Chapter 17
Bill could see nothing. And he hadn’t been able to see even a flicker of light for hours…days even—for all he knew. After being captured, Lee had not said another word to him, nor had anyone else for that matter. He knew they had taken him to the warehouse where the plane was being kept, but they had promptly thrown him into a room and slammed the door, extinguishing all the light.
Gardner staggered around until finding a wall and then slumped down, slipping into unconsciousness. When he had waken, he had no concept of how much time had passed. His head still throbbed and his chest felt sore in ways he never thought possible.
It took some effort to regain his feet, and then only the concrete wall kept him upright. Slowly, he began to explore the room. He inched along, sliding his feet parallel to the wall while remaining in contact with his hands. He hoped to find a bed, or at least something softer than the concrete floor. He found nothing. The room seemed to be no bigger than a large broom closet, perhaps three feet by five feet, hardly enough room to even stretch out in. And empty, completely empty.
Sighing, he sat down once more and put his head into his hands, trying to clear his mind and thoughts. He had been stripped of everything, wallet, backpack, even his shoes. He still wore his other clothing, at least they hadn’t shoved him in here stark naked. No doubt they were trying to find out if he had any connections to the US Government, or if he was acting alone. They suspected much, but they wanted to have as much information as possible before questioning him.
Very well, then I need to stick to the cover story. General Hynes had every trail begin and end with Wastend. He remained on their payroll and no doubt his efforts as their lawyer was well documented and easily assessable online. Fine. Stick to the cover story. He could do that.
Only one problem with it though, he thought bitterly. The moment they believe it, they’ll have no use for me and kill me.
He sighed. The only use the cover story had was to give the US Government plausible deniability. That worked well for the armchair politicians who never found themselves on the front lines, but it was about to get him killed. He honestly didn’t know how he felt about that. He had made peace with God a long time ago. He wasn’t afraid to die, but he idly wondered if this was the best way to die. Even if he admitted his role with the US Government, the two nations would dance around it, point fingers, make speeches in the UN and do nothing. Neither nation wanted to go to war with each other—that would be tantamount to destruction on such a wide scale that only the US stood a chance of coming out of it with something intact, though barely, giving other nations something to drool over.
So, if he allowed himself to become a bargaining chip, they would be forced to keep him around. It wouldn’t be much of a life though, since he would no doubt remain in a tiny cell, much like his present one, for the rest of it. Finally, he just gave up trying to figure what to do and decided to roll with the punch. He would just have to see which way the wind blew.
Some indeterminable time later, the door opened. Bill immediately shielded his eyes from the glaring light, squinting against it. Two figures rushed into the room and hauled him to his feet, twisting his arms down to his side. They dragged him forward to where the man Lee stood silhouetted in the doorway.
“Good evening, Mr. Gardner,” he said, his Chinese accent reminding him of some movie he couldn’t quite recall. “It’s time for you to answer some questions.”
Bill said nothing. Until he knew what they knew, he couldn’t even begin to develop a strategy to keep himself alive. Not that anything he came up with would matter. Two deaths could be laid squarely at his feet and everyone here knew it.
“Bring him.”
They dragged him out of the cell and down a dimly lit hallway. Guards were posted in strategic locations, all of whom eyed him with deadly intent. He intentionally slumped in their grip, trying to give the impression of weakness. The sleep, even as uncomfortable as it was, had improved his stamina greatly. Now, beside a dull ache, he felt hungry.
Eventually, they dragged him into the main hanger of the warehouse, spot lights shown on the fighter plane sitting like a bird of prey in the middle of the hanger. The sleek design, painted mostly black, gave him an ominous feeling.
The guards tossed him onto the floor in front of Lee, who turned to put a hand on the nose of the fighter jet. “Do you know how much money went into this project?” he asked.
Bill didn’t know, and he really didn’t care. He glanced at the two guards, both of whom had drawn handguns pointed in his direction. Feeling the need to keep the conversation going, he said, “Not really. I’m sure that all the stops were pulled out on this one though.”
Lee cocked his head. “I’m unsure of the idiom.” He turned to look at Bill more directly. “English is such a crude language. It is a wonder that you can communicate more than grunts with each other. What means this…‘stops were pulled out?’”
“It just means you used a lot of resources to make this particular aircraft flyable.”
“True.” Lee turned again to pat the plane. “In terms of dollars, the number is into the hundreds of millions. The part we found in Somalia surprised us. We couldn’t crack it and we determined that trying would only destroy it. So we built this, intending to give it to another country for a fraction of what it cost us to build it.” He swung back around. “And do you know why, Mr. Gardner?”
“No.”
“To prevent the US from doing something stupid.” He gestured to Gardner. “Your presence here is stupid.” He poked a finger into the lawyer’s chest. “You would risk an international incident just to destroy this plane and the technology we recovered?” He said something in Chinese, and one of the guards came over to hand him Bill’s pack. Lee reached in and pulled out some of the C4. “This will be looked upon as an attack on China by the US, you fool!”
Realizing that he had better start saying something, Bill shook his head. “I was hired by the CEO of Wastend to recover or at least destroy the technology.” He shrugged. “I don’t even know if the US Government is aware of the situation. Wastend wanted to keep this matter private. I was sent by them.”
Lee seemed to ponder that for a time. “It is true that everything we can discover seems to lead back to Wastend, but I’m not convinced. Though…” he trailed off, looking at the backpack in his hands. “You are ill prepared for a task like this. Either they had a lot of faith in your abilities, or they didn’t really know what they were doing.”
Bill suspected the latter, but all he said was, “I don’t know. All I know is the CEO of Wastend is fit to be tied. He is scared that the US Government will discover his incompetence and shut him down, throw him in jail even. Apparently, a pirate ship recovered the item from one of Wastend transport ships. We were looking for it when we discovered you had already found it.”
“This is completely a waste,” Lee muttered. “We’re already seeking to reproduce the technology. Now that we know what it can do and that it is possible, we will eventually make one of our own.”
Bill had his doubts on that score. Without a real starting point or the ability to reverse engineer the technology, it would take years if not decades to even get close. “We’re not concerned about that. We just don’t want the US Government to discover that we lost it to begin with. If you come up with your own technology, that’s none of our business.” He nodded to the plane. “What you have there is.”
“Are you saying that this Wastend CEO will keep trying?”
“The man is desperate. No telling what he might try. Look, Mr. Lee, if you give me the part, or at least give me evidence that it is destroyed, we can call it even. That is all we want. We want to make sure it is destroyed.”
Lee shook his head. “I’m not sure I believe you. It seems to me the US should be aware of the problem, unless they are totally inept. This is why they would never really believe that we destroyed it, and the Iranians are now involved.”
“So
what happens now?”
Lee’s grin spread across his face like an oozing oil. “You get to die, Mr. Gardner. You are a murderer. You have killed Chinese nationals. If what you say is true, the US Government doesn’t even know you exist. They don’t know you’re over here, and they won’t miss you when you are gone. In fact, even if they do know, they’ll pretend that they don’t. Killing you will be a pleasure.”
Bill licked his lips. “Are you sure that is your best move? I mean, Wastend doesn’t have the political liabilities that the US Government has. If I disappear, they can raise a media storm that will hurt your country’s image. Wastend has a lot of money. They may not be able to make waves big enough to cause your government any problems, but they can make you a liability. What happens to you then?”
Lee’s smile slipped away. Both knew exactly what would happen if Lee became a liability. The Chinese government wasn’t exactly known for its tolerance. At a minimum, the man would be sent into the most remote part of the government to languish the rest of his days in obscurity. At most, he would be brutally tortured and executed.
Bill knew the entire thing to be nothing but a bluff. Knowing Frank Vellore, the man wouldn’t so much as spend a dime on Bill. The man was about as tight fisted as they came. No, if Bill disappeared, Vellore wouldn’t even notice. As it was, he was only using company resources because he had no choice. Wong Lee didn’t need to know that.
Lee’s eyes narrowed into slits as he regarded his prisoner. No doubt he was weighing the pros and cons of killing Bill right then. The lawyer allowed his eyes to roam around. He needed to escape, and escape quickly. Beside Lee, only the two guards stood near. A couple of unarmed workers tinkered with some equipment at the back of the hanger, but they looked harmless enough.
The fighter sat at an angle to the rest of the warehouse hanger, a small rollaway staircase nestled up against the nose to provide easy access to the cockpit. Bill briefly entertained the insane idea of trying to actually fly the fighter plane out himself. His surveillance of the warehouse had revealed a long stretch of road that probably doubled as a runway. Unfortunately, he had no idea how to fly that kind of plane, and even if he did, he doubted the Chinese had designed an aircraft with an American in mind. Fuel tanks sat off to one side and a fuel truck sat towards the back of the hanger, wreathed in shadows.
If he could take out the two guards and Lee, he could still set the charges and blow the plane. He wouldn’t get out alive, and he doubted his ability to take out three armed and violent men, but it seemed a better plan than just standing still for a bullet.
Suddenly, Karen, his girlfriend, popped into his mind. He had purposely chosen not to think about the redheaded woman while on the mission. But now, his thoughts roamed to her full lips, her long, lush hair, and the gentle humor that kept him smiling from the moment he entered her presence. Since this entire matter with Wastend had come up, he had seriously neglected Karen. He regretted that now, and he silently berated himself. She would probably never know what happened to him. To her, he would be just an another deadbeat boyfriend who had abandoned her.
He snarled at the idea and Lee’s eyes widened, mistaking the look. He pulled his gun and brought it up. “Time to die, Mr. Gardner.”
An explosion rocked the warehouse. Everyone stumbled, the two guards instinctively turning towards where the sound had come from. Bill didn’t bother. This was his chance…his only chance. He moved with purpose and violence.
Lee’s gun was off target when the ex-marine rushed him and his shot went wide, missing the lawyer by scant inches. The noise seemed excessively loud in the enclosed warehouse, deafening Gardner for a moment as he leapt upon his captor. Bruised and battered he may be, Bill still possessed some of the most instinctive fighting skills the marines had ever had the privilege to train.
Smoothly, much like a ballet dancer’s fluid movements, Bill shoved Lee’s gun arm out wide and spun nearly into the man’s arms. A crack followed the gun report as the lawyer’s elbow connected with Lee’s chin. The man’s head snapped back from the blow, and the only thing that kept the Chinese intelligence agent from collapsing was the hold Bill retained on the man. Bill continued his spin, adding the befuddled Lee into the mix. Somehow, Lee ended up in front of Bill when the first Chinese soldier took a shot.
The bullet slammed into Lee’s chest, hit a rib, and deflected out the side of the man’s chest cavity in a mist of blood. Lee gasped, the shock bringing clarity back to his eyes in time to see his own gun, now in the hand of his American prisoner, spit death back towards the two guards. Gardner’s first bullet took the right soldier high up in the shoulder, spinning him around and sending him face first to the floor. His second shot struck the other man in the forehead. He crumpled like a crushed paper cup.
For a long moment, Bill just stood there, his mind still trying to grasp what had just happened. The staccato sounds of automatic weapons, screams, and yells could be heard from outside. He had no idea what was going on. He glanced around and noticed that the two workers in the back had disappeared. He and the wounded soldier were the only ones left alive.
Or soon would be anyway.
He glanced down at Lee, whom he still clung too. The man still lived, if barely. A bloody froth seeped between clenched teeth and the man’s breathing sounded liquid. He had only moments to live.
Gently, Bill put the man down on the cement floor where he groaned. “Sorry, Mr. Lee,” Bill said sadly. “I suppose both of us were just in the wrong place at the wrong time.” Thinking of the children the Chinese had murdered to acquire the part to begin with, he said, “And it seems both of us now have innocent blood on our hands. You’re lucky, Mr. Lee. You get to pay for it now. I have to live with it.”
Lee reached up and grasped Bill’s shirt, leaving a huge red stain. He tried to say something, but nothing came out other than a gurgle and the man went limp, his eyes staring into nothing.
Standing up, he saw the wounded soldier grasping desperately for his rifle. Realizing he was still in much danger, Bill hastened over, kicked the rifle out of the man’s reach, and added another kick to the side of the man’s head, rendering him unconscious. Looking around, he spotted his backpack full of explosives. He retrieved it and looked inside. What luck! Everything was still there. Sticking Lee’s gun into his waistband, he rummaged through the explosives, pulling out the largest charge.
Someone was attacking the warehouse. He had no idea who they could be—Americans, Iranians or dissident Chinese. He thought of Hu and wondered if the resourceful man was attempting to stage a rescue. Either way, he now had the opportunity to destroy the plane. He quickly and efficiently planted explosives around the cockpit, while the firefight ragged outside. He thanked God for the attack since it gave him uninterrupted time to plant the charges.
He stood back and observed his handiwork. The detonator was a small device that fit into the palm of his hand. One push of the button and the entire explosives would take out the plane and the fuel tanks as well. No doubt the entire hanger would be disintegrated. He needed to get out, preferably in one piece, before setting off the charge.
With the sounds of the fight from outside, he suspected his chances were dwindling by the second.