Bishop headed out. His team had survived, but the mission was a failure. And he’d nearly lost everything. Had the crystal been destroyed … He made a mental note to find a way to keep the crystal better protected and started the long trek home.

Chapter Thirty-Three

THIRTY-TWO

Taipei, Taiwan

THE WOMAN IN the power suit leveled her weapon at Knight’s head. When he dove to the side, she fired. The round whistled past his ear—he could feel its heat—and struck a passing taxi.

As he hit the sidewalk and rolled, Knight heard the taxi’s tires squeal over the screams of fleeing pedestrians. The vehicle’s driver lost control, possibly hit by the round meant for him. The woman shouted something in Chinese that he couldn’t make out as he got his feet under him again. He spun toward the woman, drawing a weapon of his own, and when her body lined up in his sight, he pulled the trigger without hesitation. The silent round sailed out of the gun, striking the woman in the throat. The dart, meant for Walis Palalin, dropped her to her knees as she held her throat in surprise. She slid down the stairs on her back, stopping on the sidewalk.

He opened her suit and inspected the badge. National Police Agency. How did the Taiwanese police force know we were coming? Knight thought.

But there was no time to figure that out. A loud engine announced the presence of a large gray van, its side stenciled with the Chinese text that translated to: SWAT.

The Taiwanese SWAT were elite fighters who were not just brutally efficient, but also masters in hand-to-hand kung fu combat. Knowing that a full squad of heavily armed and highly skilled men would burst from the back of the van at any second, Knight scoured the street for some hope of escape.

The taxi that had been shot sat empty and running. The owner had stopped on the curb and limped quickly into the hospital, a trail of blood marking his passage. He had taken a round and, being at a hospital, wasted no time in seeking help. In doing so, he’d left Knight the perfect getaway car.

He turned to his two teammates. “Get to the taxi!”

Shrieking tires followed by hard metal bangs and angry shouting voices filled the air behind Knight. The SWAT van had stopped and expelled the men inside, who were now shouting at him to stop. But stopping was impossible, both because he couldn’t afford to get caught, but also because he was airborne, leaping over the hood of the taxi.

He landed on the driver’s side and hopped into the front seat of the still-running vehicle. As his teammates opened the back doors and jumped in, a sound like thunder erupted behind them. But there were no storm clouds, only twenty men opening fire with automatic weapons.