Read Online Beyond all Limits by J. T. Brannan - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: J. T. Brannan
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decades. Known as the Diaoyu Islands by the Chinese, they consisted of less than three square miles of uninhabited islands lying between China, Taiwan, and the larger Ryukyu Islands of Japan. And Cole also knew that they had been of no interest to anybody until oil was discovered in the surrounding seas in the late 1960s; it was the same old story.
‘NRO analysis shows that after our forces withdrew from the area,’ dos Santos continued, ‘China’s navy headed out towards the Senkakus.’
‘This makes things even more awkward for us, of course,’ Abrams said, ‘and Prime Minister Toshikatsu has already been on the phone asking for our support.’
Cole nodded in understanding. The US was pledged to assisting Japan defend its territory, and had acknowledged Japan’s claim to ownership of the islands; therefore, if China reclaimed them by force, America would have to intervene. But with four thousand sailors held hostage off the Chinese coast, how could she?
‘What do you want me to do?’ Cole asked the president, although he could already guess what it might be.
‘A military coup is only as effective as the man who leads it,’ Abrams said evenly, spreading out the papers from the manila folder across the desk, showing images of a large, uniformed Chinese man, half of his face obscured by a huge, drooping mustache. ‘Cut off the head, and the body will fall.’
Cole looked up from the photographs and saw that Abrams was staring directly at him, unafraid to give the order. ‘I want you to kill General Wu,’ she said. ‘As soon as you possibly can.’
5
The order to kill didn’t faze Cole in the slightest – years of doing such work had dulled his sense of horror at such actions until it was almost nonexistent.
It hadn’t always been that way, Cole remembered – the first time he’d killed a man, out on patrol with SEAL Team Two back when he’d been only nineteen years old, it had been hard. But, he could admit now, completely at peace with his nature, it hadn’t been as hard for him as it had for many others. And it hadn’t even been the killing that he had felt bad about; it was the fact that he hadn’t reacted quickly enough, had almost let his buddies down.
But he hadn’t let them down. He had killed, and had carried on killing ever since. He truly no longer had any idea how many lives he had taken over the years; he had tried to count once, when his nightmares had threatened to return, but the numbers had just run together into a jumbled mess, hundreds of faces swimming in and out of his consciousness, merging into one another, then drifting slowly one by one, and then altogether again.
For many years, he had lived in denial of a sort; he had truly thought that he had only done what he had done due to his orders, his training, his conditioning. He had been sacrificing his eternal salvation for the benefit of the American people.
And that was still true, of course, although he now understood that there was something else underneath the surface of his psyche. He had been forced to confront it when he had been betrayed by Hansard, when his family had been brutally killed right in front of him, when he had exacted his revenge and then escaped into a life of isolated self-abuse in Thailand.
The awful truth was that he enjoyed the killing; it was what he had been born for, what he had been created to do. He was glad that he had a worthwhile cause to fight for. He often wondered what he would have done had he not been in the military, how his life would have turned out. Would he still have been a killer?
It was an unpleasant question, and one he was reluctant to answer. And at the end of the day, he supposed, it didn’t even matter – he did have a cause, a profession, a worthwhile channel for his urges, and – mercifully – that made it all okay.
‘What do we know about General Wu?’ Cole asked, finishing the cup of coffee and reaching for one of the finger sandwiches on the small table
‘NRO analysis shows that after our forces withdrew from the area,’ dos Santos continued, ‘China’s navy headed out towards the Senkakus.’
‘This makes things even more awkward for us, of course,’ Abrams said, ‘and Prime Minister Toshikatsu has already been on the phone asking for our support.’
Cole nodded in understanding. The US was pledged to assisting Japan defend its territory, and had acknowledged Japan’s claim to ownership of the islands; therefore, if China reclaimed them by force, America would have to intervene. But with four thousand sailors held hostage off the Chinese coast, how could she?
‘What do you want me to do?’ Cole asked the president, although he could already guess what it might be.
‘A military coup is only as effective as the man who leads it,’ Abrams said evenly, spreading out the papers from the manila folder across the desk, showing images of a large, uniformed Chinese man, half of his face obscured by a huge, drooping mustache. ‘Cut off the head, and the body will fall.’
Cole looked up from the photographs and saw that Abrams was staring directly at him, unafraid to give the order. ‘I want you to kill General Wu,’ she said. ‘As soon as you possibly can.’
5
The order to kill didn’t faze Cole in the slightest – years of doing such work had dulled his sense of horror at such actions until it was almost nonexistent.
It hadn’t always been that way, Cole remembered – the first time he’d killed a man, out on patrol with SEAL Team Two back when he’d been only nineteen years old, it had been hard. But, he could admit now, completely at peace with his nature, it hadn’t been as hard for him as it had for many others. And it hadn’t even been the killing that he had felt bad about; it was the fact that he hadn’t reacted quickly enough, had almost let his buddies down.
But he hadn’t let them down. He had killed, and had carried on killing ever since. He truly no longer had any idea how many lives he had taken over the years; he had tried to count once, when his nightmares had threatened to return, but the numbers had just run together into a jumbled mess, hundreds of faces swimming in and out of his consciousness, merging into one another, then drifting slowly one by one, and then altogether again.
For many years, he had lived in denial of a sort; he had truly thought that he had only done what he had done due to his orders, his training, his conditioning. He had been sacrificing his eternal salvation for the benefit of the American people.
And that was still true, of course, although he now understood that there was something else underneath the surface of his psyche. He had been forced to confront it when he had been betrayed by Hansard, when his family had been brutally killed right in front of him, when he had exacted his revenge and then escaped into a life of isolated self-abuse in Thailand.
The awful truth was that he enjoyed the killing; it was what he had been born for, what he had been created to do. He was glad that he had a worthwhile cause to fight for. He often wondered what he would have done had he not been in the military, how his life would have turned out. Would he still have been a killer?
It was an unpleasant question, and one he was reluctant to answer. And at the end of the day, he supposed, it didn’t even matter – he did have a cause, a profession, a worthwhile channel for his urges, and – mercifully – that made it all okay.
‘What do we know about General Wu?’ Cole asked, finishing the cup of coffee and reaching for one of the finger sandwiches on the small table
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