“Authorities intercepted communication from a Berthold Group executive,” the man reported. “A woman, Chu, is handling the ransom drop. She is to go to a store along Nanjing Road to receive proof the hostages live.”
“What store?”
“Is unknown.”
“Your team will be watching?”
“Nanjing Road is long. Many stores.”
“Here is how it will work: if your team spots her, you will call me immediately. If I should call you, you will report seeing the woman where I tell you.”
The line remained open.
“I have your wallet. Your address. The address of your family,” Melschoi said, reminding the man, not appreciating his hesitancy. “Do not think. Just do.”
“Feng has given police a video of the woman.”
“Why?”
“Figure it out.”
The man disconnected the call.
The ransom drop was set. Feng wanted the Chu woman arrested before the ransom could be paid.
Melschoi felt poised on the verge of a great success. The bee would not be far from the honey. He could nearly taste the air of the steppes. Could see his children’s smiles.
1:00 P.M.
LUWAN DISTRICT
U.S. CONSULATE
The massive blob of forest green and blood red jerked rhythmically across Steve Kozlowski’s computer screen, indicating the steady advance of the approaching typhoon. Kozlowski’s eyes narrowed. His daughter, Tucker, enjoying a holiday from the Shanghai Community International School, was at a play date with a friend. He was considering calling their driver, Peng, and having Tucker picked up before the storm hit. At that moment, his phone rang.
“Kozlowski,” he answered.
“I’m close to making a deal on the bike,” the voice on the other end said.
He heard a series of soft clicks and a change in the voice quality as Knox said, “You still there?”
Kozlowski slid open his desk drawer and glanced at the white iPhone taken from the hospitalized imposter. He’d placed a call on the phone to test it. He recognized the sound of the service-shifting sound quality that made the call impossible to trace or eavesdrop. That Knox possessed such a phone surprised him.
“I warned you there might come a time I couldn’t help you. That time has arrived.” He eased the drawer shut.
“Don’t hang up! Please. Is this line secure?”
“What do you think? How about on your end?” he said knowingly.
Knox didn’t answer.
“I was shown some video of a Westerner putting the hurt on some locals. Not once, but twice. I don’t take kindly to being called to task by the city police.”
Knox wasn’t going to lie to him, so he said nothing.
“Word to the wise: the Chinese have the most advanced face recognition system out there. On your way out of the country, stay away from the airports and train stations and keep your head down when out on the streets. You’re a marked man, Knox. I would get the hell out of Dodge while the getting’s good.”
“The guys were Mongolians, not Chinese,” Knox said, wondering if the face recognition explained his being tracked to the wet market. “Hired muscle working for a Beijing big with unusual financial ties to The Berthold Group. One of these goons has a commercial quality hi-def video camera hidden in his wall. Ring any bells?”
Kozlowski held the phone away while attempting to calm himself. He returned the phone to his ear. Knox was still talking.
“-interest you.”
“Say again.”
“A video camera. Expensive, though banged up and still able to play its contents. I thought maybe that might interest you. It’s engraved-‘property of Road Worthy Film and Video Supply in Glendale, California.’”
“I am aware of the stolen property. Yes.”
“This being China, I thought we might negotiate.”
“I’m listening.”
“I need safe passage for four.”
A long hesitation. “The U.S. government is not in the practice of-”
“You’re either interested or not. It’ll be later today. Evening. Maybe into the night. You can, or can’t?”
Kozlowski had worked hard through a career that currently involved paperwork and e-mails where once it had meant working the backstreets of Nairobi or Delhi. God, how he’d loved the work as an operative. That marriage and a child had made him more cautious, more career-motivated, was a personal tragedy of sorts. He envied Knox his predicament, understood the importance of his own role, yet had no desire to annul all the tedious hours that had led to this moment: four years from retirement at the age of forty-nine. A lifetime ahead. But the video camera and what it represented was a gold ring. Solving the disappearance of the cameraman was paramount.
“I’ll evaluate the video camera,” Kozlowski said.
“After my friends and I are safely out of here.”
A pause. “If you get yourself arrested, I’m left with nothing. No deal. The camera. Then I’ll do what I can.”
The subtle shifting of tone punctuated the line.
“Can it be done?” Knox asked.
“A contact could be arranged. How it works out…well, no promises. This is China.”
“What kind of contact?”
“I give you a company number to dial. It’s a real estate front. I can walk you through it.”
Company number. CIA, Knox realized. “So start walking,” he said.
“First the location of the camera. I’ll sit on it until I hear from you, or I hear you’ve been taken into custody. But I must have it in advance. Those are the terms.”
Knox described the narrow lane in the Muslim quarter. He told Kozlowski it would be easier to lead him there in person.
“This is my city, Knox.” He took several minutes to walk Knox through making contact with the company.
“You still owe me a motorcycle,” Kozlowski said, ending the call.
2:30 P.M.
“I e-mailed product inquiry to store,” Randy said over the phone in his chopped English. “The store e-mailed me back. This gives IP address and routing in the source code.”
“Which means?” Knox said, his patience taxed.
“It was your idea to track possible video transmission to source.”
“What’s that got to do with e-mail?”
“Technical matter only. This helps me. You. No problem for you. Tracing video back to source will take time. Maybe quarter hour. Maybe half.”
“That’s too long,” Knox said. He could picture himself arriving to find Danner and Lu Hao ten minutes dead. “The minute they send that video-providing they do at all-I’ll have less than thirty minutes to arrive at the location.”
“It is possible…”
“Go on,” Knox encouraged when Randy failed to say more.
“You see, if I am this person I would test bandwidth ahead of time. Maybe one hour. Maybe thirty minutes ahead. Be certain transmission goes successful.”
“Which gives me the time I need.”
“Yes. It is true.”
It was a hell of a risk to take.
“And if they e-mail a video instead of a live transmission?” Knox asked.
“File size very large. But e-mail moves in packets. This piece here. That piece there. All pieces join and arrive to your computer. Make problem for us.”
Knox had surveyed the electronics store to be used for POL. In the front window was a television and camera setup that showed the window shopper standing on the sidewalk looking in. The moment he’d spotted the arrangement, he’d pictured the hostages being shown on that same television. The kidnappers could have a second camera, or a team watching the streets making sure Grace was alone. It struck him as a quick and efficient way to deliver the proof-of-life. They’d used video twice before. People stuck to what they were comfortable with.