Shadow Catcher (20 page)

Finally, Shadow Catcher slowed, aided by the upward incline of the road. Nick's arms burned. As the aircraft rolled up to the switchback, he pulled with everything he had against both brake handles. Just as the little embankment disappeared under the nose, she jolted to a stop. A tree branch lay against the front of the aircraft, every detail of its wide, heart-shaped leaves distinctly visible on the enhanced infrared display.

“Nice one,” said Quinn flatly.

Nick ignored the pararescueman. He uncaged the wing camera controls and panned them to the rear. The infrared cut nicely through the dust that he had kicked up on his landing. The gravel road descended into the forest behind them, silent, empty. He prayed that it would stay that way. “Bounce up and down,” he said to Quinn.

“What?”

“You heard me. Do it.” Nick released the brakes and started bouncing heavily in his crew station.

Quinn reluctantly joined him. “This is a little weird.”

Soon, Shadow Catcher started rolling backward. Nick stopped bouncing and held out a hand for Quinn to do the same. He watched the road behind them closely, twisting the side-stick control and lightly pulling individual brake handles to steer the aircraft. A few meters down the incline, he saw what he was looking for. He allowed the aircraft to pick up speed, and then pulled hard on the left brake while twisting the nose gear. Shadow Catcher swung into a small gap in the trees and stopped.

“Well,” said Quinn, “your landings suck, but you sure can parallel park.”

CHAPTER 41

N
ick inspected Shadow Catcher as Quinn draped a MultiCam tarp over her frame. The aircraft's skin looked little worse for wear, apart from some splashes of tree sap. “She's looking pretty good,” he said.

“Maybe not.” Quinn had crawled underneath the nose to tie the front edge of the tarp to a stake. He motioned to Nick. “Take a look at the nose gear.”

Thick fluid oozed down the strut, glistening bloodred under the tinted glow of Quinn's flashlight. Nick joined him on the ground and shined a white LED light on the gear, shielding the beam with his hand. Even under white light, the fluid still sparkled translucent red. He traced the drip back up the strut until he found a crack in the housing. “Hydraulic fluid. In a couple of hours, the front strut will be fully depressed.”

“Will we be able to launch?”

Nick crawled out from under the nose and evaluated their takeoff path. The neglected gravel road looked rough, really rough. He grimaced. “It's going to be ugly, but she'll manage. She'll have to.”

The two of them finished hiding Shadow Catcher and then moved into the dark forest. Two-thirds of the way up the ridge, Nick stopped and crouched down, signaling the pararescueman to do the same. He scanned the valley behind them through his multifunction tactical goggles, looking for any sign of Chinese forces or civilians. The clarity of the new wide-spectrum goggles still astounded him, a major step up from the fuzzy green of the old binocular-style night-vision sets. Instead of simple light amplification, the ultralight MTGs offered several zoom levels of panoramic multispectrum video, with less bulk than a pair of ski glasses. They also served as a heads-up display system, fed by a wireless control box clipped to Nick's harness. Turning his attention to the path ahead, he could see a digital readout of the range and bearing to their objective.

Quinn grabbed his arm. “We're behind schedule. Let's get moving,” he said in a harsh whisper.

Nick bit his tongue. He was finding it harder and harder to let the pararescueman's lack of respect slide. A few hours of solid sleep had calmed his mood, but Quinn seemed to have a knack for getting under his skin. “Easy, tiger,” he said. “The phrase ‘slower is faster' was never more true than it is now. The last thing we need is to run smack into a Chinese patrol.” He tapped his ear. “One more thing. We need a comms check.”

Quinn raised his hands in defeat and leaned his back against a tree as Nick moved a few paces up the hill.

“How do you read?” whispered Nick, using the implant's short-range mode.

“Loud and clear,” replied Quinn impatiently.

“Same. Stand by one.” Nick used voice commands to activate the link with the Wraith. There were no Milstar birds directly over China. With the ground team's limited horizon, they had to relay through the aircraft to reach a satellite and talk to Romeo Seven. A distinctive beep told him when the line was ready. “Wraith, this is Shadow One on SATCOM.”

“Wraith is up, loud and clear,” said Drake. “Stand by for the relay.”

A few seconds later, Walker joined the line. “Lighthouse is up,” he said, his voice distorted over the encrypted satellite link. “You are twenty minutes behind schedule, Shadow. What's the holdup?”

“We had a little trouble with the LZ,” replied Nick.

“He means he crashed into the road,” said Quinn.

Nick pulled his goggles down to his neck and scowled at the pararescueman. He pulled a level hand across his throat to tell him to pipe down. “The touchdown zone had an unexpected rut,” he explained. “I bounced the aircraft. She has a damaged nose gear strut, but I can get her in the air.”

“Lighthouse copies. Proceed.”

“Wilco.” Nick severed the link and switched to a short-range signal again. Using the low-power mode would save the implant batteries. It would also give him the opportunity to have a much-needed private chat with his young teammate. “What is your problem?” he asked.

“You're my problem,” replied Quinn, standing up from his crouched position and pointing at Nick. “You treat
me
like a liability, but you're the one who nearly killed us back there. Were you even going to tell the colonel that you crashed the plane?”

“That was not a crash, and the information I choose to relay is not your concern. I don't answer to you. Got it?”

“Yeah, whatever.”

Nick's anger finally boiled over. He crossed the few meters between them with rapid steps and pinned Quinn to the tree with his forearm against his neck. “Maybe you don't understand,” he hissed. “We are not equals here. This is my operation and my responsibility. I don't ever have to explain myself to you.” He ripped off Quinn's goggles so that he could stare him in the eye. “I don't want you here, and I don't need you here. If I think for an instant that your stupidity is jeopardizing this mission, I will put a bullet between your eyes and leave you for the Chinese. Am I clear, Senior Airman Quinn?”

Quinn stared back in silence. Shock and anger filled his eyes.

Nick pulsed his arms, bouncing Quinn against the tree.
“Am . . . I . . . clear?”

“Yes, sir,” replied Quinn reluctantly.

The kid's tone was conciliatory, but Nick could still hear anger behind it. He didn't have the time to wait for a better response. He backed up and tossed the goggles at Quinn's chest. “Fine. Let's move out.”

CHAPTER 42

Z
heng's missile factory was so much more than a simple production facility. Just as he had designed. With an integrated airfield, a state-of-the-art communications suite, and several other specialized resources, the compound made a perfect staging area for operations that required more secrecy and privacy than Fujian's military bases could provide.

He arrived at the compound dressed in battle fatigues and escorted by two of his commandos. A business suit and a pair of executive assistants would have been more fitting to his new position as defense minister, but tonight's mission began the combat stage of an odyssey two decades in the making, and he intended to act as a combat general until that stage was complete. He would not take on the trappings of a minister until he stood ready to present the Politburo with the gift of a unified China.

Zheng walked out onto the tarmac behind the main building and surveyed the small group of soldiers setting up his temporary headquarters. He found the commander of his Special Forces unit supervising a crew as they unfolded a temporary fiberglass pavilion from the back of its flatbed transport.

“Colonel Sung,” he called, raising his voice over the rumble of the flatbed's engine. “What is your report?” He stopped short of the operation, unwilling to approach the truck while the choking exhaust still poured from its stack.

The gaunt colonel left his troops and crossed behind the truck to meet Zheng, dodging one of the hydraulic arms as it unfolded the pavilion. “Minister, the regulars are still positioned as you requested,” he said with a curt bow. “Ten men surround the cave, remaining hidden and keeping watch over the prisoner, while two conduct regular sweeps of a five-hundred-meter perimeter. Four more are watching Detention Center Twenty-six, in case the Americans go there.” He gestured toward a hangar at the other end of the flight line. “Our specialized troops are bedded down in that hangar, awaiting activation.”

Zheng nodded. Colonel Sung appeared to be executing his orders efficiently. He had chosen him well. Zheng had given him a platoon of regulars to augment his commandos. They maintained a constant watch over the prisoner, a long and exhausting mission. Once they identified the Americans' approach, their orders were to notify Sung and then delay the intruders until his elite forces arrived to close the trap. Keeping the commandos in reserve would keep them fresh and ready for a fight with the American covert ops team.

“And what of the prison troops?” asked Zheng.

Sung's lips stretched into a grim smile. “Thanks to the body you provided, they will not get in the way. As ordered, the prison's commandant identified the remains as Novak's and then had them destroyed. No one else saw anything but a closed body bag. The guards are convinced that the prisoner is dead. Their search is over.”

The men finished setting up the pavilion and brought chairs for the minister and the colonel. The driver shut down the flatbed's engine. The offensive smell of diesel began to dissipate. “I will wake our attack force shortly,” said Zheng, leading Sung under the pavilion. He eased himself down into a chair and nodded for the colonel to do the same. “I have good intelligence that the Americans are already on the ground.”

Sung's eyes widened in surprise. “I was not aware of this. The Air Defense Net has reported no intrusions.”

“And that is good news,” said Zheng. “It means that the fools have brought us their best stealth aircraft. If it can penetrate our defenses, then we can surely use the same technology to render our missiles undetectable. Our dominion over Taiwan is assured.”

“If the Americans are already here, would it not be wise to bring in additional forces? We could flood the forest with regulars.”

“No, my friend,” said Zheng in a fatherly tone. “These fish cannot be caught by casting a wide net. They would get spooked and make their escape before it collapsed upon them.” He did not say that he also feared a larger force would draw the attention of the Politburo. The moderates might shut him down before he could capture his prize. He gazed out at the forest beyond the runway. “No, we must catch these fish with the hook in their mouths. And we will, Sung. The bait is set. They are about to bite.”

CHAPTER 43

“L
ess than six hundred meters,” said Nick, reading the heads-up display in his goggles. The GPS symbols told him that he was still on track, but he could hardly see anything through the dense vegetation. The lower bushes and vines had grown steadily thicker, filling the spaces between the heavy, broadleaf trees and the thinner pines.

“That checks. More than half a klick to go,” said Quinn tersely. He moved on a parallel path with his team lead, several meters behind and to the left. “Of course, if you weren't so slow, we would be there by now,” he added, muttering under his breath.

Nick's jaw tensed. “Hey, chucklehead,” he said, continuing to pick his way forward. “The great thing about these comm implants is that no matter how quietly you whisper, I can still hear you.”

“Oh. Right.”

“Just shut up and stay close. The visibility is getting worse.”

The two had covered nearly half the distance from Shadow Catcher to the Palace, the CIA's old hideout. They had crested the ridge and then dropped down the other side, crossing a stream and a small road without incident. Now they worked their way through rippling jungle terrain, up miniature ridges and down into small bowls and valleys where the scrub slowed them down considerably. Nick wished that this had all started in the summer. In July, they could have stomped through the underbrush with bells around their necks and still not been heard over the racket of the rain forest bugs. Now, in the early spring, only a few crickets chirped, and every snapped twig made him cringe inside.

After another hundred meters, Nick stopped, just short of a small meadow. The circular gap in the trees was no larger than the width of a small hangar, but that was more open space than he wanted to cross. He signaled Quinn to join him.

“What'd I do now?” asked Quinn.

Nick bit back a rebuke and nodded toward the clearing. “We need to get around this meadow, rather than go through it. It's too much exposure. I just wanted to show you the reason that we're deviating from the GPS track.” He moved off to the right, allowing Quinn to fall back to the short wedge formation again.

Nick's deviation did not last long. He quickly ran into thickly tangled brush. Soon it became impassable. After a few minutes, he returned to his starting point and tried the other direction, but dense vegetation stopped him again less than a quarter of the way around. “It looks like the forest isn't cooperating. We're going to have to skirt the inside perimeter of the meadow.”

“What happened to too much exposure?” asked Quinn.

“We're short on time. Besides, the noise of forcing our way through the brambles will cause just as much risk.” He pointed at the clearing. “This is the lesser of two evils.”

Just as Nick stepped forward into the open, he heard a faint rustling in the brush. He crouched and motioned for Quinn to do the same. Night sounds always seemed louder than they actually were. They were harder to locate too. Had he heard Quinn moving behind him? Maybe it was just a rabbit in the undergrowth. Whatever the source, the rustle quickly disappeared amid the faint noises of the nocturnal rain forest.

After listening for nearly a full minute, Nick cautiously rose up and signaled Quinn to move forward, staying close to the tree line. Then, as they reached a point halfway around the meadow's perimeter, he heard another sound, far more alarming than a rustle. A sharp voice barked, “Halt!”