Brainrush 05 - Everlast 02: Ephemeral (11 page)

J
AKE
LOWERED THE BINOCULARS
. He and the others were crouched on the
ridgeline, stretched out beneath the canopy of a vine-covered tree. The ancient
village below them was nestled in the cramped embrace of a rolling jungle
landscape, the wooden structures connected to each other by an expanse of
peaked rooftops that spiraled outward around a towering central temple. Smoke
snaked from chimneys. A river flowed along one side of the community, cascading
down the steppes as it made its way down the valley to melt into the distant canopy
of trees. The sun was setting. Men rolled up fishing nets along the bank, and a
line of women wearing coolie hats traced a path from the soybean crops on the
opposite ridge to the bridge leading them home.

Dolphin had said the village was home to two hundred families.
It was a peaceful scene untouched by time, Jake thought, until his gaze dropped
to the modern campus abutting the southern edge of the hamlet. It was dominated
by a square, four-story office building that wrapped around an open courtyard
garden with a pagoda-style gazebo at its center. A number of smaller structures
surrounded the building and it had its own private airport. Jake spotted a
helicopter, two small Cessnas, and an old C-130 Airlifter. A half dozen cars
and trucks were in the parking lot but there wasn’t much activity. A golf cart
rolled out from one of the two hangars and headed toward the main building. It drove
between the stone remnants of an ancient wall that stretched across the valley
floor, where Jake suspected the wall provided an effective defense against
raiders. He imagined it had remained untouched because of its historical
significance to the residents. A stone longhouse stretched along the village
side of the wall. A new wing had been added to one end and the entire structure
had been fitted with a new roof.

“East meets West,” Lacey said.

Pete pointed to the towering peaks surrounding the valley.
“Secure place to settle two or three thousand years ago. Protected on three
sides by the terrain, and a choke point where the river leaves the valley.”

“Yeah,” Marshall said. “Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid
had the same kind of hideaway, but remember what happened to them?” He turned
to Shamer and Dolphin, who were huddled over Shamer’s tablet. “Reception okay?”
Marshall asked.

Shamer pointed to a communications tower rising from the top
of the central building. “Excellent. The village may be thousands of years old,
but you can bet that DarkMatter has it plugged in.” She turned the tablet
around to reveal a satellite image of their location. “The image isn’t real time,
of course, but we can still use it to keep track of everybody. Let’s link up.”
She tapped the screen.

Marshall pulled out one of the smartphones Feng had acquired
for them. Everyone else did the same. “Click this,” he said, pointing to an
application on his home screen. A thumbprint registration screen popped up and
everyone followed the instructions to personalize the app. “If anyone tries to
access this app but you, the program will autodestruct.”

When everyone was registered, Marshall pointed to an icon on
the submenu. “Now tap this here.” Jake touched the icon and the satellite image
appeared on his phone.

“Got you,” Shamer said, as a cluster of green icons appeared
on the ridgeline depicted on the satellite shot. “Now we can all keep track of
one another. Cool?”

“Very cool,” Skylar said, in a dramatized Chinese accent.
She looked every bit the local peasant, with a black wig over tanned and weathered
skin, hooded eyes, dark contacts, and a broad nose. Pete and Lacey had helped
her prep the disguise on the long drive, the trio calling on their combined experience
on the receiving end of hair and makeup on movie sets. It wasn’t perfect, but
it would do. The baggy pants, tunic, and coolie outfit completed Skylar’s disguise.
Pete and Jake wore the same outfits, though their makeup made them look more
like hardened criminals than farmers. The rest of them were dressed in dark
fatigues.

Jake confirmed the tracking system was working on his screen.
Dolphin had explained they wouldn’t be able to use the phones to communicate
with one another, because calls or texts from an unregistered device inside the
range of the tower would instantly trigger alarms and isolate the user’s
location.

You can use it once to text Pete the go signal,
he’d
said.
That’ll identify your location but not Pete’s. So when you do it, drop
the phone and start running.

That would have to do. Going into a mission like this
without comms was dicey, but keeping track of everyone’s position would be a
big help. Jake pocketed the phone and brought the binoculars back up to his
eyes. “Where are the soldiers?”

“Good question,” Pete said, studying the layout. “Wherever
they are, ye can bet they’ll come running when Sky and I are done doing our
thing. They could be holed up in there.” He pointed at the longhouse. “Looks
like a barracks.”

Jake saw a couple golf carts parked beside it. Three men strode
past. They wore the regimented black slacks and white shirts he’d seen inside
the Hong Kong building. They were likely some of the yellows the teens had
talked about. “I don’t see any weapons.”

Skylar said, “Then the sooner we move, the better.”

Jake nodded, swiveling the lens toward a cluster of homes on
the near edge of the village. That was their target. According to the kids,
that’s where BlackFlag’s mother lived. Dolphin had called her from Hong Kong to
deliver the news about her son. He’d told her the whole story, and to the
woman’s credit, she’d accepted the news stoically. She was expecting them, eager
to help bring down the people who had murdered her child. A lot was riding on
the assumption that the woman might have a clue about where Francesca and the children
were being held. Otherwise, they were going in blind.

Jake had checked in with Doc when they were in Hong Kong,
and Jake had been thankful to learn that Eloise was going to be fine. Doc had
heaved a sigh of relief when Jake filled him in on everything. Doc’s role at
DARPA—and his close relationship with the current administration—placed him in
an ideal position to provide assistance. But when Jake had explained they were
heading into mainland China, the silence on the other end of the line had
pretty much said it all. US intelligence assets in China were limited, Doc had
explained. That hadn’t bothered Jake because it wasn’t the US intelligence
service he was interested in. It was the Chinese leadership. When he’d
explained what he wanted, Doc had said it couldn’t be done. Relations between
the US and Chinese governments were strained at best. Then Jake had told him
about Passcode and the names that had been on the final game board, several of
whom had top-secret access to Chinese government networks. That had gotten
Doc’s attention, and he promised to see what could be done.

That had been fifteen hours ago. Jake pulled a satellite
phone from the side pocket of his cargo pants and dialed.

Doc picked up on the first ring. “Dammit, Jake. All hell is
breaking loose over here! The Chinese are furious that we won’t provide them
with a specific location, and the president is all over me. He wants to speak
to you immediately. Let me connect—”

“Don’t bother, Doc,” Jake said. “I only talk to you. And I’m
not giving up our location until I’m good and ready.”
Not until my loved
ones are out of harm’s way.
“Have the Chinese mobilized like I requested?”

“Yes, but—”

“No buts, Doc. Are they ready?”

“The PLA Air Force’s 15th Airborne Corps is standing by at a
base in central Fujian province.”

Jake checked his watch. “Tell them to take off and proceed
to the following initial point.” He pulled the GPS coordinates from memory and
rattled them off, hesitating when he got to the last few digits. He turned to
Marshall, held out his hand. Marshall pulled a slip of paper from his pocket
and handed it over. Jake’s gut tightened as he scanned the coordinates,
realizing he’d transposed several of the digits. “Check that, Doc. Let’s start
over.” He read the coordinates from the paper.

Marshall’s eyes narrowed. “You okay?”

Jake ignored him, speaking into the phone. “Tell them to take
off and hold over that position until I get back to you with the final
location.”

“They’re not going to like that one bit. How long are they
supposed to fly around in circles?”

“Not sure. But tell them to bring tanker support. Just in
case.”

“Jake, this is not going to fly with the Chinese. You’re in
their country, for God’s sake. Now, listen to me very carefully. The president
of the United States still has authority over you as a former officer in the US
Air Force, and he has issued you a direct order to—”

Jake severed the connection and pocketed the phone.

When a man knows his time is up, free will is the only
authority that matters.

He went over the plan in his mind. It was filled with holes,
but with some luck it just might work. He’d arranged it so that he was taking
most of the risks. If something happened to him, Marshall and Lacey had the
second sat phone and it would be up to them to call in the troops.

Feng and his man had remained with the trucks a couple
hundred meters back, hidden in the trees along an offshoot of the potholed road
they’d used to get here. Jake, Pete, Sky, and the teens would proceed to the
village on foot. The steeply sloped jungle between here and there appeared impassable,
but Dolphin had assured Jake there was a way down.

BlackFlag brought us up here after his father’s funeral,
Dolphin had said.
It had been their favorite spot.

Jake turned to see the others waiting on his lead.

He placed one hand on Marshall’s shoulder, the other on
Lacey’s. “You two are on overwatch. Keep your heads low but don’t take your
eyes off what’s going on down there. We’re counting on you.”

Lacey squeezed his arm. “Find them, Jake. And be careful.”

“We’ve got your back,” Marshall said.

“I know.”

He nodded to Dolphin. “Lead the way.” The boy set off with
Shamer. Jake, Pete, and Sky grabbed their weapons and followed, picking their
way through the dense foliage as night fell.

I
T
HAD BEEN A LONG
and slow drive through the mountains. The seldom used
dirt roads from the monastery to the village were in drastic need of repair,
and the old panel truck swerved from side to side as Little Star did his best
to avoid the deep ruts and holes.

Despite the rough ride, my body had finally given out and
I’d slept most of the way. So had my brother and sister. Little Star had woken
us a few minutes ago, and I was grateful for the fruit and water he’d offered
us before continuing down the road.

I sat next to the monk on a torn bucket seat, bouncing up
and down on squeaky springs. The truck’s dim headlights jiggled and danced on
the road ahead, flickering off a neverending overhang of dense foliage. It was
hot and muggy and the air smelled like an overripe head of lettuce. The truck
didn’t have any seatbelts, so I clung to a cracked leather hand strap that was
bolted into the door.

Little Star had told us what he knew about the people who
seemed to be in charge of things in his old village. The short version was that
they’d been received with open arms by the villagers because of their
generosity. But during Little Star’s infrequent visits with his mother and
nephew, he’d seen change after change in their valley and had grown uneasy,
sensing there was far more going on than what met the eye.

I’d done a lot of thinking during the ten-hour drive.
I
didn’t talk much, but that didn’t mean my mind wasn’t always racing. Dad said I
had the ability to process information ten times faster than others. It worried
me. I’d read that nature has a way of creating balance, and I wondered
sometimes what price I was going to have to pay in return for my unusual gifts.
I sensed my mom had been worried about that, too, especially lately. But that
wasn’t what I’d been thinking about on the trip. My mind was on something else.

Killing.

I’d thought about the bears, and how easily their captors
abused them and tossed aside their carcasses, and the rage I’d felt toward those
men. Then I’d remembered the pilots and guards who’d died in the plane crash
because Ahmed had drugged their tea. Did they have wives or children like me
and Sarafina and Ahmed? But if we hadn’t drugged them, where would we be now?
Locked in dirty cells? Maybe dead? Taking their lives had saved ours. I had no
doubt there were very real consequences to taking a life. What I’d learned,
though, was that sometimes the consequences of
not
taking a life were
just as real.

My hesitation on the bridge had cost Uncle Timmy his life.
It was a guilt I’d carry with me forever. But when Little Star had taken those
same lives I’d spared, including his own brother’s, the rest of us had been
saved. And although the monk had been pained by what he’d done—and had even
lost his home and friends at the monastery as a result—he didn’t regret it.

I imagined my dad would have done the same thing, not just
for his own kids but for anyone in need of help. I was proud of him for it. We
were all proud of him.

So killing isn’t always wrong. That’s the lesson I’d
learned. Sometimes it’s a necessity. Sometimes killing a few can save hundreds.
In the case of the thousand or more lives Dad had taken by blowing up the
island two years ago, he’d saved every other man, woman, and child on the
planet.

 “Ouch!” Sarafina cried out, scattering my thoughts as we
bounced over a pothole. I turned around to see her crouched in the rear bed,
gripping one of the truck’s wooden side slats with one hand and rubbing her
bottom with the other. “Can’t we go any slower? My butt’s killing me.”

“Don’t you believe in shocks in this country?” Ahmed added.
He was wedged in the opposite corner, legs spread to brace himself.

Little Star’s eyes twinkled. “In your country, people pay to
have their bodies rubbed and thumped. Here, it is free. In any case, the
village is just over the next rise.”