The grenade explodes, momentarily brightening the pier with a blinding flash of lightning. I wait a good ten seconds before I carefully peer around the foredeck again. Nothing happens. With the night vision on, I see that the barrels are smashed to bits and there’s a hole in the boardwalk. No sniper.
“Do you see the shooter on the SAT image?” I ask, pressing my throat implant.
“Negative,” Coen answers. “Either you got him or he slipped away under cover.”
“What about Wu? Don’t tell me you lost him.”
“I’m afraid he’s merged into traffic patterns.”
“Great.”
I stand and cautiously move around the deck to the gangway and go inside the boat. The Chinese guard that caught the CS grenade in the face is lying dead on the plastic sheet next to Kehoe. I kneel and examine the FBI agent and see that they really worked him over. He apparently suffered some serious damage to the inside of his mouth. What did they do? Then I notice the pair of bloody pliers on the floor next to the chair in which Wu was sitting. I can’t help but grimace when I see at least three of Kehoe’s teeth lying next to the pliers, the roots torn and mangled. And… oh, no, it’s the agent’s tongue lying on the plastic sheet beside his head. The poor guy bled to death.
There’s an open bottle of bourbon sitting on the dining table. I can’t help grabbing it and taking a swig. I’ve seen some terrible things in my time and this has to be in the top ten.
Pressing on my implant, I say, “Frances?”
“Sam?”
“Shit, Frances, tell the FBI that Kehoe has been tortured and killed.”
“What’s the pier number?”
“Pier Forty-four, Marina Del Rey. I’m on the yacht Lady Lotus. It’s pretty bad.”
“Are you all right?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” I’m a little shaken from the sniper attack and seeing Kehoe in such a condition but I don’t mention that.
“I’ll get on to Kehoe’s people right away.”
She says the FBI will pick up their boy and clean up the mess. I need to disappear, and fast. As I return to the deck I carefully scan the pier with my thermal vision turned on and see no trace of the sniper. The cops will probably be here any minute, thanks to the noise of the grenades.
I scuttle down the ramp and run to the smashed barrels. As I search the boardwalk for any clues indicating the identity of the sniper, I find three spent shells. I take one of them and recognize it as a 7.62mm NATO — a common round used in sniper rifles. This rings a bell somewhere in the back of my head but at the moment I don’t know what it is. I pocket the shell and head for the marina exit before the cavalry arrives, all the while slightly paranoid that a damned competent assassin most likely has his eye on me.
27
Andrei Zdrok had experienced many setbacks and successes in his long career as an international criminal. While he maintained his status as an extremely wealthy man, the ups and downs of his business constantly drove him into states of unbearable anxiety and worry. He was often surprised that he had never developed ulcers.
To his comrades, Zdrok was very good at exhibiting a self-confident persona regardless of what turmoil the Shop might be suffering. This character trait was essential for leadership. His fellow board members — Prokofiev, Antipov, and Herzog — were aware of the hardships the Shop had faced over the past year and in many instances displayed despair and fatalism in the face of an uncertain future. Not Zdrok. He continued to push his team into new frontiers and new partnerships in order to put the Shop on the map again. Zdrok knew his fellow workers perceived him as a crotchety and humorless slave driver, but that pressure was what kept the Shop alive.
Just when it seemed that the organization was back on its feet in the Far East and making progress toward becoming a powerful force in the arms black market, the Shop had suffered another setback. It was clear that the Lucky Dragons were no longer their allies. America’s National Security Agency, Central Intelligence Agency, and Federal Bureau of Investigation were sniffing around in the Shop’s Asian headquarters, not to mention interference from Interpol, the Hong Kong police, the Red Chinese, the GRU, MI6, and countless other intelligence and law enforcement agencies around the world.
In short, the Shop was on the run again.
Zdrok had packed up his flat on the Peak and disappeared before the authorities came looking for him. The antique shop on Cat Street was now a crime scene and completely inaccessible. The Triad that protected him had turned their backs on him.
The Benefactor was his only friend and it was to him that Zdrok fled.
Zdrok took the glass of bourbon from the Benefactor and thanked him for the hospitality.
“Don’t worry, Andrei,” the Benefactor said. “You’ve been in worse scrapes. It won’t be long and we’ll be out of Hong Kong.”
“Going to China seems more like jumping from the frying pan and into the fire.”
“That’s a very good English expression, Andrei. Your English is getting better.”
“But my Chinese is shit. I don’t even know how to curse in Chinese.”
“That you’ll learn quickly, my friend.”
Zdrok looked at his ally and studied him. It was such an unlikely relationship. Who would have thought the Shop would benefit from a man so well connected with the organization’s enemies?
“Have you heard anything from the police?” he asked.
The Benefactor shook his head. “No more than what I told you last night. They know the antique store was a front for the Shop. They’re probably tearing apart your computers and looking into the facility up in the New Territories. They’re searching for you but they won’t find you. And since Mr. Herzog got away safely there are less of you for them to chase. When does he arrive in America?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Let’s hope for our sake he gets the guidance system from that Triad fellow and gets to China with it in one piece.”
“That’s putting it lightly,” Zdrok said. “If Herzog fails to do that, then the Shop is forever dead. I might as well go to Siberia, find a nice iceberg to sit on, and freeze to death.” He took a sip of bourbon and then asked, “What does your friend in Washington have to say about all this?”
The Benefactor gave Zdrok a sharp look. “Leave my Washington friend out of this. Suffice it to say our ally there is fully aware of the situation and is monitoring it closely. If help is needed, then our friend will supply it.”
Zdrok often wondered who the Benefactor’s contact in the American government really was. The person had powerful connections. It was because of this “friend” that Mike Wu had been able to become Mike Chan and secure a job within the NSA.
“Have you heard from Putnik yet?” the Benefactor asked.
“No. I have to assume he’s located Fisher and is putting together a plan to wipe the man off the face of the earth.”
“Putnik is the best at what he does. He’ll succeed.”
Zdrok stood with his drink in hand and looked out the Benefactor’s hotel room window and tried to admire the Hong Kong skyline. “You realize what General Tun will do if he doesn’t get the guidance system?”
“Yes.”
Zdrok turned to his friend and said, “He will crush us. He will alert the Chinese authorities to our presence and we’ll be doomed. Not just me. You, too, you know.”
“I’m aware of that. A lot rides on this deal, Andrei.”
“The general is already unhappy that the system is late. It should have been in his hands days ago. The MRUUVs have been built and are ready for use.” Zdrok turned back to the window. “I can’t wait to see them work. They are formidable weapons. Operation Barracuda, if it ever gets off the ground, will take the world by surprise. When it’s discovered that the Shop brokered the deal to create them, we will be back at the top of the game. Yes, a lot rides on the deal. That’s putting it mildly.”