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Chapter Eleven

Current day, 10:00 PM, just east of the Radii Weapons Facility, Thompsonville, Virginia.

“They have yet to emerge, General Shao!” acknowledged Captain Li Qiang adorned in black combat fatigues. He glanced up from his night vision scope. “There are also three men perched in various places around the compound.”

“Can you verify if they are armed, captain?” Daniel asked, leaning forward to observe the face of the the man standing up through the limo’s sunroof.

“Yes, they appear to be, sir,” Captain Qiang replied with a nod as he set his Chinese-made Norinco QBU-88 marksman rifle down on the roof of the black limousine with a metallic thud. The man then lowered himself into the vehicle to sit in a dark leather seat parallel to his commanding officer.

Daniel sighed. “Tell your soldiers to withdraw. We need to avoid leaving behind evidence indicating the involvement of the People’s Army, including their blood.”

“But sir, the men in those trees are untrained buffoons,” Qiang retorted. “Erm, hillbillies in the American slang. They should be no trouble to deal with.”

“Do not confuse your opinion of their intellect with their capabilities. These are Americans born with a rifle in their hands, captain. They are sufficiently deadly. One snap of a branch and your men would find out just how much.”


"He will win who knows when to fight and when not to fight,” Daniel said with a raised eyebrow and pointer finger.

Captain Qiang dipped his head in understanding and lifted a small radio to his lips. He pressed the transmit button. “Lieutenant Wei, call your men back to the vehicles. I repeat, withdraw your men.”

The radio squawked and then came alive with a three word reply in English,” Roger, Wei acknowledges.”

“Don’t worry captain...” Daniel patted the briefcase. “Cole and his idiot friend will not keep this money for long. It is the Peoples’, no?”

The Red Army captain darted his eyes from his commanding officer’s to the case. He nodded. “The Peoples’.”


Terrence wiped, tossed the toilet paper, and then bent over to pull his pants up. He buckled his belt and smiled, looking back at his creation. “Screw you, doc! You puppy killin’ asshole. I really hope you like my little present.”

Before he left the office, the security guard turned the scientist’s stereo to a local country station, spun the volume knob on the vintage radio up as loud as it could go, and then turned it off. He repeated the same process for the television by turning the TV to Fox News and cranking the volume all the way up. Click. He set the remote down and then stepped from Dr. Lawrence Royal’s office, pulling the door shut. “And that was for Pete!” Terrence inserted a key into the door lock and turned, insuring that no one would disturb his artwork until the doc arrived to behold its majesty.

Whistling, the guard sauntered back to the security station, swinging the key ring around on its chain. As he rounded the last corner before his office, he found his nose pressed into the barrel of a G-36.

“Just where in the hell have you been dipshit?” Vance asked and then pulled the rifle back, swinging it to his right, indicating for Terrence to move in that direction. “Get up against the wall!”

“Hey man, mother nature called!” the security guard said with his hands raised. “Can’t you check the cameras!”

“No, we can’t check the cameras, they’re all messed up.”

“I wonder why that is, Terrence?” Cathy asked over her shoulder. “Maybe you know something none of the rest of us know?”

“Hey, ya’ll, I don’t know what in the heck you all are talkin’ about. What’s going on?”

Vance rolled his eyes and exhaled. “Got to be kidding me, Terry! You’re lyin’. I see it on your face. Dude, I thought you and me, we were straight, you know?”

Terrence shrugged. “I still don’t know what you are talking about, Vance. You gotta fill me in.”

“Screw this! I’ll fill you in!” Cathy spun around and squeezed the trigger on her H&K. A blast of red liquid sprayed from the rear of Terrence’s head onto the painted cinder block wall behind him like graffiti. The man’s eyes rolled upwards and then he toppled over face first onto the white tile, twitching.

“Goddamn it, Cathy! Why did you do that!?!!” Vance shouted in surprise.

“I hate liars!”

“Seriously? I do, too. But, I ain’t killed you, asshole!” Vance remarked. “Terrence was alright, man! He...”

Cathy lifted the rifle once more and pointed it right at Vance. “Shut the hell up!”

“Are you for real Dunham?” Vance’s shoulders slumped. Cocking his head at an angle he looked at Cathy with a tired, worn look of annoyance. “Point that shit somewhere else, I mean it!” Vance tightened his grip on his G-36.

“Or what?”


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