“A reasonable precaution when dealing with an armed madman near the President’s office, don’t you think?” The colonel glared.
The lieutenant blushed, “Yes sir. One of my fellow security officers should be arriving shortly, please don’t shoot him. Is the President safe?”
The colonel softened, “As soon as the power failed and the phones went down we moved the President to a safe location.”
A chilling thought hit the young security officer, “Sir, the men at the airport used tear gas on us. The cars stranded all over town suggest a full-scale attack of some kind is on. Do you think the Mainlanders could have detonated a nuclear bomb nearby? Maybe at Keelung to aid an amphibious assault? Sir, does the Presidential Building have protection against chemical attack?”
“That is classified information Lieutenant.” The colonel’s reply was defensive.
The commando major glanced at his wind-up watch. “Platoon, halt! Get your protective masks on! Put your gloves on too!” His men had leather gloves, not rubber ones, and no suits. When the chemical strike came he figured they’d have at most an hour of functionality before being overcome. They could do a lot of damage in an hour. With the mask over his sweating face his lungs labored to get enough oxygen to function. Each inhalation was a struggle. They trained and trained for this, even running three times a week for five kilometers in their protective masks. It still didn’t make it easy or enjoyable.
The commandos began jogging down the street again, this time slower and to the fear and amazement of the residents of Taipei. A police officer even gestured for them to stop, but the major simply gave him a friendly wave and ran on, leaving the lawman to wonder who that masked man was.
Two minutes after masking up, he heard something that sounded like a giant piece of fabric ripping in the sky. Moments later he saw a few canisters fall to earth trailing streamers. Each canister sprayed a fine mist. As long as his men didn’t come into direct contact with that spray, their masks should be able to protect them — or so the mission planners maintained.
Each canister held about 225 grams of militarized d-lysergic acid diethylamide (LSD). Each rocket warhead held 1,500 canisters. One rocket filled with the tremendously potent drug could theoretically incapacitate the entire city for at least 12 hours — the Chinese fired a dozen.
The major’s team made it to the serene beauty of New Park in the city center only four blocks from Chieh Shou Hall, the Presidential Building. Several canisters were visible in the park. Fearing the worst, pedestrians naturally tried to escape the spreading fumes. The PLA officer decided to make the assault without the support of the armored vehicles and without waiting for the effects of the agent to take hold.
He and his men had drilled non-stop for two months on the plans of the Presidential Building. They knew exactly where the President’s command bunker was. They also felt fairly confident that he’d be inside. Once they captured the President they planned to take him to the roof of the building where a helicopter would whisk them away to either the harbor at Keelung or to the expanding air head at CKS International Airport, whichever was the most secure location. From there, the former leader of Taiwan would be taken to China for a show trial to convict him of treason.
The major led his men at a greatly reduced pace. He wanted them to catch their breaths as best they could with the masks on. They each downed a half-liter of water as well by hooking up the small flexible drinking tube on their masks to a canteen so they were able to refresh themselves without risking contamination. He also wanted to begin to exercise caution as he approached the heavily protected Presidential Building. Normally, the building was protected by about 25 uniformed police and 100 military members of the Presidential Guard. He estimated that no more than 20 would be covering the external entrance of any given side, and these would, by requirement, be outside of the building. An additional 20–30 might be inside the building. He expected that at no time would he have less than one-to-one odds on the defenders. Add to that surprise, superior equipment (including the latest British body armor) and training, and the PLA commandos had a high degree of confidence they’d accomplish their mission.
With his men now rejuvenated and ready to go, he moved out of the relatively open killing zone of the park and west onto Chiehshou Road. He sent his first squad across the car-strewn and now abandoned street and was about to send a second when a withering crossfire from the east and west cut down five of his men. Tossing smoke grenades left and right, his commandos created a curtain of concealment and weaved in and out of cars to avoid the hidden scythe of the machine guns. The smoke did little to conceal the snipers on the roofs above, however, and soon half his men were down. The remainder the men with no or only minor injuries pressed the attack across the street (the seriously wounded men were trained to die in place, keeping up as much supporting fire as possible).
The team broke into the building just north of the Presidential building, spraying the guards at the entrance with automatic weapons fire. The major knew he needed every advantage he could muster at this critical phase of his operation. He tossed a CS (riot) gas grenade into the foyer and motioned his men to go down the hall. This entrance was the primary entrance they trained on. At this point, based on his previous practice runs, he only expected to have 13 men remaining. The fact that he had 16 and the defenders probably had no functioning radios or surveillance equipment to direct their defense, or track his movements, meant that he still had an advantage.
The lieutenant and the Presidential Guard colonel felt rather than heard the dull thuds of gunfire through the building. “It sounds like you were right, lieutenant, the nation owes you a debt of gratitude.” The colonel turned around and unlocked a weapons cabinet. “I trust you know how to use one of these?” He handed the young lieutenant an M-16 assault rifle and two 30 round clips.
“Yes, sir.” As the lieutenant spoke he was already slapping a magazine into place and pulling the charging handle to chamber a round, “Locked and loaded, sir!”
“Follow me.” The colonel bounded down the hall to a stairwell and started down, two steps at a time. The lieutenant was surprised at the colonel’s dexterity. They went down four flights of stairs until four guards in front of a heavy steel blast door stopped them. The colonel briefed them about the enemy commando force topside and reaffirmed their standing orders to protect the entrance to the President’s command bunker with their lives.
The colonel turned to the lieutenant. “Until relieved by a superior officer, I’m placing you in command of this guard post. Let no one pass. I’m going back to lead the defense of this building.”
The colonel’s lips seemed to move slowly. The young officer was concerned the colonel was showing his age. “Yes, sir. Are you all right sir?”
The colonel seemed annoyed. “Of course I am. Good luck, I’ll see you soon!”
With that the colonel turned to go. The lieutenant was puzzled by the colonel’s actions. There was danger everywhere and he was moving so slowly! The colonel seemed to bounce languidly up the stairs. The lieutenant turned to face the four guards. Instead of the human guards he thought he was leading, each guard had the head of a gargoyle. The lieutenant tried to suppress his surprise. His whole body shuddered. One of the gargoyles began talking. The words radiated from the Gargoyle’s mouth like the waves of a pebble in a pond. The lieutenant looked down at his rifle. It was a long, deadly serpent. A serpent that spit fire and destroyed his enemies. Thunderous blasts of yellow and red filled his eyes. The gargoyles were shattered. The smell of their death was overpowering. He put his gas mask on to guard against the spirits of the dead gargoyles.