“Presumed dead by the Chinese.” Susan added.
“So where the hell are they now?”
Susan shook her head. “This is sloppy. Why use Chinese weapons on the drug-smuggling boat? And why wasn’t she more careful not to get photographed? The woman is a trained intelligence operative, wanted by both China and the United States. But she’s driving around riding shotgun in the middle of Oklahoma?”
David said, “To be fair, no one was looking for her there. But that part concerns me too. My only thought is that she isn’t worried about repercussions from the United States.”
“But why? We’ll bring this evidence to the Chinese. President Wu has been very cooperative. He’s going to agree with us that—”
A sharp knock on the door interrupted the meeting.
One of the other SILVERSMITH team members cracked it open and stuck his head in. “Sorry to interrupt, but you guys need to turn on the news immediately…”
10
Lena Chou’s caravan of vehicles came to a halt just outside a towering building in central Beijing. Her long black hair swung back and forth as she walked up to the chief security guard on the Chinese presidential detail. He recognized her on sight.
“Good morning, Miss Chou.”
“Good morning. Everything set?”
“As you have instructed us, ma’am. The streets have been cleared for two blocks around this position. All security cameras have been shut off.”
“Excellent work.”
She turned back towards her vehicles and nodded her head. Doors simultaneously opened, and men in suits identical to the presidential guard’s got out of the vehicles. The rear door of one of the SUVs was opened, and a body bag removed. Two men carried it tucked under their right arms.
There were more than a dozen of them in all. Each carried a black duffle bag filled with clothing, weapons, and equipment.
They stood in the lobby, waiting for the elevators to come down. No one spoke. The group was one of Jinshan’s “wet” teams. They were the cleaners — the mechanics who sought out and killed informants and spies of foreign governments. They also took part in assassinating rival businessmen and politicians when Jinshan required it. They specialized in making it look like an accident.
But today was unique, even for them.
A ding announced the opening of the elevator door. Five of the men stepped inside and took the elevator up to the floor just below the penthouse suite.
Lena rolled her eyes. She was spoiled from years of work outside of this country. Elevators in China were known for being extremely small. Because the elevators were so tiny, and the building so tall, this process of getting her men up the building took several minutes.
Once gathered on the floor below the Chinese president, Lena and the others conducted their final stages of preparation. They retrieved specially tailored clothing from their bags and began putting it on — white tunics with a bright red cross painted on both the front and back. Matching masks with little slits in the eye and mouth areas.
“Everyone ready?” Lena asked.
Nods all around.
They looked ridiculous, wearing sheets over their heads. It looked like some type of cult. But from her time in the US, she knew that the outfit had been designed to resemble that of the KKK, a fanatical hate group that claimed ties to Christianity. In all of Lena’s time in America, she had never met anyone in the KKK. And her experience with Christians had been unremarkable. But as Jinshan was always saying, truth was malleable. What mattered was what Chinese commoners would believe, after today.
“Follow me.”
The group took the fire escape stairway up the final flight of stairs. Masks on. Weapons out. Lena was the only one who hadn’t bothered with a mask yet. She might be caught on camera. But no one would be investigating the matter other than Jinshan’s loyalists, and they would quickly find out, if they inquired, that Lena wasn’t to be investigated.
The presidential guards in the hallway saw Lena coming. One whispered something into his cuff, and they began walking away from their posts.
It was remarkable. Even she couldn’t believe how Jinshan’s fingers had infiltrated that section of the government. But everyone had a price, a desire, a fear. Everyone had a motivation — something that Jinshan the artist could use to mold the world into his vision.
The penthouse door opened and several more presidential guards left, hurrying down the hall, opposite Lena and her approaching troop.
Lena and her team of white-sheeted and armed men entered the penthouse.
“What is this?”
There he was. President Wu. His eyes widened as he saw the white-masked men fanning out throughout the spacious living area.
“Where are my guards?” His words were directed at her, the first hint of fear in his tone.
Lena said, “They left.”
She stood in the center of the white marble entranceway, thick columns rising up on either side of her. She was a picturesque statue, all at once beautiful and grotesque. Her dark eyes and sharp features would be the envy of any runway model, but for the scars.
A flash of recognition hit the president as he stared at her. One of Lena’s men grabbed hold of him.
Two screams came from the bedroom. Seconds later, her men emerged, holding the president’s wife and daughter kicking and screaming in their arms.
Lena focused on the daughter. She was only fifteen or sixteen, by the look of it. An odd feeling came over Lena. Maybe it was that ridiculous discussion with Natesh, about how some people weren’t meant to see certain things. But she felt sorry for the girl. Lena decided that the daughter didn’t need to be a part of this.
“Tie the daughter up and place her down in my vehicle.” No one questioned Lena’s orders. Two of the men left with the teenager, who was whimpering now but didn’t put up a fight.
President Wu said, “You are Lena Chou. Jinshan’s agent…”
“I am.” Her eyes were unblinking.
“Jinshan — is he what you are here for? Is his freedom what you are trying to accomplish? You are going to hold us hostage for his release? Miss Chou, this tactic is not in your best interests. Jinshan’s fate and yours are not tied together. Please reconsider before…”
Lena’s lips formed a thin smile as she studied the president. Leader of one point four billion people. And now that his life was in danger, he flew back to the familiar. Calculating and probing. The master politician. Trying to find weakness and motive in his opponent.
But Lena had realized long ago that famous politicians and celebrities were often nothing more than propped-up machinations, created by publicity studios and marketing firms. Without their makeup and their carefully crafted speeches, they were nothing. Lena was unmoved by his words.
“Sit them down,” she said to her men.
They forced President Wu and his wife onto one of the couches. The wife was near hysterical. She wouldn’t stop screaming.
Lena sighed. “Gag her, please.”
One of her men stuffed a rag in the woman’s mouth and used tape to keep it in there. The wife looked like she was choking at first but then calmed down, breathing through her nose, closing her tear-filled eyes as if she could wish this all away.
Several of her men began removing equipment from silver cases. They set up cameras and microphones. A tripod was placed ten feet in front of the couch, and then a camera placed atop it.
President Wu was red-faced. “I will not release Cheng Jinshan. And my guards will be here soon. They will—”
Lena stood tall in front of the president. “Your guards left voluntarily.”
He stopped speaking at that. While he had seen his presidential security detail depart, he hadn’t thought about the implications until now. His eyes lowered, a wave of defeat washing over him.