He was halfway down when the door above opened and the Chinese gave chase. They were too far back to stop him now.
He leapt to another landing and would have fallen down the remaining stairs had he not clutched for the railing. Like a horrible Rorschach blot, the floor was painted in blood. The Chinese soldier had been hit in the side of the neck and much of the blood in his body had pumped from the grisly wound. Through the red pool, Rene and Maria’s footprints continued past the gruesome scene.
Lieutenant Foch stood at the bottom landing, his wounded man thrown over his shoulder. He had an automatic in his free hand and waved Mercer toward the small lobby. The third Legion trooper had pulled the van to the front of the building. Rene was already bustling Maria inside.
Mercer gave the street a perfunctory scan. Uniformed soldiers of Panama’s National Police were at least a hundred feet away and showing no interest in the apartment house. The only thing that had gone in their favor all morning. He waited for Foch and helped him gently lay the bleeding soldier across the van’s middle bench. The two clambered in and the driver pulled from the curb.
Mercer looked out the rear window in time to see the uninjured Chinese gunman rush from the apartment building. He quickly pulled the type 87 from view and plucked a phone from his jacket pocket.
Mercer threw him the finger. “How’s your man?” he asked Foch.
“Three hits, two in the stomach, one in the thigh.” Foch tore off his shirt and used it to stanch the blood. The wounded Legionnaire moaned as pressure was applied to the oozing holes. “He needs a hospital.”
Mercer addressed the driver, “Head toward Avenue Balboa on the waterfront. That’ll take us to the Paitilla Hospital.”
Although they were far from safe, Bruneseau didn’t protest the detour. In the past weeks he’d learned that no matter what, the Foreign Legion always took care of their own. He nodded to the young soldier behind the wheel. “You’ll have to stay with him.”
“I understand.” Because these were gunshot wounds, it was likely the driver would be detained by the police. He was the logical choice to remain behind.
Mercer was well aware that including Foch, only five Legionnaires were in fighting condition. If Lauren’s father couldn’t come through for him, Liu would likely succeed through sheer attrition. Thinking of General Vanik reminded him of the cell phone. He turned it on and hit the automatic call-back button. Rather than a long international exchange, it dialed a seven-digit local number.
“Hold on,” a female voice answered after four rings. For a moment Mercer thought it was Lauren.
The next sound he heard was tires squealing on asphalt and the concussive blast from a handgun.
“One more second,” the woman said.
It sounded so much like her that Mercer’s heart flopped in his chest. He couldn’t help himself. “Lauren?” His voice quivered.
“Hi, Mercer. Give me a sec.” The gun exploded again and Mercer could hear the rising snarl of a vehicle under heavy acceleration. Foch and Bruneseau had looked at Mercer when he called Lauren’s name. He gave them an enthusiastic thumbs-up.
His hand tightened on the phone as the past fifteen hours of misery lifted from his shoulders. He had no idea how or why, but Lauren was alive. Alive! So overcome with emotion, he couldn’t speak as he listened to what sounded like a running battle over the cellular connection.
He heard the Doppler wail of a tractor-trailer truck’s air horn and the sharper bark of a smaller vehicle’s tires losing grip. Lauren gave a little moan as if her voice could control the events around her.
“Yessss!”
“What happened?”
She sighed, relieved. “Some of Liu’s goons were following me. I just played chicken with an eighteen-wheeler and got him to jackknife across the road behind me. I think I’m in the clear. I’m about ten miles from the city.”
Mercer laughed along with her breezy description, loving the melodious sound of her voice. “Are you going to tell me how you pulled off the greatest Lazarus impersonation since the Bible?”
“It can wait.” She became almost frantic with the need to tell him what she knew. “Liu’s going to take out the canal tomorrow! Sun told me because he thought I wasn’t getting out of his horror chamber. The ship carrying the explosives is called
“Jesus. Are you sure?”
“His exact words were that
“Anything else?”
“Isn’t that enough?” she cried.
“I’m just making sure, that’s all. I, ah. .” Mercer didn’t know how to broach the next subject so he just plowed in. “I spoke with your father this morning. I told him you were dead.”
“Thank you.” Lauren was serious. “I wouldn’t want him hearing about it from anyone else. I’ll call him in a minute.”
“Anyway, I brought him up to speed and told him some stuff even you don’t know. Like how there are eight missile launchers in the Hatcherly warehouse we broke into.”
“I never saw them,” she protested.
“I think we both did, but you made the same assumption I did, that they were cranes of some sort. They were on the other side of the building from the gravel pile, painted yellow. Rene Bruneseau is the one who recognized them when I drew a picture of one.”
“What’s my father doing?”
“Mourning you for one thing, but he’s taking the threat seriously. He’s checking with the CIA and others about recent Chinese missile movements. Also, Rene is going to get in touch with his people to corroborate our findings. With any luck we can get an Army Rapid Reaction Force down here before tomorrow.”
“Easier said than done,” Lauren said grimly. “You can’t just whistle up the cavalry to come to your rescue. The United States no longer has bases in Panama so they’ll have to mobilize out of Fort Bragg and then fly down. Unless they parachute in, the Panamanian authorities could deny them landing permission.”
“Maybe we’ll get lucky and there will be an assault ship in range with a load of marines.” Mercer’s voice betrayed that he doubted there would be such an eleventh-hour deliverance.
“I’m not too optimistic either,” Lauren agreed, then added, “but if there are marines close by, my dad will get them for us.”
“Listen, I just want to say. .” Mercer was at a loss at how to continue. He sounded more intimate than he intended. “This sounds lame, but I am glad that you’re okay. I thought, we all thought that, well. .”
Lauren laughed. “Please, don’t
“You know what I’m trying to say.”
“I do, but it’s fun to hear you tongue-tied,” she teased.
The van made the turn from Avenue Balboa to Calle 53 Este. The hospital loomed on their left. “Lauren, I have to go. Can you get to the Radisson Royal?”
“Is that where you’re staying?”
“Yeah, we’ve got a couple rooms under Harry’s name.”
“Okay. I should be there in half an hour or so.” Her tone darkened. “Tell Lieutenant Foch that I’m sorry. Tomanovic died at the lock.”
“I’ll tell him. And Lauren, I can’t wait to see you.” Mercer smiled as he said it.
“Me too,” she replied and the phone went dead.
“Vic?” Foch asked when Mercer folded the cellular and shoved it back into his pocket. Mercer shook his head.
The Legionnaire had already accepted the Serb’s loss once and took the news with little outward reaction.
“How did she escape the lock?” Rene asked.
“I have no idea. I guess she’ll tell us in the hotel. We all set here?”
The driver swung the van toward the emergency room entrance, braking just shy of the busy doors.
Rene turned so he was looking at Maria. “You see what happened back there when you warned Liu’s men. If
