They both peered into the dark shadows of the woods.
Lena slipped her hand under her shirt and up to her damp sports bra. She reached until she felt the small hard plastic device that had been resting there for the past two hours.
“I thought I saw someone. Over there,” Lena said.
She held it behind her back, where Greg couldn’t see. She removed the plastic cap, careful not to touch the needle.
“I don’t see anything,” Greg said. He turned back to her, smiling.
She said, “Kiss me.”
They each leaned forward, careful not to lose their balance as they kissed.
Her hands were behind his head. He only felt a pinprick on his neck. But he must have heard the sound. The phssstt as the CO2-pressurized container shot a dose of paralyzing liquid into his body that would take down a four-hundred-pound man almost instantly.
Greg’s face contorted. And Lena’s heart raced with euphoria.
Her eyes were wide with anticipation. She had never killed anyone before. She hadn’t been sure how she would feel. She’d assumed sadness, given who it was and the relationship they had. But the excitement that filled her now was better than any high she had ever had. Greg’s neck muscles tensed. Then the rest of his body seized and his face turned beet red, the veins on his neck bulging. She still had her legs wrapped around him. She didn’t know why, but she found herself caressing his back. But she didn’t kiss him. She wanted to watch his face as the life drained from his eyes. She was torn between losing one of the only romantic relationships she had ever had and the excitement of finally using her training. Or was the excitement something deeper? Did she like killing?
“Shhhh… shhhhh…” Lena whispered.
He was looking at her, not comprehending. His convulsions were getting stronger now. And the boat began to rock. She put her feet on the deck for stability. Then she grabbed his arm and knee, and lifted up with all of her strength. Cool water splashed her face as his stiff, unresponsive body plummeted into the lake. She could hear incomprehensible noises coming out of his gritted teeth. He floated for a moment, still facing up… until she reached in and turned him over. After that, there was a grotesque gurgling for a few moments, and then… silence.
She watched with wide eyes. When it was over, a single tear streaked down her face. She had a strange taste in her mouth. Adrenaline. For a moment, she wanted to sob. Then to scream… then she was calm. This was a heavy sacrifice, but she had done her duty. An enormous sense of pride washed over her. She had proven herself. And now she would become one of Jinshan’s rising stars.
Lena picked up the oars and began to row back the way they’d come, away from the floating corpse. Halfway back to the boathouse, she threw the small plastic syringe into the lake.
Lena walked out of the Classroom building and into the humid wind. It was truly blowing now. The tropical storm was here. By the looks of the soaked ground, she had just missed a band of torrential rain. She hurried down the gravel path.
A minute later, she typed her code into the digital keyset and opened the Comms building door. Once in, she felt a rush of cool air as she walked down a dark and narrow concrete hallway. The two desktop computer fans whirred.
“Hello?”
No answer. Natesh Chaudry and Major Combs were the only two people she had given access to this room, and they were both in the classroom. She walked to the back of the room, where the other door was. She typed another, longer code into that digital keypad and entered the back room of the Communications building.
The walls of the back room were covered with charts and de-energized computer screens. There were also radios and radar screens. This would eventually serve as an air traffic control center once more people got here. But for now, while Jinshan had her on this island, it was her living quarters. There was a weapons locker, a shelf for her clothes, a bathroom with a shower, and a small kitchen that she seldom used. On the concrete floor she had a small mat slightly thicker than a yoga mat. That was her mattress. Each day she did forty-five minutes of calisthenics on the concrete floor, then another forty-five minutes of martial arts practice. She lived a Spartan life.
She approached a round metal hatch in one corner of her living quarters and spun the large metal wheel that sat atop it. It was stiff at first, but then it unwound quickly. When the hatch was completely unlocked, she opened it and crept down the ladder inside. She shut the hatch behind her and continued down the ten-foot cylinder that was big enough for a man carrying supplies to fit through.
The vertical shaft she climbed down emptied into a round concrete tunnel. She had only walked it twice, but both times she had been amazed at how long it went on. It took her about fifteen minutes to get from one side to the other. Fifteen minutes to walk across — or through, to be more accurate — the island. She began her third trip through the tunnel, ignoring the pain she felt as she realized that her black low heels weren’t the most comfortable shoes she could be wearing. She had endured combat in some of the harshest spots on the planet. She could handle uncomfortable shoes.
The tunnel was dry and well lit. It curved back and forth through the dark rock of the island. There were no doors or alternate paths to take — just rounded concrete ceilings going on and on as far as the eye could see. Like the entrance to the Comms building, the door on the other side had a digital keypad. There was no vertical shaft to climb this time, however. Just a large metal door. She typed in the code and heard an electronic beep followed by a click as the door unlocked. The door opened to reveal a long, steep set of stairs that went up into oblivion. She began marching.
Lena’s footsteps echoed as she walked up the stairs. As she ascended, she heard more and more voices speaking Mandarin. She also heard the digital orchestra of computers, keystrokes, and high-tech communications. The stairway curved around into a cavernous room with dim blue lighting and the bustle of a dozen Chinese military and intelligence operatives going about their daily routines. Several sat in front of TV screens that had live feeds of the consultant meetings on the other side of the island. They typed furiously as they listened, taking notes and adding commentary that would later be carefully scrutinized. Others monitored radar and radio transmissions to a nearby fleet of Chinese naval vessels.
A lone white man — the American — walked up to Lena and held out his hand. “Lena Chou, nice to finally meet you.” He looked her up and down. “You having fun over there?” He was the only one in the room who was speaking in English.
Lena ignored the American and turned to the watch supervisor, “What’s the latest?”
A short, serious man with grey eyes and a raspy voice answered in Mandarin, “Ma’am, the latest weather report remains similar to this morning’s. Additionally, our amphibious support ship is now in helicopter range, but they have told us that it will be very difficult for them to fly in this weather. They asked me to convey to you that it would be wise to request air support in emergencies only until the storm fully passes.”
Lena frowned. “I understand.” She looked up at the TV screen that showed the classroom. “Keep your men’s eyes on David Manning. I think that he suspects something. He was out that first night. I think he saw the helicopter. Watch him carefully.”
The American cocked his chubby head and said, “David saw something?”
She studied the American’s face. She didn’t know how he had been allowed to spy for the CIA. She saw him as a disgrace. His disloyalty to his own country was despicable, regardless of the fact that he now claimed loyalty to her own. She would rather slit his throat and have fewer men than rely on him in a combat situation. He embodied all that was wrong with Americans. He was fat, lazy, pompous, and obnoxious. Worst of all, he had no sense of honor. To think what she’d had to sacrifice, all in the name of duty and honor. This man knew nothing of sacrifice.