Catalyst (Breakthrough Book 3)(118)

M0ngol shook his head. “I don’t think so. Not yet.”

Xinzhen stood up immediately and pointed to the door. “Leave me at once.”

As the old man watched M0ngol practically run for the exit, he retrieved the phone from his suit’s breast pocket and began dialing.





75





Sixty-three minutes later, Xinzhen ended another call and leaned back into his limousine’s soft leather seat.

They had no choice. Xinzhen was about to pull the cover off one of China’s largest and well-kept secrets.

As controversial as the Spratly Islands were in the South China Sea, and even with the constant surveillance from the United States, they simply had no choice.

The archipelago was composed of over seven hundred islands and reefs, all uninhabited. But it was its strategic value as the region’s most important shipping lanes that was the real focus. Shipping lanes which carried a full sixty percent of the world’s trade traffic.

However, completely ignoring the heated territorial claims from neighboring countries, what China was doing in the middle of the Spratly Islands was nothing short of astonishing. Instead of fighting over the small, existing island chains, they were building their own.

With dozens of dredging ships in the archipelago’s shallow waters, China had spent the last two years expanding existing reefs into entirely new military islands. It was a level of progress that stunned the rest of the world.

Contrary to what foreign surveillance assumed about Fiery Cross Reef, the base was now entirely functional. And inside its giant hangar rested one of mankind’s greatest modern weapons. A weapon hid well within bombing range of nearly every Pacific Rim country.

The fifteen thousand pound, Russian-built thermobaric bomb was the most powerful conventional explosive device ever created. It was far superior to the United States’ Massive Ordnance Air Blast weapon, later colloquially called “Mother of All Bombs.” But Russia’s version was far superior, quadrupling the equivalent TNT and effective blast radius.

And in what was perhaps the greatest irony, Russia’s Father of All Bombs could not be fitted to a traditionally military bomber. Instead, it had to be dropped from the rear cargo ramp of a larger transport aircraft. A configuration that could be accommodated by China’s existing prototype Xian Y-20 aircraft, originally commandeered by one General Wei.

Still in the limousine, Xinzhen peered pensively at his watch. The Y-20 should have just lifted off from Fiery Cross, where it would refuel once in route with the help of an in-flight tanker before the Y-20 headed directly toward South America and the Acarai Mountains.

There was no way to tell whether the Brazilians or the Americans would find any remnants of what the Chinese had taken, but it was not a risk Xinzhen was willing to take.

In mere hours, the entire area would simply “evaporate” under the raw power of a thermobaric blast. Ensuring that if China would not possess the prize of South America’s superorganism…then no one would.





76





Standing just over a mile from the Y-20’s final target, Steve Caesare scanned downhill into the darkness and a thick patch of trees, looking for any movement. But beyond the gentle swaying branches and rustling leaves, there was none. The area was eerily quiet.

“You sure we’re in the right place?”

Tiewater nodded. “Yep. Unfortunately, those idiots scared them all off when they shot at ‘em.”

“Perfect.” Caesare turned around and focused on the shadows of DeeAnn and Dulce several feet behind him. “Anything?”

DeeAnn knelt down next to Dulce. The small gorilla was standing still and peering into the darkness. She wiggled her black nostrils and cocked her head, listening.

Over their headsets, Caesare, Tiewater, and Corso listened to Anderson speaking softly from a lookout behind them. “They’re coming.”

“How many?”

He followed the first set of headlights through a handheld scope. “Several trucks worth. We’d better find that monkey fast.”

“How far away are they?”

“Maybe a mile.”

Caesare looked forward again, back down the slope of tall grass. “You guys see anything in the trees?”

“Nope.”

Behind them, Dulce turned her head and looked back the way they came. She suddenly ran in that direction and scampered up a small tree, stopping at the top of one of the branches.

“We’re out of time,” Caesare said.

DeeAnn was about to reply when the speaker on her vest sounded.

That way.

“What way, Dulce?”

There. She pointed up the hill. Back the way they came.

“What do you hear?”

No hear. Smell.

“What do you smell?”