Chapter 72
Joe put the cargo plane down at a small airport five miles from where Saber One had crashed. The landing was a little rough, especially with two of the engines smoking, and he pulled onto the grass as soon as he could, rather than continuing on the pavement.
He hit every kill switch he could find as soon as the Starlifter came to a halt, cutting off all fuel from the engines, which were glowing red-hot.
Emergency vehicles reached them quickly, dousing the plane in foam as a precaution. Military vehicles followed, and Kurt, Joe, and the surviving Yellow Tigers were taken into custody.
After a day in some kind of military prison, Kurt and Joe were transferred to a local apartment on the eighth floor of high-rise building, not far from the Five Bridges area.
They were held under a sort of house arrest, with guards placed outside the doors, down the halls, and in the lobby.
Aside from a few initial questions, they were neither interrogated nor harassed.
They were even allowed to spend an hour per day in the small courtyard connected to the building, as long as the guards came with them.
After a week without even a phone call, Kurt figured they were going to be there for a while and decided he would start learning Mandarin. He was looking through a rack of DVDs containing Chinese movies with subtitles when he found a copy of Casablanca, in English.
He was studying it when a knock at the door took him by surprise.
“Since when do the guards knock?” Joe asked.
“Must be a new thing,” Kurt said.
He went to the door and opened it, surprised to see a friendly face waiting on the other side.
“Major Gushan of the People’s Liberation Army Navy,” Kurt said. “I suppose I should invite you in. Although I have a feeling you know your way around.”
“Technically, this is my home,” the major admitted. “But as you and Joe are the ones staying here, why not?”
The major came inside; he carried a small shopping bag and little else. The three of them convened on the apartment’s tiny balcony, sitting around a small table and admiring the view. If they leaned out far enough they could just see a portion of the Five Bridges area.
Gushan sighed as he looked at the two men. He seemed weary. He was at a loss for where to begin. “So…” he said finally. “Ahab.”
“Yeah,” Kurt said. “Ahab. He almost got us. He almost got us all.”
Gushan looked away. His tiny part of China was beautiful. He suspected Kurt’s little part of Washington was just as nice. As were most of the neighborhoods all across the globe. He could hardly stand to imagine them all being destroyed.
“You almost got me arrested by having Rand contact me,” Gushan said. “I was already on thin ice after what happened in Norway.”
“Sorry about that,” Kurt said. “Rand and his sister took us to Ahab’s base on Siabat Island. We couldn’t have stopped the attack without their help. Rand has promised to go straight, and I intend to help clear his name. A word from your government would go a long way.”
“I’ll do what I can,” Gushan said with a nod. “You saved my life once and I suppose he saved many more.”
“I thought we were even,” Kurt said, recalling the unspoken subtext of their conversation in Norway.
Gushan wrinkled his face. “Eh,” he said. “Not quite. But we are now.”
“Fair enough,” Kurt said.
Gushan shifted in his seat.
“How’d you convince your superiors?” Kurt asked.
Gushan gave him the short version of things, wincing as he thought of his sore ribs, two of which had hairline fractures from the MP’s nightstick.
“I told them the truth. It wouldn’t have mattered if your planes hadn’t turned around.
That gave the generals enough breathing room to hold off on an immediate counterstrike.
They kept our planes on the ground. At that point, with only you and Ahab left in the sky, they decided to let it play out. ”
“We noticed the missiles stopped coming,” Joe said.
“We didn’t want to shoot you down by accident,” Gushan insisted.
Kurt could believe that. He figured there were other reasons as well. “I’m guessing the high command wouldn’t have been too sad if Ahab had ended up landing or crashing softly somewhere. In which case, they might have gotten their hands on the laser after all.”
“I wouldn’t put it past them,” Gushan admitted. “Nor could I blame them. Whatever the reason was, it didn’t get passed along to me.”
“Admirals and generals are like that,” Joe said. “Even in our country.”
“The laser is gone,” Kurt said. That was one thing he was sure of at this point.
“Your country has others in production,” Gushan noted.
“And I’m sure China has something similar on the drawing board,” Kurt replied. “Who knows, maybe one day we’ll all have them. Hundreds of these planes flying around making it impossible for anyone to attack anyone. Might be nice.”
“High walls,” Gushan said. “In this city we prefer to build bridges.”
“I noticed that,” Joe said.
“I’m sure you did,” Gushan replied, laughing. “You don’t know this, but you’ve become quite a celebrity here. The Mad Bomber, they call you. More than a few of my countrymen would like to commend you on your flying ability, including a number of those admirals and generals.”
Joe offered an appreciative nod. “I’ll give them a demonstration, if it helps us get out of here.”
Gushan smiled. “I’ll see if there are any takers.”
“So, what now?” Kurt said, getting back to business. “I mean this place is nice, but it’s going to get crowded with the three of us living here.”
“It’s all been arranged,” Gushan told him. “Your government. My government. They’ve been talking. Arguing mostly, and accusing each other of things, but at least they’re talking.”
“That’s better than nothing,” Joe said.
“And?” Kurt asked.
“Tomorrow, you and Joe will go home,” Gushan said, sounding a bit wistful.
“But tonight, we celebrate.” He reached into the small bag and pulled out the bottle of baijiu he’d been trying to drink in the Arctic.
“Ahab is gone—for good this time. The three of us are still alive. And the world has survived to see another day.”
Kurt studied the ornate decanter. He remembered a similar bottle being put on hold to commemorate the joint mission that ended on the burning freighter. With Gushan’s injuries it had gone unopened. This bottle, Gushan uncorked without further delay.
As the aroma diffused across the small balcony, Gushan pulled some glasses from a small cabinet underneath the table. He filled them one by one.
“Last time we shared a drink you were angry with me,” he said, handing a glass to Kurt. “I can only hope your feelings have changed by now.”
Kurt understood Gushan. He was a professional.
He served his country, just as Kurt and Joe served the United States.
But when given a chance to cause unnecessary death and destruction, he’d chosen a path of honor, one that repaid a debt to his friend while avoiding needless bloodshed.
He’d then had the guts to go to the high command with the request that they stand down while all hell seemed to be breaking loose around them.
Kurt couldn’t imagine how bad things would have become if Gushan had chosen to stay on the sidelines.
And yet, unlike the ending of Casablanca, this would not be the beginning of a beautiful friendship.
In a world where China and America were competing for everything under the sun, Kurt figured they would likely cross swords again in the future.
But that didn’t matter now. Today they were just soldiers, sharing a drink, happy to be done with their violent labors.
Kurt raised his glass. “To the Solitary Hill,” he said, a play on Gushan’s family name, which meant exactly that. “May it always stand tall.”
Gushan looked as uncomfortable with being praised as Kurt and Joe were. He pivoted to a toast of his own. “To building bridges,” he said. “Ones that are long enough to reach the other side no matter how far away.”
“And,” Joe added, “tall enough to fly under when you really need to.”
Kurt laughed. Joe had lightened the moment, something all of them appreciated.
“Now that,” Kurt said, “is an idea worth raising a glass to.”