They were no longer heading to the airport but out to the coast and he guessed they had changed their plans since the shooting started. He heard a police chopper heading over but it was no use. The stolen police boat had raced away from the ferry and totally vanished in the heavy sea fog.
Hawke cursed, tightened his right hand into a fist and punched the side of the lifejacket box as hard as he could.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The man known to the Chinese Ministry of State Security simply as Tiger, stepped through the lobby of The Venetian Macau and walked past the reception desk. As luxury hotels and casinos went, you had to go a long way to beat this place, not least because gambling was illegal in the rest of China.
No one batted an eyelid as the government assassin walked smoothly down the carpeted steps and made his way to the top of the escalators. He was dressed the part in a smart suit and tie and gently adjusted the middle button as he made his way forward. The right lens and temple of his Persol glasses flashed in the light as he stepped onto the escalator and slowly descended into the casino’s Great Hall.
The whole place was decked out to look like Venice, with gondolas cruising calmly along working canals and Venetian architecture so exquisitely reproduced that you could be forgiven for thinking you were in Italy instead of on the south coast of China. Tourists wandered in and out of expensive Western jewellery franchises and relaxing muzak drifted from concealed speakers in the walls.
Tiger was unimpressed. He was here for business and had only one thing on his mind — locating the man he knew only as Rat.
And he knew where to find him.
He made his way through the Great Hall and passed various gaming areas — Phoenix, Imperial House and Golden Fish — until finally reaching the Red Dragon. This was where Rat liked to throw away his life. Slot machines buzzed and flashed, but Rat was above such things and Tiger knew it. Deep in the Red Dragon lounge now he looked across to one of the gaming tables to find his colleague sitting at a blackjack table with a large pile of chips at his elbow.
The diffused amber lighting flashed on Rat’s golden cufflinks as Tiger drew closer and made his way through the throng of gamblers and drinkers. Waiters dressed in red delivered dim sum and red dragon noodles to diners seated at candlelit tables and polite laughter danced on the air, but the look on Rat’s face when he saw Tiger told him that his pleasant evening had now come to an end.
Rat pushed back from the table and gave Tiger a resigned smile. “Despite my best efforts, I see Zhou has tracked me down once again.”
Tiger nodded.
“Who?” Rat asked.
“Dragonfly.”
Rat paused a beat, then excused himself from the table. “Let’s walk.”
The two men strolled slowly through the comforting, brash glow of the casino. Silent for a long time, Rat spoke next. “Pig?”
Tiger offered another solemn businesslike nod. “He says it’s his last job before retirement.”
“He always says that.”
“This time it’s true. He’s planned out his retirement to the letter. His wife is waiting for him in a new apartment. They have it all worked out. He wants to leave all this behind.”
Rat scoffed, and Tiger understood his reaction. No one ever left the Ministry or its good works behind. Being part of a top-level government assassination squad like the Zodiacs was not something you ever walked away from.
As if he had read this thoughts, Rat said, “He can move to the coast physically, but this will always be Zhou’s.” He tapped the side of his head to indicate his mind.
Tiger agreed, and turned to watch the punters pouring their money into a bank of never-ending neon slot machines. The clatter of the cheap, nickel-plated steel yuans being greedily fed into the coin slots echoed in the large gaming room. Tiger shook his head as he studied the sad faces of the gamblers, hopelessly addicted to pumping their earnings into the machines and desperately waiting for a payout to tumble down the coin chutes.
“And what about him?” Rat said.
Tiger knew who he was talking about.
“I tracked him down to Guangzhou. He’s been living in a whorehouse in Tianhe for weeks now. They’re too frightened to ask him to leave.”
Rat gave an appreciative nod. “I suppose Zhou is insisting he come along?”
“Yes. He is part of the squad.”
“But after last time, I wondered if he might re-evaluate his position on the team.”
Tiger shook his head. “Monkey’s unpredictable savagery is an essential part of our work. He can make even the most steadfast person give up all their secrets with his methods.”
Both men were quiet now. They both knew what the great philosopher Lao Tzu meant when he wrote that silence is a source of great strength.
Tiger imagined how Agent Dragonfly would react to some quality alone time in a Chinese torture chamber with just Monkey for company. That would be a show worth watching, he considered. Unfortunately, their orders were the immediate execution of the traitor — not that he would tell Monkey that. A man like that needed the proper motivation.
“I presume we’re leaving at once?” Rat asked.
“Yes,” Tiger said. Everything Zhou wanted done was always done at once. He was that kind of boss.
Rat nodded pensively and rubbed his nose. Tiger caught him glance back over at the blackjack tables with a look of longing in his eyes. He sniffed hard and turned his eyes back to Tiger. “And how are we to trap our dragonfly?”
“The same way you trap anything else,” Tiger said quietly. “With high quality bait.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Lea Donovan tipped up the potted hydrangea under her brother’s kitchen window and slid out the back door key. Finn had left it there when they had arranged for her to collect the box of personal effects the Haven Bay Nursing Home had sent. He was on holiday with his wife and kids, and didn’t give a damn about any box of junk left by some little old lady no one had ever heard of. Besides — the box was addressed to Lea and that was just fine with him.
“I’m not sure I’m ready for this,” she said, turning the key in the lock and pushing open the kitchen door.
“Whatever it is, we’ll deal with it together,” Hawke said. “We’re a team… a family, and we’re all here with you.”
She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him. He and Kim had met them in Dublin Airport an hour ago after their flight from Boston less than twenty minutes before her flight from London. She was glad he was here at her side, but even having Joe Hawke beside her hadn’t taken away the nerves she felt when she thought about the mysterious box that was waiting for her on the dining rom table.
She walked into the house and was met with various pictures of her brother and his young family — but not one picture of her. As if he had read her mind, Hawke put his arm around her shoulder. “Let’s have a look at this box and get out of here. We still have that manuscript to track down.”
“Sure,” she said and gave him her best fake smile.
She felt sad, but then the rest of the team traipsed into the small Dublin semi and looked so out of place a genuine smile soon replaced the fake one. If Finn Bloody Donovan could see these guys huddled around in his kitchen he’d have a proper fit.
She turned her attention to the box on the table. It was just a normal, small packing box. She opened it up and was met by an array of old junk, just as Finn had described it — old, dog-eared paperbacks, some well-worn reading glasses and a plastic hearing aid. She searched through the box, growing more confused with each passing second. “Finn was right — this is all just crap.”