As they ran, Jack asked, “A boat? Should we get them a boat?”
Ding turned to Yao, “What’s closest to us at the shoreline?”
Yao said, “There’s a private marina over there, but forget about it. There will be twenty-five harbor-patrol craft with spotlights ready to stop them as soon as they go to the water, and the choppers overhead will have a perfect line of sight. Those guys aren’t going to Jet Ski out of this shit.”
Chavez tapped his earpiece as he jogged. A moment later, Gavin answered.
“Where are you?” Chavez asked.
“I’m approaching the rear of the club, but there are a lot of people back there. Some of them are going to be Fourteen-K.”
“Gavin, we need those wheels.”
“Okay, but no promises. I’m not even sure I—”
“This is life and death! Do what you have to do.”
“But there are police and—”
“Figure it out and call me back!” Chavez hung up.
Suddenly all three men stopped running. Just up ahead they heard a weapon firing cyclic. It was a suppressed HK MP7; both Ding and Jack were familiar with the sound.
The JSOC operators were close.
Jack stepped into a small concrete courtyard between four identical buildings. The only light illuminating the scene was from red Chinese lamps strung across the courtyard over metal picnic tables and a small fenced-in playground. Just on the other side of the courtyard, Jack watched the group of men he saw back at the girlie bar emerge from a breezeway that passed under one of the buildings.
Ryan stepped back around the corner, knelt down, and took another peek.
The men looked like they’d just hit Omaha Beach. Every man Ryan could see was either seriously wounded or assisting someone who was. Two men carried what appeared to be a dead body.
Ding looked out quickly, and then pulled himself and Ryan back around the corner to cover. Keeping himself shielded, Chavez whistled loudly, then shouted, “Listen up! You’ve got friendlies over here! A three-man OGA unit! We’re ready to help if you can use us!” OGA was how CIA personnel often referred to themselves in the field. It stood for Other Governmental Agency, and it was safer than saying “Agency” or “Company,” common nicknames for CIA.
Chavez knew, whether these guys were JSOC or CIA or any other U.S. paramilitary unit, they would understand this term.
Meyer looked down to Reynosa to make sure he had actually heard what he thought he heard. The wounded operator nodded distantly, then propped himself against the wall of the courtyard and raised his gun to cover the area in case it was a trap.
Meyer shouted back, “Step out, one at a time, hands high and empty!”
“Coming out,” shouted Chavez, and he raised his hands and stepped into the dim light under the paper lanterns.
Jack Ryan and Adam Yao did the same, and within thirty seconds the SEALs had help from three able-bodied men.
Meyer said, “We can talk while we move.”
Ryan rushed over to grab the man with the bloody bandages around his left calf, and Adam Yao relieved the ashen-faced SEAL with the broken shoulder from his responsibility, helping the man with the bullet wound in his knee.
Chavez lifted the dead SEAL off the ground in a fireman’s carry, so the two men carrying his body could once again wield their HKs.
Together the ten surviving Americans and the flexi-cuffed and hooded Zha Shu Hai started again for the north. They still moved way too slow, but they were faster now than before.
Police sirens wailed all around and lights flashed in all directions; helicopters flew high overhead and spotlights reflected off windows. Fortunately for the SEALs, the two Campus operators, and Adam Yao, the high apartment buildings kept the helos from getting their spotlights near the action.
Five minutes later they had found refuge hiding in the trees and darkness in Tung Lo Wan Garden. All around them on the street, police cars raced by in all directions, and several cars full of young tough-looking men passed by, often slowing to shine flashlights in the park.
All the men lay flat in the grass, though Petty Officer Jim Shipley kept half of his body over Zha Shu Hai to keep him still and quiet.
Chavez called Biery and was pleasantly surprised to learn that the IT director had managed to pass his first challenge in the field. He’d argued his way past a police barrier to get “his” minivan out of the parking lot, and Ding directed him to their position.
CPO Michael Meyer checked on his wounded men and then crawled over to the three new guys in his group. He did not know who these men were, really. The short Hispanic guy was oldest, he was doing all the talking; the tall younger American kept a sweat-soaked paper mask over his face; and the Asian guy looked both worn-out and freaked-out.
Meyer motioned to Yao. “We saw you behind the target location. I had Poteet bag you. Didn’t know you were OGA. Sorry about that.”
Yao shook his head. “No problem.”
“Wish we could have hooked up with you from the beginning, but we were told you guys have a massive breach over here, so there would be no coordination.”
Yao said, “Can’t argue with the thinking on that. There is a breach, but it’s not out of Hong Kong. Trust me, no one knows where I am or what I’m doing right now.”
Meyer raised an eyebrow behind his ballistic eye protection. “Okay.”
Chavez asked, “Who are you guys?”
“DEVGRU.”
Chavez knew that U.S. Special Warfare Development Group, or DEVGRU, was the organization formerly known as SEAL Team Six. He wasn’t surprised to learn this element was pulled from one of America’s most elite special-mission units. Hell, even with all the damage they’d taken, they’d probably wasted twenty enemy in the past twenty minutes and were on the way to completing their mission objective, though Ding had been around enough to know that Meyer would remember this event only as the mission where he lost a man.
The Navy team leader reloaded his HK. “With all our injuries and all the helos in the air, our exfil is going to be a bitch. You boys know the area better than we do. You got any bright ideas about extricating ourselves from this bullshit?”
Now Chavez leaned over. “I’ve got a guy on the way in a minivan. If we squeeze we can fit everyone. Where is your rally point for the exfil?”
The SEAL said, “North Point Ferry Pier. A couple klicks from here. We’ve got RIBs coming to pick us up.”
Chavez realized these guys must have come into the harbor via boat or submarine, and then had their guy already on the shore pick them up in the van, while their other two colleagues kept their eyes on Zha. It was a pretty quick and dirty op for a busy city like Hong Kong, but Ding knew the DoD was desperate to stop the cyberthreat that was plaguing their network.
Meyer turned to Chavez. “I pulled my two guys out of the bar because I wanted to do the takedown with seven operators, and one man behind the wheel. They said there were four or five armed guards and that was it.”
Ding said, “There were only four, but things went tits-up pretty quickly. Some suits from the consulate came into the club, probably watching Zha for the DOJ. They spooked Zha’s protection detail of Triads, so the Fourteen-K called in a van-load of backup right before you guys hit the back door.”
“Shit,” Meyer said. “We should have known.”
Chavez shook his head. “Murphy’s Law.”
Meyer nodded. “Gets you every time.”
Just then the headlights of a vehicle entered the road that ran through the little park. The vehicle slowed down to a crawl but continued closer.
Ding called to Gavin, “Where are you?”
“I’m heading east. I… I am really turned around. I don’t know where the hell I am.”