Huang stepped through the door and confronted the little man, hands on his hips. “What is the meaning of this?”
“Huang Qi?” the suited official demanded.
“That’s correct.”
“You are under arrest.” The man turned to the two officers behind him. “Cuff him.”
Huang’s expression was shocked. “For what? I haven’t done anything.”
“We will be the judge of that.” One of the cops worked his way around Huang and twisted on handcuffs.
“This is an outrage,” Huang said. “My company is known for its honesty.”
“Save it. Where are your servers located?”
Huang blinked in surprise at the question. “In… in the basement. Why?”
The official withdrew a phone from his jacket pocket and made a call, ignoring Huang. “Send the tech team to the basement. Hold the workers until we’ve interrogated them all.”
The blood drained from Huang’s face. “I don’t understand. Please. Why are you doing this? All our permits are in order, our accounts are audited, we—”
The little man’s hand snaked toward Huang like lightning. Huang’s head snapped to the side from the force of the slap.
“You don’t ask questions. I do,” the official hissed, his whisper more menacing than if he’d screamed. He looked over Huang’s shoulder at the officer behind him. “Take him to headquarters.”
Huang bit back his outrage at being struck in full view of his employees and allowed himself to be led to the elevators. The expressions on his people’s faces were all the information he needed to grasp how dire his situation was. He didn’t understand how he could have gone from a leading member of society to a prisoner in seconds, but he knew he was in serious trouble. That the man in the suit hadn’t shown him any identification told him that this was an irregular operation. And in China, irregular meant more dangerous than a black widow.
The cops led him downstairs to an unmarked van and shackled his cuffs to a steel bench in the rear before closing the door. His alarm intensified — this was not how the police operated. Eventually, another man in a suit arrived, slid into the driver’s seat, and started the engine.
“Where are you taking me?” Huang asked.
The man ignored him. Huang tried again and the man called out over his shoulder through the heavy steel grid that separated the cargo area from the cab. “Shut up or it will go worse for you.”
Huang didn’t pursue it. He’d find out soon enough what had happened. He searched his brain for anything that could have prompted the raid, and kept arriving at the same answer: somehow, one of his competitors had exerted leverage on cronies in the government, and was using the police to shut Moontech down.
Jiao Long watched silently as his men removed server after server from the racks in the icy-cold basement and carried them to the freight elevator, where they would be taken to headquarters and dissected for any hint of information that could aid him in his search. This was an issue of national security, and as such was of the highest priority, his superior had made clear. He was free to use whatever means at his disposal that would deliver results, including detainment and confiscation.
Jiao was a twenty-two-year veteran of China’s MSS — the equivalent of America’s CIA, the clandestine arm of the government responsible for espionage and countermeasures, as well as protecting the nation’s secrets. There was no higher authority, and it answered directly to the premier, who routinely gave it carte blanche to conduct its affairs however it liked. That imbued Jiao with the power of a god over the citizenry, and he was never more in his element than when running an operation like the one against Moontech.
That subversive elements in the company were at work was a given; at least, that was where all the current evidence pointed. If that turned out to be false, it wasn’t his concern. There was no redress for his victims, no court to complain to. He was effectively untouchable, and could and would ride roughshod over anyone in the way in his quest for answers.
“Notify me when the servers are at headquarters. Put the interrogation team on the workers. I want answers. Is that clear?” he instructed his subordinate, Deshi.
“Yes, sir.”
“I’m going back to headquarters to learn what our friend Huang knows. I’ll leave my cell on.”
The interrogation rooms at MSS were grim, the walls gray unfinished concrete, the temperature frigid by design. Huang was shackled to a steel islet mounted to the wall, forced to stand as he waited for whatever was to come. A steel door with bubbling anthracite paint stood at the far end, and he tried to ignore the slight slope in the floor that fed into an oversized floor drain in the center of the room — he didn’t want to contemplate what purpose it might serve.
The bolt on the outside of the door slid open with a clank and it opened. Jiao entered, followed by a pair of guards, one carrying a metal box, the other pushing a red mechanic’s rolling cart. An array of power tools lay on the black rubber top, and a deep-cycle solar battery rested on the bottom tray.
Huang swallowed hard at the sight, and prayed that it was all intended for intimidation rather than actual use.
“You’ve been a naughty boy,” Jiao said in a reasonable tone, as though chiding him for a traffic infraction. “You are accused of high crimes against the people’s republic. Treasonous acts that are punishable by death. It would be best if you admitted what you’ve done, and who’s in this with you, so we can take corrective measures. If you don’t, I will get it out of you one way or another.”
Huang’s eyes widened and he shook his head. “I swear I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“I knew you would say that. Subversives never admit their sins when confronted. It’s one of the perennial truths of my job.”
“I am telling the truth. I don’t know anything. What am I accused of? Investigate it and you’ll see. I’m innocent of any wrongdoing. I’m a loyal citizen,” Huang protested.
“I’m disappointed that you’ve decided to go this route. I’m always hoping to be surprised by an honest man. But don’t worry. My methods are highly effective, if agonizingly painful. You will confess.”
“There’s nothing to confess. I swear…”
An hour later Jiao confirmed that Huang had indeed been truthful in his declarations of innocence. Too late for Huang, but that was the job. Jiao regarded his two companions and wiped a fleck of gristle from his forehead with a handkerchief.
“Hose it down. We’ll chat with his second-in-command next.”
Chapter 6
Drake hung up the phone as a low growl rumbled from the driveway in front of the house. Allie had been reluctant until he’d made her go to Facebook and look at the photo that had affected him so profoundly. She’d tried to explain that she was overwhelmed with the estate and the lawsuits, and that what he was asking would be a major disruption in her life.
“Allie, I know that, and I understand. But you’re the archeologist. I wouldn’t recognize a Khmer temple if it bit me. You’re the expert, not me. I wouldn’t ask you to do this if it wasn’t important.”
“How do you know they aren’t BS-ing you about that part, just to give you a pretense for looking for the plane?”
“We’ll get a complete briefing tomorrow. If it sounds like an invention, we’ll bail. That simple.”
She had paused for several moments. “I think you’re kidding yourself if you believe anything involving… those guys… is ever simple.”
“Allie, I don’t trust them as far as I can throw them, but I verified the legend of the temple. It’s as solid, or more so, than the Paititi account, and we did pretty well on that.”