Empire Rising (46 page)

Perfect
.

She contemplated breaking into one of the offices she had passed, but that would put her on the wrong side of the security checkpoints. She needed to break into an office in the South Wing, not the Central Wing. And she needed to do it soon. The approaching day was an orange glow on the horizon—it wouldn't be long before she'd be easily seen on the ledge outside the building, and she was running out of time. The virus had to be inserted into the Chinese command and control network by 7
A.M
. or the
Reagan
Task Force would be forced to abandon their mission to land the Marine Expeditionary Forces on Japan.

Christine's eyes went back to the ledge, noticing it began again after a four-foot gap, marking the transition between the Central and South wings. The only way to continue was to jump the four-foot gap.

Under normal circumstances the jump would be a piece of cake—she had spent eighteen years training and had become an Elite gymnast. Unfortunately, she would have to jump from an awkward stance, and when she landed, her left shoulder and hip would hit the building. She'd almost certainly lose her balance and fall off the ledge. She didn't have any choice though. Searching through her repertoire of beam jumps, she decided a half-turn leap might work—she would twist her body ninety degrees while in the air and land facing the wall, which solved the issue of her shoulder and hip hitting the building. But if her leap was off and she didn't land squarely on the ledge …

She'd come too far to turn back now: four dead SEALs, with Harrison injured and unlikely to make it back out alive. A four-foot jump was a risk she had to take. Turning to her left, she bent her knees carefully, lowering her body into a crouch, doing her best to maintain her balance. After a deep breath, she sprang toward the ledge four feet away.

At the apex of her leap, Christine twisted toward the building, her feet searching for the ledge as she fell. It seemed like she fell downward much longer than the one second it should have taken, but just when she was convinced she had missed the ledge, both feet landed on hard stone. Unfortunately, her jump was slightly off and only the balls of her feet hit the ledge. She was unable to flex her ankles quickly enough to maintain her balance, and she began tilting backward. She clawed at the building but there was nothing to grab on to. There was no way to stop it—she was falling off the ledge.

As her body tilted backward, she tried the only maneuver that gave her a chance. Instead of waiting until she completely lost her balance, she cut to the chase—she jumped off the ledge.

It was only a small jump backward, but it allowed her to fall from the building while her hands were still within reach of the ledge. As she fell, she swung her arms forward, hands outstretched, searching for the narrow ledge. Her palms hit the cold stone and her grip held as her body swung toward the building and smacked against the hard granite wall. The impact almost knocked the breath out of her, but her grip held.

Hanging from the stone ledge, Christine realized the six-inch ledge wasn't wide enough to pull herself onto it. She looked to her right, noticing another window a few feet away. Beneath the window, the ledge widened to a foot and a half again, giving her enough room to pull herself back onto the ledge. But to work her way to the window, she'd have to let go with one hand, supporting her weight with the other as she shuttled down the ledge. She tested the grip of her left hand—the ledge was still damp from the evening's rain, but her grip seemed firm.

After another deep breath, Christine shifted her weight onto her left hand as she slid her right down the ledge. Her left hand held and her body swung back to the right, shifting weight back onto both hands. She repeated the process until she was directly below the four-by-four-foot window. The curtains were drawn, a sliver of yellow light leaking though a vertical seam where they met. Christine pulled herself onto her elbows, then swung her right foot up onto the ledge. Here's where it got tricky. With a final heave, she lifted her body up and twisted inward, rolling onto the ledge, her back coming to rest against the window.

Climbing to her feet, she placed her eye against the window where the sliver of light leaked through. Inside was a well-appointed office. On the far wall, a built-in bookcase filled with leather-bound books overlooked a red upholstered sofa and two matching chairs arranged in a semicircle. The center of the dark wood floor was covered with a thick, pale blue rug with a five-foot-diameter ruby-red star embroidered in its center. She heard the murmuring of people talking, and as she shifted her eye first to the left, then right, she spotted two men in the room. The chairman of China's Central Military Commission, Huan Zhixin, was facing her, seated at a desk. Standing in front of the desk, with his back to Christine, was another man.

The two men were engaged in a heated conversation. Based on Huan's facial expression and animated gestures, he was upset about something. The discussion ended when Huan slammed his fist on his desk. He picked up a red folder, shoving it toward the man across from him, then stood abruptly and headed toward a door in the back of his office. The other man turned as Huan passed by, a malevolent glare in his eyes as they bored a hole in Huan's back, offering Christine a clear look at his face.

Tian, from the CIA safe house.

Her suspicions were confirmed. Tian had betrayed the United States, first during her transit to the coast two weeks earlier, then last night. She fingered the Glock, still stuck into the waistband of her pants. She needed to break into one of the offices in the South Wing of the Great Hall. This one was as good as any, and if she could slip into the office unnoticed, she could pay Tian back for his treachery.

The door to the office closed as Huan left, and Tian turned back around, placing the folder on Huan's desk. His back was to Christine as he opened the folder and studied the first page of the document inside. Christine pushed gently against the middle of the window and the two sides swung inward an inch. The window was unlocked.

Christine kept her eye on Tian as she pushed the window open a few more inches, wide enough to slide her hand through. She reached in, carefully pushing the right-side curtain out of the way, listening closely to ensure the movement created no sound. Christine froze as Tian reached down toward the desk, but he simply flipped the first page of the document over. Christine exhaled slowly, then pushed the other side of the curtain back, providing enough clearance to open the window wide enough for her to slip through. She glanced down through the glass panes—there was nothing beneath the windowsill inside the office, just a four-foot drop onto the wood floor.

Christine slowly pushed the two sides of the window open, then pulled the Glock from the waistband of her pants, disengaging the safety with her thumb. Kneeling down and supporting her weight with her left hand, she slid her left leg through the window, resting her thigh on the windowsill as she pulled the other leg through into a sitting position on the windowsill, her legs dangling over. She looked up at Tian, still studying the document. With a firm push off the windowsill, Christine landed on the wooden floor with a soft thud.

Tian turned around as Christine raised the Glock to a firing position. There was a shocked expression on his face as he slowly raised his hands. “What are you doing here?”

She should have pulled the trigger immediately and continued on. But there was one question she wanted to ask. She moved closer to Tian, keeping the Glock pointed at his chest. “Why did you betray us?”

Tian's surprised expression faded, his eyes turning cold, calculating. “I did not betray you. My colleagues were the traitors and they deserved their fate. As far as your SEAL friends go, they are enemy combatants and they paid the price.” Tian's eyes went to the pistol in Christine's hand, then back to her face. “You didn't answer my question. Why are you here?”

Christine ignored his question again, suddenly curious why Huan was upset with him, considering the aid Tian had given. “Why was Huan angry with you?”

Tian frowned as he dropped his hands, folding his arms across his chest. “Because I failed to determine the objective of your mission. I called in our special forces too early.”

Early enough
.

Her curiosity satisfied, Christine decided it was time to move on. She'd already spent more time here than she should have. It was time for Tian to meet his fate.

Tian sensed her decision. “Kill me and your friend will also die.”

Christine hesitated. “What do you mean?”

“One of your SEAL friends is in custody and is being interrogated. You can ensure his safety if you surrender and reveal the objective of your mission.”

Had Harrison been captured? Or was Tian lying, buying time?

Christine searched Tian's eyes again and examined his expression, trying to determine if he was telling the truth. His face was an impassive mask, offering no clue. But after mulling his proposition, Christine decided it didn't matter.

“No deal,” Christine replied.

It looked like Tian was about to plead his case again when there was a sound of a door opening behind Christine. Tian's eyes flicked over her left shoulder.

Huan had returned to his office. Christine squeezed the trigger, putting a bullet into the center of Tian's chest, then turned toward the door. But Huan had already closed the distance, blocking her right arm as she swung the Glock toward him. A second later, the air was knocked from her lungs as Huan punched her in the stomach. Christine doubled over as one of Huan's hands clamped firmly around her right wrist, and she could sense his other hand going for the pistol.

She felt Huan's grip on the Glock, twisting it from her hand. In desperation, Christine tried the only move she could think of. She lunged forward and tackled Huan, clamping her left arm behind his knees as she buried her shoulder into his waist. As Huan fell backward, he instinctively reached out with his right hand in an attempt to brace his fall, temporarily abandoning his attempt to wrest the Glock from her hand. But his left hand was still firmly clamped around her right wrist.

Huan landed on his back and Christine fell on top of him. She clambered to a sitting position with her legs straddling his waist and tried to aim the gun toward his head. But Huan had his arm extended, and she couldn't bend her wrist far enough. As she tried to determine what her next move should be, Huan's right hand swung up, his fist connecting solidly with the left side of her jaw.

Huan's punch almost knocked her off him, but she was able to maintain her balance as pain coursed through the side of her face. Huan's right hand reached toward the pistol.

Two can play this game.

One of the fundamental principles Christine learned during her self-defense course was to hit the perpetrator where it hurt. She pulled her left hand back and slammed her fist down into Huan's nose with all the force she could muster. Huan cried out in pain as blood spurted from his nostrils. His grip on her wrist loosened, and with a twist of her arm, she wrenched her hand free from his grasp.

She bent her arm toward Huan, hoping to get a clear shot at him, but Huan blocked her again with his left arm, then chopped across and down on her wrist with his right. The impact knocked the Glock from her hand and it slid across the smooth wooden floor, coming to rest under the sofa.

Without the gun, the encounter would turn into a physical battle she was sure to lose. Her only hope was to retrieve the Glock.

She pushed down on Huan's chest with both hands, springing to her feet, then dove toward the sofa. But Huan grabbed her left ankle as she leapt, and she fell onto her stomach, her outstretched hands at the edge of the sofa, only a foot away from the Glock. A second later, the distance to the pistol began to grow as she slid backward across the floor. Huan had scrambled to his feet and was pulling her away from the sofa by her ankle.

Christine twisted onto her back, kicking at his hands with her other foot, but her shoes were flat-soled and had little effect. After Huan dragged her to the center of his office, he released her leg and stomped down on her stomach. Christine doubled over from the pain, turning onto her right side, away from Huan. He circled around so he faced her, wiping the blood from his face with his sleeve.

“What are you doing here?”

Christine looked up at the man towering over her. “I thought I'd stop by for tea.”

Huan kicked her in the stomach.

The kick caught her at the bottom of her rib cage, and she felt the bones crack. The pain was intense, magnified with each inward breath. Trying to protect herself from another kick, she curled into a ball, covering her face with her forearms, pulling her knees up to her elbows. Huan's kick had sapped the strength from her, and she needed a moment to recover.

“Tell me why you're here,” he said, “and I will let you live.”

Tilting her head up slightly, she peered between her forearms at Huan. As the pain coursed through her body, she realized there was a silver lining to her beating. As long as Huan interrogated her by himself, there was a chance she could escape. Once security guards arrived, it would all be over. She had to keep him engaged. As she looked up at him, she noticed the anger glowering in his eyes. She needed to keep him angry.

“Go screw yourself.”

Huan kicked her again, but this time his foot glanced off her shins. Realizing his kick had little effect, he reached down, grabbing Christine by her hair and left arm, pulling her to her feet. White-hot pain shot through her ribs as she stood erect. Christine dropped her arms, protecting her ribs as best as possible. As soon as she dropped her arms, Huan pummeled her with another punch to her face.

Pain sliced through Christine's mouth as she reeled backward, tripping over Tian's body, her back smacking against Huan's desk as she landed on the floor. Blood trickled down her chin from a split lip as she tried to pull herself to her feet, her arms reaching out on top of Huan's desk. But before she could stand, Huan closed the distance, clamping his right hand around her neck. She tried to pry his hand away, but Huan grabbed her right wrist, pinning it on top of the desk. She continued prying with her left hand, but Huan was too strong.