Sky Hammer

“Sorry, had to be sure,” Hawins apologized.

Professor David Allen Yi lowered his shirt. “You thought I might be a fake? A stand-in or something?”

“Been known to happen,” McCarter said, picking up a glass pipette used for drawing blood. Suddenly he threw the pipette to Yi and the professor caught the glassware with his left hand. Confused, he stared at the pipette, then frowned at McCarter.

“A good test,” Yi noted with strained patience. “Autonomic responses are difficult to fake. Yes, I’m left-handed. Now, is that enough proof, or do you also want some blood and a stool sample?”

“Maybe later.” McCarter grinned in spite of the situation. The old Aussie scientist was as tough as Barbara Price had said. It had to have taken a lot of men to kidnap him from the Woomera Military Hospital last year. Canberra was going to be delighted have the cranky genius back safe and sound.

James went over to an autoclave full of sealed bottles. Each was filled with a greenish fluid. “That it?” he asked.

“Sadly, yes,” Yi said grimly. “Moonfire. The worst nerve gas I ever made, or even heard about. It kills, fast and horrible. Moonfire is not so much a war gas as it is a terror weapon. No solider who ever saw it work would ever risk going anywhere near again. Dear God, I must have killed dozens of people with the clinical test alone! But I…they…”

“Torture?” McCarter asked softly.

Yi turned away, unable to speak.

“Any man can be broken, Professor,” James said gently. “It’s nothing to be ashamed about.”

The professor could only shake his head, obviously reliving the deaths of his unwilling test subjects. Kim Jong-il and his cruel nephew enjoyed finding new ways to dispose of their political enemies. His tests had thus served two purposes for the dictator: revenge and entertainment.

Opening a satchel, Manning started placing explosive charges around the room. Joining him at the task, James directed the placement of the C-4.

Keeping the inner door open with a foot, Encizo watched the outer set of doors while Hawkins stayed close to Yi. Pushing back the tight sleeve of his wet suit, McCarter checked his watch. Five minutes to go.

“Please hurry,” Yi pleaded. “If they catch me with you, it’ll mean the work camps at Pyongyang. Nobody lasts there very long.” He frowned. “Although, I’m sure it seems like a bloody eternity to them.”

“You’re too valuable for that,” McCarter stated bluntly.

“The hell I am. To be honest, I’m surprised at the rescue,” Yi said, rubbing his face. “It would have been much easier to kill me.”

“The incredible we do immediately,” Hawkins said, “the impossible takes a few days.”

“Besides,” McCarter added, “you’re the best man to make a counteragent to Moonfire.”

A short whistle from Encizo caught everyone’s attention. “Company,” he said, working the bolt on his weapon.

The Stony Man operatives instantly moved into defensive positions behind the lab tables, dragging the reluctant professor along with them. McCarter slung his MP-5 and swung a Barnett crossbow from behind his back to load an arrow. It clicked into place just as the double doors to the sterile lab burst open and in walked a short, fat man surrounded by a dozen guards armed with AK-47s.

“Doctor, your work has been so excellent this past week, I prepared a special treat for you,” Kim Le-Wan declared loudly, carrying the silver tray covered with a white linen cloth. But then his smile vanished at the sight of the armed strangers in the lab.

“Kill them!” Kim screamed, tossing aside the tray and diving behind a soldier.

The North Koreans and Phoenix Force all brought up their weapons and Yi moved between them. “Stop!” he screamed in Korean. “Fire those in here and we all die!”

The military guards paused, unsure of what to do, and McCarter fired. Across the lab, Kim rocked backward as the barbed arrow slammed deep into his face. For a moment he weaved drunkenly, only a tiny trickle of blood inching down his features. Then the miniature explosive charge detonated and the man’s head exploded into a million pieces, bones and pink brains spraying outward in a ghastly cascade. Screaming obscenities, the guards raised their Kalasnikovs like clubs and charged.

Releasing their MP-5 machine guns, four members of Phoenix Force threw the knives they had been hiding. Three of the North Korean soldiers dropped to the deck, clutching their throats, while the fourth clasped a hand to the side of his head, teeth clenched in pain as blood poured from the horrible gash where his ear used to be located. The grisly object was pinned to the wall like some sort of demonic butterfly, still shaking from the impact. Then the two groups mixed, the green military uniforms of the North Koreans mingled with the slick rust-colored wet suits of the Stony Man commandos.

Assault rifle slammed against machine gun, the owners wresting for supremacy for a moment, then the men dropped the useless weapons and went hand-to-hand. Pulling out a curved knife, a guard threw the blade, but James deflected the incoming missile with his Randall fighting knife. The blade hit the floor and skittered away, and James advanced, slashing with the military knife, the spine of the blade tight against his palm.

McCarter fired again, feathering a guard’s temple. The man went down with a sigh as if he were going to sleep. Hawkins kicked a guard in the groin, then opened the fellow’s throat with a backhand slash. A muscular guard launched a Tiger Claw at Encizo, but he swayed backward out of the reach of the blinding martial-arts strike, then turned sideways and buried the heel of his sneaker into the man’s solar plexus. As the air woofed out, the guard doubled over, and the Cuban brought down the edge of his hand in a Little Leaf strike, adding the full force of his entire body to the blow. The North Korean’s neck snapped and he dropped to the deck dead, his twitching body only slowly accepting the irrefutable fact.

Loading and firing, McCarter killed a third, a fourth, then the Koreans were upon him, and he joined the battle. His hands dripping blood, Manning moved on to a new opponent, leaving a corpse behind, the empty eye sockets of the man staring at eternity.

Dropping to the deck with his face smashed apart, a dying guard fumbled for the pistol at his belt. Accidentally, he fired the weapon while it was still inside the holster. The round missed his boot and ricocheted off the steel deck to musically zing off a wall. Then there came a shattering of glass and a sizzling green mixture spewed onto a stainless-steel table, instantly discoloring the resilient metal.

“Masks!” James barked, slapping the emergency filter over his nose and mouth. Every member of the Stony Man team followed suit.

A second later the North Koreans started writhing in agony. Holding a spare mask, McCarter raced for Professor Yi, but it was too late. The old scientist began to violently shake. Turning, Yi grabbed a beaker and smashed the glass to slice open his own throat before the real pain began.

“There is no…counteragent…” He gurgled and fell to the floor.

Helplessly, Phoenix Force watched the scientist die, and in only a few moments they were the only people still standing in the misty green laboratory. Ever so slowly, the toxic fumes started thinning, moving with the air currents into the humming wall vent of the ventilation system.

“Okay, burn the place,” McCarter barked, pulling out a fat canister. “Leave nothing behind for them to work with.”

Moving to the double doors, the team pulled out grenades, yanked pins, released arming levers, threw and turn to run. They were in the office when the lab exploded into flames, the searing wash building into a roaring inferno as the thermite cooked. The metal tables sagged, the walls began to buckle. Sprinklers in the ceiling gushed to life, but the water only served to increase the fury of the chemical blaze, the thermite feeding off the oxygen in the water to fuel its rampaging endothermic reaction.

“That should do it,” Hawkins said, wiping his face with a sleeve.

Somewhere onboard the ship, a siren started to howl, then abruptly stopped, the surge of power feeding the device causing the rigged wiring of the circuit breaker panel to blow.

“Okay, let’s go,” McCarter barked, slinging away the crossbow, and bringing up his MP-5. The team made the deck unchallenged.

A series of muffled explosions sounded from belowdecks and new sirens took up the Klaxon call of warning.

“Do it,” McCarter ordered, sealing his wet suit closed and sliding the mouthpiece of his rebreather into place.

With a ripping noise, Encizo opened a Velcro-sealed pocket, pulled out a small cylinder. He flipped the top aside with a thumb, squeezed the body until a red light glowed, and pressed down hard on a small button.

A faint shiver went through the entire vessel as the two armor-piercing demolition charges that had been placed on the keel detonated. Hot gases bubbled up from below the ship on both sides. The ship gave a groan of tortured metal.

Heading starboard, Phoenix Force fired at anything in its way. Guards were torn apart by the assault, flinging their rifles skyward in death. As the team leaped over the dead and the dying, the Sargasso Queen shook again, harder this time, and a gout of roiling flame rose from the main smokestack, brightening the mist for a full second.

Heading for the gunwale, McCarter felt the ship start to tilt to port. Yi was dead, the lab ruined, the Moonfire destroyed, files burned. The rescue mission was a failure, but they had destroyed the Moonfire lab. Now all they had to do was get out of here alive.

“Hello, Smoky. This is Bandit. Over,” James said into his throat mike, one hand firing his MP-5, the other changing the frequencies on the box on his belt. “Smoky, this is Bandit, 10-45! Repeat, 10-45!”

“Roger, Bandit, copy. This is Uncle Smoky,” Jack Grimaldi replied over their earphones. “My eggbeater is on the way to Check Point Charlie.”

“Negative,” McCarter snapped. “The Berlin Wall is coming down, hard and fast. See you at Bikini Zuma. Repeat, Bikini Zuma! Do you copy?” Check Point Charlie was the bow of the ship, where they were hoping to escape with Professor Yi. Zuma Beach was their hidden camp on the rocky shoreline.

“Check. Out,” the pilot replied crisply, and the earphones went silent.

With a loud snap, one of the anchor chains broke, the length of links whipping out of the water to come crashing down across the forecastle, crushing men and machines alike. High-pitched screaming told of somebody still alive in the wreckage.

Grabbing the railing to hop over, Rafe grunted and fell to the deck as a North Korean shot him in the back. The rest of Phoenix Force retaliated with concentrated gunfire from their 9 mm machine guns and the enemy soldier went to his maker in several pieces.