Zeus and Io - Book 3 - Cover

Zeus and Io - Book 3

Copyright© 2014 by Harry Carton

Chapter 25

Zeus

I sat in the dark of the sewers under the power station, and listened as Arti confirmed that there would be five to exfiltrate. FIVE! How in hell could they have picked up an extra?

No matter. Adapt, adjust, and overcome. The zodiac would handle six adults with no problem. The small personal torpedo (I don't know what the SEALs were calling it these days – it had no markings on it) would attach at the back and would move the inflatable at a moderate speed, with little or no noise. And in a scant 12 hours, we'd be out of China and on our way home.

I went up through the manhole again, about two hours after the lights came back on. I kept to the shadows and did my new job: causing a major blackout that we could use to cover our escape. Using a small flashlight-sized laser, I welded plastique-fueled explosive devices to the supports of several of the electric towers, and the cables leading to the main breaker boxes that controlled electricity to the city. According to Io's information, it should knock out power for a long time, in central and northern Shanghai.

The blue light of the laser-welder was nearly invisible in normal daylight. In the near black of the Shanghai night, it would have been visible from hundreds of yards away. Fortunately, the flashlight-like device had a long shroud, so all I had to worry about was the direct line of sight from the spot that was being welded. It wasn't heavy, so I held it with one hand, held the bomb – excuse me, 'explosive device' – with the other, and used my body to shield the light. Simple, right? Yeah... you try holding something with one hand motionless, another thing in just the right position, neither thing particularly heavy but weighing something, for a long enough period of time for the spot welding to work. Oh yeah ... if I slipped and the welding laser touched my body anywhere, I'd have a nice sized hole burned into me. Good thing I was a tough ex-SEAL. Hah! My arms were like rubber when I got through all six welds on all six sites.

All I had to do, now, was wait for Arti's signal that they had reached the place where the equipment was stored. It would take me two hours to get there, so I'd activate the explosives I left behind and get the hell out of Dodge. They were all on timers, so they'd go off shortly after I left. Assuming that the explosives had not been found, of course. There was always that small item; sure hope they bought that the first blackout was just a tripped breaker.

Thus the plan allowed for us to meet up approximately at 2200 hours. We'd have until the break of day to make our way out of the river complex, out through the busy port, avoid the traffic in the world's busiest harbor, dodge the police, all the while floating in a non-invisible tiny craft, moving slowly through the water. And that's not counting on whatever Murphy's Law would throw at us: something was bound to go wrong.

I caught some (more) sleep – or a sleep substitute, I guess.

The dream of the adventure off the Southern California coast came back again. I flash forwarded it, like I was skipping through television commercials – don't ask me how, I just did.

The insertion from the helicopter. We all hit the water. Found the bomb on the support of the oil platform. The hammerhead shark hit George. Me, dragging him around underwater while we searched the other oil rig supports. The blue light of the underwater welder. The 'discussion' with the guy in the chopper about us wasting time, checking the other supports. And finally, getting the pickup instructions to the rendezvous with the chopper.

We were all in the chopper, heading back to land. The co-pilot was a medic and he checked George. He was barely breathing, so I assumed it was a concussion, but what did I know?

"Let's get some breathing assist going," said our medic. He placed a shield over George's mouth and nose, and squeezed the attached bag. He motioned to Hollowpoint. "Squeeze this on a count of five." He watched as the assisted breathing took place. Then he interrupted the squeezing so he could place an oxygen cannula under George's nose. "Okay, you can start squeezing again," he said as he replaced the shield/bag contraption. "It's not right, but it'll have to do. You'll be pushing some O2 into his lungs every time."

He peeled one of George's eyelids back and shone a light into the eye, and then did the same with the other. "Not too bad, but he shouldn't be unconscious this long." He turned to me. "The air regulator was working?"

"Yep, and he was exhaling bubbles the whole time."

"Good. Good ... Well, we'll just have to wait until he gets to the hospital, then."

And wait we did. The forty minutes back to the mainland base. The medic went with George to the hospital. I eventually went too, after I made sure that all the equipment was squared away, and I got changed.

George eventually woke up and didn't remember much of anything about the mission or the shark ramming into him, but he was okay. That's when I learned about 'Special R&R, ' or hospital and rehab time as it was known to the rest of the world.

Out in the west Texas town of El Paso

I fell in love with a Texican girl.

Night time would find me in our quiet bedroom,

The music would play and Arti would whirl.

I was awake again. Why did I have that damn song running around in my head? Okay, so it wasn't the original lyrics – I didn't think Marty Robbins would mind. There was something I was trying to remember about it, but I just couldn't. It was at the edge of my consciousness.

Oh well, I'll remember it when I remember it.

I waited and waited. About 2140, I got a signal from Arti; they were late. "Blue flu," was all she said. It meant she was at the rendezvous point. What would have delayed them so long? I tripped the radio signal for the timers attached to the detonators. And for good measure, I set the timers on the remainder of the plastique in my backpack to go boom about 5 minutes later. Then I turned and started to run the mile or so back to the rendezvous.

Hunched over in the smaller-than-me sewer pipe and running through the two inches of water, I didn't run that fast. I hadn't heard anything when the first set of explosives had gone off at 1834.05. The second set, however did produce a noticeable sound. What an understatement – perhaps I was picking up some of Zhengfu's British understatement! There was a whump – more like a series of closely grouped whumps – the ground shook a little and I checked my watch. In four minutes and fifty seconds there was going to be a much bigger whump.

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