“You killed two of her colleagues while in Africa, Guo and Zhao.”
“An occupational hazard. For them, I mean.”
“It is written, ‘He that lives by the sword, dies by the sword.’”
“Depends who’s got the bigger sword. Want to compare?”
“We both know you’re CIA.”
“Former. I’m a private contractor now.”
“A convenient cover. The CIA doesn’t let field agents quit. This is well-known.”
“Well-known? Where? In comic books?”
“You came here to spy.”
“On what? The Wu-14? You invited us here, remember? Bad way to keep a secret, inviting a former American president and a former CIA operative to see the damn thing. But we both know you don’t want it kept secret. Just the opposite.”
“You came here to steal the Wu-14.”
“Steal it? How? By shoving it up my poop chute and waddling out of here?” Pearce flashed a mischievous grin. “That’s more up your alley, isn’t it? Pardon the pun.”
Feng’s eyes narrowed, waiting for his rage to pass.
“Why are you here, then?”
“I’m providing security for President Myers. She refuses Secret Service protection.”
“Why would she do that?”
“She likes her privacy.”
“If you’re her security, I’d say you failed.”
“Me? You’re the one in deep shit. President Lane won’t take kindly to kidnapping an American citizen.”
“A citizen? I thought you were his friend.”
Pearce shrugged, wincing at the pain in his shoulders. “Yeah, I guess so.”
“A friend of the president’s who happens to be a CIA agent on a secret mission, spying on the People’s Republic.”
“I think we covered that already.”
“Do you think I’m stupid?” Feng asked.
“If you don’t already know, I’m sure as hell not going to break the bad news to you—”
WHACK!
Feng’s delicate, well-manicured hand slapped Pearce’s face.
“Dr. Weng wants to kill you,” Feng said. “I’m tempted to let her.”
“Why don’t you?”
“I personally abhor violence. I’m a businessman. I prefer to negotiate.”
“So let’s negotiate. Let me out of these cuffs, and we can talk.”
“If you don’t tell me what I want to know, I’ll let Dr. Weng slit your throat. Or worse.”
“Go ahead, but only if you want the wrath of the U.S. military to fall on your head.”
The vice chairman laughed. “Now who’s the idiot? Ever heard of Dr. Afridi? Sergeant Hekmati? Reverend Abedini? Your government is notorious for leaving their people behind, sometimes indefinitely.”
Pearce knew the names well. The first was the Muslim doctor sentenced for treason and left to rot in a Pakistani jail after helping the United States find and kill Osama bin Laden. The second was an American marine sergeant abandoned in an Iranian jail for years. The third was an American Christian cleric seized and tortured by Iranian thugs. All three incidents were stains on America’s honor. In each case, the American government held the cards it needed to play to win their release. Pakistan was a corrupt regime heavily dependent on American largesse to survive. Iran had other vulnerabilities.
“A previous administration. Lane is different. Think Teddy Roosevelt.”
“We both know who really runs your government. The puppet masters who pull the strings would never allow Lane to upset the apple cart.”
“You don’t know Lane. And you shouldn’t mix metaphors.”
“I know that trillions of dollars in trade, loans, and profits all depend upon a healthy relationship between China and the United States. Do you think the worthless life of a single American CIA spy is worth all that?”
“There are things even more valuable than money, even in a capitalist society.”
“You’re quite right. Knowledge is far more valuable than money, in any society. And you have some of the most valuable knowledge of all.”
The heavy steel door swung open. The security goon slipped back in and shut it behind him. One of his eyes was shut and purpling.
Pearce laughed. “Hey, tough guy. Punching above your weight class again?”
The Mongolian glowered at Pearce as he trotted down the staircase.
Pearce motioned with his pinned wrists. “Yeah, Lurch. C’mon, untie my hands. Let me show you what a real punch feels like.”
The security guard muttered under his breath and stepped toward Pearce, flexing his massive hands.
Feng shouted an order and the Mongolian froze in his tracks, then retreated to his spot in the corner. Feng turned back to Pearce. “You’re a drone expert. There’s much you can teach us.”
“I’m no expert. I don’t invent the damn things. I just run a contracting company. We deploy drones, sure, but mostly off-the-shelf stuff.”
“Dr. Weng told me your company is the best in the world at what it does.”
“And she’d be right.”
“Is that why you’re in Japan? To give Japan advanced drone technology?”
“Like I told you, I just came to provide President Myers with personal security.”
“And what is her mission?”
“You’d have to ask her. Far as I could tell, it was just business. You know, filthy capitalism. Just like you billionaire commie bastards love.”
“You’re not going to leave this place, ever. You do understand that, don’t you?”
“If you’re going to shoot me, do it now.” Pearce flexed his shoulders. “I’ve got an itch I can’t scratch that’s killing me.”
Feng laughed. “Kill you? No. You are too valuable alive. I’m going to extract every last secret you’re hiding in that thick skull of yours. We both know you can’t stop it. And unlike you, I’m not constrained by the Geneva Convention or the ACLU. I have no qualms about crippling you for life or blinding you. Even if I decide to let you go, you’d still be maimed and your government wouldn’t be able to do a thing about it, nor would I suffer the least consequence. Do you understand how perilous your situation truly is?”
“I think I’ve caught the gist of it. But I’m not much of a talker. So stop wasting your breath.”
“I have a technician who will not only make you talk but also, perhaps, even sing, as the saying goes. I should like that.”
“Don’t get your panties in a wad. I don’t do Broadway show tunes if that’s what you’re hoping for.”
Feng barked a command to his security guard. The big Mongolian slapped the black bag back over Pearce’s head.
Pearce wanted to scream. His mind clawed at the claustrophobic fear rising in his throat; only a sheer act of will kept him silent. For now.
“I’ll be back in a few hours and we’ll begin our first session. Until then, I want you to imagine the worst of all possible pain and know that it will pale in comparison to what I have in store for you.”
“Room service is that bad, eh?”
Feng’s cell phone chirped. He checked the screen and motioned violently toward the stairs. A few moments later Feng and the Mongolian disappeared, slamming the steel door behind them.
Pearce sat in the rickety chair, shoulders aching, shrouded in the lightless bag. The room was silent now except for his heavy breathing. He didn’t want to hyperventilate. Fought to control it. The bag was stuffy, close. But that wasn’t the worst. He felt like a miner trapped a thousand feet below the earth when the lights go out and the roof caves in. He prayed Ian would find him before the sightless black dragged him down into madness. He focused his mind on the one possible thing that could save him: the Pearce Systems tracker embedded in his gut.
It was his only hope.
FORTY-THREE