by Fritz Galt
The voice response was as clear as a ship’s bell. “U.S. Air Force C-5, this is BNOC. We read you loud and clear. Please copy the nature of your mission.”
“Humanitarian,” Mick said.
“BNOC, this is U.S. C-5. We’re on a humanitarian mission from Taipei, Taiwan.”
“Request medical team stand by,” Mick said.
“Request medical team stand by.”
“One moment, please,” the voice said.
A minute later, the same voice returned to the airwaves.
“U.S. C-5, state your position to air traffic control Kai Tak. You’re cleared to land.”
Mick let out his breath.
“Whew. Never tried that one before,” the navigator said.
Mick staggered back to his wife and Dr. Morisot.
“We’re in. They’ll expect us with a medical emergency.”
“I thought I manufactured statements,” she said. “Try explaining this to the firing squad.”
“What do you mean? I stubbed my little toe running down the Tianmu steps.”
She gave him a long, pained look. “In that case, the firing squad can put you out of your misery.”
Then he noticed a First Aid kit screwed to the bulkhead in front of them.
“I’m looking for a patient,” he said.
Morisot had become fairly inconspicuous sitting behind them.
“Honey,” Mick said. “I think I found our patient.”
Eli Shaw glanced out the window of their descending Dragon Air 747. The twinkling lights of Kowloon Peninsula momentarily disappeared behind the shoulder of a mountain.
Good. Maybe they’d crash into a hill.
The plane tilted, straightened out and cruised downward through the hilly outskirts of Hong Kong.
He could almost stretch his feet out and skim the tops of the apartment buildings.
They made a final turn and leveled off. Then the single, arc-lit runway of Kai Tak International Airport appeared before him.
He swallowed hard.
The black waters of Victoria Harbour lapped at the far end of the landing strip. A final, wild thought crossed his mind. If the jet’s brakes failed and they skidded into the sea, he might be able to swim away from whoever was waiting for him.
Then he noticed something else on the airfield. Trucks raced to the far end of the runway with revolving red lights and pulsing white strobes.
He leaned forward and whispered over Stephanie’s shoulder. “Is there something you didn’t tell me?”
“What d’you mean?”
“Look down there. That’s either police or emergency vehicles all over the field. What’s that all about?”
“I have no idea.”
That was it. The bomb would detonate upon landing.
Eli had little time to worry as the airplane’s tires screeched against concrete. Reverse thrust was immediately deployed and the spoilers stood straight up as the plane vibrated to a noisy crawl.
Ha. They hadn’t exploded.
Out the window, he saw the emergency crew in yellow slickers wave them on. The engines roared once again, and the Dragon Air flight veered onto a parallel taxiway back to the concourse.
Then he heard the deep rumble of an approaching jet. The cabin rocked in a giant whoosh of air.
He glimpsed a dark aircraft sweeping by. It was as huge as a blimp and had muted, olive-drab coloring. What airline used those colors?
At the arrivals terminal, he let Stephanie precede him down the landing ramp.
“Come on, you big baby,” she said, and thrust him in front of her.
Hiding the briefcase behind him, he followed yellow arrows painted on the dimpled black floor that led to immigration. On the way, they passed through a waiting room with dozens of passengers, all facing away.
“Hold it,” she said.
The people were glued to a television.
He stopped to watch.
“Once again,” the news announcer said, “our latest report out of New York is that Taiwan has applied for membership to the United Nations at this late date. They have modified their application to claim sovereign nationhood, independent of the People’s Republic of China. The General Affairs Committee is reviewing their application as we speak. So far, the pivotal, deciding vote to be cast by the United States is unclear. What word have we heard from Washington? Silence.”
“Independence?” she whispered. “The United States must decide on recognizing Taiwan.”
“Perfect,” he said, coming out of his initial shock. “The U.S. can either appease Beijing or break the joint communiqués and recognize Taiwan.”
“Wait, there’s more,” she pointed to the screen.
“—standing by in Beijing. Mike?”
“Bettina, China’s status as a member of the United Nations’ Security Council is in jeopardy this afternoon as a result of recent developments regarding Taiwan. If Beijing vetoes a bid for Taiwan’s membership to the UN, they stand a strong chance of being ousted from the Security Council by popular vote. Beijing’s other option? Recognize Taiwan’s independence. It seems that between now and this afternoon, Bettina, several of the world’s great powers are forced to make dramatic decisions.”
Eli eased his grip on the briefcase to allow blood to circulate to his fingers. “I’ll bet diplomatic notes are flying back and forth at the embassy.”
“America won’t lose China because of Taiwan,” she said. “Our business interests are too important.”
“So what happens?” he wondered aloud. “We bow to Chinese pressure and deny Taiwan membership, China gets the green light to assault Taiwan and then loses its Security Council seat? China retreats back to the Middle Ages?”
“So you and I both agree we should offer Taiwan membership.”
He reconsidered. “On the other hand, can you picture China giving up Taiwan?”
“No. You’re right.” She took it from there. “The U.S. will vote for membership and then I guess it comes to a vote on the floor. The General Assembly approves Taiwan’s membership. China will veto the results, nations rally in defense of Taiwan, and China loses its Security Council seat, maybe even its membership in the UN. Ultimately, it doesn’t matter how the U.S. votes. China becomes public enemy number one.”
“That’s how I see it,” he said.
“But was China really behind this earthquake?” She looked skeptical. “I’m not convinced. Why should they suffer for it?”
“I’m not convinced either. The Chinese army didn’t lay a finger on us at the airport.”
“That means Pete Cavanaugh and AIT’s director were right,” she said. She looked over the myriad faces in the terminal.
“How’s that?”
“Someone is waiting for us here.”
Chapter 40
Mobile halogen spotlights glared in Mick’s face as he descended the stairs from the air force cargo plane to the tarmac in Hong Kong.
“I didn’t expect all this,” he shouted to Natalie over the howling jet engines.
On the fringes of the landing strip, red emergency lights spun in a long line. Heat rose from the engines of three ambulances. Passing their open back doors, he saw nurses and monitoring equipment. Paramedics stood by with stretchers.
“Roll him out,” he called back over his shoulder, and motioned to the soldiers.
Two air force servicemen carried a prone form out of the jet. It was Dr. Morisot lying on a stretcher, an arm and leg wrapped in gauze.
Emerging from the airport spotlights, a bent, black figure approached Mick. He was a tall man who identified himself in a British accent as an airport security officer.
“Kindly come this way,” the officer said. “We can circumvent immigration and customs. I’ll get you past the passengers and into the arrivals hall immediately. Here, do take these.”
He handed Mick and Natalie blue security badges. Mick glanced at his. It read, “Universal Access.”
“Will the bad guys get to Eli before or
after immigration?” Natalie asked. “Maybe one of us should stay on this side and one on the other.”
“We have chaps on both sides,” the official said. “Since you take over once the bad guys snatch the briefcase, you should station yourselves outside immigration and customs. A driver will take Ms. Williams in a gray Jaguar. And here are the keys to a black Mercedes in case you need it. You’ll find tracking devices in both vehicles. Remember: when someone snatches the briefcase, don’t apprehend him. You’ll need to follow him and see where things lead.”
As they trotted toward a maintenance entrance, Mick saw Morisot protesting as a medical crew shoved him into the back of an ambulance.
The C-5 navigator was waving good-bye to them from the cargo plane’s door. Mick paused and raised his right hand to salute the fine humanitarian effort.
“We’re in a bit of a rush,” the security officer said. He pulled Mick by his shirtsleeve through the door marked “No Admission Except Staff on Duty.”
Inside, workmen in greasy blue jump suits watched a Cantonese variety show on a portable TV while sipping green tea.
“Welcome to Hong Kong,” the officer said, and reached to open the door to the public.
Natalie looked worried. Her suit was rumpled; her hair was wildly out of place and her clear blue eyes burned with determination.
Mick flashed her a reassuring smile. “We’re gonna find whoever did this.”
They stepped through the doorway and had to blink several times to adjust to the bright light of the arrivals hall. With a solid wall behind Natalie and him, Mick examined the scene where Eli and Stephanie would emerge from Immigration and Customs. He and Natalie were in the middle of a milling throng of friends, relatives and drivers clustered at the bottom of a long, wide ramp. Clearly, passengers from Eli and Stephanie’s flight had yet to clear Customs. He and Natalie were just in time to witness their arrival.
Then the frosted glass doors at the top of the ramp slid open. He saw customs agents stop two Arab businessmen before the doors slid shut.
When the doors opened again, passengers were streaming past the “Nothing to Declare” counter.
Suddenly, through the opening, a middle-aged man in a trenchcoat and a striking blonde approached Customs. Mick recognized Eli from their days in Taiwan. He looked more stooped and put-upon than ever. He remembered Stephanie Williams from her posting to Hungary. She looked every bit as stunning.
A dolled-up inspector waved Eli and Stephanie past and resumed examining her fingernails.
Eli offered Stephanie an arm, and led her toward the frosted glass doors that opened onto the ramp.
“You wait here,” Mick told Natalie, and left her at the bottom of the ramp.
“What am I supposed to do?”
“Stay out of trouble.”
Then he rushed through the crowd to the other side of the ramp.
Evening flights from Singapore, Sydney and Frankfurt squeezed through the doors at the same time.
Meanwhile, Mick focused on the awaiting crowd. A young couple conversed in French as they waited. They were the least likely conspirators in a crowd of potential suspects.
Yet, he saw the couple’s eyes never stray from the sliding glass panels.
As if on cue, Eli and Stephanie emerged into the bright light.
The French couple stopped talking.
Across the ramp, a slightly overweight, balding man in a brown suit jacket lifted up a handmade sign that read “Williams.”
The French couple separated.
Using Stephanie as a shield, Eli guided her through the sliding glass door. With his free hand, he clutched a metal briefcase.
The Frenchman, a tall young man in a gray business jacket, with a broad necktie and casual pants, slipped across to the other side of the crowd and took up position behind the overweight man with the “Williams” sign.
Meanwhile, Natalie had retreated to the back wall near some McDonald’s booths.
Stephanie spied the sign bearing her name on the far side of the ramp, and led Eli toward it. Relief showed on her face. Eli looked ashen.
A new, rank odor rose from the perspiring crowd. Of course, Mick added volumes to the potpourri of human fragrance. But this was a new smell.
Then he noticed that the Frenchwoman had lifted an elbow. It was the smell of nervous perspiration. Her hand slipped into her leather bag.
What was in that bag?
She stepped around a Chinese family and shoved a small boy in her wake. She was quickly approaching Eli with a determined stride.
Across the ramp, Eli was fondly greeting the big man with the sign.
Mick thrust the boy aside. The kid’s complaint was drowned out by the sudden squeaking of shoes.
Mick lunged forward and drove into the small of the woman’s back.
She gasped, and a shot rang out with a deafening explosion.
A light bulb shattered overhead. By the time the fragments showered the crowd, people were screaming.
The young Frenchman wrested the briefcase out of Eli’s grip.
Mick landed on top of the woman and pinned her to the floor. The gun slid inches away.
The Frenchman sprinted with the briefcase for the exit. Eli crouched on one knee and nursed an injured wrist.
Meanwhile, the man in the brown suit jacket threw the “Williams” sign down and placed a protective arm around Stephanie. Shielding her, he whisked her away in the quickly dispersing crowd.
Natalie slipped out of the hall into the night, several steps behind the fleeing Frenchman.
So far so good.
The French woman was cursing at Mick as he straddled her back. Thrashing and screaming, she nearly squirmed away from him and grabbed her gun. He yanked on her hair.
Two security guards rushed to his side, seized the gun and took control of the woman.
“She’s all yours. Don’t be gentle.”
Mick sprang for Eli and picked him off the floor. Glass littered his tousled hair like tinsel.
“Ready for a little action, old chum?” Mick asked.
“You don’t call that action?” Eli said, his voice trembling.
“That was nothing.”
“Yeah. Next time you be the target.”
“Come on. You’ve been brilliant so far.”
Eli rubbed his wrist. “Believe me, I wasn’t holding the briefcase too tightly. I was just surprised by the gun and stiffened up at the last moment.”
“You were safe the whole time. Now let’s see where the briefcase ended up.”
“Do you know who took it?”
“A Frenchman.”
Mick avoided making eye contact with the woman, who was still writhing on the floor.
Her face was purple with rage.
Eli shook his head to clear away the cobwebs. Walking briskly in the cool night air, he was beginning to think clearly again. Whoever had stolen his briefcase was the culprit behind the earthquake and blackmail scheme.
“Where’s Stephanie?” he asked.
Mick’s voice sounded confident. “She will track the guy using another car. A gray Jaguar.”
Eli peered into a Mercedes Benz with a rear door standing open.
Inside he saw someone he recognized.
“Natalie,” he said. “You’re here, too.”
“I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”
Mick jumped behind the steering wheel of the right-hand drive vehicle.
“Get in,” Natalie ordered.
Eli bent and crawled onto the back seat beside her.
In her delicate hand, she held a small tracking device. The needle swung to the right and a green light blinked rapidly.
“He’s heading west,” she said.
“Normal airport exit,” Mick said. “Did you see the car?”
“White Porsche,” she said.
“Battle of the German cars.” Mick gunned down a ramp onto the airport’s perimeter road.
Eli watched Natalie with surprise. A satisfied
smile made her whole face glow.
“You do this sort of thing all the time?” he asked.
She gave him a twisted smile. “More often than I care to admit.”
The three rode in silence for a while, watching the steady blink of the tracking light.
He wondered why Mick wasn’t trying to close the gap. After all, the Porsche didn’t seem to deviate from a direct route. It wouldn’t take much to catch up.
“Tunnel on the left,” Natalie called out.
A stoplight hung across the entrance to the harbor tunnel.
Mick picked up a portable phone that sat on the dashboard. He studied a list of numbers taped inside the receiver, and pressed a speed dial button.
“Which way did he go?” Mick asked over the phone. “Above ground or below?”
He pulled to the far left and braked, awaiting a reply.
“Roger,” he said, and suddenly veered across five lanes of traffic. They bypassed the tunnel entrance and headed down the peninsula.
He called over his shoulder, “Where’s the needle pointing?”
“Still due south,” she said.
“We go to Kowloon,” he explained. “Stephanie takes the tunnel. We can’t tell from this indicator which route he took.”
Eli was in no position to help. Just let the man drive.
After five minutes, it appeared that they had taken the wrong route. They were driving over flatlands, past glass and steel hotels, and quickly reached the southern tip of the peninsula. The compass continued pointing south, toward the island of Hong Kong.
The white Porsche was in the tunnel under the harbor.
“Now what do we do?” Eli asked as they drove into view of the majestic Peninsula Hotel.
By way of an answer, Mick pulled up to the Star Ferry Terminal.
Chapter 41
Alec leaned against Odette’s wrought iron fence in the darkness of night and admired the dizzying view. They were directly over the twinkling lights of Victoria Harbour.
