“This is a top secret training center. Our country’s dream of victory rests on you men.”
“What difference does any of that make to my speaking with my wife?”
“Now you listen to me—”
“Sir, come on,” Paul said. “You said you’ve read my record, you know my profile. You’re supposed to understand how I tick. I’m finished talking. You can see that. At this point, I’m doing.”
“F-22s are on their way. I’m going to order them to shoot you two down and possibly kill you.”
Paul and Romo exchanged glances. A second later, Romo’s faceplate opened. His face showed worry.
“Just a minute, General,” Paul said. He ordered his faceplate open too. The wind howled around them, and a cold chill whipped through the opening and down his chest. It felt good.
“I think he’s serious, amigo. We may have stepped too far over the line this time.”
Paul’s eyes narrowed. The general wanted to bluff, did he? The brass hat thought he had balls ordering others into the fray. Maybe Paul had been out of combat too long. Maybe he needed the adrenaline rush of something like this.
“What are you,” he asked Romo, “a soldier or a warrior?”
“I am an assassin. I calculate the odds and know when to fold my hand.”
“Don’t you want to feel a woman under you again?”
Romo’s gorilla suit shrugged. “I can wait, my friend. The urge does not dominate me. I prefer to live.”
Paul’s nostrils flared. “Well, I want to see my wife’s face tonight. I have to hear her voice.”
Romo studied him, and finally nodded. The gesture had a resigned quality to it. “Why are we talking to the general then?”
Paul grinned. “Now you’re catching on. The general is going to bargain with me, and he’ll bargain with you too. Now tell me, blood brother. What is it you want?”
Romo’s dark eyes shined. “Yes, I understand. A woman—a top class hooker—with huge tits and long dark hair. That is what I want.”
“Right.” Paul let the faceplate seal him back up, and he told his comm-computer to raise the signal. “General,” he said.
“You haven’t turned around yet, Kavanagh.”
“No, sir,” Paul said. “I have not.”
“You probably realize it’s too late to save your career,” Allenby said.
“Yes I do.”
“Sergeant Kavanagh! You turn that thing around right now.”
“General, do you miss your wife?”
“No! What? What kind of question is that?”
“I miss mine, sir. She’s a good woman, and the war has been hard on her. The truth is that I’ve been hard on her most of our life. As you probably realize, I’m not the easiest person in the world to live with.”
“Is there a point to this?”
“Yeah. I want to comfort my wife. I want to let her know I’ll be home soon.”
“I wouldn’t count on that. Not after this stupid stunt.”
“You just told me that you don’t miss your own wife, sir, your life-partner. That’s a shame. It means you can’t understand what makes a soldier like me tick. I’m fighting to defend what I love. But if I can’t even talk to my love now and again, well, sir, screw you, screw the Marines and my so-called country.”
“I’m going to enjoy watching those jets take you down, Sergeant.”
“Yes, sir, I bet you would.”
“Kavanagh, this is my last—oh, screw it then, you stubborn son of a bitch. You want to talk to your wife?”
“Once a month, sir,” Paul said.
“All right. You have it. Now return the lifter to base.”
“There’s one more thing, sir.”
“Are you going to dare to ask me if I’m a man of my word?”
“No, sir, I already know you are.”
“What is it then?”
“Sergeant Romo wants a high-class hooker with huge tits and long black hair.”
“He needs this because of love?”
“No sir, he wants a lay.” Paul glanced at Romo hanging onto the guardrail. “He wants to feel like a man one more time, and I think he wants to remember.”
Romo’s helmet came up sharply. Paul would see stars reflected off the visor.
“Remember what?” the general asked.
“He’s wants to remember, sir, and I think you should let him. I imagine you’re going to call on us to do something that’s going to kill us. Let your best soldiers remember for one night, at least.”
“Yes, agreed,” Allenby said in a tired voice.
“We’re turning around now, sir,” Paul said.
“I’d like to let those F-22s take you down—aw, forget it. Just get your butts back to base. And don’t ever try something like this again.”
“We won’t, sir,” Paul said. With each forefinger gauntlet, he began to tap the flight panel.
High above the lonely Montana pine forest, a strange shrieking lifter with two Marines made a looping turn, heading back toward the training center.
Five days after what should have been her fatal decision along G1, Shun Li stood outside on Yin Avenue. Two Lion Guardsmen flanked her. It amazed Shun Li she’d left her confinement cell under Zhu Square: East Lighting’s infamous Beijing headquarters.
Shun Li wore her uniform and gun belt, though minus any sidearm. For three days she’d heard nothing from anyone as the secret police kept her in isolation. At any moment she had expected the cell door to open as she received a hideous and painful death like Colonel Lu in Australia.
Karma works, Shun Li thought, as she stood on the sidewalk. I’m alive because the Militia major holds my soul and still lives.
The sun moved from behind a cloud, warming her face. Looking around, Shun Li realized there should be more people on the streets. This part of Beijing looked deserted. She thought about asking the guards about that, but was intimidated by their bearing and silence. They didn’t even talk to each other. Hmmm, why had Lion Guardsmen escorted her out of Zhu Square instead of East Lightning officers? It was a mystery.
She heard the rumble of large vehicles before she saw them. Then, three tri-turreted tanks appeared up the street. Behind followed infantry fighting vehicles. Behind those came several large Xiang SUVs.
The giant tanks and the infantry carriers passed her before coming to a stop. A black Xiang pulled up to the curb and stopped with a smooth application of its brakes. A back door opened.
“Enter,” Chairman Hong said from inside. He wore a black suit and held a cell phone.
More stunned than ever, Shun Li left the two Lion Guardsmen on the sidewalk and slid into the back seat beside Hong.
Two different Lion Guardsmen sat up front with the driver. One of the two was her old lover Tang. He was big and thick, with stern features, yet he had touched her softly during their lovemaking. Tang had proven to be an odd combination of ruthless brutality, intense sexuality and tenderness.
One of the Lion Guardsmen on the sidewalk closed the car door. Then the tri-turreted tanks, the IFVs and the SUVs started up, heading toward Mao Square in the distance. She could see all the pennants and flags waving there.
“Does this surprise you?” Hong asked.
She dared to glance at him. He didn’t glare, glower or snort death. Instead, a smile threatened to emerge. It made no sense.
“I’m uncertain what to say, Leader,” she told him.
“Tell me the truth as you always do, Police Minister.”
“Leader?” she asked. Had he just elevated her back to her old post or had the title been a slip of the tongue?
From the front seat, Tang glanced at her, and her old lover winked before facing forward again.