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MALONE LAY PRONE, THE WATER SPLASHING IN AND OUT OF HIS ears making it difficult to hear. He was hoping three floating bodies would satisfy the pilot’s curiosity. He risked only a slight angle of his head and determined that the fighter was still south, its afterburners growing in intensity.
Then a new sound invaded. From the east.
The steady thump of whirling blades biting through air.
He rolled over and shook the water from his face.
A helicopter roared in over the treetops. Bulkier than a swift-attack chopper, more an armed transport. The craft assumed a position over the lake, facing south. Cassiopeia and Pau both apparently sensed a change and started treading water, watching, too.
“Malone,” a voice said through external speakers. “I’m contacting the jet and asking the pilot to retreat.”
Viktor.
Malone treaded water and watched as the Annihilator continued its approach.
“He doesn’t seem to want to listen,” Viktor said.
Another few seconds passed, then flames exploded from the chopper’s underwing as two air-to-air missiles erupted from their pods. Each followed a track for the fighter. Less than ten seconds later the jet disintegrated, its burning debris emerging from a dense cloud of black smoke and showering the distant shore with wreckage.
“We have to get out of this water,” Malone called out.
They started swimming toward shore.
“Would you like a lift?” Viktor asked.
The chopper hovered over them.
Two cables with harnesses descended.
“You and Pau take them,” he said. “I’ll swim.”
“A little foolish, isn’t it?” Cassiopeia said, as she and Pau strapped themselves in.
“Not to me.”
He watched as they were lifted from the lake and ferried toward shore, about two hundred yards away.
True, the lake’s pollution worried him, but owing Viktor Tomas anything more seemed worse.
NI STARED AT THE DRAGON LAMP. WHILE HE’D MET WITH THE premier at Mao’s tomb, he’d had it brought from the airport and deposited on his desk.
Karl Tang had gone to a lot of trouble to retrieve it. Why? He noticed etchings on its side and wondered what they meant. He should have some experts examine it. The buzzer from the phone on his desk irritated him. He’d told his staff that he did not want to be disturbed.
He stabbed the blinking button.
“The premier’s office is on the line.”
His anger vanished. “Connect me.”
A few seconds later the same raspy whisper from Mao’s tomb said, “Just a few minutes ago one of our J-10 fighters forced an unidentified amphibious aircraft onto Lake Dian. Then the fighter was shot down by one of our helicopters, piloted by a foreigner authorized to fly by Minister Tang.”
He listened in shock.
“That helicopter was protecting three people who’d escaped into the lake.” The premier paused. “One of those was Pau Wen.”
He stood from his chair.
“It seems, Minister, Pau has come home. He has tried for many years to maneuver me into allowing him to return. What he told you is true. He and I have spoken many times since I assumed this post. We did, indeed, also speak of you. Those conversations were innocent. Two old men lamenting about lost opportunities. Pau has long wanted to return, but it is better he stay far away. Unfortunately, he seems to have found a way back without my consent.”
A chill gripped him. “What is happening here?”
“An excellent question, one for you to discover. I truly do not know. But I would like to know why we lost both a man’s life and a five-million-yuan aircraft.”
As would he.
“I learned long ago that those who excel at defense bury themselves away below the deepest depths of the earth,” the premier said. “Those who excel at offense move from above the greatest heights of Heaven. Pau Wen never acts from a defensive position. He stays on a constant offense.”
He was jet-lagged and limp as a rag with fatigue. Riddles were no comfort. “What is it I am to do?”
“I know what Karl Tang is after, and I also know why Pau Wen has returned.”
“Then involve internal security and the military? They can handle this situation.”
“No, Minister. The last thing China can endure is an open civil war for political control. The chaos would be insurmountable. The world would take advantage of our turmoil. This must be a private affair. Between you and Tang. I will not involve anyone else, or allow you to do so.”
“It seems Tang has involved the army.”
“And I have taken measures to prevent that from happening again.”
“So what am I to do?”
“You can start by listening. I have to tell you what happened, in 1977, just after Mao died.”
CASSIOPEIA RELEASED THE HARNESS AND DROPPED THE REMAINING few feet to the ground. She was soaking wet, but thankfully the morning air carried warmth. Pau Wen dropped beside her. She was impressed with the older man’s agility.
“You okay?” she asked.
“Quite fine.” He smoothed out his soaked shirt and trousers.
They stood at the edge of a broad field that stretched eastward from the lake a kilometer or more. The chopper moved off a few hundred meters and touched down, spanking up a cloud of dust. She trotted back toward the shore, arriving as Malone emerged.
“There’s no telling how many parasites and bacteria I now have inside me,” he said, water cascading from him.
She smiled. “Can’t be all that bad.”
“Easy for you to say. You’re not going have six toes and three arms in a few days.”
Pau Wen stepped beside her. “Actually, this part of the lake is relatively clean. The northern portions are another matter.”
“Where’s your boyfriend?” Malone asked.
She didn’t like his tone but understood the resentment. Viktor had known their destination because Ivan had known, which meant one or both had sold them out.
But that made no sense.
The Russians were intent on finding Sokolov. Why end the mission before it started?
She heard footsteps cracking across the dry earth behind them and turned to see Viktor, dressed in a green flight suit, walking their way.
Malone rushed past her and planted a fist in Viktor’s face.
FORTY-NINE
MALONE WAS READY WHEN VIKTOR SPRANG TO HIS FEET. HE sidestepped the first lunge and landed another punch in Viktor’s gut, which he immediately noted was hard as steel.
“You sold us out,” he said. “Again.”
Viktor lowered his fists. “Malone, are you that stupid? Karl Tang doesn’t give a damn about you. It’s him he wants dead.” Viktor pointed at Pau. “All I did was step in and save your ass—which, I might add, may cost me mine.”
“And you expect us to believe that?” Malone asked.
“Tang wants you dead,” Viktor said to Pau. “In order to save them, I had to save you.”
Pau faced Malone. “We need to head north. Tang has a long reach in this country.”
“I can take you wherever you need to go,” Viktor said.
“And why would we trust you?” Cassiopeia asked.
“I just blew a pilot out of the sky. That doesn’t show you whose side I’m on?”
Malone caught the change of tone. Softer. Calmer. Reassuring. A voice seemingly just for her. But he wanted to know, “Karl Tang is going to let us roam free around China in a PLA helicopter? We can just do as we please?”
“If we hurry, we can be gone before he has time to react. My orders were to make sure the fighter strafed the lake with its cannons so no one swam to shore. I changed those. It’ll take them a little while to regroup. One thing I’ve learned is that, unlike you or me, the Chinese are not improvisers. This was not an officially sanctioned action, so some local commander somewhere is right now trying to figure out what to do.”
Malone ran a hand throug
h his wet hair and tried to assess their options.
There weren’t many.
He stared out on the lake and noticed that none of the junks approached either the debris in the water or the shore where they stood.
