Vanishing Point - Marc Cerasini [89]
When Kenneth Wu, head of the CIA's Department of Foreign Intelligence, arrived in his office, he found a thick Fed Ex envelope on his desk. When he read the return address — DIAMID, LLC — Director Wu set his Starbucks coffee and breakfast pastry aside. The package had come from a mole inside the Los Angeles Consulate of the People's Republic of China.
It took Director Wu ten minutes to peruse the documents, which outlined every detail of the attack on Groom Lake, including the names and dossiers of the leaders of the mission. When he was finished, the Director reached for his phone and called his boss, who promptly notified the President of the United States.
* * *
6:13:54 a.m. PDT
Hangar Five,
Experimental Weapons Testing Range
Groom Lake Air Force Base
Captain Hsu saluted.
"Everything we loaded onto the plane was lost with the airliner, Jong Lee. The blast also cost four men. Commandos Sahn, Suh, Bah, and Shi-uhr," he said, rattling off their code numbers. Their names were unimportant.
"Six men," Carlos said miserably. "Do not forgot Enrico, and my friend Roland Arrias."
"An accident?" Jong Lee asked.
Hsu face remained impassive. "Possible, but unlikely."
"Then we have an enemy among us. One of the scientists, perhaps..."
"More likely a soldier," Hsu interrupted. "A member of the Air Force Special Operations Command. Or a particularly determined airman."
"In either case, we have a larger problem than our losses," Lee said with a frown. "I want your men to spread out across the base, find me this... soldier, and kill him. I also want Commando Chee to reactivate the base's defensive radar. He and Jyo will be in charge of base security. I expect we may have visitors shortly."
"But what about the hostages? We will be stretched so thin. Who will guard them?"
Jong glanced at the Americans lying about on the hangar floor. Most of them were sleeping. One young woman was sobbing quietly, a captured airman comforting her. "Three guards will be sufficient to keep them in check. Use the Cubans. They are less disciplined than our men, but this is one job they can handle."
Jong Lee glanced over his shoulder. "Yizi!" he cried.
The woman appeared at his side, AK-47 slung over her slim shoulder.
"Go to the flight tower and use the radio to send a coded message on the emergency frequency. Tell our reinforcements in Mexico that they will have to come get us," Lee commanded.
"That's absurd, the American military will shoot down any aircraft that invades its airspace," Pizarro Rojas cried. He was slumped on a stack of boxes near the doors. Stella Hawk, who had been sleeping with her head in his lap, awoke at the man's outburst.
Sneering, Carlos Boca spoke. "Even if your rescuers manage to reach this place, how can we fly out again without being detected? We've lost the stealth system in the explosion, and the Yankees will never let us get out of here alive."
Jong Lee smiled. "You forget our guests, Cuban."
Lee dipped his head in the direction of the hostages. "We will exploit our prisoners as human shields. When they try to stop us, we will tell the Americans we will free our prisoners once we cross the border, otherwise they will die. The United States government will agree to our demands. They must."
* * *
6:54:33 a.m. PDT
CTU Headquarters, Los Angeles
The hastily assembled teleconference with the President of the United States had just begun. Sitting around the table in CTU's briefing room were Ryan Chappelle, Alberta Green, Richard Walsh, and Christopher Henderson. In Washington, the President was joined by the Secretary of State and his own Chief of Staff.
The President was already in a foul mood when he appeared on CTU's digital monitor. This was his third conference of the morning and none of them had gone well. The first had been with his CIA director, the second with the Joint Chiefs of Staff.
He'd been scheduled to sign a new funding bill in the Rose Garden today, the crowning achievement of the President's second term. But between the terrorist attack in Las Vegas and the raid on Groom