Battlefield 4: Countdown to War (27 page)

70

Continental Conference Centre, Shanghai

Something stung Kovic’s cheek. He felt it again on the other side and a third time . . . a sharp slap. He took a great gasp of air – he could breathe. He was awake, alive. He opened his eyes. Hannah was bending over him, grey with dust like a beautiful statue, almost invisible in the semi-darkness. What was more, she was unhurt. He felt a surge of relief.

‘How—?’

He grasped her arms. She shrugged. ‘Just luck. About time I had some, wouldn’t you say?’

The space under the stage was full of people, crying, screaming, feeling their way up and over each other, stumbling as if blind. She took his hand.

‘Get up. Hurry.’

‘Where’s Jin Jié?’

‘We need to get him to a hospital.’

Jin Jié was still alive but deteriorating. The front of his shirt was wet with blood. Kovic got to his feet and together they hauled him up, each with an arm over their shoulder, and dragged him towards what looked like an exit.

‘He goes to hospital now, he’ll never come out. Chang’s people will find him and kill him.’

‘There’s shrapnel in his neck and shoulder. He needs surgery.’

They reached an emergency exit, and walked in small steps, agonisingly slowly, up a shallow ramp that led to the plaza. The Conference Centre was on fire, blue grey smoke billowing upwards into the night sky. Kovic lowered Jin Jié while he surveyed the scene, looking for Wu. The plaza outside was in chaos, emergency services rushing forward with stretchers as survivors spewed out of
the doors, many of them clutching wounds or each other. Behind them, armed soldiers were descending from trucks.

‘Jesus, it’s already begun. We have to get him out of here.’

There was no sign of Wu.

‘C’mon, we’re wasting time.’

He hauled Jin Jié on to his shoulder and together he and Hannah moved him towards the line of TV trucks. In the mêlée they were less conspicuous; the dust from the explosion had coated everyone in the same uniform grey. All the same, Kovic kept his head down as they moved through the throng.

‘You, stop! Turn round!’

A soldier in full body armour grabbed Kovic by the arm. Hannah lunged forward and landed a kick in the gap below his armour, karate chopping his neck as he went down.

‘Okay, let’s keep moving.’

The militia were forming a cordon round the building to corral Jin Jié’s supporters within the plaza. A group trying to flee the area were tussling with some soldiers. Three shots rang out.

‘Jesus.’

Another soldier spotted them and started pushing toward them through the wounded. Then he suddenly put his hand up to his throat and dropped to the ground. Kovic scanned the crowd and saw Wu holstering his gun.

Never had Kovic been so pleased to see him. Despite the dead weight of Jin Jié hanging limply from his shoulder, he speeded up, Hannah struggled to stay with him as he surged forward.

‘Where’s your vehicle?’

‘Blocked in; I can’t get back to it.’

Jin Jié groaned. The blood was still dripping off him. They had to stop the blood loss and try and stabilise him. But with the shrapnel still in him, Kovic knew his chances were slim and getting slimmer. He eyed the TV trucks, their dishes beaming pictures of the chaos to the world.

‘I got an idea.’

He pointed at one of them. ‘That one, come on.’

He hammered on the door. ‘US Government: open up.’

The door opened an inch. Kovic wrenched it wider. Inside was the young TV technician he had rescued from the mob only a few days ago. He looked as terrified as he had been then.

‘Hey, remember me?’

The technician was frozen with fear.

‘Hey, buddy, we’re on the same side. It’s okay, we just want your help. What’s your name, son?’

‘Hal.’

‘We need your van, Hal.’

‘Sir, um, I’m not allowed—’

Kovic pushed his way inside and eased Hal out of the way. Wu and Hannah followed, manoeuvring Jin Jié with difficulty through the narrow door. There was another technician inside with headphones on. He jumped up off his stool.

‘Hey, you can’t come in here! Get the fuck out—’

He stopped when he saw Jin Jié’s blood soaked shirt.

‘Oh my God— Is that who I think it is?’

Kovic swept everything off the counter – coffee cups, pens, bottles, notepads and mobile phones – and beckoned Wu and Hannah.

‘Lie him on there so I can get a look. You guys got any first aid?’

The headphone guy reached into a small cabinet and pulled out a tiny pack of antiseptic and some small bandages.

‘Not exactly warzone-prepped, are you?’

Kovic ripped open Jin Jié’s shirt. A jagged piece of shrapnel had torn into his neck and travelled along his shoulder, carving a bloody trench before embedding itself under the collarbone.

‘Oh God.’

The headphones guy staggered and leaned against the bank of TV screens. He was turning pale.

‘Hal, take your buddy and go sit up front in the cab for a minute, okay?’

Hal’s eye caught the TV monitor. Chang, surrounded by microphones, was still addressing the world.

‘Shit, Jin Jié’s dead.’

Kovic probed Jin Jié’s wounds.

‘And if that’s what Chang’s saying, it must be true. Now let us do what we need to do.’

‘But—’

The headphones guy was still staring at the patient on his counter. He seemed to have recovered and now had that
world exclusive
gleam in his eyes.

Kovic grabbed him by the throat.

‘Don’t even think of it, okay, or I’ll have to kill you both. Anyhow, Jin Jié’s not a story outside China. But I got something much better for you: get down to the Pudong Royale right away. On the top floor you’ll find a dead American spy, who’s been shot for treachery. His name is Edward Cutler. You break that story; it’ll make you as famous as Woodward and Bernstein.’

The two looked at each other, then moved to the cab. Kovic started opening hatches, sifting through equipment, looking for something he could improvise with. He glanced at Hannah who was cradling Jin Jié’s head.

‘We’re gonna have to clean him up a bit so we can move him.’

Hannah pointed at where the shrapnel was lodged.

‘We have to get that out.’

Kovic shook his head.

‘Negative. First rule of field care – strap it up and leave it to the professionals. Biggest problem we face is he bleeds out. Best we TQ and get the hell out of here.’

Jin Jié stirred and groaned. He didn’t look good. Hannah patted his brow with some tissues.

Hannah was insistent. ‘The shrapnel’s going to be grinding away inside. If it travels deeper and hits an artery . . .’

More blood was seeping out from under him.

‘We should turn him over.’

Kovic eased him on to his side. There was a large dark patch on his back. Hannah ripped the shirt away.

‘Oh shit,’ said Wu.

An exit wound under Jin Jie’s arm. Another piece of the bomb had travelled right through him.

‘Jesus, what a mess. Okay, we’re going to try and take out the biggest lump.’

‘What with?’

Kovic scanned the contents of the van, and found a bottle of vodka. Thank God for the drinking habits of journalists.

‘That’s a start.’

Hanging up on the door on a coat hanger was a hi-vis yellow jacket. He pulled it off and let it drop it on the floor, then worked fast, bending the hanger into something resembling barbecue tongs. He held them between his thumb and forefinger, adjusting the jaws until they met.

‘Not exactly a precision instrument but it’ll do.’

‘Have you done this before?’

He smiled in a way he hoped looked confident and reassuring.

‘There’s always a first time.’

Hannah shook her head.

‘How is it you’re so sure of everything?’

Kovic tried to keep the smile going.

‘I’m not: I just want this to work.’

He emptied some of the vodka over the wound and the tongs.

‘Hold him. Wu – grab his other side. This may sting a little.’

He leant down with the tongs and probed the wound with them. Jin Jié’s body flexed as if he’d been shot through with electricity. Hannah gripped his arm.

‘That’s a good sign, means he’s still with us.’

He worked his home-made forceps round the dark, jagged object lodged in the flesh of Jin Jié’s shoulder, submerged under a rising ooze of blood. Then, praying inwardly, he tightened his grip and eased them upwards.

‘Eureka.’

He held the tongs aloft, clasped in them a dripping golfball-sized lump. With his other hand he tossed Hannah the bandage.

‘Okay, now we TQ him and he’ll be good to go.’

‘Go where?’

‘We got to get him out of Shanghai to the coast. Between Maojia
and Tanglu Port there’s plenty of easy landing for a seaborne exfil. We’ve got warships a few hours away by RHIB.’

‘What’s that?’

‘Rigid hulled inflatable – a fast rescue boat, the Porsche of the seas.’

Hannah tore up what remained of Jin Jié’s shirt and made it into a thick pad which she used as a pressure dressing on his wounds, then she wound the bandage round his shoulder and under his arm. He winced at the pain as he sat up.

‘I’m sorry but I’m not leaving the city. I cannot desert my people. My destiny is with them. Isn’t that right, Hannah?’

Kovic looked from Jin Jié to Hannah. Why did she hang on his every word?

He folded his arms and leaned against the counter.

‘Jin Jié, having just risked my life – and that of my friend here – to save yours, I’m not going to listen to any more of this idealistic crap. Right now Chang’s telling the world you’re dead and that it’s all our fault. He finds out you’re alive, he’ll fry you and invite the world’s media to inspect the remains. Do you get that?’

‘My mind is made up.’

They both looked at Hannah.

Kovic sighed.

‘If you stay she’s going to want to stay too. You can throw yourself to the wolves, but not her too.’

Jin Jié shook his head and gazed dejectedly at Hannah. There was something of the lost puppy about him. Did she love him? He wrenched his mind back into focus.

‘Okay, think about this: when the Nazis invaded France, what did General de Gaulle do? He got the hell out and regrouped with the help of the Brits. Couple of years later he rode back into Paris, victorious, on the shoulders of the Allies.’

Jin Jié shook his head.

‘But look what happened to Chiang Kai-Shek. He abandoned his fight with Mao and retreated to Taiwan. He never came back.’

So much for history. Kovic glanced at the screens. A military official was issuing instructions.

‘
All foreigners are to report to the Zhi You Tower complex in preparation for evacuation
.’

Kovic let out a long sigh and looked at Wu, who’d diplomatically remained silent.

‘Fine, we’ll do it your way. Wu, let’s get out of here.’

He flung open the door, blasting them with the full volume of the mayhem outside. There were more gunshots. As he stepped down from the truck he felt a hand on his shoulder. It was Hannah.

‘Please.’

‘Please what?’

All the force seemed to have drained from her. She looked small and vulnerable and alone.

He grasped her by the shoulders. ‘I just don’t want to see you die because of him.’

She looked hard at him, projecting all her charm. ‘I’ll make him leave. Just let me do it my way, okay? He has too much pride to do what you tell him.’

71

They crept between the TV vans, and found they were surrounded by a ring of military trucks. Hannah had put the rest of the bandages round Jin Jié’s head to disguise him, and Wu steadied him protectively as they moved cautiously through the crowd.

‘He’s very weak. He shouldn’t walk too far.’

‘We need some wheels. We need to get away from here.’

‘Through another militia cordon – how?’

Kovic quickened his pace, moving noiselessly under the cacophony coming from around the conference centre. As they neared a young soldier on guard between two of the trucks, he bent low and rammed his shoulder into the kid’s stomach, snatching the Chang Feng sub-machine gun from him as he buckled and slamming the butt down on his temple. Kovic swung open the truck door.

‘No one’s going to stop us in this.’

Together they hauled Jin Jié up into the cab. Kovic fired up the engine and shoved the gearshift into first.

They were crammed into the cab, four abreast, Jin Jié only upright because there was no room for him to slump down. Kovic manoeuvred the truck out of the line.

‘Just keep your heads down – if you can.’

The road on the other side of the cordon was clear. Kovic floored the gas and the vehicle gathered momentum. Up ahead, the junction was blocked by a couple of motorcycle cops.

Wu gripped his arm.

‘Boss, slow down – just drive normally. No one’s going to chase an army truck.’

‘Okay, okay.’

A motorbike cop stepped out and waved them to stop.

‘He looks into the cab, we’re done for.’

The cop turned and signalled to whatever was coming down the cross street. A pair of tank transporters rumbled past.

‘It’s for the cameras,’ said Hannah. ‘To show they mean business.’

‘Maybe it’s more than show.’

The cop waved them forward, to follow the transporters.

‘Uh uh, that’s not the way we want to go.’

Kovic ignored the cop and started to turn left, but a second jumped in front of them gesticulating furiously. Kovic swerved even harder left. The first cop’s bike crunched under their wheels.

‘Oops.’

‘He won’t like that.’

There were more oncoming tanks. Kovic whizzed through a gap in the convoy and sped up the road. This thing was faster than it looked. In the mirror he saw the second cop coming after them. They hadn’t gone a block before he was level with them and taking aim. He swerved to avoid another oncoming truck and, just as the cop started to overtake, wrenched open his door. The cop smacked into it head first, came right off the bike and went rolling into the gutter.

‘I’ve only ever seen that in the movies. Never thought it would work in real life.’

Wu looked up from his phone. ‘They’re shutting off all the exit routes from the city. No one’s allowed to leave.’

‘Whatever.’

They were on the slip road that joined the Hushan Expressway flyover. It was solid with traffic, even the emergency lanes; cars and minibuses crammed with people and luggage, some with trailers stacked with boxes, even livestock.

‘Only one thing to do here.’

Kovic slammed on the brakes, made a multi-point turn and roared back down the slip road, to the consternation of drivers coming the other way.

‘Wu, see if the satphone’s got any reception.’

Wu fiddled with the controls.

‘Only a very weak signal. A text may get through.’

‘Okay, you steer while I type.’

Kovic snatched it, tapped out a message and pressed Send.