Battlefield 4: Countdown to War Page 19

  Zhou came next. He seemed to have passed through a barrier of fear and recovered some of his cat burglar’s head for heights and was now approaching the rope task with steely determination. Wu, following in his wake, was soldiering doggedly on but Qi, so far out of his hacker’s comfort zone, had tears running freely down his face, and to add to his sense of shame, he had wet himself. The others pretended not to see.

  Heng hauled Kovic over the last rock and there it was: Tsu’s domain.

  ‘Holy mother of fuck.’

  It was nothing like Qi’s grainy photographs. The entire wooden structure and pagoda roof was gone. In its place the granite perimeter wall had been raised another ten feet, with a series of narrow apertures, like arrow slits in a mediaeval castle, spaced about fifty feet apart, too narrow for any human to fit.

  ‘Come.’ Heng beckoned them forward. At the base of the wall was a five- or six-foot-wide ledge. ‘This goes all the way around.’

  ‘What about the gate?’

  ‘It’s blocked up. There is just one opening for the cable car.’

  ‘No other way in other than over the wall?’

  ‘There’s a storm drain. It travels deep under the structure then climbs vertically to a grate in the south-west corner of the courtyard.’

  ‘Are there any cameras? Is it patrolled?’

  Heng shrugged. ‘What for? They don’t expect anyone to be mad enough to make the climb.’

  Heng put out his hand.

  ‘Well, good luck. You know the way back. I’ll leave the rope in place in case you decide to come down the slow way.’

  He gave one last burst of laughter.

  Kovic embraced him. The old man’s spirit had sustained him and was a useful antidote to the falling morale of his crew. He wished he would stay, but he didn’t want to involve him in what was coming.

  Heng shook each man’s hand. They were all of them in awe of him, and Kovic knew that without his example as well as his knowledge, they would never have made it.

  Kovic watched him disappear over the ledge and down, then looked at the other three, each of them in diff erent states of exhaustion.

  ‘What’s the plan, boss?’ Zhou seemed to have gotten his second wind.

  ‘We make a base while Qi gets his kit set up and gives us an update on activity inside.’

  The ledge sloped down to the east, close to where a small clump of bushes clung to the edge of the wall.

  ‘There.’

  After the endless balancing act in so little room, the space felt like a football field. They dropped their bags. Qi got out his equipment, set up the tripod antenna and adjusted his screen.

  From out to the east, skimming the surface of the clouds, accompanied by a deep throated thrumming, a large heavy-duty helicopter came into view.

  ‘Aha, what do we have here?’

  ‘That’s a Chinese AC313, based on a 1960s French Aerospatiale Super Frelon. Carries twenty-seven passengers, and four to five tons of cargo.’

  ‘Way past its sell by date then.’

  ‘Not exactly,’ said Qi. ‘The rotor blades are composite, it’s got digital avionics, it’s certified for high altitude – over 4500 metres above sea level, plus it’s fully equipped to work in extreme weather like blizzards and as low as minus 46C.’

  ‘I’ll check the registration.’

  Kovic raised his binoculars but there was nothing visible on the polished black surface of the machine. It made a circle of the mountaintop before starting its descent, disappearing behind the wall.

  ‘Okay, thanks to our friends the Russians’ misbehaving weather satellite I have eyes inside the wall—’

  ‘And?’

  ‘Oh fuck. Look at this.’ Qi turned the laptop toward Kovic. He used his hand to give the screen some shadow while he peered at it. He hadn’t known what to expect and the jumbo-sized chopper should have been a hint. The inner courtyard also contained two smaller helicopters, one a standard executive carrier, the other a two-seater with open sides. But what really caught his attention was the number of men in military gear exiting the AC313: at least thirty, fully tooled up with armour and guns. His half-baked plan to storm the battlements was rapidly evaporating.

  ‘For a recluse, he sure likes company.’ Kovic looked at the wall. ‘I need a better look.’

  A fresh plan started to take shape in his head. He glanced at the others. Wu was already asleep and Zhou not far off . He turned back to Qi.

  ‘Wire me up.’

  ‘What, right now? Don’t be crazy. You need to rest like us mortals.’

  Kovic wasn’t listening. He felt energy coursing through him. He had come this far. Something big was happening over the wall and he couldn’t risk missing it – or worse – missing Tsu. He unrolled the grappling hook and the gas-propelled launcher. It could also fire stun darts, of which he had brought a generous quantity, as well as a couple of smoke canisters. He hesitated then decided against taking any of them with him.

  Qi was watching him closely.

  ‘This is just a look, yeah?’

  ‘Yeah, ’course.’

  There was a lack of conviction in Kovic’s tone that Qi found worry ing. He gave him a micro-receiver, which he pushed deep into his ear. ‘This is the same model you use on surveillance and stings, but it’s modified for altitude and has a bigger range. These walls might cause some distortion and if you go underground you’re incommunicado, remember that. It’s technology, not magic.’

  Qi switched on his end.

  ‘Receiving?’

  Kovic nodded.

  ‘Copy.’

  Qi grasped his shoulder.

  ‘You be careful. Don’t get carried away, okay.’

  He spread his arms. ‘Like this? I doubt it.’

  Qi wasn’t convinced, but he wasn’t in a position to argue.

  Kovic attached the grappling hook and line, aimed and fired. It caught the top of the parapet. He pulled on it with all his weight: it was firm. He tensed the line and started to climb, looping it round his fist as he went. It was punishing on his arms, but something else was driving him now that blotted out the exhaustion. He reached the parapet, grasped the edge with both hands and hauled himself up, flattening himself along its surface. A flag on a pole fluttered in the wind, bearing the snakehead trident and flaming fist.

  ‘Holy shit,’ he whispered to himself.

  Qi picked up the whisper loud and clear.

  ‘Talk to me! ’

  ‘Another group of men are disembarking from the chopper, camouflage dress, no armour, just cases and laptops. They look like command staff . But there’s blue in that camouflage. They’re not private security, they’re navy. What the fuck is this guy up to?’

  He took out his phone and ran a burst of video for Qi to work with as he built up a plan of the facility and ID’d the uniforms.

  Qi’s computer sucked up the video.

  ‘Okay, got that. You coming down now? ’

  Kovic didn’t answer. Still crouching on the parapet, he pulled up the rope.

  ‘Kovic? ’

  Qi was waving up at him.

  Kovic waved back. He knew it was madness, but the whole venture was. Why stop now?

  He patted his top pocket, checked for the South African passport.

  ‘I’m going to off er him my services.’

  42

  Kovic lay face down on the helipad, surrounded by guards, their rifle muzzles inches from his head and a boot pressing on the small of his back.

  ‘Give me a freakin’ break, guys – I’m hardly going anywhere.’

  None of them showed any understanding of what he was saying. He couldn’t see because they had forced him to face the ground but he could hear more men being rushed towards him.

  ‘Find someone who speaks English, quick.’

  A minute passed before the English speaker was found.

  ‘State your name and business.’

  He waved the passport.

  ‘Ray Nyman, from South Af
rica. I heard Mr Tsu is recruiting.’

  He was banking on this being more plausible than most covers he could have chosen, now the world was awash with former South African Special Forces looking for private security work.

  ‘Okay, I’m hearing you,’ came Qi’s voice in the receiver buried in his ear.

  ‘Look you guys, go easy on me, okay? It was a lot harder getting in here than I bargained for and I’m as good as dead so you can do pretty much what you want with me. Lock me up if you have to, but a bowl of rice wouldn’t go amiss, or better still, a nice juicy ostrich steak to remind me of home.’

  They hauled him to his feet.

  ‘Thanks. You gonna take me to the boss?’

  Without a word they frogmarched him towards a small metal door that didn’t look like the visitors’ entrance. As they got near, another guard on the inside opened the door and they entered a dank, dark tunnel, which had been carved out of the mountain itself. The only light was from a series of naked bulbs attached to a cord that was pinned to the roof. Through another door was a row of cages. The stench of human waste caught in his throat. At first it seemed that none of them were occupied until he noticed what appeared to be a bundle on the floor of one which moved slightly.

  ‘Hey, I wanna see Mr Tsu. I’ve got serious skills here, man. Hey—!’

  ‘Be quiet. Stay here.’

  They pushed him through the mesh door into a cage and locked it behind him.

  ‘Hey, how about some of that famous Chinese hospitality?’

  The guards turned and left. He whispered to Qi but, of course, there was no answer.

  ‘Well at least I’m in,’ he said to himself. He examined the cage. There was a bucket, and a bunk made of the same mesh as the cage. The floor was disturbingly sticky. He wasn’t sure which category this mission came under: impressively courageous or just stupid. Right now it felt like the latter. For all he knew Tsu might not even be here. But what other options did he have? What sustained him was the thought that he could very easily be sitting at a desk back in Langley, just at the moment a very attractive thought, but not once he had replayed the events of the last few days. Eight thousand miles wouldn’t have taken him away from the reality of what had happened to the men on the border, and to Louise.

  He remembered something he was once told by a Vietnam vet who had survived four years in a Vietcong prison camp. At first the idea of getting back home sustained him; he felt motivated to hang on in there and when he got back to marry the girl who was waiting for him and take up the job that was lined up for him in her dad’s auto repair shop. But, as time wore on, something in him knew that future was receding. The war and imprisonment had killed that part of him. So to fend off despair he focused everything on vengeance. And when the opportunity came to escape, instead of getting the hell out and going home, he went rogue, and with a couple of fellow inmates wreaked revenge on their captors. If Kovic needed any further inspiration, it was in that story.

  After an hour the lights went out. There was nothing to do but try and sleep, but after about three hours all the lights came back on and two guards appeared. They marched him to a shower room, gestured for him to strip and wash. He pretended not to understand in the hope of picking up some useful comment. The water was tepid but welcome. He dried himself on a small, stained cloth and they gave him a green jump suit to put on and some rope-soled slippers.

  ‘Do I get to eat?’

  Neither of them replied. He made an eating motion but there was no reaction. He was seriously hungry. They marched him out through the tunnel and into the courtyard. It was dark outside; cloud shrouding the mountain fogged the floodlights so they cast ghostly rays. This time he was unshackled and allowed to walk without being held, but when he glanced at the watchtower to his left a hand reached out and gripped his neck, turning his head away.

  ‘Okay, washed and dressed for dinner,’ he mumbled as if to himself but in the hope Qi was listening.

  ‘Thank God: where were you? ’

  ‘Taking a nap.’

  They paused at a huge pair of varnished dark wooden doors, knocked and waited. Kovic heard automated bolts slide back and one of the doors opened. They passed down a stone-floored corridor decorated with fabulous ancient tapestries, Han Dynasty depictions of warriors on horseback, worth millions. Through another pair of heavy doors was a room that seemed to be constructed entirely out of grey marble that reminded Kovic uncomfortably of a tomb.

  A lone figure stood with his back to him, smoking. Without turning round he waved the guards away. Kovic stood and waited.

  ‘What do you want?’

  ‘Just looking for work, sir.’

  ‘How did you get here?’

  The voice was so low it was almost inaudible, the English fluent with an American accent.

  ‘Climbed, sir. It’s a hobby.’

  ‘South African?’

  ‘Born and bred, sir.’

  ‘Speak some Afrikaans?’

  ‘Daar was eendag ‘n woud

  aan die kant van die son,

  die maan is ‘n flou olielamp

  saans brand honderde kersies . . .’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘“Hansie en Grietjie” – Hansel and Gretel. First poem I learned at school. And the last.’ Kovic gave a little chuckle, which Tsu didn’t share.

  Slowly he turned; Kovic felt his innards go cold. He hoped to be in the presence of the man who had sent his killers to the border. But the profile was unmistakable. Tsu himself was the assassin – no question. His profile, the slight stoop as if his neck had been broken some time ago and had never fully straightened, and the tattoo on his left, not his right wrist like the others he had seen. He must have descended from his mountain retreat especially for that mission. He gestured for Kovic to sit, exposing the tattoo under his cuff as he did. Kovic sat. It was all he could do to keep his composure – and his cover.

  ‘You don’t look white enough.’

  ‘My father emigrated to Jo’burg from Athens. My mother’s Cape Coloured.’

  ‘What would I want with a lǎowài?’

  ‘I’ve seen guys in Hong Kong with white muscle: drivers, minders. It’s a fashion statement.’

  ‘The fashion is for Anglo Saxons. You’re too dark.’

  ‘I can speak the lingo a good deal better than most.’ He recited a few lines of Mandarin.

  Tsu’s gaze hovered somewhere above his head. Despite the lack of eye contact, Kovic could feel himself being sized up.

  ‘Ever killed anyone?’

  ‘A few.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Soweto. Then Liberia, Sierra Leone, all the shitholes in Africa.’

  ‘So you think you are capable of serving me. Would you kill your fellow man – to order?

  Kovic shrugged.

  ‘It’s all the same to me.’

  Tsu came up very close and peered into his eyes. He wasn’t all Chinese, that much Kovic could tell. His features were too pointed. It was a hollow stare that emitted supreme confidence and deathliness all at once. Kovic wondered for how many this look had been the last thing they had seen.

  Tsu turned away. ‘Show me what you can do.’

  He snapped his fingers. A door opened and one of the guards entered, dragging what Kovic thought at first was a large animal on a long chain. It tried to move on all fours but its limbs wouldn’t work properly. It was a grey brown colour; its back was mottled and scarred. The guard carried a whip in his other hand and with this he lashed the creature’s back with the whip so it jolted upright. Then Kovic realised – it was human, a naked, horribly beaten male, grey with dirt, the hair on his head caked and matted, with pinkish bald patches where tufts had been wrenched from his scalp. Judging by the length of his beard and the way his long hair was matted into semi-dreadlocks, he had been imprisoned for some considerable time. The remnants of shirtsleeves clung to his back, the cuff s of which flapped emptily at the end of each arm. If the man still had any hands Kovic couldn
’t see them. The guard, oozing contempt, put on a show for his master of kicking his prisoner hard in the stomach and wrenching the chain as he shouted something indecipherable. The man convulsed; a dribble of bloody spit hung from his half open mouth. He made no noise except hoarse breaths. The guard jerked the chain and dragged the man to a point about fifteen feet from Kovic.

  Tsu came round the table and stood beside Kovic. From his tunic he took a Glock and raised it to Kovic’s temple.

  ‘Stand and face them.’

  Kovic stood, his heart smashing at the inside of his ribcage. Tsu kept the Glock pressed against Kovic’s head. With his other hand he produced an identical gun and handed it to him.

  ‘There’s one bullet. Let’s see what you’re made of.’

  The guard tugged the chain again and the man knelt upright. His eyes swam in Kovic’s direction but they didn’t focus. Now that he knew it was Tsu who had administered the fatal shots on the border, Kovic knew he would not hesitate to pull the trigger. Kovic had been in a few firefights, but had only killed in what he reasoned was self-defence. I should put the poor bastard out of his misery, he thought. And anyhow, what choice do I have?

  He clicked off the safety and raised his arm. The prisoner slumped a little and the guard lashed his back with the whip so he jolted upright. Without moving his head, Kovic glanced at Tsu whose eyes were focused on his face. No chance of swinging round and taking a shot, no matter how quick his reflexes were. He aimed at the slouching figure. The guard jerked the chain that was attached to a metal collar round the man’s neck and whipped him again on the back. Kovic looked at the prisoner, who was barely conscious, and the guard who was frothing with hate. He aimed, squeezed. His hand jolted with the recoil. The guard’s head jerked sideways as the bullet burst open his neck just above the Adam’s apple, his cap tipped back off his head and he sank slowly to his knees as if the life were ebbing out of him feet first.

  Kovic turned his gaze back to Tsu to leave him in no doubt which man he had aimed at.

  ‘What’s the matter? Didn’t I get the right one?’