A dozen yards away, Billy Hong was in the open. Head of the Black Dao Triad, he watched the truck loading along with half a dozen bodyguards. The guards were nervous, not liking the idea of sixteen well-armed and trained soldiers within a few yards of their boss, allies or not.
That was fine by Rhee. He didn’t want them to be comfortable around him or his men.
He put the radio into a belt holder and pressed a button on a cell-phone, smiling when he saw Hong react to his phone’s alert. The Triad leader took his cell phone out of his pocket and answered it. “Yes?”
“The Americans are coming. Clear the area.”
Hong nodded and broke the connection. He turned to one of his men and said something that Rhee couldn’t hear. The man nodded and started shouting in Chinese. The Triad men nodded and began heading for their vehicles.
Rhee smiled. Five years of planning were beginning to blossom into action that would cripple the Americans. “Dragon Leader to all Dragons. Unleash your righteous fury.”
The clicks of the camera were the only sound in the office. Both Neal Lear and Gloria DuVey were hunched over the lens, taking as many shots as they could. The camera featured sophisticated, digitally-controlled optics, recording high resolution images of every movement of the drug deal.
Suddenly the Triad members ran for their vehicles. “Crap!” Lear said. “Glory, call Vess and let her know the bears are heading for the hills.”
As Gloria reached for the radio, the office door behind them crashed open. She and Lear turned, their hands going for their pistols. But the trio of gunmen in the doorway fired first, killing both DEA agents in a flurry of bullets.
Neither had a chance.
Two of the gunmen moved into the room, their silenced Tokarev pistols pointed at the dead agents, while the third stayed by the door. Both bodies were checked for signs of life, then both assassins collected the dead agents’ cameras and recording equipment. They left the same way they had come in, leaving only the deceased behind.
Chad Dembski and Hector Godin were ready for action. Dembski was behind the Remington Model 700, while Godin was watching the ship through a pair of binoculars. Godin concentrated on the cluster of men near the cargo truck. The Triad gunmen suddenly stopped what they were doing and ran for their vehicles.
Dembski adjusted his position slightly. “Looks like something’s stirred up the horne—”
A 7.92 millimeter round slammed into his head above his left eye and blew the back of his skull out. Godin had only heartbeat to react before a second sniper round struck him in the mouth and shattered his spine.
High on the superstructure of The Seven Lucky Dragons, Seonwoo Hun-Jai smiled as he saw that both shots from his and Sergeant Jee’s Jeogyeok-Bochong silenced sniper rifles had found their targets. “Dragon Three to Dragon Leader. Snipers eliminated.”
The three DEA Suburbans raced through the gate, ignoring the shout from the gate guard. They turned to the right and headed for the ship, across the pier’s flat and open space. They spread out in a line, lights flashing and sirens wailing. Ahead of them, the Seven Lucky Dragons sat on dock. As they came into view, the Triad vehicles were already moving, driving behind the crates.
Vessler frowned. “What the hell?”
“Something’s wrong,” Choi said.
“That your samurai sense tingling?” Daniels called out from the back seat.
“I’m Korean, not Japanese, you jackass,” Choi shot back in a distracted tone.
“Shut up!” Vessler snapped. “Striker to Paparazzi, Striker to Hunter, talk to me. What do you see?” Five seconds passed without any response. “Striker to Calvary. Can you hear me?”
“Hear you loud and clear. I don’t like this. Do we abort?”
Vessler thought for several seconds. Something was wrong, but she didn’t know what. “Striker to all Golden Carp elements. Ab—”
“RPG!” Daniels yelled. “One o’clock, two hundred fifty yards!”
Two men in dark clothing with tubes over their shoulders stepped out into the open from the crate’s shadows. Vessler didn’t know if Daniels was right, but despite his caustic attitude, he was an Iraq veteran and a good agent, not one to see shadows where there weren’t any. “Striker to all Carps! Abort, abort! It’s an ambush! Enemy has RPGs!”
Both ambushers fired the rockets on their shoulders, each one sending a five and a half pound warhead flying at the oncoming cars, covering the distance to the Suburbans in about two seconds. The Suburban to Vessler’s left exploded as the armor-penetrating warhead punched deeply into the vehicle and exploded, ripping the vehicle apart.
“Get out of here!” Vessler screamed. “All Carp units, abort, abort, abort!”
Danny spun the wheel hard to the right, bringing the fifteen hundred pound vehicle into a tight turn. Vessler lowered her window as Choi began making the turn. She stuck her LAR-15 out of it and sent half a magazine of 5.56mm rounds back at the RPG gunners, who looked like they were loading again.
Choi straightened out the wheel and stomped on the accelerator, the 6.2 liter, V-8 engine roaring as the vehicle picked up speed. All the windows on the driver’s side exploded and Pelton yelped as he was struck. Choi, his face bloody from several cuts, yelled, “Machine gunners on the office roof!”
Daniels leaned over a slumped Pelton and fired a full magazine at the office building. “Light machine guns!” he shouted while switching magazines.
“Calvary to Striker, We’re on our way in!”
Vessler’s eyes widened. “Negative, Rhonda! It’s an ambush! Stay out!”
“We just turned onto Marin and — oh shit!”
“What?”
An explosion from the direction of Marin Street sent a jolt of fear down Vessler’s spine. There were a few shouts over the radio, but the only words Vessler could make out were “Ambush!” and “RPG!” A second explosion from the same area followed a few seconds later.
“Striker to Calvary! What’s happening?” Silence answered her. “Son of a bitch!”
“Curse later!” Choi shouted. They were close to the gate. “We have to—”
An RPG round from the office building roof struck the concrete ten yards in front of their vehicle. The warhead shattered the ground, fragments scything through the air with enough force to shred both the Suburban’s front tires and perforate the radiator and several hoses. Almost at once, the SUV’s dashboard lit up with red and yellow warning lights as the vehicle began slowing. More machine gun fire hammered the wounded transport.
“Stop!” Vessler yelled. “We need to get out of this deathtrap now!”
Choi brought the dying Suburban to a stop thirty yards from the gate. The three DEA agents piled out, Daniels dragging the bleeding Pelton with him. Twenty yards away, the other SUV was still moving, but it was clear from the damage it had taken that it wouldn’t last long enough to get past the gate.
Vessler motioned the second Suburban to approach them in the SUV. It took fire from two different machine guns but managed to cover most of the distance before it died, all four tires shredded with steam rising from the ruined engine. The doors open and two agents rolled out, placing the bulk of the vehicle between them and the machine gunners. “We’re screwed, Vess!” one of them shouted. “Hart and Swarez are dead!”
Vessler felt the cold certainty of death come at her and there was nothing she could do about it.
Unseen by the combatants on either side, a drone hovered two hundred feet over the battlefield, watching.
CHAPTER TWO