There were now four Unit One soldiers left, three of whom were still providing suppressing fire to keep Volodya in the engine room. The last Unit One soldier was looking back, aiming right for the entryway where McCormick had just disappeared.
Fifteen seconds passed. A longer stand-off might have ensued, but for one crucial possibility that every one of the Unit Zero soldiers had already forgotten about.
Volodya flipped the circuit breaker in the engine room back on, and the garish lights in the hallway kicked back to life.
The effect was not as startling as when the lights had gone out, but the Unit Zero soldiers were now on edge. Knowing that their vision would be dazzled slightly by the lights, they assumed the lights coming back on was a sign to attack, and so several of them — including the only one looking McCormick's way — opened fire, emptying their magazines.
McCormick waited until the gunfire let up for a moment, then reemerged into the hallway. He fired his submachine gun at the unfortunate Unit Zero soldier while the Chinese commando was reloading. The soldier's scream alerted his three remaining comrades to the danger behind them, but not fast enough to stop McCormick from killing another with another two bursts from his submachine gun.
The Unit Zero second-in-command, realizing his predicament, retreated back into the last room before the engine compartment. That area happened to be the captain's bedroom, laid out like a cramped motel room. The only other remaining Unit One soldier scrambled to follow his commanding officer. McCormick rapidly reloaded his submachine gun as Volodya whispered to him over the radio, “They're both in there. Let's wipe the bastards out.”
“Negative, Lieutenant. If we're going to get Cortez and Dietrich back, we need some leverage — some prisoners of our own.”
Volodya considered the issue. “Flashbang them, then disable them with knives?”
A ghoulish smile flashed across McCormick’s face. “Or fists, if you prefer.”
“We did not skimp on lessons with either in Spetsnaz, Comrade McCormick.”
The two Lafayette Initiative commandos stacked up outside the room, McCormick in front, Volodya behind. Each pulled a flashbang grenade from his vest. Volodya patted McCormick on the shoulder to indicate that he was ready.
Wordlessly, the Knight pulled the pin on his flashbang and threw it as hard as he could into the room, bouncing it off the far wall. Volodya's flashbang followed behind, and the two weapons detonated a second apart.
McCormick sprang immediately into the room, silenced pistol in one hand, combat knife in the other. He saw that one of the Unit One soldiers had been disoriented by the flashbang, but the other, Fong's second-in-command, had taken the precaution of keeping one of his eyes closed, and his rifle was up and aimed at the American sergeant.
The Ak-2000 fired a three-round burst, and McCormick fell to the deck, trying to avoid the impact of the bullets. Two of the bullets missed, but one grazed a long gash along the American sergeant's forehead.
Volodya, directly behind the American sergeant, also had a silenced pistol in one hand and a knife in the other. He fired the pistol at the Unit One second-in-command, hitting the man twice in the arm and once in the chest.
The other Unit One soldier was recovering from his disorientation and fired his Ak-2000, missing wide as his eyes readjusted. Volodya turned to face the man, the point of his knife aimed directly at the man’s neck.
Spetsnaz had for decades armed its soldiers with a spring-loaded knife that could be launched at an enemy in situations just such as this. Volodya loosed his knife now, and the edge embedded itself deep in the man's neck. The Unit One soldier cried out and released his grip on the rifle, which clattered to the deck.
Volodya ran over and kicked the Ak-2000 out of the second-in-command's hands as the Chinese man, who appeared to be about thirty years old, breathed heavily. His body armor had absorbed Volodya's pistol round, but the impact had knocked the wind out of him, and the two shots to his right arm had immobilized him.
McCormick got to his feet slowly, shaking his head rapidly and wiping the blood from his brow. “Well, at least we got one of them.”
He retrieved a set of plastic handcuffs from the dead Unit One soldier and bound the second-in-command. Volodya and McCormick carried the man into the engine room, where McCormick picked up the telephone to call the bridge.
Fong must have known what had happened the second he saw the phone light blinking. If his men had succeeded in eliminating the last two Lafayette Initiative members, they would have reported in by radio.
When Fong picked up the receiver, McCormick said, “Now, where were we? I believe you were talking about the need for negotiation… ”
In the end, Fong drove a relatively easy bargain. He and the other Unit One soldier with him cut Dietrich and me loose and allowed Dietrich to carry me down from the control tower. The Unit One second-in-command was left tied up in the engine room, to be freed by Fong once our boat had had ten minutes to speed away from the ammunition ship.
Volodya greeted Dietrich with a hug as if he had not seen the taciturn German in years. McCormick asked me quietly, “How do you feel?”
I forced a smile. “Mostly, I don't. Can't feel my legs. The Unit One guys patched up the wound, but I have a feeling it's not going to get much better.”
Using the gecko gloves, we all climbed down to the stealth boat, still attached to the ammunition ship's hull. I needed McCormick's assistance, but my arms still worked fine and it only took me a little longer than the others to reach the boat. After a minute's preparation, we sped away from the ammunition ship, heading south to get out of the Taiwan Strait. Dietrich radioed Fei back in China and told him to arrange a Pelican pick-up for us.
As we made our way south, I sat on the deck, watching how the survivors reacted to our escape.
Dietrich was ebullient, as joyful and talkative as I'd ever seen him. "I bet they thought they had us right where they wanted us! But we snatched victory from the jaws of defeat, ja?"
McCormick and Volodya did not seem inclined to respond, so I merely said, "Yes, we did."
Volodya sat morose, off by himself at the back of the boat. Losing half of the Lafayette Initiative had made the boat seem painfully, visibly empty. I pushed my way over to Volodya using my arms.
Volodya said, “Colonel Douglas is the reason I'm alive and here today, not dead in Ukraine or Afghanistan or somewhere else Spetsnaz would have sent me. When he recruited me, I knew no one in the West. He and his wife helped me find a place to live in Hereford. They introduced me to their friends. His wife made me kolbasa and borscht when I was homesick. I spent all my time traveling the world with Douglas's company. When this is all over, I will once again be cast adrift, with nowhere to go.”
I replied, “Merlin Printing can always use security guards.”
Volodya snorted. “I would go mad with boredom.”
“True.” We sat in silence for a moment. “I don't know what life after the war will be like. But my contract with you is good for as long as Chinese forces are on Taiwan. And Douglas would be the first to tell you that his death changes nothing.”
Volodya's cheeks tightened in the moonlight. “I will continue the fight. And before the war is over, I will kill Captain Fong.”
“You will get the chance,” I promised.
I pushed my way back over to where McCormick sat. His hands shook slightly, but his face was composed and his eyes resolute.