by Fritz Galt
They passed over several jackhammers at work at a construction site. Despite Hong Kong’s impending hand-over to the Chinese, expansion continued around the clock. If anything, the rate of construction increased.
Old Bailey Street was a major exit off the walkway. At that juncture, the escalator veered right and continued up Shelley Street.
The gray Jaguar was already parked nearby.
As Mick anticipated, the Frenchman stepped off the moving walkway at that juncture.
Half a minute later, Mick and Eli left the walkway and jogged down the set of stairs.
In the darkness, the man was calmly ascending the dark steps of Old Bailey Street. He turned and entered the only store that was still open.
On closer inspection, the store, called The New Age Shop, sold crystals, CDs, aromatic soaps and books.
Mick hesitated before entering. He needed the man to lead him to his ultimate destination, but Mick couldn’t appear conspicuous.
Neither he nor Eli was particularly New Age. He smelled like a wet dog, complete with acrid high notes of smoke from an earthquake-ravaged city. Eli looked jittery and not particularly urbane.
“You go inside,” Mick suggested. “You can chill out.”
Before Eli could object, Mick stuffed him through the front door to the merry chime of crystals.
Mick took a last look in the shop before he would return to the Jaguar.
Something between a poetry reading and a séance was taking place in the back room. He saw Eli take his trenchcoat off and draw a seat up to the group. But there was no Frenchman. Eli pointed nervously up a back staircase.
It was back to the escalator for Mick.
He scrambled down to the Jaguar and motioned for Stephanie, Natalie and their driver to drive beneath him under the walkway.
He climbed the steps three at a time. Nobody was on the moving walkway. He caught his breath riding it up the gentle incline.
As the walkway neared the second floor of the New Age shop, the Frenchman appeared on the window ledge of the store. The guy had the metal briefcase in hand, and hurled it onto the walkway. It nearly struck Mick in the head.
Then the man swung his arms back and lunged toward the escalator.
Mick closed his eyes. There was no way the guy could leap that far.
He heard a loud thud and a groan. The lanky Frenchman had managed to hook his elbows over the rounded concrete wall. His feet dangled midair, scraping the wall for leverage.
It was just his luck. Mick was trailing a klutz. The guy would kill himself before reaching his destination.
He strolled back down the empty walkway and grabbed the man by his belt. He jerked him up by the seat of his pants.
That produced a wedgie, and a howl of pain.
He inched the young man over the rubber handrail. The guy sprawled onto the moving walkway clutching his crotch.
But the man’s necktie had gotten caught in the handrail. His body scrolled away while his throat remained held in place. Worse than that, the handrail began eating his tie.
The man scrambled to his feet to keep from breaking his neck, then shuffled sideways as the walkway glided underfoot. While the guy struggled to disentangle his tightening noose, his three hundred million dollars moved unattended up the walkway.
Mick ran to retrieve the metal briefcase before it fell off the end and tumbled onto the street.
He returned with the briefcase and saw that the man had a switchblade poking out of his back pocket. Mick reached for the knife and flicked it open.
The man wrenched around, and his eyes grew large in terror.
Mick’s shadow fell over his upturned face.
The man clutched his throat as the machine relentlessly shredded and devoured his tie. Blood pulsed through his jugular vein. He froze, perhaps realizing the end was near. He was doomed one way or another.
Mick’s hands were damp and wet.
The young man’s eyes rolled toward the walkway that was mashing the fabric, then shot up pleadingly at Mick.
In one swift movement, Mick raised the knife, its blade flashing in the man’s face.
The man recoiled and choked. His knees buckled and his face, once flushed, drained to a ghostly white.
Mick tensed his muscles and jabbed the air.
The taut necktie sliced in two.
The man crumpled with a thud and clutched his throat. He seemed dumbfounded to still be alive while the machine gobbled up the remainder of his cravat.
The walkway carried the two away from the spot. Then the man’s bloodshot eyes looked up at Mick, who was standing over him. Confusion registered on his face. Then he spotted his briefcase, now high up the moving walkway.
He staggered to his feet and scrambled up the walkway after it.
Mick wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. “You’re welcome,” he muttered under his breath. “Any time.”
He pushed the spring-loaded switchblade shut and swapped it with the phone in his back pocket.
“Stephanie, the jerk escaped out the back window of the store. I’m still following him. You’d better head for the top of the walkway.”
“That would be Conduit Road,” she said. “By the way, the signal stopped a few seconds ago.”
“It must have broken when he threw the briefcase. Did you pick up Eli?”
“Nope.”
“Well, he’ll have to find his own way.”
Mick closed the phone and leaned on the railing. The Frenchman was also resting against the railing as they traveled up in tandem.
Cars zigzagged uphill past a mosque that sat in an immaculate garden. Couples strolled out of restaurants. The aroma of fried food permeated the air.
Man, he was hungry. Mick checked his watch. It was Saturday evening, fifteen minutes to eleven. Much had happened since his last meal, the breakfast of oatmeal at the Japanese guesthouse on Yangmingshan.
When he reached the top of the walkway, life seemed to have returned to normal.
He spotted the Frenchman strolling along Conduit Road, casually removing what was left of his tie.
The guy had just walked under a streetlight when a dark Bentley suddenly pulled up with a screech.
A window rolled down, and the Frenchman calmly held out the briefcase.
A thick, hairy hand reached out to grab it.
With that, the young man turned off the sidewalk and disappeared into a needle-thin apartment building. Meanwhile, the Bentley took off up the hill with the briefcase.
Just in time, the gray Jaguar rolled up to Mick.
“Which way did he go?” Stephanie called from the front seat.
“Forget the Frenchman,” Mick said, and slid into the back seat beside Natalie. “Follow that Bentley. It’s got the briefcase.”
“I still have no signal,” Natalie said, and indicated the tracking device.
He grabbed her hand. “Don’t worry.”
She looked down at their interlocked fingers. “You feel like ice.”
He closed his eyes.
“What happened?”
He shook his head. “Don’t ask.”
When he reopened his eyes, he caught Natalie’s look of concern.
“The dope almost got himself killed, okay?”
Then he noticed that the rumpled-looking driver was the same man in the brown coat who had held up the “Williams” sign.
Stephanie looked over her shoulder. “Mick, do you know Harvey Talbot?”
“Harvey, you son of a gun,” Mick said. “I didn’t recognize you at the airport.”
“It’s been a few years,” Harvey said, not taking his eyes off the road.
“Let’s see what kind of chauffeur you make.”
Chapter 43
The moon shone full on Alec Pierce where he sat high above Hong Kong. A young Chinese manservant set coils of mosquito repellent around the swimming pool and then struck a match to start the ends burning.
“Nothing like a little fire to keep the heat away,�
� Alec said as the man emerged from under his table.
The man didn’t seem to understand.
Odette walked up carrying a tray of steaming canapés.
“He doesn’t speak English,” she said. “But his kind will soon inherit the earth.”
Alec dipped a dumpling into tiny bowls of hot pepper and soy sauce. The fillings of ginger, shrimp, pork and green vegetables were wonderful and fresh.
“And we’ll be eating out of his hand,” he said.
May-lin drifted out of the house as if in a daze and joined them at the table.
“What’s going on inside?” Odette asked.
May-lin tried to describe General Chou’s reaction to her news. “At first he was wanting to know details. How are we selecting the site to plant the device, for example.”
Alec could tell she enjoyed talking with Odette more than him.
“Then I am explaining the geological mapping research.”
He caught her eye, and she dismissed him.
“Does the general believe that we set it off?” Odette asked.
“The more I am explaining, the more his eyes are coming out.”
Odette sat on the edge of her chair enjoying May-lin’s description.
“He did not stop looking at me,” May-lin said.
Enough small talk. Alec stood up and circled May-lin’s chair. From behind her, he playfully tried to shove a dumpling in her mouth.
She whirled around angrily, her face flushed like a teased schoolgirl. “Stay away from me.”
He jumped back and stumbled over a planter. A fraction of a second later, he was on his rear in the grass.
Far from offering help, Odette took advantage of the situation. She approached him and planted a foot on either side of him.
“Leave the poor woman alone,” she said, with a reprimanding wag of her finger.
He got up on his elbows.
“Little boys must keep their hands to themselves,” May-lin said.
All right, already. Kick a man while he’s down. He reached out to be helped up.
Odette gently cupped her fingers around his. She didn’t pull him; she merely held him as he struggled to his feet.
Heading back to his seat, he continued to hold Odette’s hand and squeezed it firmly, his fingertips exploring her palm.
Her hard, brown eyes briefly filled with pleasure and nearly crossed out of focus.
Then, like a menacing beast on the fringe of a campfire, the headlights of a dark Bentley fell on them through the driveway gate.
Odette’s attention immediately shifted to the picture window. Her husband and the general had noticed the sedan as well.
“Good,” she said icily. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”
The guard opened the gate and allowed the automobile through. Before the vehicle came to a stop, a large, sweating man with highly reflective glasses stepped out.
Odette waved at her husband to come down to the pool. “It’s André.”
André shuffled in a knock-kneed fashion toward the pool.
“Pardon, je suis en retard,” he apologized for being late. “But I have enough here to convert Taiwan’s entire military. The general will be most impressed.”
He thumped a finger against a metal briefcase.
Odette steered him away from the pool. “We’ll be selling MLRs before the night is over,” she said in an intimate whisper that Alec could barely hear.
The underwater lights illuminated General Chou’s face as his distrustful eyes fell on the Frenchman.
“Don’t worry,” André told the general. “I have the Taiwan military under our control.” He held up the briefcase.
“Drinks first?” Johnny suggested.
A waiter arrived to take their orders.
“This is a special night,” Johnny said. “Let’s have champagne. André, my friend, set down that briefcase of yours. It’s too heavy to hold all the time.”
Odette smiled and walked to the fence where she could look over the glittering cityscape.
Alec slipped into a changing room. What could he do? The compact was about to be sealed.
As he had expected, the large room had a telephone. He lifted the receiver. Nobody else was on the line. In two short phone calls, one to the phone company operator and one to the American consulate, he was given the number of Harvey Talbot’s portable phone.
The phone picked up immediately.
Alec identified himself to Harvey.
“Let me pass the phone,” Harvey whispered, the sounds in the background as quiet as a tomb.
“Hello?” came an uncertain voice.
It was Mick.
Alec closed his eyes for a moment. His brother had survived the typhoon and earthquake and somehow made it to Hong Kong. “It’s me. What are you doing here?”
“Holy mackerel,” Mick said. “Where are you?”
In the background he heard Mick say, “It’s Alec. He’s alive.”
“Thank God,” came Natalie’s voice.
“Natalie’s okay, too?”
“We’re all safe. Taiwan’s in pieces. Taipei got destroyed.”
“I figured.” He paused. “We’ve got a major meeting going down here. I’m on top of Victoria Peak in an estate you wouldn’t believe.”
“Blue tiles? Swimming pool? Faces north to Victoria Harbour?”
“How did you know?”
“I’m looking at it right now. How did you get in there?”
“Followed my instincts, I guess.”
“Listen,” Mick said. “Did a man just arrive by car? Kind of heavy?”
“Yes. In fact that’s why I was trying to reach Harvey.”
“Well, we’re tracking down a ring, possibly French. Definitely connected with the destruction in Taiwan. We need to know what’s happening in there.”
“Well, the big guy is definitely French. His name is André. The house belongs to Johnny Ouyang and his wife, Odette. He’s the guy who funded our mapping project.”
“We know all that.”
“Well, a Chinese general named Chou just arrived by helicopter. The Frenchman is claiming to have destabilized Taiwan. He and the Ouyangs are going to show the general the evidence that they have control over Taiwan’s military. With that evidence, I suspect they hope the general will invade Taiwan and become China’s next national hero. I think Ouyang and the Frenchman’s real motive is money. Based on the evidence they’re providing, the general will reward them with a contract for MLRs, whatever that is.”
“Hold on,” Mick said, and whispered to someone, “What do you know about a French company selling something called MLRs?”
“That’s a kind of multiple launch rocket system for the army,” a low, throaty female said in the background. “A big contract.”
Alec vaguely recognized the voice.
She went on. “Two American firms are reportedly in the running along with the European Consortium, an Anglo-French company. I need to call Shanghai right away.”
“Hear that?” Mick said.
“European Consortium,” Alec repeated. “What can we do to stop all this?”
He heard a quiet, intense debate. Finally the woman said, “Tell him we’re sending in the representative of an American firm to sign the contract.”
“Alec? In a few minutes, we’ll send someone in to sign the contract.”
“I heard that. Is it someone I know?”
“I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised.”
On the patio, Alec heard the clinking of crystal. “You’d better hurry.”
Alec hung up the phone and leaned against the wall. He knew the woman’s voice, but he couldn’t quite place it.
Tucking in his shirt, he joined the celebrating men.
With André’s arrival, Johnny Ouyang developed an expansive mood. He personally filled every glass with champagne. Holding his long-stemmed champagne saucer in two chubby hands, he offered a toast. “To our friendly relations with General Chou and China. We hope tonight
paves the way for future success in our relationship.”
Alec had no clue what they were toasting, but that didn’t prevent him from sampling the champagne.
It was good stuff. Worth another few swallows.
After the general gulped down a drink and eyed André’s briefcase for some time, his eyebrows began to unknot. After his second glass and a respectable burp, his mood had turned as jovial as Johnny’s.
Odette folded her arms, leaned against the fence and stared beyond her husband. With her hair swept back over both ears, she resembled a tigress savoring the tender meat of her prey.
Alec shot her an ironic smile. She leaned away from the railing. The ribbed white fabric of her dress stretched across her firm breasts.
She was not only in control. She was ready for action.
One toast followed another in rapid succession. Finally the men were ready for business.
“Shall we go upstairs where the contract awaits us?” Johnny said.
General Chou, who now demonstrated conspicuous interest in May-lin, invited her along.
Throwing a withering look Alec’s way, she accepted.
Chapter 44
All alone, Alec approached Odette.
Golden flecks of light danced in her eyes, and her diamond earrings sparkled in the light of the distant city. She allowed Alec to hold her soft cheeks in his coarse hands. She didn’t rebuff him as he planted his lips against hers. She opened her jaw wide to accept his audacious advance.
He almost hated to stop.
Slowly, he withdrew his arm from behind her neck.
Her eyes grew dark. A magnetic attraction had been cut.
“What’s the matter?” she demanded to know.
“I think the evening’s too hot.” He stood beside her and leaned against the fence. From there he watched the pool reflect against the mansion. Light danced across the white stucco and through the picture window. It penetrated past the conversing businessmen to a ceiling fan that spun in languorous circles. “I’d rather take a swim.”
“Then I’ll go inside,” she said. But she didn’t move.
“I think I’ll need this.” He pulled the neat triangle of the sheer, minuscule swimsuit out of his trouser pocket.
