EXOSKELETON II: Tympanum (39 page)

3

Wednesday, 10 June (11:21 a.m. EST )

Will pointed the pistol at Zhang and put his back against the wall next to the door. “Tell them to go away,” he whispered and then nodded at him to open it.

Zhang pulled the door open and said something to the man on the other side. The conversation went back and forth a few times and Will realized he’d made a stupid mistake. He couldn’t understand what Zhang was saying and now he couldn’t let the other man leave.

Will sprung into the doorway with his gun ready. The man was already aiming and pulling the trigger. Will felt himself leave his body as the world slowed down around him. An instant later, he recombined with his body. He was still standing.

It took him a few seconds to process the scene before him. The man’s head was gone and his body leaned against Zhang. Blood spurted out from the man’s frayed neck and into Zhang’s face.

Will had just killed the man in an instant, and couldn’t remember doing anything. His head pounded. “You stupid fuck!” he yelled and grabbed Zhang’s ear and dragged him into the room. He grabbed the collar of at the headless sailor and dragged his twitching body into the room and closed the door. He looked back to Zhang and pointed to the two headless corpses on the floor. “That is your fault.”

Will punched Zhang on the side of the head, and grabbed his collar.

“Where are the nukes?” Will asked. “Where will they be launched?”

Nothing.

He dragged Zhang to the side of the table, and forced his hand onto its surface.

“Tell me,” Will said. His patience was gone.

Zhang said nothing.

Will’s anger had boiled over. He slammed the handle of the pistol onto Zhang’s fingers with great force. Bones broke, and the flesh around one of them split, yellow slivers of bone jutting through the skin.

Zhang responded with a delayed scream.

Will grabbed the man’s ear and twisted hard. “Where are they?” he yelled.

He brought the pistol up high and slammed the hand again. The pinky finger was now mangled, bent at an awkward angle and bleeding. The nail of his ring finger was completely removed, stuck to the bottom of the gun handle.

For a split second the darkness that filled Will’s thoughts faded to shame. The feeling disappeared quickly: what Zhang was experiencing was nothing compared to what he had endured in the Red Box.
And they shot Denise
.

Will brought the pistol up again, but before he brought it down, Zhang yelled out. “Wait. I’ll tell you whatever you need to know,” he said, half screaming, half crying. “There’s nothing on this ship.”

“What about the other surface ships?”

Zhang shook his head, blood dripping from where he’d bitten his lip. “Only submarines.”

“How many subs are carrying nukes?”

“There are six subs; one of the six carries nuclear warheads,” Zhang said.

He let go of Zhang’s arm and the man slipped off the edge of the table, holding his damaged hand tightly with the other.

Will turned to Cho. “Your men shot one of my friends,” Will said. “You killed the CP men. You killed Adler, and who knows how many others. Now you plan to murder thousands, all in the name of the Red Wraith project. You know people. I want names.”

Cho didn’t answer.

“You see what’s happening to this ship?” Will said, looking Cho directly in the eyes. “The plane crashing into the sea, the fires, the helicopter – that was all me.” He then nodded towards Captain Zhang, who was still on the floor, clutching his fingers. He looked back to Cho and pointed to the two dead men on the floor. “I swear I’ll do the same to you.”

Cho nodded. “I will write them down for you.”

Will searched drawers and cabinets until he found a technical manual of some sort and tore off the cover. “You have a pen?” he asked.

Cho nodded and pulled one out of his shirt pocket.

“I want your superiors in China, anyone involved in Red Wraith – or your Red Dragon project. I want the moles in the U.S., and any foreign connections,” Will said.

“There are three people above me in China,” Cho said, “I only know of two high-ranking people in the United States. One is dead.”

“Write,” Will said and put the paper on the table in front of him. He then stepped behind him so he could see what he was writing and keep an eye on Zhang at the same time.

“I can’t,” Cho said. “My arm.”

Will grabbed the pen and stood next to him. “Talk.”

There was only one name on the list that he recognized: Heinrich Bergman. He was the first person Will had killed his last day in the Red Box.

He asked questions as Cho talked. The other American VIP on the list was CIA, but that was no surprise. “Now, the name of the thug who killed the man in the parking garage,” Will said.

Cho said the name.

“What about the two FBI agents – where were they in the hierarchy?” Will asked.

“Low-level operatives to deal with personnel matters,” Cho replied. “They were to be eliminated. They were about to be dropped into the sea, but then the helicopter crashed.”

Will folded the paper, reached inside his blue overalls, and put it in his front pants pocket. He turned to Zhang. “Now I need to get off of this smoldering piece of crap,” he said and pulled out Cho’s phone.

4

Wednesday, 10 June (11:58 a.m. EST)

Jonathan answered on the first ring, and sat down at the small conference table. He put it in speaker mode and set it in front of him so that the others could hear.

“Go ahead, Will,” Jonathan said. “Everyone’s here, including Captain Grimes.”

“I have the captain here – his name is Zhang,” Will said. “He’s agreed to release me.”

“Are you on speaker phone?” Grimes asked.

“No.”

“They’re not going to release you, Thompson,” Grimes said. “Israeli intelligence tells us that their orders are to either use you, or kill you – at all costs. They’re not to give you up under any circumstances, even if it means losing their entire carrier group.”

No response.

“William?” Jonathan said.

After a few seconds, he replied, “I’m still here.” His voice was softer. “I understand.”

“What are you going to do?” Denise asked. A tear rolled down her cheek to the corner of her mouth.

“I’ll think of something,” Will answered. “Before I go, there are some names you should be aware of – people involved in Red Wraith, and FBI and CIA leaks to investigate.” He read the list to them. “The two FBI moles were with me from the beginning – starting in Chicago. The leak there is serious. Trust no one.”

“Put your phone in speaker mode,” Grimes said.

After a few seconds Will informed him that it was ready.

“Captain Zhang,” Grimes said, “this is Captain Grimes of the US
S Stennis
. Your carrier is dead in the water and burning. You have threatened a tactical nuclear attack on our vessels, and we have been given authority to launch a preemptive strike. Surrender William Thompson to us immediately and move your group out of the area. We can offer assistance to tug your disabled carrier.”

“Regretfully,” the Chinese captain replied. “I do not have that authority.”

“A lot of people are going to die,” Grimes said.

“That is not my choice,” Zhang replied. “If you leave the area, no one will die.”

“I’ve heard enough,” Will broke in. “What can I do to assist you, Captain? I can sink this ship.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Grimes replied. “It’s disabled. The support ships in their group are conventional – no nukes. We’re only concerned about their subs.”

“Zhang says there are six in the area,” Will explained, “and that only one is carrying nukes.”

“We’ve already identified their subs,” Grimes said. “Turn off the speaker.”

Something clicked on the other end and Will followed with, “Go ahead.”

“Our destroyers are going to move in at fourteen hundred hours,” Grimes said. “That’s in two hours.”

Jonathan was taken off-guard by Grimes’s disclosure.

“Go to the carrier’s helipad area at that time,” Grimes continued. “We’ll have to improvise, so be prepared for anything.”

“I’ll be ready,” Will said.

Jonathan picked up his phone and shut down the call.

Denise put her head on the table and remained silent.

“What’s the plan?” Jonathan asked Grimes.

“First, we’re going after their subs,” Grimes replied. “Next, we’ll sink every surface vessel that stays to fight, save the carrier. Then we’ll raid the carrier. I hope Thompson can hold on for that long.”

Denise lifted her head off the table. “I’m pretty sure he can handle anything, save the sinking of the carrier.” There seemed to be hope in her voice.

Jonathan nodded. “I agree.” He put his hand on Denise’s shoulder. “He’ll be fine.” He looked to Grimes. “When does it start?”

Grimes stood and straightened his hat. “It already has.”

5

Wednesday, 10 June (12:17 p.m. EST)

As Captain, McHenry had never been given a real search-and-destroy order. The
North Dakota
had the advantage of being stealthier and carrying better armaments, but the Chinese subs outnumbered those of the Americans 2 to 1. To complicate matters, Russian and British subs were also in the area, and it wasn’t clear whether they would engage once the action started.

Taking out a sub was a serious matter. Unlike the sinking of a surface ship, where the crew at least had a chance to get into a life raft or be picked up by another vessel, everyone on a sinking sub was doomed. McHenry had not yet informed the crew, or even Diggs, of the orders. They were to commence the mission in 90 minutes, so he decided to hold off for another 20 minutes with the hope that the orders might be rescinded. He knew that was unlikely, but they’d remain at communication depth until it was time to move.

He was apprehensive not only about the taking of life, but for the lives of his crew— many were younger than 25 and had families. He trusted that there was a confirmed threat to prompt his superiors to give the order to attack.

He made his rounds, sipping strong coffee from an oversized stainless steel mug, and chatting with the crew as he went along.

When he got to Finley, he asked, “What do you hear out there?”

“A lot,” Finley answered. “Eight signatures.”

“Anything new?”

“Yes,” Finley answered and pointed to a sheet of paper on the consul.

McHenry picked it up. It was a list identifying various subs by country and type: 6 Chinese, 1 Russian, and 1 British. Of the Chinese subs, only one was nuclear-capable. The others were sub hunters – hunter-killers. The
North Dakota’s
primary target was the nuke-capable sub, but they’d likely have to engage the others – or be engaged by them.

“Anything unusual?” McHenry asked.

“One of the Chinese subs seems to have left the area – toward the direction of their carrier group,” Finley explained. “Two of the Chinese subs went quiet. The remaining three Chinese and the Russian are moving about – patrolling.”

“I want you to seek out that nuke sub, and keep an eye out for another,” McHenry said. “It’s important – I’ll tell you more later – but it’s crucial you keep them marked. Understand?”

Finley raised an eyebrow, and then his face became serious. “Aye aye.”

McHenry looked at his watch as he walked away. It was time to inform Diggs of their orders.

6

Wednesday, 10 June (1:18 p.m. EST)

Will tried to avoid looking at the two headless bodies on the floor, but it was as if his own guilt forced him to do it. Both men had threatened him, and his reactions had been spontaneous – out of his control. Crashing the jet had been a conscious effort, but justified in his mind. Crashing the helicopter was another story. That Roy and Natalie had deserved their fates eased his conscience, but it wasn’t enough. He had every right to judge, but not to sentence and execute.

The blood that had pooled on the floor was now coagulated and dark, and the growing stench of death was unmistakable.

With only minutes to wait, he twitched with anxiety. He’d have to incapacitate Cho and Zhang. He considered killing them both, especially Cho, but assassination wasn’t a path he wanted to take. He looked again at the headless corpses. He wasn’t a killer.

He’d damage the carrier’s weapons systems once he started towards the helipad, and he’d continue to do so until the Americans either raided it or sent it beneath the waves. He wondered if, once things got going, the Chinese would launch a nuke. He thought Cho was gravely mistaken in his assumption of a mild retaliation. The Chinese would be wagering their entire existence on whatever was behind “door number three,” which, more often than not, was worthless. The beacon was a complete unknown.

It was time. Will stood and listened at the door.

“What are you going to do with us?” Zhang asked, still clenching his damaged fingers with his healthy hand.

“Take off all your clothes except for undergarments,” Will replied dryly.

“Why?” Zhang asked.

“You too, Cho,” Will added. “Now.”

The men hesitated.

Will pointed the gun at each man and demanded that they comply. He then tied them up using their belts and shoelaces. Then, using their pants and shirts, he gagged them and then tied each man to one of many thick pipes that ran vertically along the wall opposite the door. They were now out of each other’s reach, and should remain bound until they were discovered. By then he hoped to be off of the ship.

Will sat in a chair, separated, and passed into the hall. All was clear. Time to go.

He exited the room and walked at a hurried clip towards the helipad.