It had only been several months since the two countries had officially established diplomatic relations. If he was correct, and if the CIA had instigated the abduction of the Americans — and killed Chinese in the process — would it change the current situation between his country and the U.S. for the worse?
He had to prove his theory. But where would he begin? There wasn’t any evidence left behind, only three bodies… no, five bodies. He had to find the American prisoners, and above all, a CIA operative. That task would be most difficult.
It was time to return to base and begin reviewing all messages and courier papers, and possibly any intercepted transmissions. Now, every listening post had to be put on alert. If he got lucky, he might pick up a transmission passing between the operative and the CIA. He realized the odds were very slim.
As he started up the stairs, he knew he was missing a vital clue — and it was somewhere in Bridge House.
Chapter 12
With the noise produced by the truck’s engine, it was nearly impossible to hear anything else. Grant motioned everyone closer. “Change of plans. We can’t take the chance of transmitting to D.C. I’ve been thinking what that guy said, about where our guys were taken.”
“You mean ‘America’?” Stalley asked.
Grant nodded. “Yeah, Doc. The only explanation I can come up with is possibly the new Consulate, or at least close-by.”
Adler just shook his head. “Why am I not surprised you’d come up with that?! Explain.”
“You remember on the news? The Vice President’s supposed to go to Beijing to dedicate the Consulate there, and then come to Shanghai.”
“American territory,” Adler said, nodding, making the connection.
“Right, Joe.”
“How do ya know our guys are there, Boss?” Novak asked, as he was rubbing a cleaning cloth along the barrel of his rifle.
“Not a hundred percent sure, Mike. My guess is they’re being held close-by.”
Adler’s brain kicked in. “Oh, fuck! The plutonium! Do you really think they’re gonna make some sorta bomb?”
Grant leaned back against a burlap sack, stroking his chin. “Had the thought, Joe.”
“I know it isn’t much consolation, Skipper, but even with two canisters, and whatever explosives they might use, the ‘boom’ might be big, but it won’t be enough to be an actual nuke bomb. It’ll eventually make a helluva lot of folks sicker than hell down the road, though.”
“You’re right, Joe… and not much consolation.”
The truck started slowing. “Guess we’re near our destination,” Grant said, taking a peek out the canvas flap.
“Where’s that?” Adler asked, looking underneath the canvas.
“Asked Kwan to take us as close to the Consulate as possible, to a place where we’d have good surveillance. That may mean ‘camping’ on a roof.”
“Gotta be more comfortable than a shitload of places we’ve been, sir,” Stalley smiled.
The right side of Grant’s mouth curved up. “Roger that, Doc. Look, make sure you’ve all got enough water. There should be more in the barrel.”
“Uh, Skipper?”
“Yeah, Joe.”
“Don’t you think we should contact Mullins? Maybe the White House should cancel the trip.”
Grant shook his head. “I don’t think we can chance transmitting. The ChiComs have gotta be listening, especially now. But if we can’t succeed in finding our guys and the plutonium by tomorrow, then we’ll try a to find a way to transmit.
“In the meantime, let’s hope somebody in D.C. intercepts a transmission from the ChiComs. Or maybe the satellites will pick up something. I just don’t want to give up.”
“None of us do, Skipper.”
James leaned forward. “What if we try to get into the Consulate? They’ve gotta have communications set up by now.”
“I don’t know if you remember when the Russians built the new U.S. Embassy in Moscow, DJ. They ‘accidentally’ hid little bugs everywhere.”
“I see your point.”
The truck was slowing to a crawl, then it stopped. Kwan put it into reverse then backed up. The tires rolled over uneven ground, shaking the bed of the truck. Kwan parked at the end of a very narrow alley but kept the engine running.
He rushed to the back, and lifted a corner of the canvas. “You stay here in the alley while I move the truck.”
Grant jumped out first, slinging his rucksack over his shoulder, with the other men following. It started raining, but at least it wasn’t a downpour. They backed up close to the second house, trying to stay dry.
On either side of an alley that was barely seven feet wide, were long rows of very dilapidated homes, all attached, one or two stories high. Some had windows with shutters hanging lopsided from their hinges, some were boarded up. Glass had been shattered in others.
The exteriors were discolored gray brick, cracked and chipped. Electrical wires were strung horizontally from house to house, and back and forth to homes on the opposite side. From ground level it was impossible for the men to recognize how old this part of Shanghai was. It was like a city forgotten, with alley after alley, row upon row of abandoned homes.
Within ten minutes Kwan came rushing back. “Hurry,” he said looking around.
The Team followed him to the opposite end of the alleyway when he finally stopped by a weathered brown door on the end house. It was two stories with one window on both the first and second floor. The house in front of it, across the alley, was one story. They only hoped it would give them a good view.
Kwan immediately opened the door, waving the Team inside, then he quietly shut the door, just as the rain stopped.
The lower level was one room, barely twelve by twenty, no furnishings of any kind. The window was closed off by shutters, but most of the slats were broken.
“Come upstairs,” Kwan whispered, leading the men to the second floor. “Be careful where you step,” he warned. “Some of the steps and floorboards in the center of the room might be weak.”
The men took out penlights from their chest vests, trying to shed some light on the stairs, trying to determine where not to step. Recent rains left dark stains in several spots on ceiling and floor. Mildew crept up all four walls, patterned in the shape of irregular graphs. A musty odor permeated the air.
After stashing their gear against a wall, the men gathered near Grant, as he asked Kwan, “Anybody living in these places? They look pretty rundown.”
Kwan shook his head. “Before construction was started on the Consulate, a three-block radius was designated ‘uninhabitable’ by the government. It was expected that these would have been demolished by now.”
“You sure have a lot of knowledge about Shanghai,” Grant commented, suspiciously.
“Research. I had to, for my assignment.”
“I see,” Grant answered, nodding slowly. He swiveled his head, as he examined the room. “I don’t see any equipment, so I take it you don’t live here.”
“No. My house is across town. I’ve only used this place for surveillance. I never had any special equipment. All I used were binoculars.”