Catalyst (Breakthrough Book 3) (34 page)

75

Sixty-three minutes later, Xinzhen ended another call and leaned back into his limousine’s soft leather seat.

They had no choice.  Xinzhen was about to pull the cover off one of China’s largest and well-kept secrets.

As controversial as the Spratly Islands were in the South China Sea, and even with the constant surveillance from the United States, they simply had no choice.

The archipelago was composed of over seven hundred islands and reefs, all uninhabited.  But it was its strategic value as the region’s most important shipping lanes that was the real focus.  Shipping lanes which carried a full sixty percent of the world’s trade traffic.

However, completely ignoring the heated territorial claims from neighboring countries, what China was doing in the middle of the Spratly Islands was nothing short of astonishing.  Instead of fighting over the small, existing island chains, they were
building their own
.

With dozens of dredging ships in the archipelago’s shallow waters, China had spent the last two years expanding existing reefs into entirely
new
military islands.  It was a level of progress that stunned the rest of the world. 

Contrary to what foreign surveillance assumed about Fiery Cross Reef, the base was now entirely functional.  And inside its giant hangar rested one of mankind’s greatest modern weapons.  A weapon hid well within bombing range of nearly every Pacific Rim country.

The fifteen thousand pound, Russian-built thermobaric bomb was the most powerful conventional explosive device ever created.  It was far superior to the United States’ Massive Ordnance Air Blast weapon, later colloquially called “Mother of All Bombs.”  But Russia’s version was far superior, quadrupling the equivalent TNT and effective blast radius.

And in what was perhaps the greatest irony, Russia’s
Father of All Bombs
could not be fitted to a traditionally military bomber.  Instead, it had to be dropped from the rear cargo ramp of a larger transport aircraft.  A configuration that could be accommodated by China’s existing prototype Xian Y-20 aircraft, originally commandeered by one General Wei.

Still in the limousine, Xinzhen peered pensively at his watch.  The Y-20 should have just lifted off from Fiery Cross, where it would refuel once in route with the help of an in-flight tanker before the Y-20 headed directly toward South America and the Acarai Mountains.

There was no way to tell whether the Brazilians or the Americans would find any remnants of what the Chinese had taken, but it was not a risk Xinzhen was willing to take.

In mere hours, the entire area would simply “evaporate” under the raw power of a thermobaric blast.  Ensuring that if China would not possess the prize of South America’s superorganism…then no one would.

76

Standing just over a mile from the Y-20’s final target, Steve Caesare scanned downhill into the darkness and a thick patch of trees, looking for any movement.  But beyond the gentle swaying branches and rustling leaves, there was none.  The area was eerily quiet.

“You sure we’re in the right place?”

Tiewater nodded.  “Yep.  Unfortunately, those idiots scared them all off when they shot at ‘em.”

“Perfect.”  Caesare turned around and focused on the shadows of DeeAnn and Dulce several feet behind him.  “Anything?”

DeeAnn knelt down next to Dulce.  The small gorilla was standing still and peering into the darkness.  She wiggled her black nostrils and cocked her head, listening.

Over their headsets, Caesare, Tiewater, and Corso listened to Anderson speaking softly from a lookout behind them.  “They’re coming.”

“How many?”

He followed the first set of headlights through a handheld scope.  “Several trucks worth.  We’d better find that monkey fast.”

“How far away are they?”

“Maybe a mile.”

Caesare looked forward again, back down the slope of tall grass.  “You guys see anything in the trees?”

“Nope.”

Behind them, Dulce turned her head and looked back the way they came.  She suddenly ran in that direction and scampered up a small tree, stopping at the top of one of the branches.

“We’re out of time,” Caesare said.

DeeAnn was about to reply when the speaker on her vest sounded.

That way.

“What way, Dulce?”

There.
  She pointed up the hill.  Back the way they came.

“What do you hear?”

No hear.  Smell.

“What do you smell?”

Friend.  He there.

She looked at Caesare.  “You smell your friend?”

Yes
.  Dulce quickly dropped to the base of the tree and jumped on the ground excitedly.

Hurry.  We go.  Friend here.

“Are you sure?”

Hurry.

DeeAnn looked at Caesare, who shook his head and turned to Tiewater and Corso.  “I guess we’re going back.  I’ll take Anderson while you two try to lead them away.  If we find Dexter, we’ll head for base and try to find a way out.  Be ready to move.”

The men nodded. 

“That ridge runs mostly west and should give you some decent cover,” said Tiewater.  “It’s as far away from the road as you can be without snaking around the back of the peak.  We’ll try to bring them along the road if we can.”

“Good.” Caesare then spoke into his mike.  “Anderson, meet us at the ridge.”

“Roger that.”

Caesare smiled.  “Time to get that exercise, Juan.”

“I’m ready.”

In the darkness, Corso stepped closer to DeeAnn and peered down at the primate standing next to her.  Without warning, he reached out and did something no one was expecting.  He petted Dulce’s head. 

“I guess she’s all right.”

The gorilla’s large teeth were all he could see.

77

From her seat in one of the trucks, Becca could barely make out the taillights bouncing in front of them in the darkness.  Salazar’s Lieutenant Sosa rode in the lead vehicle which, like the others, held dozens of soldiers.  All were hanging on tightly as they rocked back and forth over the uneven dirt road.

The convoy came to a stop at a safe distance from the gunfire and all trucks were quickly emptied.  Flashlights appeared everywhere as the men organized into three groups.  Two large forward teams to comb the area and a third smaller team to assist Becca.

The road led almost due north, through a wide pass between two ridgelines, both visible in the moonlight. 

Sosa called his men forward and began an advance with both groups, leaving Becca and her own team to follow.  Together, hundreds of boots marched forward, spreading out over a hundred and eighty degrees.  All eyes sharply focused with rifles pointed forward.

Approaching from the opposite direction, Dulce ran through the dense foliage with Anderson right behind her.  Further behind were DeeAnn and Juan, running through waves of branches and trying to keep up behind Caesare.

Even through the trees, they could make out the glow of bright headlights farther ahead.  They slowed, struggling uphill, until an opening provided a brief view –– one that caused DeeAnn to gasp.  She could now see the lights clearly, with dozens of shadowed figures moving out in front.  And some walking directly toward them.

Dulce slowed down further and finally stopped, still listening.  She sniffed the air again and ran several more steps.  When she stopped this time, it was at the base of a familiar rocky outcropping.  DeeAnn recognized it from earlier near the poacher’s camp.  This time they were on the other side and Dulce stood motionless, listening intently.

Anderson moved ahead without a sound and disappeared behind a row of tall bushes.  When he returned a moment later, he held up a hand and then motioned them forward slowly.  They moved in behind him, squinting to see what he was pointing at.

In the distance, part of the poacher’s flatbed truck could be seen.  On the bed remained several wood cages, each containing a capuchin inside.  But what stunned the group was the familiar shape that came into view on the
outside
.

Covered entirely in gray fur, a monkey stood on the bed of the truck, examining one of the cages.  Not only was he scrutinizing it, but he also appeared to be fumbling with the latch while those in the cages remained oddly quiet.

The gray capuchin shifted his head from side to side, as if studying the door from different angles, then returned to the latch which he tried to undo again and again.

“Oh my God!”  DeeAnn gasped. 

“He’s trying to get them out.”

DeeAnn nodded excitedly at Juan.  “It’s Dexter!”

As if hearing his name, Dexter suddenly froze on the truck and looked around.  Seconds later, one of the cages next to him exploded under a hail of bullets, bounced off the truck and tumbled to the ground.  Dexter screamed and disappeared into the tall vegetation.

Caesare and Anderson immediately pushed the others to the ground and raised their own heads, searching.  “Where’d he go?!”

“I don’t see him.”

Their question was answered when the small capuchin erupted from the bush in front of him and hit Anderson square in the chest.  The SEAL scrambled to grab him, but Dexter jumped free and continued running.

“Dammit!”  Anderson had stood up to chase after the monkey when several bullets tore through the nearby plants and ricocheted off the outcropping behind them.

“Down!”

Anderson dropped back to the ground while Caesare watched Dexter disappear into the darkness.

“Get Juan out of here!  We’re going after that monkey!”

Anderson scurried back to Juan.  “Come with me.”

Juan nodded as best he could with his chin still on the dirt.

Next to him, Caesare grabbed DeeAnn and Dulce.

“Stay low!” 

With that, he lifted his rifle in front of his chest and pushed them forward into a crouched run.

78

“MOVE IN!  MOVE IN!”  Lieutenant Sosa screamed over the gunfire.

His men were now running forward, fanning out from the mouth of the small pass as Becca scrambled up a small incline behind them to see what was happening.  From several feet up, she could see flashlights combing through a small camp with two vehicles.  She gasped when she spotted captured capuchins on the back of the truck.  Further away, several men used their lights to pursue something or someone into the foliage.

To her left, there was more shooting and yelling near the base of the ridge.

She jumped down and yelled, running toward the camp.  “Hurry!”

Along the ridge, Juan Diaz nearly froze under the onslaught of gunfire until Anderson forced him forward.  When his head rose too much, Anderson reached forward and slapped it back down.  “Low!”

Keeping on their hands and knees, they scrambled up the incline to a pair of large rocks, where they hid.  Anderson twisted back around and peered into the darkness.  “Shit.  They’re coming.”  There was no other cover for another twenty yards, far too long to be exposed.

“You see those rocks up ahead?”

“Yeah.”

“When I tell you, you run like hell and get behind them.  Off your knees but stay as low as you can.  And when I say run, I mean
run
.”

“Okay.”

“We need that cover.”

“What about you?”

“I’ll be right behind you.  First, I gotta slow these guys down.”  He glanced back again.  “Okay, you ready?”

“Not really.”

“Good.  Here we go.  On the count of three.  One…two…three!”

All at once, Juan sprung to his feet and moved as fast as he could with his head down.  He kept his focus on the rocks, reflecting brightly in the moonlight, and hoped there was nothing in the way to trip him.

When Sosa’s men reached the rocks, they approached cautiously from both sides, guns ready.  The spot was empty.

Caesare paused when he heard the distinct sound of Anderson’s HK416 echoing off the walls of the ridge.  A dozen shots were heard before the HK fell silent.  Then another burst.

He continued moving.  More shots from the Brazilians, followed by silence, told him Anderson was reloading.

Several rounds ricocheted near Caesare and he ducked lower.  “Get down!”  He growled and stepped behind a wide tree trunk to return fire.

He spotted two silhouettes and fired four more rounds.  Both shapes disappeared.

“Stay close to me.” 

When there was no answer, Caesare spun around to find DeeAnn and Dulce both gone. 

“Damn it!”

Farther to the north, Corso watched more men descend across the dirt road while Tiewater knelt behind him, wiring several sets of blasting caps as fast as he could.  He twisted the blue and yellow wires into small groups and then connected them to their own timing wires.

Anderson’s voice came over their radio between shots.  “I could use that diversion!”

“We’re working on it,” Tiewater said.  He moved his fingers faster.  When finished he double-checked his work, tracing the wires out with his fingertips.

“Good?”

He nodded to Corso.  “Good.”  He set the timer and dropped the first set.  Tiewater then turned to see Corso disappear into the brush, dropping a second set before running in the opposite direction and letting another one go every hundred feet.

“Here we go…” Tiewater called into his microphone.  He waited for Anderson to stop firing, then set off the first round of caps. 

From that distance, they sounded exactly like gunfire.

Sosa and his men stopped and turned toward the sound of shots farther to their right.  The blood drained from the lieutenant’s face.

“Crossfire!  Move back, move back!”

A crossfire was almost impossible to defend against, and his men were now too far out.  He had only minutes to pull them back and regroup.

“MOVE BACK!” he yelled again.

It was then that two of his men fell to the ground.

Higher on the ridge, Juan threw himself behind the next cluster of rocks.  He waited several seconds for Anderson.  When he didn’t show, Juan took a deep breath and continued into the darkness.

Almost a hundred yards behind Juan, Anderson grunted and fell to a knee.  He gritted his teeth and tried to speak.

“I’m hit!”

He pulled back his jacket and found the wound, just below his left rib cage.  A ricochet.

Anderson lost his balance and twisted down onto both knees.  He touched the wound, then withdrew his hand.  It was covered in blood.

“Shit.”

He was bleeding too fast.

“Where are you?!” Caesare called into his ear.

He tried to catch his breath.  “On the other side of the camp.  Maybe fifty yards.”  He turned and tried to look up the hill before inhaling again.  “Juan is trying to get back-”

He stopped again, suddenly overwhelmed by the searing pain in his stomach and back.  He struggled to stay on his knees.

“I’m down,” Anderson repeated in a softer voice as he sank to the ground.  “I’m down…”

On the opposite side of the pass, near the top of the ridge, Juan reached their base.  And in the darkness, he collapsed with relief onto his knees.  He fought to catch his breath.

              He never noticed the Brazilian soldiers waiting for him.