“Exactly. Especially if the monsignor would be willing to venture to Mongolia with us—as it seems we have a common goal.”
Saving the world . . .
“Then let’s get things rolling,” Painter said. “Put a call in to Gray and get his team moving.”
Kat sighed, her irritation plain. “I would if I could reach him . . .”
4
November 18, 2:02 A.M. CST
Macau, People’s Republic of China
The Casino Lisboa had become ground zero for World War III. Or at least it sounded that way to Gray from inside the barricaded VIP room. The initial spats of suppressed gunfire had escalated into a full-out firefight in the hallway.
More blasts echoed in the distance.
Inside the room, Gray crouched behind their makeshift barricade in front of the door. With Kowalski’s help, he’d manhandled the upended baccarat table and blocked the only way inside. Seichan had slid one of the red-silk sofas to further brace their fortification. The only other way out was the narrow window, but it was a straight four-story drop through the dark to the asphalt pavement below.
Across the room, Dr. Hwan Pak huddled in the far corner. His self-satisfied elation at his betrayal had turned to terror. Plainly something had gone wrong with his plan. The Duàn zhī Triad’s attempted ambush had run into a snag. Gray had initially hoped it was hotel security thwarting the attack, but as the fighting grew in volume and severity, including spats of assault rifles and the chugging rattle of machine guns, he suspected this was a gangland turf war.
And apparently we’re the prize.
Gray knew their barricade would not last forever. Someone would get the upper hand. Proving this assumption, a shotgun blast tore a fist-sized hole through the door.
“Now or never, Kowalski!” Gray yelled.
“You try doing this when your pants keep falling down!”
The large man crouched on his knees in the middle of the floor as Gray and Seichan kept their backs to the sofa, using its bulk as shelter.
Kowalski had stripped off his belt and positioned it in a circle on the floor, cinching the buckle in place and affixing a radio receiver to it. Kowalski was Sigma’s demolitions expert. While they couldn’t risk bringing weapons to China, Kowalski had traveled with an ace up his sleeve. Or in this case, laced through his belt.
The high-yield detonation cord had been developed by DARPA. It was sealed in a tube of carbon graphene, making the explosive inside undetectable to airport screening processes.
“All set,” Kowalski said and rolled back to join them, dragging a chair behind him.
“What are you doing?” Pak called over to them.
The three of them crowded behind the chair.
“Fire in the hole!” the big man yelled and pressed the transmitter in his hand.
The blast rocked the room, ringing Gray’s head like a struck bell. Smoke billowed. For a moment, the firefight outside halted as all parties froze at the sudden explosion.
“Go!” Gray yelled, shoving the chair aside.
He prayed the detonation cord had done its job. Otherwise, they were out of luck, as they’d blown Kowalski’s only supply of explosives.
Ahead, the fiery smoldering of burned carpeting glowed through the smoke. A crater had been blasted in the floor—or rather, through the floor. The larger steel trusses were intact, but the explosion had ripped a hole between them.
Gray stared down through the wreckage. He knew the third floor below had an almost identical layout as the fourth. Luckily the VIP room under them was empty.
As the gunfire resumed out in the hallway, sounding even more furious, Gray waved Seichan through first. She slipped between the trusses and smoothly leaped to the floor below.
Gray and Kowalski started to follow, but Hwan Pak tried to interfere, begging for them to take him with them. Kowalski punched out with a fist, as if swatting at a fly. Bone crunched, and Pak flew backward, landing on his backside, blood pouring from his nose.
A moment later, Gray stood next to Seichan by the third-floor door. Kowalski landed heavily behind them.
“Sounds clear out there,” Seichan said, her ear to the door. “But we’ll have to move fast. That ruse won’t last long.”
“We need a way out of this war zone,” Gray warned. “But all the exits from the hotel will be guarded.”
“I may know a way.”
Seichan opened the door, stuck her head out, then bolted into the hallway.
“So how about telling us,” Kowalski groused as he and Gray followed.
Seichan ran for the fire stairs and pounded through the door—only to be faced with a gunman running down from above, leaping steps.
Seichan ducked and hit him low, flipping the assailant over her back.
Gray, a few steps behind, spun on one toe and snap-kicked out with his other leg, catching the flying man in the jaw, cracking his head back. He landed in a crumpled pile.
“Remind me never to get on your bad sides,” Kowalski said.
Gray relieved the Triad member of his weapon, an AK-47 assault rifle. A search quickly revealed a holstered Chinese army Red Star pistol. He tossed the handgun to Kowalski.
“It’s Christmas already?” he mumbled, efficiently checking it over.
“Let’s go!” Seichan urged, poised at the steps leading down, checking the stairwell below.
Gray joined her with the rifle, and they hurried together down the steps, leaping from landing to landing. The firefight above faded slightly. But when they reached the first floor, the exit door began to swing open ahead of them. Whether it was someone seeking refuge or new reinforcements, Gray didn’t care. He fired a spat of rounds, peppering the door.
It quickly closed.
A pistol cracked behind him as Kowalski angled a shot up the stairwell, discouraging anyone from following.
Seichan ignored the first-floor door and continued down toward the basement level. From Gray’s study of the Lisboa, he knew an extensive shopping market tunneled beneath the casino floor. The place was also notorious for its parade of prostitutes, earning the level its nickname, Hooker Mall.
Seichan reached the basement door and cracked it open enough to peek through. It was eerily quiet out there compared to the ruckus above.
She spoke softly. “As I thought, all the shops are barricaded closed.”
Likely the owners had locked down their gates as the firefight began, battening down their hatches.
Gray began to get an inkling of Seichan’s plan. While the public entrances were surely under armed guard, no one was likely to be watching the market’s warehouse ramps and doors. Like Seichan, the Triads knew the shops would bottle themselves up to protect their wares from looting.