Vital Force (20 page)

She looked down and then rubbed each nipple seductively between her fingers. “The question is,” she said with a soft voice, “are you at attention yet?”

He looked under the sheets, and happy with what he found, revealed himself to her.

“Now that's something I wanna get straight between us,” she said, moving to the bed. “Again.”

She crawled in next to him and immediately took him in her hand. “I hope you don't mind deferring command for a while.”

He wasn't sure what she meant until she got on top and set herself down onto him. “No problem,” barely came from his lips as she rose up and down on him.

Washington, D.C.

A light snow fell onto the quiet Georgetown street, the iron lamps that lined the cobblestone sidewalk still lit in the early dawn. At five a.m. there was little activity in the expensive row houses; the only sign of life came from the homes of high-ranking government officials like White House Chief of Staff Karl Oestreich, who had been making a million dollars a year before trading his job as a communications lobbyist for his considerably smaller federal paycheck.

Sitting out front of Oestreich's three-story brick brownstone house was a black Mercedes sedan with white government plates, the driver peering up from time to time to see if Oestreich was coming. A half a block down the road was a Chevy Suburban with two security agents, drinking coffee, and trying their best to stay awake.

Across the street, hesitant, General Boles unbuckled his seat belt and got out of his dark blue BMW, waited with his door open as he glanced at Oestreich's driver, and then silently closed the door and crossed the street. His Oxfords made the trek difficult, his feet slipping and almost toppling him a couple of times. Once he got to the cobblestones, the footing was much better.

Boles pulled his trench coat tighter against the falling snow, and then waved at the Chief of Staff's driver with his leather-gloved hand before heading up the steps to the front door. The driver, a former FBI special agent, lifted his strong chin with recognition, and then pointed to his watch, as if to say they would be late. Tell the old man to get his butt in gear.

Boles smiled at the man and then continued to the thick wooden outer door. He rang the bell and waited, glancing back once toward the security SUV.

It was the first time General Boles had been there, but he immediately noticed that Oestreich must have made a few modifications to the original building. All of the glass was security grade. The inner door, which would have been wood and glass, was solid wood and probably reinforced internally with bulletproof steel. The locks were top-notch. And the security camera, barely visible, which he looked into now, sat securely in a corner behind tinted glass. Boles smiled.

Just as Boles was about to ring again, he saw the inner door open, with Karl Oestreich standing there in his dress pants and white T-shirt. Seconds later, Oestreich, a confused expression, opened the outer door for him.

“Wayne. What's up?”

“I think your driver's getting impatient.”

“Screw him. Come on in.”

The general lowered his head and followed his friend into his house, the doors closing securely behind them.

The place was wood, stone and tile. Everything of the finest quality.

“What's going on?” Oestreich asked him. “Pardon me. You want a cup of coffee?”

“No, thanks. I won't keep you long.”

The two of them stood staring at each other.

Finally, General Boles said, “We lost Armstrong in China.”

“What?” The chief of staff's expression changed from settled to concerned. “How?”

“He was shot retrieving Jake Adams.”

“Is Adams all right?”

“Yes.”

“And his information?”

“He wasn't able to transfer it to Armstrong,” Boles said. “We were using a contract pilot. We couldn't expect Adams to turn it over to him.”

The chief of staff rubbed his left temple. “Where's Adams now?”

“That's the problem,” Boles said. “He was supposed to fly to Beijing and transfer what he had to our folks there.”

“And?”

“And he never showed. He and the Chinese agent are gone.”

“Gone?”

“Missing.”

Oestreich said, “Great.”

“He was supposed to transfer the images by cell phone, but that didn't work. We don't know why.”

“You were depending on Chinese cell service?”

“We couldn't give him a satellite phone. If caught, he'd be pegged as a spy in a heartbeat. The phone we gave him was secure, and the number would relay through one of our satellites to our embassy in Beijing.”

“Do you know what he has?”

The general shook his head. “No. There's no way of knowing how far along they might be.”

“They stole the hardware for our laser system under the last administration,” Oestreich said, “and I won't let them get the software under my watch.”

“What about the breach at Brightstar?” the general asked, and immediately regretted having done so. Yet, judging from the surprised expression on the chief of staff's face, his intel had been correct.

“Don't know what you're talking about.”

“Karl. How long have we known each other?”

Disgusted, Oestreich said, “Jesus H. Christ. Where the hell do you get your information?”

Boles shrugged. “We all have our little agency.”

“Yeah, well, I think we need you in the big Agency.”

Laughing, Boles said, “And take a huge pay cut like you? I don't think so. So, the breach. . .”

“Our Agency is working it. It looks like the Chinese, though.”

“I heard a transfer has been made and they're on the run. Will that impact our test in Alaska?”

The chief of staff pointed his finger at the general's chest. “See. You're already talking like you work for us.”

Boles waited somewhat impatiently for an answer, his eyes intense and watching the other man's eyes for the truth.

Oestreich reluctantly said, “The test is delayed.”

“Why? We want the Chinese to know our laser system works. Why else did we shoot down the Russian missile?”

“It's complicated. We want them to know about the airborne laser, with its more limited capability.”

“But not the Alaskan system that'll knock down anything they could ever develop.”

Oestreich was silent, his eyes shifting toward the floor.

“Well?” Boles said. “We could stop all missile development in the world if all of our laser systems work.”

Maybe that was the problem, Boles thought. America sold a lot of weapons to our friends around the world. If they thought those weapons were useless, they would stop buying.

Finally, Oestreich said, “The laser works as advertised. It's the software we need to worry about. If the Chinese get that. . .”

“They'll have what we have,” Boles said. “Taiwan falls in a week, scooped back up into a true One China.”

“That's one concern. Think beyond that, though. China becomes a Superpower without having to spend a shitload of money developing nukes. They don't have to worry about missiles from Russia, missiles from India, or missiles from rogue states. With the largest market in the world, the entire world economy shifts from America to China. We'll become a footnote in history.”

Boles thought hard about that, not even seriously considering that possibility.

“We can't let that happen,” the chief of staff said emphatically.

Dandong, China

Jake's first understanding that all was not all right came with a quiet click at the door latch. Had he not gotten up from bed to go to the bathroom for a glass of water, he would have been sound asleep.

With the click, though, Jake glanced over to find Su in bed, one leg hanging from the sheet. He left the bathroom light on, but left the door open only a crack to shine some light into the room as he moved over toward the door clothed only in his underwear.

The first thing he saw was a gun, silenced, inching into their room. With one quick movement, he shoved his shoulder into the door, knocking the gun to the floor.

The intruder let out a yell as his hand crunched between door and door frame. Jake jammed it again, but the hand had retreated. He fumbled with the lock. It wouldn't go.

Then the door shoved in on him with great force, knocking him back into the room.

By now, Su had woken and let out a gasp as she pulled the sheet up to cover her nakedness.

Jake recovered, catching the first man in the sternum with a kick. The thrust knocked the first man into the second one, pushing them back a couple of feet.

Moving to his left, Jake caught the second man with a kick to the knee. There was a snap as he dislocated cartilage, bringing the man to his one good knee.

The first man hit Jake in the head with a backfist, dazing him slightly.

Su gave up her dignity and leapt from bed, her first strike a kick to the gunman's groin. Then she swiveled and rear-kicked the other man in his forehead, hurtling him backwards out the door.

Jake sent an elbow into the head of the man eating his own balls. The man, the first gunman, struggled to depart, helping his friend to his feet. Together they mumbled and went off into the early morning darkness.

Slamming the door shut, Jake jammed a chair under the door latch and turned to find Su still in a fighting stance, her breathing heavy. He wanted to linger and watch her lovely body, her breasts heaving with each breath, but he knew they had to leave.

“Let's go,” Jake said. “Get dressed.”

They hurried around the room, shoving things into their backpacks and throwing on clothes.

“Who were they?” Su asked, confused. She put on her bra and then pulled a sweater over her head.

“I don't know. But I sure as hell don't want to hang around and find out.”

Jake put on his pants and then his socks and shoes. While he was leaning down to tie his shoes, he noticed the gun under the table. He was about to pick it up when he thought about prints. Putting on his leather driving gloves, he picked up the silenced automatic pistol. It was a knock off of the Russian Makarov in .22 caliber. Small caliber but quiet with a silencer.

“That was their gun?” Su asked.

“Yeah.” Jake pulled out the clip. Without counting, it looked to hold at least fifteen rounds. He pulled the bullet from the chamber.

“Why are they trying to kill us?” she asked him. She was now dressed and ready to roll.

Jake shrugged. “They have to be part of what's going on up north. But the better question is, how did they find us?” He had cut the handle off his backpack and checked everything else out thoroughly. As far as he knew, everything he had was clean.

“Why you looking at me?” she said, her head to one side.

There was nothing on her, he knew. She had never left his sight, so she couldn't have called anyone. And why would she? But how else?

“Do you have anything in your pack. Any way they could trace you?”

“No.” She looked hurt and disturbed by his question.

“I had to ask.”

She put her hands on her hips. “What about the car? They would have found the man. His car was gone. They would know we took it.”

“That's why I parked it in the isolated part of the parking lot,” he said. It wasn't the time to argue about it, though. They had to leave now.

After unscrewing the silencer, he shoved the empty gun into his inside jacket pocket.

“Come on,” he said. “They'll be back with their friends soon.” He checked his watch. It was almost six a.m. and the sun was still a ways from coming up.

They both put on their packs and went to the door. Cautiously, Jake left first, checking both ways. He headed out down the corridor in the opposite direction that the men had gone. Jake thought about going by the front desk and taking care of the person who had given away their room, but he realized that just about anyone would have done so with a gun shoved up their nose.

Instead, Jake lead them out a side exit. They couldn't go to the car, that was certain. Hurry, Jake, think fast, he thought, as he glanced about the parking lot.

Then he saw his answer just as he saw a small van with blue lights on top, swirling about, approach from the road that lead to the airport. There would be more to come, he knew. Move it.

There was an airport shuttle van parked just down from the lobby entrance. It was their only chance.

Su looked nervous as Jake pulled her forward toward the van.

The van was empty except for the driver, a tiny man with hair almost to his shoulders. Su got in first, telling the man they had to hurry or they would miss their flight. The man, whose face was weathered, looked at Jake with suspicion, his cigarette bobbing from his mouth as he said something to Su.

She told him to get going, waving her hand at him.

Reluctantly, the man put the van in gear and pulled out of the parking lot.

“What's going on?” Jake whispered to her.

“He asked about the blood on your head. That hit broke open your wound.”

Jake felt with his left hand, pulling back a swatch of blood on his palm.

“I told him you were an American kickboxer,” Su said, “and you had another fight tonight. Here.” She handed him a silk scarf.

“That was quick thinking,” Jake said. “This is silk.”

“Does not matter.”

He wiped the blood and then held the scarf against his wound. “I was about to pistol-whip his ass.”

Her eyebrows rose. “Pistol whip?”

“Pull the gun and knock him into next week,” Jake explained. “Didn't you watch American T.V. at Stanford?”

“Stanford is hard. No time.”

The driver pulled out into light traffic and made a comment when another police van swished past, its blue lights flashing. Su answered him and he laughed in response.