Red Ice Page 9

  “Let’s move,” Tanner subvocalized. The three started moving toward the warehouse.

  #

  From their location hidden behind bushes inside the warehouse fence line near the eastern corner, Liam and Dante watched Able Team dash across the space between the fence and the warehouse. Because of the darkness, none of the guards, all armed with an assortment of rifles and machines guns, saw them.

  They had crept to the part of the fence overgrown with brush and weeds, cut their way through the fence with wire cutters, and slipped in. They would guard Able Team’s back.

  The door on the loading docks flew open and another man stepped out, a large flashlight in his hand. He shouted something at the guards and they split up, four of them heading for the fence, while the apparent guard captain and the last two men headed for a small building next to the warehouse. Meanwhile, Tanner and the others reached the loading docks and crouched behind a dozen wooden pallets stacked up in one of the truck bays until the guards had scattered. Once that happened, the three OUTCASTs headed for the loading dock.

  “Watchdog to Prime,” Danielle said over the radio. “Two Tangos are back at the gate, two more are making a sweep to the southwest, and the last three have gone into a shed, probably to start the generator. Estimate you have about twenty seconds to get inside before they get power back up.”

  “Copy,” Tanner replied.

  Liam saw Able climb onto the loading dock, move to the door and slip inside. “Watchdog,” he radioed, “Able’s inside. Keep me apprised of all Tango movements.”

  #

  The warehouse was pitch black when Tanner lead Naomi and Stephen into it. They heard a few shouts in both English and Chinese and saw the flickering of flashlights. Stacks of crates and pallets stood twenty feet inside the loading dock doors, a wall of wood and plastic-wrapped boxes forming a barrier against anyone looking inside the warehouse. There were several aisles separating the crates and pallets into rows. Tanner sub-vocalized, “Stay to the right. We’ll take the aisle on the end.”

  Tanner took the lead, Naomi to his right, while Stephen covered the rear. They moved at a fast walk, silently gliding across the concrete floor. They progressed quickly around the corner and down the aisle. Tanner had gone only twenty feet before he noticed the pallets and crates ended, replaced by closely-spaced bars. He slowed, holding up a hand to signal the others to stop. He moved forward and peered through the bars.

  He was looking into an eight foot by eight foot cage — wide enough to take up the whole width of the aisle. Tanner’s eyes widened behind his NVGs when he got a clear look into the cage. “My God.”

  Half a dozen people occupied the small enclosure. Most were lying on the floor, apparently asleep, but a couple sat against the bars, heads down. A couple looked small enough to be children and when Tanner knelt and looked at the nearest person, he saw a middle-aged Asian man, wearing rough clothing and asleep. He studied several more, seeing the same thing — Asians in rough clothing, all looking thin and tired.

  Tanner rose and signaled the others to move forward. He looked down the aisle and saw identical cages in rows. “Able to Watchdog,” he subvocalized. “Contact Striker and tell her we have people in cages, probably Chinese illegals.”

  “How many?”

  “At least a hundred. They may be more in—”

  The lights overhead flickered on, and from somewhere on the other side of the warehouse, Tanner heard a generator crank to life. He lifted his night vision goggles away from his eyes just as the lights came on to stay. There were still dark areas, but there was enough light for them to be seen by a Triad gunman who walked out of the closest cross aisle.

  He shouted a warning in Chinese and started to bring up his AK-47, but Naomi and Stephen were faster. The man was struck by both bursts of 5.56mm rounds. He stumbled into the cage next to him, spun and dropped boneless to the floor.

  “Move!” Tanner barked. “Second floor!”

  There was a set of stairs ahead and to the right along the wall. Tanner ran for it, followed by Naomi and Stephen. They head shouts and running feet from elsewhere in the warehouse. An alarm went off, flooding the air with its shrill sound.

  “Able to Bravo,” Tanner breathed. “Execute Dunkirk, repeat Dunkirk.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “Copy, execute Dunkirk,” Liam returned over the radio. The lights were now on, making it easier to see the guards. He raised his Commando and fired at the closest so-called 49. The five-slug volley caught the man in the chest as he turned toward the warehouse. As the man went down, Dante shot a second Triad soldier with the same result.

  They moved out of the bushes and angled toward a pile of rusting steel. Gunfire from near the cars and shouts chased them the last ten feet to cover. Several bullets ricocheted off the steel as the two dove for cover. Liam rose to his knees, pointed his Colt in the direction of the enemy’s location and fired off several controlled bursts. “Bravo to Able. Dunkirk underway, one-third complete.”

  Behind him, Dante was on his feet, firing his submachine gun in the same direction as Liam. There was a scream, then silence. Liam glanced though the opening he was using as a firing port, but saw nothing but another body lying on the ground near the cars. “Fifty percent complete.”

  “Able, Bravo!” Danielle’s voice was strident with urgency. “Two cargo trucks just turned onto your street from the northwest. They’re heading your way fast!”

  “Doesn’t sound good,” Liam muttered.

  “Two Tangos running for the gate,” Danielle continued. “The trucks are slowing and they’re opening the gates!”

  “Definitely not good. Five, see the fourth Tango?”

  “Yeah,” Dante replied, changing his Colt’s magazine for a full one. “Behind that white BMW.”

  “Cover me. I’m going to move to that dumpster over there.” Liam motioned to a dark blue garbage bin thirty yards to the right and front of their position. “I can cover the loading dock from there.”

  “Right.”

  Liam got to his feet and crouched. “Ready… Now!” He sprinted for the dumpster as Dante fired a long burst at the BMW. The front tires exploded and the car sagged as the passenger’s side suddenly acquired a dozen 5.56mm bullet holes.

  Dante stopped short of firing his entire magazine, and waited, his weapon poised. As he expected, the 49 quickly popped up from behind the car, his rifle seeking a target. Dante pulled the Commando’s trigger and the guard went down, blood splattering the BMW’s hood as he fell onto it.

  “More Tangos!” Danielle said. “Confirm ten to fifteen new tangos are getting out of the trucks!”

  Liam dove for cover behind the dumpster. He wrinkled his nose at the smell as he slipped a CS round into his grenade launcher. “Bravo to Able,” he said, switching magazines. “We’re about to have company!”

  #

  Tanner hit the stairs at a full run, taking the steps three at a time. Naomi and Stephen followed a few steps behind him, covering their flank and rear. Around them, the shouts of guards were joined by yelling from the awakened prisoners.

  “Copy, Bravo,” Tanner said. “Keep them busy.”

  Half way up, two gunmen appeared at the top of the stairs. Tanner’s finger tightened on the M-203’s trigger. A score of 24-grain metal pellets ripped into the 49s, shredding them. One fell backwards, but the other dropped his rifle and fell forward, sliding down the stairs face-first. He came to a stop half a dozen steps above Tanner, forcing the OUTCAST leader to shift to his right, closer to the wall. A hail of bullets went through the space where he had been, missing him by inches.

  Tanner reached the top of the stairs. He brought the Colt up to his shoulder and swung it in a sixty degree arc, looking for targets. Naomi cleared the stairs two seconds behind him and dropped to one knee, covering another sixty degree arc. Stephen was next, spinning to cover the stairs and the other sixty degrees that wasn’t warehouse wall.

  The second floor was free of cages and divided
into two halves. To the right was a storage area with large blue plastic barrels lined up on shelves and more shelving behind them holding other supplies. To the left were a series of large plastic sheets attached to steel frames anchored to the floor, making it difficult to see more than a few shadows. A freight elevator was set into the far wall.

  They moved toward the supplies. As they reached the first set of shelves, a Triad gunman stepped into view, finger tightening on his shotgun trigger. Tanner was quicker, stitching the shotgunner with a four-bullet burst to the upper chest and throat. As the 49 fell, the shotgun roared, sending its load of shot over the team’s heads.

  “Crap.” Naomi read the barrel’s content labels. “Phenylacetone… N-methylformamide… sodium hydroxide… Definite meth material and enough to make a sea of it.”

  “The lab must be in there.” Tanner pointed to the plastic wall. He loaded another buckshot round into the 203’s breech.

  “Let’s go.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Liam pulled back as bullets pinged off the side of the dumpster. He took time to switch magazines, then picked up his radio. “Watchdog, we’re a bit pressed here!”

  “Striker is three minutes out,” Danielle returned.

  Liam leaned out long enough to fire a cloud of bursts at the Triad gunners, then pulled back. “We don’t have three minutes!”

  The dozen Triad gunners were stymied in their first attempt to enter the warehouse through the loading dock, and Liam saw the dead 49s on and around the dock to prove it. He and Dante had each fired a CS round at the Black Dao gunners, but a light wind dissipated the tear gas faster than Liam had hoped for. Each side had stalemated the other, but there were too many 49s and more than one way to get into the warehouse.

  As if she could read his mind, Danielle said, “Watchdog to Able and Bravo. I have half a dozen Tangos heading for the front of the warehouse.”

  Liam muttered a curse, then said, “Watchdog, drop some flash-bangs and CS on them! That should slow them up!”

  “Copy,” Danielle replied. “Repositioning Cobra.”

  Liam leaned out from the dumpster just enough to see a 49 step into the open. He fired a short burst with his Commando and smiled grimly when he saw the gunman drop his rifle, spin and fall.

  “Bravo to Able. You guys playing games in there?”

  #

  Tanner grinned mirthlessly. The walls muffled the gun battle outside, but they still could hear it. The three moved down a corridor created by the lab’s plastic walls and the warehouse walls. Tanner was at point, Naomi behind him and Stephen trailing, guarding their rear.

  “Yeah, we’re playing a game called ‘find the chemist.’ Status?”

  “Tangos are blocked for the moment, but there’s a lot of them. Some are headed for the front door. Watchdog’s playing strong safety with them.”

  Tanner heard a couple of loud bangs over the radio. “Flash-bangs and CS canisters away,” Danielle said. “It’s slowing them, but not for long.”

  “Copy,” Tanner said. “If—”

  A thin Asian in a cheap suit, carrying a Daewoo K2 assault rifle, leaned into view around a support pillar twenty feet ahead of Tanner. “Down!” Tanner snapped, dropping to one knee and triggering the 203. Another blast of lethal lead slammed into the support pillar and 49 behind it, leaving scars in the pillar’s concrete and the gunman’s left arm and right hand a bloody mess. He screamed and pulled back behind the pillar.

  Tanner ran forward, covering the distance in five strides. Just as he reached the pillar, the gangster stepped out, his face a mix of pain and fury. Before he could bring his rifle up, the OUTCAST leader slammed into him with his shoulder, knocking the smaller man off his feet. As the combatant hit the ground, Tanner’s foot lashed out and the steel-toe boot caught the Triad gunner under the chin. The 49’s head snapped back, striking the floor with enough force to make a loud cracking sound. The thug went limp.

  “Able to Bravo: Status?”

  “We’ve got their attention for now, but we’re burning ammo quickly. Don’t dawdle.”

  “Copy.” Tanner looked ahead and saw a freezer curtain, thick strips of plastic used in commercial walk-in freezers and refrigerators to keep cold in. Tanner dropped his Colt so it dangled from his sling and pulled his pistol.

  “Naomi: with me. Stephen, stay here and cover our backs. If there’s trouble, call out.”

  “Right.”

  Naomi pulled her own pistol and followed Tanner through the curtain. The first room was contained a few bare steel tables, the type used in commercial kitchens. In one corner were stacked a couple of blue barrels like the ones in the storage area. Another set of freezer curtains led to the next room. Naomi glided to the barrels and took the top off of one. “Empty,” she mouthed to Tanner.

  Tanner nodded and pointed to the next chamber. The heavy plastic made it difficult to see what waited beyond. The crept toward it, their SIGs pointed at the entrance. Using hand signals, Tanner counted down from three, then burst through the curtain.

  Tanner went high and to the right, while Naomi went low and left. Another empty room greeted them. Unlike the first room, the tables weren’t empty, but full of chemical equipment — burners, flasks, flexible tubes, and stands. It reminded Tanner of a high school chemistry class. Another set of freezer curtains on the other side of the workspace led to still another room.

  A thump from the far side of the lab alerted the pair. Tanner signaled Naomi to go left, while he went right. The moved through the tables, eyes scanning for trouble. There was a scuffling noise and someone in a lab coat stood and ran for the other exit. Tanner intercepted the figure, a gaunt Asian man with thinning hair and glasses. His eyes widened and he squawked in fear. He tried backpedaling, but his feet went out from under him and he landed on his back.

  Tanner pointed his pistol at him.

  “No shoot! No shoot!” the man cried out in accented English, his hands up in a gesture of surrender. Tanner noticed that under the lab coat, his clothes were same rough fabric of the prisoners downstairs.

  “Who are you?” Tanner demanded.

  “I am Lo Jun. No shoot!”

  “What are you doing here?”

  Jun’s words were rapid-fire from fear. “Triad force me to work here. My wife, my son, downstairs. Others downstairs.” He tapped his chest. “I teach Chemistry in China. I say wrong thing at wrong time, and decide to leave China with family. But I and family Triad prisoners, force me to work here, making drugs.”

  “Any other workers here?”

  “No. Lab shutting down. I am alone to make sure things are safe.”

  “We’re looking for Dr. Mori. Do you know where she is?”

  The chemist nodded. “Yes she was here, but not now. Koreans take her — five, six hours ago. Said they were moving her to new, safer place.”

  Tanner looked at Naomi, then back down at the fearful chemist. “Did they say where?”

  Lo Jun shook his head, then his eyes widened. “Wait! One say he hoped Dr. Mori like the smell of horses. That help?”

  “How many guards are there on this floor?”

  Lo Jun frowned. “Two outside.” He motioned toward the wall. “Three in there.”

  Tanner felt the attack more than heard it. He dropped to one knee, Naomi half a second behind him as the wall exploded in a swarm of bullets. For the next few seconds there was nothing but the sound of breaking plastic and glass as the lab equipment was wrecked by a torrent of lead.

  They waited until the gunfire died away, then rose, their pistols aimed at the ruined wall. Tanner saw movement in the next room and fired twice. Both slugs punched through the wall and into a 49 who was trying to reload his AK-47. The gunman dropped.

  Naomi fired, her rounds flying through one of the large holes in the plastic walls and finding the chest of a second Triad thug. The man dropped his AR-15, took a step back, then collapsed.

  Tanner spun and dropped to one knee as the third Triad gunman came storming
through the freezer curtain, an Uzi in his hands. Tanner fired first, three .40 rounds slamming into the 49’s chest and neck, changing the man’s direction of movement and sending him stumbling into a table. He tried raising his Uzi, but Tanner fired again, the last shot striking the 49 in the right eye and blowing out the back of his head.

  For several seconds there was silence, then Lo Jun asked in a quivering voice, “Who are you?”

  “The good guys,” Tanner replied. He motioned to the shattered wall. “What’s over there?”

  “Packing and storage rooms for the finished drugs. But not much there. Koreans take most when they take Dr. Mori.”

  “Stay there.” Tanner moved into the next room, checked the bodies, then swept both it and the storage room beyond. He returned after a minute. “He’s right,” he said to Naomi. “Only a couple of Red Ice crates left in the storage area. Assuming the empty pallets were the same size, they could have taken upwards of five hundred kilos.”

  “We have to get out of here.” Naomi motioned to Lo Jun. “What about him?”

  “I stay,” the Chinese chemist said. “Family is here. I stay with them.”

  “All right,” Tanner said. “Find a place to hide for now. There’s a police team coming in to seize the warehouse. When they get here, surrender and ask to speak to Agent Vessler. Tell her everything you can remember about the setup in here, about Dr. Mori, and the drugs. Okay?”

  “I do that.”

  “Don’t touch any guns.”

  “I won’t. I am good chemist, bad soldier.”

  #

  Tanner and Naomi raced back to the entrance, where Stephen crouched behind the support pillar. “No luck?” Shah asked.

  Naomi shook her head. “Missed her by a few hours.”

  Tanner spoke into his radio. “Able to Bravo: We have a strikeout, repeat, strikeout. Retreat now.”