Empire Rising (54 page)

“Quid pro quo, my American friend.”

She could hear the smugness in his voice.

Christine struggled to climb to her feet. She paused on her knees and right hand, waiting until the room stopped spinning.

Huan addressed her again, his voice agitated this time. “You will pay for what you've done.” His right foot added an exclamation mark to his threat, connecting solidly with Christine's already-broken ribs.

Pain shot through her chest and the kick took the wind from her lungs, simultaneously knocking her onto her side. She heard Xiang's stern voice, but he was speaking Mandarin and she had no idea what he said. The only thing she could focus on was the pain coursing through her body. Every breath was pure agony, joining the pain shooting through her shoulder and head. Huan was bent on killing her, and death would be a blessed relief. But there was one thing that kept her going.

I'm gonna kill Huan if it's the last thing I do.

More easily thought than done, however. She glanced at the Glock, only a few feet away. If she ignored the pain, she could scramble for it. Huan caught her glance at the pistol and stooped down, grabbing it before Christine could make a dash for it.

Before she could focus on a new plan, Huan spoke. “On your knees, Christine.”

Xiang spoke again, his words terse. Huan turned toward him, and Christine could hear the hatred in the younger man's voice as the two men exchanged heated words in Mandarin. Finally, Huan turned back to Christine as Xiang glared at him.

“On your knees,” Huan repeated.

Christine eyed Huan's shoes warily as she pushed herself gingerly onto her right hand and knees again.

“Tell us how to disable the virus you injected into our command and control system,” Huan said, “and I will let you live.”

She looked up at Huan. “I have no idea if it can be disabled. But even if I knew how, I wouldn't tell you.”

Huan studied her a moment before replying. “You lie.” He raised the pistol, leveling it at her head. “Tell me how to disable the virus.”

Christine stared at the pistol pointed at her head, then looked up at Huan. “Take a hike.”

Huan's face clouded as he tried to decipher Christine's response.

There was a loud knock on the door, followed by a muffled question in Chinese. Christine could hear the concern in the man's voice, no doubt raised by the two dead bodyguards sprawled on the floor outside the president's office. Huan lowered his gun and opened the door, revealing two additional Cadre Department bodyguards.

After a brief exchange of words, one man took station outside the president's office, while the other headed down the corridor. Huan returned to his position in front of Christine, but this time left the gun at his side.

“If you don't know how to disable the virus, perhaps your friend does. We'll see how much he values your life.”

*   *   *

There was another knock on Xiang's door a few minutes later. Huan opened the door to reveal Lieutenant Harrison standing in the doorway, his hands handcuffed behind his back, with a Cadre Department bodyguard behind him. Huan issued an order and Harrison was pushed into Xiang's office. Harrison looked pale and his face was bruised and swollen, and the left side of his rugby shirt was caked with dried blood. Despite his worn exterior, however, his eyes remained bright, shifting between Christine and the men in the room. He stopped beside Christine, while the Cadre bodyguard moved to the side of the room.

As she wondered what had happened to Harrison after she stepped onto the ledge, her subconscious gnawed at her, telling her there was something important she was overlooking. She examined Harrison again, then the Cadre Department bodyguard, and she suddenly recognized the guard. He was Yang Minsheng, head of Xiang's security detail.

The man who had set her free from the Great Hall and given her the flash drive.

Yang gave no indication he was willing to assist them, however. He stood with his hands at his sides, awaiting further orders. Still, there was a glimmer of hope.

“What is your friend's name, Christine?” Huan asked. “I'm afraid he hasn't been forthcoming with any useful information, including his name.”

Christine refused to answer.

“Well,” Huan said, “perhaps it's not necessary.” He spoke to Harrison. “Tell us how to disable the virus and I will let Christine live. Refuse, and she dies.”

Harrison said nothing, staring blankly across the room.

Huan raised his pistol, pointing it at Christine's head. “I'll give you one more chance. Talk or she dies.”

Harrison stared at Huan dispassionately for a moment, then looked at Christine. “I'm sorry, Chris. You know I can't help them.”

Even though she knew that would be Harrison's response, his words stung nonetheless. Deep down, she wanted Harrison to love her enough to do whatever it took to save her life.

“It's okay,” Christine replied.

Looking at the pistol in Huan's hand, she focused on his index finger, wrapped around the trigger. As long as the flesh remained pink, there was hope. But when the flesh turned white, it would be over.

She glanced at Yang, but he remained as still as a statue. Christine then realized that Yang had killed the guard and given her the flash drive in secrecy—no one knew it was him. But to save her life, Yang would have to expose himself in front of Huan and Xiang. Would he? Or was his position within China's highest body of government more important than her and Harrison's lives?

As Christine prepared to meet her fate, Xiang interjected, speaking to Huan from behind his desk. The tone of his voice was unmistakable. A man in charge of an entire country, giving an order to a subordinate. Huan ignored Xiang's words, pushing the cold metal barrel of the Glock against Christine's forehead.

Huan turned his head toward Xiang as he spoke in English, apparently for Christine's benefit, maintaining the pistol pressed firmly into her forehead.

“I do not disobey you lightly, Chenglei, but I must take revenge for what she has done. She destroyed years of painstaking preparation, and China is humiliated again by an imperial power. The lives of many men will amount to nothing.”

Xiang replied, also in English. “No one will obtain the revenge they deserve. Not me, for what was done to my mother, not America, for the lives lost in this conflict, and not you. Put down the gun.”

Huan ignored Xiang's command. Turning back to Christine, he spoke in English.

“Time to die.”

Terror tore through Christine's mind. Up to this second, she believed she would live; that she would somehow find a way out of her predicament. Her breathing turned shallow and her pulse began to race. She felt light-headed and she braced herself with her right hand, but that only caused her to lean forward, pressing her forehead more firmly into the pistol barrel.

Huan's finger turned from pink to white as he began squeezing the trigger.

There was a flash of movement along the side of the room. Yang pulled his pistol from its holster, leveling it at Huan as he shouted in Chinese. Huan's expression transitioned from surprise to malevolence, then he slowly lowered his gun and tossed it onto the floor.

The president's stern voice captured Christine's attention. He was yelling at Yang.

Yang ignored China's president, keeping his eyes fixed on Huan as he reached into his pocket and tossed Christine a key. “Unlock your friend's handcuffs. We're going to need his help getting out of here.”

Christine pulled herself to her feet using Harrison's arm for assistance, as Huan verbally lambasted Yang. A torrent of Chinese streamed from his mouth, his face turning red as he no doubt cursed Yang for his treason. Christine unlocked Harrison's handcuffs, and he rubbed his wrists as he turned toward Christine and Huan. He was about to say something when a gunshot rang out.

Yang's body jerked backward. Christine's eyes went first to Yang. He'd been shot in the side. She looked across the room toward Xiang, still standing behind his desk, the top right drawer open. Xiang held a pistol in his hand, aimed at Yang.

Yang swiveled toward Xiang as China's president fired again, this time hitting Yang in the chest. Yang collapsed onto the floor, his gun falling from his hand.

As the second shot rang out from Xiang's pistol, Harrison was already moving. He took two steps toward Xiang, then launched himself headfirst over the president's desk. Xiang swung his arm toward Harrison as he crashed into Xiang with a flying tackle. The two men disappeared behind the desk as they fell to the floor, and Christine could hear them struggling. There would normally be no doubt as to who would prevail, but Harrison was injured, with a bullet in his shoulder.

Christine looked at Huan, only a few feet away from her. Their eyes locked for an instant, then Huan's eyes went to Yang's pistol on the floor. Christine suddenly realized her peril. He was closer to the gun and would reach it first. She glanced down, locating her Glock ten feet away where Huan had tossed it.

Huan ducked down, reaching for Yang's gun while Christine dove for hers. She landed on her stomach, sliding across the floor, ignoring the pain stabbing through her chest and left shoulder. Her outstretched right hand found the Glock, and she grabbed it. She slid her finger over the trigger as she twisted onto her back. Huan had Yang's gun and was swinging it up. Christine took aim as Huan's hand steadied, and both fired simultaneously. Huan's bullet tore into Christine's right thigh as her bullet hit him in the chest. He dropped to his knees, the gun tumbling from his hand.

As the sound of the gunshots faded, the door to Xiang's office burst open. In the doorway stood the Cadre Department bodyguard who had taken station outside the president's office. His gun was drawn and held extended with both hands. He surveyed the situation in Xiang's office—Huan, Christine, and Yang on the floor, with the sounds of a struggle coming from behind the president's desk. His eyes went back to Christine and the gun in her hand, and he took aim at her.

Christine swung the pistol toward the bodyguard and fired first. The bullet hit him in the chest, jerking his aim as he fired. The wood floor by Christine's head splintered as a bullet impacted an inch to the left of her ear.

The bodyguard stumbled backward a step, but remained standing. He regained his balance, showing no indication he'd been injured. Christine then remembered the two bodyguards outside Xiang's office had been wearing bulletproof vests. She raised her pistol, steadying up on the bodyguard's head and squeezed the trigger again.

The pistol hammer fell on an empty chamber.

She was out of bullets.

Christine glanced at Yang's pistol on the floor near Huan. He was still on his knees, supporting himself with both hands, oblivious to what was happening.

The Cadre Department Bodyguard adjusted the aim of his pistol. Christine knew there was no way she could reach Yang's gun in time. The bodyguard's hand steadied, his pistol pointed squarely at her head, and a shot rang out.

Christine flinched, but no bullet penetrated her body.

Instead, the bodyguard jolted backward again as two more shots were fired. Two bullets hit him in the chest, and a third in his forehead. His head snapped back and he fell to the ground.

Christine looked around and spotted Harrison standing behind Xiang's desk, the president's pistol in his hand. Behind him, Xiang was slowly pulling himself to his feet, his hand on the edge of his credenza along the back wall. Harrison moved quickly, heading toward the door to Xiang's office. He dragged the bodyguard inside, then closed the door and locked it. He turned to assess Christine and the two men on the floor.

Both Huan and Yang were alive. Huan was still on his knees, his head bowed and hands on the floor, blood spreading across his shirt from the bullet hole in his chest. Yang was trying to push himself into a sitting position. Harrison kicked the gun away from Huan, then after a quick glance at Christine's leg, hustled over to Yang, propping him against the wall. Harrison examined Yang's wounds, glancing occasionally at Huan and Xiang.

Christine stood, doing her best to ignore the pain shooting through her thigh, and retrieved Yang's pistol from the floor. She had unfinished business. She turned and leveled the gun at Xiang, who was standing behind his desk again.

“Order your military to stand down,” Christine said. “End this war.”

Xiang said nothing, glaring at Christine instead.

“Terminate all military operations,” she said, “or I'll put a bullet in your head.”

Xiang finally responded, “You would not kill an unarmed man in cold blood.”

Christine studied Xiang, searching for a way to coerce him. She needed to convince Xiang she was serious about killing him—
in cold blood
as he described it. As she stood with the pistol aimed at China's president, pain from her broken ribs sliced through her chest with every breath, blood trickled down the side of her face from the laceration in her scalp, and blood from the bullet hole in her thigh soaked her pants leg. She glanced at Huan, the man responsible for all three injuries, still kneeling on his hands and knees a few feet away.

Christine swung the pistol toward Huan. He looked up at her, hatred burning in his eyes. She steadied her aim and squeezed the trigger. The back of Huan's head exploded outward and he slumped to the floor.

Harrison, who had been tending to Yang's wounds, stood and turned toward Christine, examining Huan's body. “What the hell are you doing, Chris?”

Christine ignored Harrison as she swung the pistol back toward Xiang. “Let's try this again. Order your military to stand down, or I'll put you down.”

Xiang's eyes narrowed for a moment, then he reached for his phone.

“No funny business,” Christine said. She glanced at Yang, sitting up against the wall. “Are you lucid enough to listen to what he's saying?”