Wu nodded his agreement, then stopped. If they killed the man, they might never learn who he was, who had sent him. And how, Wu considered thoughtfully, would he then know who to take his revenge against?
‘No,’ Wu said to Major Wang. ‘Rescind that order. The man is not to be killed. Harmed, yes, but killed, no. Not if we can help it. I want to question him.’
Zhou nodded in agreement, half a smile on his scarred face, and Wu knew why; it would be Zhou doing the questioning, a job he never grew tired of and one which was eminently suited to his sadistic personality.
‘Very good,’ Zhou said. ‘But now, if I may say so, I think we should return to the security of the Zhongnonhai. You are too exposed here, and the races will be cancelled now anyway. Look,’ he said, pointing to the lake, boats all across the water; dragon boats heading away from the one with the assassin onboard, security craft heading out at top speed towards it, weapons at the ready.
And if the waterways were in chaos, that was nothing compared to the park itself; at the sound of gunshots, the sedate and happy festivalgoers had degenerated into panicked anarchy. The security forces were struggling to contain the escalating unrest, even at the same time as they tried to track the dragon boat as it sped across the lake.
And all about them, the rain fell heavily, clouds darkening the sky.
Wu frowned; this was supposed to be a chance to show himself as one of the people, a man the crowds could get behind; it would have made great propaganda, both here and abroad. He considered forcing the people to stay, for the races to go ahead, but realized that it was already too far gone for that to happen.
No, he eventually accepted, the event was ruined. And all because of that bastard Dietrich Hoffmeyer, or whoever the hell he really was.
Well, Wu thought, that man was going to be sorry when he was brought into the bowels of the Zhongnonhai, strung up naked and helpless in those dark, bloody basements.
Yes, that scum was going to be sorry he’d ever been born by the time Zhou Shihuang was through with him.
‘Okay,’ Wu said, conceding temporary defeat. ‘Cancel the races, evacuate the park, and bring that man to me.’ There were nods all around the room. ‘And be alert — we don’t know who else is out there.’
And that was quite true, Wu realized — there might well be other forces out there, aligned against him. Other attempts on his life.
Wu sighed, not used to having to accept any kind of defeat; but then as he was led from the pavilion towards a secret corridor which would enable him to leave the island unmolested, he suddenly realized he could turn the situation to his advantage.
He’d had to arrange the sinking of one of his own navy’s ships in order to create a pretext for the invasion of Taiwan.
Now he considered what he could do with a real, genuine assassination attempt, and smiled as the possibilities played out across his vivid imagination.
3
Lieutenant Sun Shen was unsure what to do; there was some sort of trouble at the park, and he’d been instructed to check on the prisoners being held in the central compound of the Outer Eastern Palace.
He’d tried radioing through to the guards there, but had received no answer. It wasn’t a surprise though, chaos running all through Beihai, the Zhongnonhai and the Forbidden City, the radio channels all jammed from too much traffic.
But now, accompanied by four men, he entered the compound itself and found himself even more confused.
It was empty; no sign of life anywhere.
His eyes saw it then — not a sign of life, but one of death.
Blood stains across the polished stone of the courtyard.
He tried to radio through for backup, but the lines were still blocked. He considered using his cell phone, but didn’t want to be accused of cowardice, and so gestured with hand, ordering his men to carry on.
They reached the door to the Hall of Imperial Supremacy and his men spread out down the wall trying to peer into the building from the outside. The reports all came back the same; it was empty.
Summoning up all his courage, he ordered his men to move in close to him, weapons at the ready.
His hand moved to the ceremonial brass door handle slowly, carefully.
They were going in.
Captain Liu Yingchau wasn’t entirely sure what was going on.
The rain was coming down in full fury now, thunderclaps echoing through the park, across the wide lake. And all around him, chaos had broken out.
Families were running screaming from the park, pushing past the armed soldiers who raced the other way, towards the lakeside.
Liu had seen the man leaping from the roof of the Long Corridor, the guards racing out after him, churning up the waters with automatic gunfire.
Even with his binoculars, Liu could hardly make out the man through the driving rain; but he knew it was the leader of the US commando group, he could recognize him by the smooth, fluid way he moved. Like a jungle cat, Liu thought.
And now the orders were coming through his earpiece, one after the other in rapid-fire staccato. Kill him! Shoot him! Cancel that last! Bring him in alive! He is not to be killed! Capture him alive!
Liu watched as the man steered the dragon boat northeast across the lake, heading… where?
In his mind’s eye, Liu conjured up an aerial image of Beihai Park, assessing what the commando’s plan might possibly be. He had failed to kill General Wu, that much was certain — Liu had seen the paramount leader, still alive and well, on the balcony after the man had jumped into the lake. Liu knew that it was only escape that was now on the American’s mind.
But how could Liu help him?
The irony, which was certainly not lost on him, was that it was his official responsibility to protect the general, and now to capture his attacker, whereas his moral duty was to help that same man escape.
But whatever happened to the America, the sad fact was that General Wu was still alive; and if he was still alive, then the threat was still in place. Desperate, he knew he had to do something before Wu performed an act that would jeopardize his country and his people for the rest of time.
He sighed, pulled out his cell phone and dialed the number of his superior. The phone was answered immediately, and Liu wasted no time in making his request.
‘Lieutenant Colonel Chen,’ he said quickly, ‘the situation here is deteriorating fast, we’ve been told to get anyone we can to Beijing to help out, in case anything else happens.’
‘And?’ the crusty old officer asked on the other end of the line.
‘And I would like to formally request my Hunting Leopards troop to be recalled from their home base in Chengdu and posted to me here.’
There was a pause on the other end of the line as Chen weighed his options, and Liu knew he was balancing his mistrust of special operations teams against his need to fully secure the city.
‘Okay,’ came the answer at last. ‘I will clear the paperwork immediately.’
‘Thank you, sir,’ Liu said, before hanging up and dialing a number in Chengdu. ‘Lieutenant Fang,’ he said in greeting, ‘it’s Captain Liu. How fast can you and the men get to Beijing?’
‘How much further?’ moaned Liang Huanjia, First Vice Premier and the only person left still ranked above Chang Wubei in the Politburo. ‘These sewers are making me sick.The stench is foul, I’m covered in water, and —’
Kang Xing was pleased to see that he didn’t even have to prompt Chang into challenging this weakness on Liang’s part; he intercepted the ball immediately on his own.
‘We are all in the same situation as you,’ Chang said calmly, politely. ‘So what do you suggest? Perhaps that we all just sit down here and wait to be beamed up?’