, the others behind him. He exited the far end of the tunnel onto a level area cut into the side of the mountain. And there was Rogelio Abayon, seated in a wheelchair, smoking a cigar. Now that he was outdoors, Vaughn pressed the transmit button, but didn't say anything.
"I've been waiting for you," Abayon said as the three team members circled him, weapons at the ready.
Orson stepped past Vaughn and placed the muzzle of his submachine gun on the old man's chest. "I hope the wait was worth it. Where is everyone else?"
"Long gone," Abayon said. "I would like to know something before you kill me."
Vaughn looked from the old man to his team leader. The contrast was striking. Abayon was a frail figure in a wheelchair, peering up in the darkness at the forms around him, a cigar held in one hand that was shaking ever so slightly. Orson was in black, his face covered by the night vision goggles, the weapon in his hand not shaking at all.
Vaughn released the transmit button, knowing Tai would hear the break in static. He was rewarded a second later by her voice in his ear.
"I copied all that. I assume you're on the outside. Probably where the video was shot from. The Fulton rig is ready on top of the mountain. Let me hear what's going on." There was the burst of static as she let go of the transmit.
Vaughn pulled up his goggles, turning them off, trying to control his shock at what Tai had just told him. He pulled the flashlight off his web gear and turned it on, causing Orson to curse and the other team members to quickly rip off their goggles.
"What the hell are you doing?" Orson demanded, the muzzle still on Abayon but his dark eyes on Vaughn.
"Let's get this over with," Vaughn said. "He has something he wants to say. Let him say it, then let's get out of here."
"I have a question," Abayon said. "Not a speech to make. There is no one else here, so you do not need to be afraid we'll be interrupted."
"Where did everyone go?" Vaughn asked.
Abayon smiled. "That is a foolish question."
Orson poked the old man with the barrel of his weapon. "The Golden Lily? Is it still here?"
"No."
"That was a mistake," Orson snapped.
Vaughn felt the energy drain out of him. The adrenaline high that had kept him going was depleted, and Orson's question confirmed Tai's suspicions.
"Where did you move it to?" Orson demanded.
"That is another foolish question."
"I can make you talk," Orson threatened.
"No, you cannot." Abayon raised his right hand from the arm of his wheelchair, revealing a red button. "If my hand falls on this, numerous explosives will detonate throughout the complex. We will all die."

* * *

Tai watched Sinclair check his watch from her hide position. Then she watched him die as a burst of red tracers came out of the sky and hit him. Sinclair tumbled to the ground, his dead weight still holding the Fulton blimp in place.
A parachutist holding a submachine gun landed less than ten feet from the body, quickly followed by three others. Tai took a deep breath, her finger on the trigger, but she didn't fire. She could hear the conversation taking place below her on the side of the mountain and knew this had yet to run its course.
She noted the group discard their parachutes and then take up positions watching the vent. She had no doubt what they were waiting for. She cocked her head to listen to what was happening with Vaughn and waited for her chance to transmit to him what had just happened.

* * *

"Who do you work for?" Abayon asked.
"The U.S. government," Orson said.
"That is not true," Abayon said. "That might have been what you were told, but someone else is pulling the strings."
"Listen you—" Orson began, but Abayon's hand wavered over the button, silencing him.
"You do not even know," Abayon said, almost to himself. "That is not surprising. I have spent over six decades fighting whoever it is you work for, and I don't know who they are either."
Vaughn could see a vein bulging on the side of Orson's face. He remained still and let go of the transmit button, and Tai's voice immediately crackled in his ear. "Take them out. All of them. We've been betrayed. Sinclair is dead. There are four men who just parachuted in, waiting in ambush at the top of the vent." There was the brief burst of static.
Vaughn felt numb. He was back on Jolo Island and things were going as wrong as they possibly could once more. That thought shocked him out of his stupor because for the first time it occurred to him that his Delta Force team might have been betrayed. Had this all been one long, elaborate setup?
He shifted the muzzle of the MP-5 and pulled the trigger twice in rapid succession. The rounds hit Orson right where the vein was pulsing, taking most of his head off as they plowed through. Vaughn shifted and fired twice at the new man, again double-tapping him in the head.
Then he shifted his attention to Abayon, whose hand still hovered over the red button but whose face showed surprise. "Who are
you
?" Abayon asked.
"The raid to free the hostages," Vaughn said. "You filmed it from here?"
Abayon nodded.
"And you knew it was coming?"
Abayon nodded once more.
"How?"
"One of my men received a tip from someone we knew to be a CIA informant."
"I led that raid," Vaughn said.
Comprehension flooded Abayon's face. "So you were betrayed also."
Vaughn didn't lower the muzzle of his MP-5. "There's a team waiting up top to ambush me when I try to leave."
Abayon sighed. "So I assume you do not know who is the puppet master either."
"I thought I was working for the U.S. government—as he said." Vaughn indicated Orson's body. "Do you have any idea who is behind all this?"
"Something bigger than the U.S. government. And while you were probably told the goal of your mission was to kill me, the real goal was to reacquire the Golden Lily."
Vaughn let go of the transmit, and Tai's voice immediately was in his ear. "You need to get out of there. These guys up here aren't going to wait forever. Abayon knows as much as we know, which means he knows nothing."
Vaughn stared at Abayon. "My brother-in-law died in that raid."
Abayon stared back without reaction. "It is a war. You were pawns being played by unseen hands."
"Why are you going to kill yourself?" Vaughn asked.
"After what will happen shortly on my orders, it is better that I be dead."
"What do you have planned?"
"It need not concern you."
"If I promise to try to find those hands that have been playing us, will you let me leave before you destroy this place?"
Abayon was very still for a long moment. Then he nodded, ever so slightly. "You have five minutes."
Vaughn didn't hesitate. He took off running, retracing his steps.

* * *

One of the four men walked over to a spot in the woods less than ten feet from Tai's position in order to urinate. He slung his weapon over his shoulder and reached to unzip his pants when Tai shot him through the head, the suppressor on the end of the MP-5 letting off a sound like a low cough. She swung the gun back toward the other three waiting at the vent.
She could see two of the men aiming their weapons down the tube. It was going to be close. She fired three times. The third man had half a second of realization that something was wrong before he died.
She jumped and ran forward, keying the radio on the Talon frequency at the same time.
"Charlie One-two, this is Condor. Begin your run. Over."
"This Charlie One-two. Roger that. I'll be there in two minutes exactly. Over."

* * *

Vaughn had the MP-5 at the ready as he approached the top of the tube. He cautiously led with the muzzle as he popped his head up to take a look. He saw Tai silhouetted against the night sky less than five feet away, next to a rope that rose into the clouds. She was surrounded by three bodies.
"Damn," Vaughn said as he climbed out of the vent. "Where's the fourth?"
Tai gestured toward the treeline. "Dead."
"Abayon gave me five minutes. That was over two minutes ago."
"The Talon is inbound. Two minutes."
Vaughn wondered if that minute in between was going to be enough. And if Abayon was going to keep his word. He walked over next to Tai, slinging his MP-5 and then clipping his harness into the same loop of rope she was attached to. They linked arms and waited.

* * *

The pilot of the Talon saw the flashing infrared strobe clearly in his night vision goggles and lined the nose of the aircraft up with it and for a point slightly below it. He throttled back to just above stall speed.

* * *

Vaughn could hear the inbound aircraft although he couldn't see it. "Come on," he whispered.
"Shit," Tai exclaimed as the ground shook beneath them. Then it shook again, closer.
"Linked charges, firing in sequence," Vaughn said.
Another explosion, even closer, rumbled up from below. Then another, and this time a spout of flame came out of the vent. Next one is it, Vaughn thought, and at that moment the rope above them suddenly gave a jerk.
A second later both were lifted straight up off the ground as it exploded beneath them.

* * *

The rope was caught by the whiskers on the nose of the Talon. It slid to the exact center, where the sky anchor automatically clamped tight on it. Right after that, a blade above the anchor cut the blimp free.
"Jeez," the crew chief yelled over the intercom. He was looking out the back ramp. "The top of the mountain just blew."
"Do we have them?"
"Roger that."
The pilot of the C-130 pulled back on the controls, putting the aircraft into a steep climb. This brought the rope along the belly of the plane. The loadmaster lowered a hook attached to a small crane bolted to the rear platform. Fishing, he managed to snag the rope on his second attempt. Then the crane began to reel the rope in.
The Talon continued to gain altitude, and the rope was reeled in until the two bodies reached the ramp. The crew chief, secured in the plane by a tether, reached over and helped them both to their feet.
"Where are the others?" the crew chief asked.
Vaughn began unbuckling his harness. "Dead."
"There's a message waiting," the crew chief said. He held out a sheet of paper as the ramp began to shut.
Vaughn took it in the swirling wind and read it.
Team en route for further assignment. Contact as soon as able. Royce.
Vaughn handed it to Tai. "Where are we headed?" he asked the crew chief.
"Hawaii."

CHAPTER 19
Pacific Ocean

Moreno knew it was just a question of hours now, as he sat at the captain's small fold-down desk in his wardroom. Then the greatest blow against the first world by the third would be struck; 9/11 would dwindle to insignificance. Attention would have to be paid to the gap between the two worlds, and the message that those who had been oppressed would not tolerate it anymore.
Of course, Moreno also knew that everyone on board this submarine would be dead within twenty-four hours. Not all of them knew that. They had been told it was most likely a one-way mission but that anything could happen. What only he knew was that he had a remote control in his pocket that would detonate charges preplanted in the submarine, breaching the hull in four points.
Moreno bowed his head and placed it on the cool metal. He knew Abayon was probably gone by now. Six decades of comradeship. Moreno also knew his daughter was now in charge. He silently prayed that she would stay on a true and steady course for the movement.

Over the Pacific

"What's going on?" Tai asked as they sat down on the red cargo web seats along the side of the cargo bay. The throb of the engines was so loud, they almost had to shout to be able to talk to each other.
"You heard Abayon. He has—had—something big planned. Based on this—" Vaughn held the message—"I think it has something to do with Hawaii."
"But Royce is the one who betrayed us," Tai pointed out. "He sent in that second team. You know that."
Vaughn leaned back and rested his head against the web. "I know. But…"
Tai waited and when he didn't continue, demanded, "But what?"
"Abayon was a bad man," Vaughn said. "I'm glad he's dead. He was a terrorist. I don't know who Royce works for, and neither did Abayon. He was punching at shadows."
"Real shadows," Tai said.
"And Royce is a shadow among shadows. What makes you think he's any more aware than we are?"
"He tried to have us killed," Tai said.
"He was closing out a mission," Vaughn said. "Our team was to do the mission, and the perfect deniability and secrecy was to have a second team, who only knew about us, come in and wipe us out. It's a hard world out there. With bad people in it. I'm not concerned with Royce, I'm concerned with who he works for and what their goals are. That's the issue."
Tai fell silent for several minutes as they winged east, toward Hawaii. "Do you want to contact Royce?" she finally asked. "He thinks we're dead, and he's talking to the team that was supposed to take us out."
Vaughn sighed. "Yes. Because this is bigger than us." He got up and went forward into the front half of the cargo bay, to the rows of computer consoles the flight crew used. One of the crew members nodded at him and pointed to an empty chair. Vaughn took it and stared at the screen. A blinking cursor awaited.
He pondered it for a while. Who was Royce expecting to talk to? Orson? Or the commander of the team that had jumped in to ambush them? Or both? Wheels within wheels.
Vaughn sensed someone at his shoulder and looked up. Tai stood there. "What should I write?" he asked.
Tai shrugged. "I have no idea."
Vaughn's finger hit the keyboard:
Team here. Two casualties. Mission accomplished. En route to Hawaii as ordered.
Seconds passed.
Abu Sayef has obtained ZX nerve agent from Johnston Atoll. Killed over one thousand to do so. ZX on submarine en route to Honolulu. Interdict and destroy. Last known location in attachment. Will update shortly.
"Shit," Tai muttered. "ZX. Pearl Harbor Two."
"What the hell is that?" Vaughn asked. "I've heard of VX, but—"
"Many times more deadly. Abayon is going to take out Honolulu."
"How do we stop a submarine? Why doesn't he call in the Navy? The Air Force? The Marines?"
"To keep the secrets," Tai said.
"What secrets?"
"The Golden Lily. Abayon. This mission. To stay in the shadows."
"That's worth losing Pearl Harbor again?"
"Some think the first Pearl Harbor attack was worth what happened afterward. It got us into World War II when we'd just been sitting on the sidelines. And then we lost the World Trade Center."
"You don't think—" Vaughn didn't finish the thought.
"I don't know what to think anymore."
"This is screwed."
"That seemed to have been Abayon's opinion," Tai noted.
"But what he's doing is wrong."
"Yes, it is."
Vaughn pressed his fists against his throbbing temples. "Who the hell are these people?"
"We're going to have to put that one on the back burner for now," Tai said. "We've got to stop that submarine."
Vaughn swiveled in the chair and stared at her. "How the hell are you and I going to do that?"
"The sub is going to have to surface to release the agent, most likely using some sort of sprayer on deck into an onshore breeze. We take out the sprayer, we stop it."
"Great plan."
"That's not a plan," Tai said. "That's a concept. We need to work on the plan. Let's check what gear we have in back and then we come up with a plan. There's a palletful of stuff back there."