Operation Barracuda (2005)

Unbeknownst to the FBI or to his brother, Eddie Wu had built an escape hatch in the closet floor of his bedroom. The idea to do so had come from Jon Ming himself back when Eddie set himself up in Los Angeles. The FBI would eventually find the trapdoor, but not until after Wu was safely away. The door led to a passageway much like an air vent through which Eddie could crawl to the stairwell on the eighth floor. When Eddie heard the crash at the front door, he immediately went for the closet. He knew he couldn't save his brother; the important thing was to get away quickly. It took him forty-two seconds to move from his bed to the closet, open the trapdoor, and snake to the stairwell. It was then a simple matter to run down the stairs and leave the building without the FBI ever seeing him.

It worked like a charm.

"Iwant a lawyer."

It had been twelve hours since his arrest.

Mike Wu sat in the bare interrogation room under intense bright lights with nothing but a cup of coffee on the table in front of him. Other than the mirror on the wall, which Wu obviously knew was for observation, nothing else adorned the cold, concrete space.

He was exhausted and uncomfortable. His hands were still cuffed behind him and he was barefoot. Wu had been forced to discard the T-shirt and boxer shorts he had been wearing in bed and now wore standard prisoner's trousers and a tunic.

Kehoe and L.A. FBI chief Al Nudelman sat at the table with the captive and were getting nowhere.

"Mike, you're being held under the Homeland Security Act," Kehoe said. "You don't have the same rights normal, ordinary, everyday criminals have. If I had my way, I'd organize a little lynch party right here and now for what you've done. You've betrayed your countryby passing classified defense secrets to enemy organizations and you're responsible for the murder of a federal employee and the murder of an Oklahoma state employee. You're up shit creek, mister."

"I still want a lawyer. And something to eat, man. You can't treat me like this. I'm an American citizen."

"You sure don't act like one."

There was a knock on the steel door. Nudelman stood, opened it, and conversed with another agent. The chief nodded and closed the door. He stepped over to Kehoe and delivered the message.

"Oh, good news, Mike," Kehoe said. "An old friend is here to see you and he'd like to ask you some questions. He flew all the way from Washington, D.C., today just to do so."

The door opened and Colonel Lambert walked in. Mike Wu shut his eyes and shuddered. He had honestly respected his boss at Third Echelon and dreaded the moment when he would have to face the colonel.

"Hello, Mike," Lambert said with no indication of warmth.

Mike looked up and nodded. "Colonel."

Lambert sat across from the prisoner and acknowledged Kehoe. "Good afternoon."

"Is it afternoon already?" Kehoe asked. "Feels like next year already."

"Thanks for letting me know about this. I got here as soon as I could."

"I think you made it in record time, Colonel. Did they beam you here?"

Lambert looked at Mike and said, "So has this lowlife said anything yet?"

"Not a thing. Keeps asking for a lawyer."

Lambert grunted. He stared at his former employee and then leaned forward. "Mike, listen to me. It's in your best interest to make a statement. Sign a confession. You know what you've done and we've got the proof you did it. Now we could go through a lengthy trial and cost the taxpayers a lot of money and draw this out to painful proportions . . . or you can simply confess and we'll try to go easy on you."

"Easy? How easy can a death sentence be?" Mike asked.

"Well, for one thing, maybe you'll get life. I'll recommend it. No guarantees, though."

Mike didn't say a word. He looked at Lambert for a full minute as if they were in a stare-down contest. Finally, the prisoner leaned forward and said as slowly as he could, "I. Want. A. Lawyer."

Lambert and Kehoe looked at each other and sighed.

"Hey, Mike, you remember Sam Fisher?" Lambert asked.

"I met him once."

"But you know who he is. You know what he's capable of."

Mike shrugged.

"Well, guess what. He's on his way here. He finished his assignment in Hong Kong and I told him to head on back to the States. When he heard you were in custody, he couldn't wait to have a word with you. He was very fond of Carly, you see. I have a good mind to let Sam in here and, well, Agent Kehoe and I will leave you two alone for a while. I can't vouch for how Sam will react when he lays eyes on you. And seeing as how you're in Maximum Security Unit Six, which no one the fuckknows exists, you might as well wish you'd died in a hail of bullets."

Mike knew exactly what the colonel was talking about. Everyone at Third Echelon held the Splinter Cells in awe--especially Sam Fisher. It was almost as if the guy wasn't human. He was a very dangerous machine.

Lambert stood and said, "You think about that for a while, Mike. It'll take another half day or so before he gets here. Plenty of time to write and sign a confession. Come on, Agent Kehoe. Let's leave this scum alone with his demons."

The two men left the room and locked the door. Mike Wu nervously cracked his knuckles but stared defiantly at the mirror. He knew they were behind it, watching him. After a moment, he picked up the half-empty coffee cup and threw it against the dark glass. The brown liquid ran down the wall and made an ugly puddle in the otherwise stark and sterile room.

"I want a lawyer!" he shouted again.

ANDREIZdrok was the only man in the Shop administration who knew the Benefactor's identity. The man who acted as an agent for the Shop in the Far East had been a longtime associate of the group and had stepped up to the plate to help when the organization lost its foothold in Eastern Europe. To the others on the board, the man was known simply as "the Benefactor" because that was the way he wanted it. Zdrok was happy to comply with the man's every wish. After all, Zdrok had to grudgingly admit that the Shop would be defunct had it not been for the Lucky Dragons on one hand and the Benefactor on the other. Now it appeared that the relationship between the Shop and the Triad was going sour. Zdrok knew the partnership with Ming would completely dissolve once General Tun had the guidance system in his possession.

The disaster at the antique shop would further deteriorate the Shop's standing in the area. Antipov was dead. Their offices were destroyed and were now being picked apart by the Hong Kong police. No doubt several international intelligence agencies would be hovering like vultures over the remains. It now looked as if Zdrok might have to pick up roots and leave again.

He picked up the phone on his desk and dialed one of the few numbers he knew by heart. The Benefactor picked it up and said in English, "Yes, Andrei?"

Zdrok attempted English as well since the Benefactor's Russian wasn't great. "Good day, sir. How are things in your new--"

"They're fine, Andrei. What can I do for you?"

"One of our men in California was arrested. He was to be the one bringing the guidance system to the Lucky Dragons. And as you know--"

"Jon Ming canceled the sale. But I understand the men in California have offered to sell it to you directly. How much do they want?"