The Deaths of Tao Page 25

That night, under cover of darkness, the Mi-171, laden with an equal number of prisoners and guards, took off and headed north toward Lhasa Gonggar Airport. Enzo watched it take off and hover just above the tree line, and then thought no more of it. After all, Genjix controlled the airspace in this region. Fifteen minutes later, however, the base received a distress call.

  Enzo was shocked to discover that the Prophus had shot down a transport filled with their own people. He didn’t think the Prophus had it in them. They found the wreckage fifty klicks from the camp. All fifteen Genjix operatives were accounted for: nine bodies inside the helicopter and six outside, the furthest nearly a hundred meters away. He was shot through the head.

  None of the prisoners’ bodies was present, so he could not tell how many had died. This complicated matters. It was clear now that the commander of the enemy would rather kill his own people than let the Genjix experiment on them. Enzo was impressed. He did not think the soft Prophus had the fortitude to make these hard choices. It was what he would have done in their place.

  This delay is unacceptable. Send another shipment by morning. Two if necessary.

  “Your will, Zoras.”

  Enzo spent the rest of the night devising an alternative. This camp was so remote that there were few options available to him. Helicopter transport was easiest, but that idea was off the table now. Land convoys proved too vulnerable. The next option was a plane. However, the airport in Lhasa was five hundred kilometers away, and the Prophus controlled too much of the land between the camp and the city. The alternative was to build a landing strip in the camp. Materials and engineers would have to be flown in, and it would take time.

  There is another option. Cross the border and use the Langtang Airport in Nepal. It is a scant fifty kilometers from the camp.

  “We have no jurisdiction in Nepal.”

  The Genjix have jurisdiction everywhere. If we order the Chinese government to speak with their government, we will not be refused.

  Enzo’s eyes traced the route heading south to the airport from the camp. It was a much shorter journey but would be over mountainous terrain. It was doable, though dangerous. The important thing was to get the convoy out into open space. It was a risk they had to take.

  Enzo sent off a quick email to Amanda to arrange the clearance with the Nepalese government. For now, he had to sit tight until reinforcements came. The logistics of sending two thousand men to a remote region of the world was a task the Genjix rarely undertook. The Quasing war did not usually resort to these types of engagements. He was pulling in men from as far away as Europe. That was the only way he could fortify the camp and adequately guard a convoy.

  A loud explosion suddenly rocked the camp. Dust and debris rained down from the ceiling. While such things happened regularly, this explosion seemed larger than usual. After the dust had settled, Enzo dusted off his shoulders and studied the map again. Then a series of bigger explosions erupted from every direction, and perimeter alarms began to howl.

  “Father,” an officer ran in and bowed. “It’s a full coordinated attack. All sides.”

  Get the vessels into the main building. None must escape.

  Enzo began giving commands, setting up the defenses for an all-out attack. There was another explosion: west side again. He left the building and waved his personal guards forward as they rushed out into battle. The floodlights on the towers had been taken out, and the northwest corner tower groaned as it lit up the night. It would collapse any minute. The no-man’s-land between the camp and the forest was ablaze with bursts of muzzle fire.

  “Status,” he barked.

  “Enemy concentration in the west,” Meyers, the commander of the west flank reported. “Under heavy fire.”

  “We’re engaging and pinning them down. The enemy are unable to advance,” Tomlinson, commander of the north flank, reported.

  “Dead quiet here,” Rowe, commander of the eastern flank called in. “Moving men west to support Meyers.”

  “You stay right there!” Enzo roared. “What’s going on with the south?”

  “South is confirmed quiet,” Palos said. “I still have patrols returning into base via the southern gate. No enemy sightings.”

  “Cut the lights off the base.” Enzo screamed over the din of the battle. “We’re painting their targets for them. Focus floodlights three meters above the forest line.”

  His men quickly complied. The height of the floodlights would temporarily blind the Prophus. It also gave Enzo targets to shoot at. This was his first pitched battle, and two things surprised him. The first was the rush he felt being in the thick of it. His blood boiled, and he had never felt more alive. Every fiber of his being tingled, and he wanted to howl a battle cry as he moved into position, aiming shots at the yellow bursts that lit up the otherwise completely black forest.

  The second thing that surprised him was the noise of battle. It was much louder than he could have possibly imagined. So much so that he had trouble communicating orders.

  You should be in the war room, not engaged in combat.

  “I need to feel the pulse of the battle in order to direct it.”

  In truth, Enzo reveled in the carnage as he took out several of the Prophus soldiers. He turned to Palos. “Bring your unit. We’ll flank the enemy from the south.”

  That is not wise. You should command.

  “I cannot command men hiding in a room. They need to see me lead.”

  You do not require their respect. You only need to demand they follow.

  Another explosion in the center of the camp nearly knocked Enzo off his feet. He continued with Palos and his men as they crept out of the southern entrance and made the sprint to the tree line. There he spread them three meters apart as they cut their way west. It was quieter here in the forest, the sounds of battle far away.

  “We must be outnumbered here three to one on this side,” Meyers’ voice came hurried over the comm.

  “Eastern flank is completely dead.” Rowe said. “Pulling my men to assist Meyers.”

  “You stay put!” Enzo whispered angrily. However, he wasn’t sure if Commander Rowe heard him. Furious, he tore off his headset. Palos motioned for him to be quiet as they neared the enemy. Something sounded strange up there, as if the sound of the battle was echoing through a pipe.

  They found a Prophus soldier firing from an isolated position. He died before he knew what was happening. In the next ten minutes, the team encountered several Prophus fighting in isolated groups. Enzo began to feel uneasy.

  “The enemy is scattered here. No nests. How could the attack force be spread so thin?”

  They are not. The tree line is three hundred meters long, and the Prophus have been spaced out nearly exactly five meters apiece. That means the attacking force could not be more than sixty men. It is a decoy.

  Then Enzo’s team encountered a large speaker sitting on a tripod piping in the sounds of battle. Enzo took off in a full sprint following the route he came. The undermanned Prophus had effectively lured the camp’s defenses into committing to the west.

  Enzo rushed back into the camp, trying to call up Rowe for an update. However, by that time, it was too late. The enemy was already inside the perimeter, and the base had erupted into heavy close-quarter fighting. Enzo and his team mowed their way across the field to the building, cutting a swathe of death. His ranks grew as more and more of his men joined in to push the enemy back. By the time he reached the building, there were over a hundred fighting alongside him. The enemy thought they had victory in their grasp. He would show them how wrong they were. He felt like Achilles killing Trojans.

  Dawn broke as the battle raged on within the confines of the camp. The Prophus had gained a foothold on the perimeter but were unable to take the main building housing the vessels. By the time the sun was fully up, they were forced to pull back. In the end, they had failed to rescue any vessels. They did, however, release two hundred humans, no doubt swelling their ranks. That, Enzo could not care le
ss about.

  He watched as the Prophus retreated and disappeared back into the foliage. Without missing a beat, he summoned all the officers and had Rowe put in cuffs. The idiot had disobeyed and deserted his position in an attempt to improve his standing. His foolishness had allowed the Prophus to infiltrate the base and almost steal victory. The Genjix commander begged forgiveness up to the moment Enzo shot him.

  “From now on,” he declared, “all orders come through me. Follow without fail. Is that understood?”

  Enzo then ordered Palos to see to the wounded and begin repairs on the fence. He rushed back to the war room and ordered a convoy of prisoners prepped to leave within minutes. They had just waged a large battle, so both sides were exhausted. Enzo now gambled that the enemy was not prepared to enforce their blockade.

  That is clever. You have done the Genjix proud.

  He was right. The next day, Chow received a shipment of twenty Prophus prisoners to continue his testing.

  TWENTY-NINE

  A DEAL WILKS CAN'T REFUSE

  In the Quasing’s defense, neither the Prophus nor the Genjix were involved in the rise of the Third Reich. In fact, both factions considered the Nazi party an oddball group of madmen. After all, one of Hitler’s inner circle was a butcher’s apprentice. We thought they were a political party of clowns. Both the Prophus and the Genjix were badly mistaken.

  All the Quasing with hosts in Germany during this time were swept into the service of the Reich. We had little choice but to make the best of the situation. My host nobleman, Rolf Hindler, became a young officer of the SS. It was ironic that Yol, never a warrior, was in a decorated general by the name of Erwin Rommel, the Desert Fox.

  Baji

  “You’re not pulling my leg are you, Ms Tan?”

  Jill batted her lashes at the sun-baked raisin sitting across the table. Senator Garritano must be the tannest man in his home state of Washington. Having been on numerous trips to Seattle, she didn’t think there was enough sun to cook Garritano to that golden crispy hue. He must either spend all his time in Florida or have a tanning booth at home.

  Senator Garritano was the number six man in his party and one of the most popular in Congress. He was also so old that he might have been alive when the Roman Senate was in session. And one thing about those who were permanent fixtures on the Hill, they all had their kooky pet projects that everyone else thought were insane.

  In Garritano’s case, his passion was an earmark for a high-speed rail from Northern California to Alaska. Never mind that the route passed through a sovereign country or that the business logistics of it were unsustainable. He believed that connecting the country together was of paramount importance and fulfilled manifest destiny, Canada’s objection be damned.

  “Of course not, Senator,” she smiled.

  Garritano sat back and scratched his cheeks in a way only geriatrics were comfortable doing in public. “Wilks and I have never seen eye to eye, him being a heretic of American exceptionalism. Why would he support me now?”

  “I’ll take care of Wilks.” Jill gave him a reassuring pat on his wrinkled arm. Inside, Jill cringed. Wilks was going to wring her neck when he heard about this, but Garritano’s vote was cheap.

  “Well, little lady,” Garritano winked. “You bought yourself a vote.” He squeezed her hand in a way that made Jill want to dig out her sanitizer. Excusing herself as politely as possible, she left the senator’s office and hurried to her next appointment.

  That is five. One more and we have the filibuster.

  Jill ticked off names in her head. She couldn’t believe it, but things were falling into place. The past few days had come down to the wire. She had worked the phones frantically, wheeling and dealing, and calling in favors from her entire Rolodex.

  At this rate, she owed a quarter of the Senate favors in one form or another to be cashed in at some future time. But in doing so, she had assembled a package of earmarks, bills, and amendments that were not only favorable to Wilks, but to the Prophus as well. The big losers in all this were the Genjix. She just needed a few more pieces to push them over the edge.

  Jill left the Hart Senate building and walked across the street to a small Mexican restaurant nestled between an ice cream shop and a shoe shine store. Sitting in the far back, she met the last sweetener that should seal the deal.

  “Jill,” Senator Karn beckoned to her. He was in a tight primary race trending in the wrong direction. A true independent, none of his constituents liked him very much, but then that was what usually happened when you walked on the line instead of to the side of it. New polls showed him losing badly. His funding was pathetic, and pundits projected that he might not even have enough cash on hand to make it to primary day. This was where Jill came in. While Karn was a weathervane when it came to issues, he was still just one of a hundred votes that controlled legislation in the Senate. And now, she was going to buy him out.

  Jill sat down opposite of him and spoke quickly. “Your approval rating is thirty-six percent. Your campaign war chest won’t last another two months. You’re down six points to an admiral, an American hero no less. You’re dropping like a rock. How clear is this picture I’m painting?”

  “You said I’d want to meet with you,” he grumbled. “If I wanted a recap of how I’m getting my ass kicked, I’d just watch the news.”

  Jill leaned back and smiled. “Do you still want to win?”

  “Do I want to go back to selling tractors in Wisconsin?” he spat.

  “Good.” She took a piece of paper and slid it across the table. “Here’s a list of bills coming up for a vote in the next four weeks. We value your support on every matter. In return, Senator Wilks will campaign on your behalf during the upcoming holiday weekend. His political action committee will also make a sizable donation to your campaign.”

  Karn palmed the paper and slid it off the table. His eyes narrowed as he scanned the list. Then he tore the paper into pieces. “That’s a long list. How large a contribution?”

  “Mid five figures. Half up front, half after the holidays.”

  He shook his head. “Not for that many votes. Low six. Up front.”

  Squeeze him.

  “The nerve!”

  He was always a greedy one.

  Jill leaned forward. He smelled like tobacco and road kill with a dash of Old Spice.

  “Sir,” she said in a low voice, “You know Wilks used to live in Wisconsin, don’t you? He was the CEO who pulled that pipeline in from the badlands and created what, fifty thousand jobs? He’s a hero there.”

  Karn snorted. “That was twenty years ago. My constituents have the memory of puppies. If you have to dig that far back, maybe Wilks’ support isn’t worth that much after all.”

  She stood up to leave. “Think it over. The offer is good until I walk out of the door.” She turned and paused. “By the way, Admiral Back went to Annapolis, graduated ’82? Interesting, so did Wilks. Perhaps the good admiral would like his old friend to make an appearance and regale the good people of cheese country with some of their old adventures together at the Academy. But then, the last thing Wilks did for them was twenty years ago. I’m sure it wouldn’t mean much anymore.” She began walking toward the door.

  She was halfway across the room when she heard the “wait”. She kept looking forward, a small smile escaping her lips. There was a pause, and then Karn said, “I think Wilks makes a convincing argument. I will consider supporting his positions.” Jill continued walking out the door as calmly as she could. She had him!

  I thought Wilks went to MIT.

  “Annapolis, MIT, what’s the difference?”

  Think he will play?

  “We’ll find out. The first bill on the list is the energy renewal bill. If Karn votes for it, we’re golden then.”

  Jill headed back to the Hart building and met with four other appointments. By evening, she believed she had built the political firewall she needed for Wilks not to have to meet with Hogan. The deals were
rough, and details still had to be hammered out, but she was now in the driver’s seat.

  She went back to her office to prepare her notes to present to Wilks. When she finished, she gave herself a virtual pat on the back. It had taken an enormous amount of work but she had pulled it off.

  Now to sell it to Wilks, which is far from assured.

  “After all the work I did, I’ll kill him if he says no.”

  No need to get your hands dirty. We can send a cleaning team in.

  “I’m just kidding.”

  I am not.

  A few minutes later, after weeks of cobbling support from every corner of Congress, she put all her cards down on the table and laid out the entire plan to Wilks. Some of her concessions made her feel downright dirty, and others would infuriate him, but her plate of offerings more than compensated for them. At least she hoped it would.

  As expected, Wilks threw a fit at some of the deals made. He ranted about putting his name on the F-112 military plane allocation, slammed his fist on his desk when told he was taking the prescription pill plan amendment off Medicare, and literally screamed when told he had to increase corn subsidies for corporate farms in Iowa. And when he heard about campaigning for Karn, she swore he almost took a swing at her. Three very draining hours later, Jill thought the game was lost when he threw her out of his office and slammed the door in her face.

  “That went more or less as expected.”

  I thought it went quite well, actually. Did you see the look on his face when he heard what Gastigone wanted with the military base in Turkey?

  “I’m not going to lie, I almost slugged him when he called me a backstabbing turd playing for the other side.”

  You would have been justifiably excused if you had.

  She turned to see Tammy, wide-eyed and pale, standing by the door. “Can I get you something, Jill?” she asked, voice trembling. “Coffee? A cup of water?”

  “Tequila,” Jill slapped her table. “You’ll find a half bottle in the second drawer of my cabinet. And maybe an aspirin. Make that two.”