'And there she goes, twenty-six million dollars of pure fun,' said Lieutenant Moch, as the Predator's onboard camera showed an image of the dark, roiling waves before the screen went blank.
Captain Gummerson turned his attention to Moch's playback monitor. 'Show me that fuel barge and that crane one more time before I talk to Mitchell.'
'Rewinding now. And there they are, sir,' said Moch, rapping a knuckle on his screen.
As Gummerson studied the infrared images, he pointed his finger at one heat source and said, 'What is he still doing there?'
'I don't know, sir,' said Moch.
Gummerson glanced back over his shoulder. 'XO? Tell the SEALs we may have a change of plan.'
'Aye, aye, sir.'
'All right, son, what am I looking at?' said General Keating to the young intelligence officer seated before the wide-screen display.
'Here's Xiamen Harbor. Right here is the first patrol boat, heading up to the seawall. From what I can tell, sir, the DIA's mole got off that order to the patrol boats, but only one's heading up. The other captain has either been ordered to remain behind, or maybe he didn't receive the second order. Bottom line is we still have one Shanghai to deal with. See him, right there, running along the gap between Haicang and Gulangyu Island.'
'And there's no way my Ghosts can exfiltrate with that guy patrolling the gap.'
'It would not be easy, sir.'
'And what do we have here?' Keating pointed to a window that had just opened on the display.
'That's video from the Predator, sir. It just hit the network a few minutes ago.'
Keating watched as the bird flew up the long, L-shaped pier jutting out from the sand spit where the Ghosts had made their infiltration.
Only now there were two large heat sources down there, and the image zoomed in to a fuel barge tucked up alongside the pier and a floating crane out near the end.
'They just moved those in,' said Keating.
'Yes, sir.'
'Get the satellite over them. And get me
'Yes, sir.'
Nolan had already jabbed a needle into Mitchell's arm, numbing the area, and the medic was now in the process of removing the slug with a pair of straight forceps while Brown and Hume balanced dim lights over the incision.
It wouldn't be the first time Mitchell had lead plucked from his flesh, though he hoped it'd be the last. Nolan repeatedly urged Diaz to avoid the bumps in the dirt road as he pushed the forceps into the wound, and she did the best she could, saying they'd reach paved ground pretty soon.
'Almost there, Captain,' said Nolan. 'I see it.'
'That's nice. Just get it out of me.'
'And there it is,' said the medic, holding up the slug. 'I'll save it for you.'
'Don't bother. Just stitch me up, thanks.'
'It's a one-stop shop, Captain.'
The Cross-Com's uplink channel flickered with an image from Beasley's camera. 'Bravo Lead here, sir. We just hit the paved road, still heading to the coast. Lights are still out down here.'
'Roger that,' replied Mitchell. 'Check the map. Once you get on the shore drive, look for that overpass we discussed. We'll see you there.'
'You got it, Boss.'
Brown, who was now up front with Diaz and had donned his night-vision goggles like her, pointed to the road ahead and said, 'There's the turnoff.'
As she took the left fork, Mitchell's Cross-Com once more flashed with an incoming transmission from the downlink channel. General Keating thumbed his glasses higher on his nose and lifted his voice, 'Keating here, Mitchell.'
'Go ahead, General.'
'Our DIA mole managed to draw off one of those patrol boats, but the other's still out there, running up and down the harbor.'
'Sir, he'll tag us in a second.'
'And
'I'm all ears, sir.'
'Intel believes that the patrol boats were put in place by one of the Spring Tigers himself, Admiral Cai. He added harbor security prior to their operation. You got lucky those boats didn't arrive before your infiltration.'
'I hear that, sir.'
'Cai also ordered in a refueling barge to support the boats, and he called in a crane to load pallets of fuel onto the pier for additional support elements. Have a look.'
Mitchell studied the rotating graphic of the eighty-foot-long, self-propelled barge with a squared-off bow and a small control house. A tower with a boom jutting out in a V pattern rose just past amidships. Attached to that boom was a large refueling hose ready to be extended down and outward. The data bar indicated that the barge had a crew of six.
Next appeared the floating crane seated atop a rectangular, rust-laden barge not unlike its land-based counterpart. The crane's boom rose some 120 feet into the air, and written in English on the side of the operator's cabin was the company name: Wuhan Noontide Industries, Inc. The crane had a main operator and an assistant.
'Now Mitchell, I've just gotten off the horn with Captain Gummerson, and we're running this a couple different ways to help get you out of there. With all the injured you have and the two CIA casualties, Gummerson is willing to surface at the last possible second to get you aboard, but he won't do that unless you make it past the gap.'
'Which takes us back to where we started.'
'Not exactly. Now pay attention, son. We have a lot to discuss.'
THIRTY-TWO
While Ramirez was technically the assistant team leader, the shooting pain from his gunshot wound made it difficult to think straight, so he'd placed Beasley in charge. Smith, who'd been hit himself, had done a fine job of taping up Ramirez and fitting him with a makeshift sling, but Ramirez had refused painkillers. He'd wanted his head to be clear. Maybe he'd have Nolan inject him with a local anesthetic when the medic arrived.
Ramirez and Beasley remained inside the idling SUV while Jenkins and Smith had gone down to the docks and loading ramp, just fifty meters ahead to secure the boat.
All of Haicang up to the Xiamen Bridge was still dark, but just across the harbor, Xiamen Island remained brightly — and unnervingly — lit.
Ramirez checked his watch, then pulled up the tactical map in his HUD and zoomed in on Mitchell's SUV. 'They should be here by 0410 hours.'
