Dead of Night

by Blake Banner

  I climbed behind the wheel, stuck the old-fashioned key in the ignition and enjoyed the low growl and rumble of the engine. Personally I like a stick shift because it gives you more control over the engine and the revs. You drop from sixth to third at a hundred MPH and your revs go through the roof. If you need a burst of speed or power, you can do that with a stick shift. With an automatic you’re stuck with what the car thinks you ought to be doing. And if it’s a German car, two gets you twenty the car will think you should be obeying the rules.

  And the trouble is, a lot of the time I’m breaking the rules, doing stuff I ought not to be doing.

  It was a half hour drive from my house to Columbus Circus. I approached down the West Side Highway and West 56th, then turned north onto 8th Avenue. I followed the circus round to West 60th and parked outside the post office, where I had a good view of the entrance to the hotel, and the hotel underground parking. There I killed the engine, adjusted the mirror and settled in for a wait.

  It wasn’t a long one. At fifteen minutes to ten a black Audi Q8 emerged from the hotel underground parking. A moment later two men exited the hotel and walked quickly toward the Audi. They were Heilong Li and Yang Dizhou. The chauffeur climbed out to open the rear door for them and at the same time a guy the size of a small barn got out of the front passenger side and stood staring up and down West 60thth Street, like he really didn’t like West 60th Street at all. He and the driver were both Chinese, with real short hair, dark suits, dark shades and wires in their ears. They were about as conspicuous as my car was invisible.

  Once their charges were in the vehicle, they climbed back in and took off. I followed them at a leisurely pace onto Columbus Avenue and down West 57th, all the way to Second Avenue. There they turned south as far as East 40th, where they finally turned onto First Avenue and then into the United Nations compound and underground parking.

  As events go it wasn’t much, but it told me something important. That was the most direct, obvious route they could have taken to get to the UN, and they had not been a bit shy about it. They had been bold to the point of being showy, and were making no effort at all to be discreet. Which meant that either they did not expect trouble, or they didn’t care if they got it. Either way it suited me fine.

  I decided not to waste time following them home. I had their schedule and I was keen to get my shopping done. So my first stop was Hickey Freeman on Madison Avenue, where I spent just short of ten grand on two suits, an evening suit and a handful of shirts. After that, I went to look for a suitable car at Cooper Classics on Perry Street, in the Village. I called before I went. When the sweet girl on the other end answered I told her, “Hi, what’s the most expensive, cool car I can walk away with this afternoon?”

  She took a moment to answer, then laughed and said, “The car I’m in love with right now is a replica.”

  “A replica?”

  “Of the AC Cobra. Factory five, Oxford blue period color, silver Le Mans stripes, cream leather upholstery, VX220 seats, ProCharged four twenty-seven CI SBF stroke engine putting out seven hundred and fifty bad-ass horsepower, stainless-steel headers, four-barrel Holley, Carter fuel pumps, fully lined engine bay in polished alloy, Edelbrock rocker covers, electric power steering, high torque starter motor, ProTech shocks all round, electroplate brake calipers, Smiths instruments, period radio, power steering drives like a dream, complete build portfolio. Man, I’m getting horny just telling you about it.”

  A Cobra? How could I say no? I smiled into my voice and told her, “Yeah? I think you just sold it. Hold it for me, will you? I’m on my way.”

  It was a very sweet ride and worth every one of the fifty thousand dollars I paid for it. And when I turned up at the Mandarin Oriental that evening, that replica kit car was going to look just as sweet sitting next to the Bentleys and the Ferraris as it did in the showroom at Cooper Classics. In fact, my only worry was whether the brigadier would let me keep it when the job was done.

  I arranged to collect the car later that afternoon and took my purchases home in the VW, along with Dashiell Hammett’s Glass Key, which I had a feeling I might need at dinner. Once home I made a reservation for a week at the Mandarin, packed a suitcase with a false bottom with all the things I thought I might need, showered and dressed, and made an appointment at the Pall Mall Barbers at 10 Rockefeller Plaza. By the time they’d finished with me, I not only had a name out of a P. G. Wodehouse novel, I looked like a character out of a P. G. Wodehouse novel too.

  I’d taken a cab from Throggs Neck to Manhattan for my restyle and a wet shave. One hundred and twenty bucks lighter, I had then taken a cab to Coopers and collected my Cobra. From there I had finally rolled up at Columbus Circus in my gleaming automobile, tossed my keys to the valet, allowed a buttons to take my case and strolled into the foyer to check in.

  Once registered, the buttons led me to my room, threw open the curtains, showed me where everything was and stood smiling and expectant at the door. I took fifty bucks from my wallet and handed it to him.

  “Say, I heard there was some kind of Chinese scientific delegation here. Am I right?”

  He smiled and gave his head a little dance. “Well, it’s not exactly a delegation. That’s Mr. Heilong Li. I’m never sure which is the first name and which is the surname, they do it the other way around over there. But he’s here with Mr. Yang Dizhou and a couple of assistants, on business at the United Nations. ’Course, we get a lot of people here from the UN, because it’s very handy for them, just down the road as it is.”

  “I imagine so.” I gave a small laugh. “That’s a dangerous business!” I said. “A guy like you who’s a little bit awake could pick up a lot of useful gossip on the airwaves.”

  He gave me a careful smile. “Dangerous is the word, sir. Gossip is a double-edged sword. You’re not wrong that there are clients who are willing to pay serious bucks for snippets of information. But you start playing that game and in no time at all you start losing people’s trust. And then you’re screwed, if you’ll forgive my French.”

  “Sure, I get that. Trustworthiness is one of the five most valuable commodities. But it is, at the end of the day, a commodity that can be bought and sold. And a guy who knows how to work the market can choose his customers and sell them his loyalty and trustworthiness. Am I right?”

  I was watching him carefully. There was only one thing I was really interested in right then, and it was whether he looked uncomfortable. He didn’t. He looked wary, but he didn’t look uncomfortable at all. He had been here before and he had negotiated these particular rocks with success.

  He gave a small shrug with his eyebrows. “I guess that’s true, sir. For me personally, it would take a lot for me to betray a confidence, or something I had overheard from a customer. I’m no saint and I guess if the price was high enough… But the price would have to be very high, or it would have to be a matter of national security or something like that. It’s not just that I could lose my job, there is also the issue of self-respect, right?”

  I nodded and tried to look sage while I did it. “I hear you.” I pointed at him like my hand was a gun. “And I like what I hear. National security is never more at risk than when it is in the hands of diplomats.”

  He nodded, and there was a hint of resignation and obedience about it. “Yes sir.”

  I leaned my backside against the desk that was up against the wall and folded my arms.

  “Diplomats,” I said, “and big business interests, like the big pharma and petrochemical companies. I, personally, have seen senior management and CEOs of large multinationals, who would have sold their own mothers down the river for a lucrative contract, and these guys were already worth several million dollars apiece.” I gave a short, dry laugh and his eyes told me he really wanted to get back to his job. I ignored what his eyes said and drove on. “They would have sold their mothers, but in some cases they actually did sell their country down the river for huge payoffs from hostile nations. You know what line of wor
k I’m in, kid?”

  “I have no idea, sir, but I am guessing it is something patriotic.”

  “You’re not wrong. You’re a bright kid. What’s your name?”

  “Bobby, sir.”

  “Well, Bobby, I won’t tell you what my job is because then I’d have to kill you…” I laughed noisily and he made a real effort to laugh with me. When I was done I made a real serious face and told him, “But you should know that I am involved in issues of national security and I am here precisely for what you observed, this hotel’s proximity to the United Nations. Now, I am well aware of how useful an ambitious young man like you, who cares about his country, can be. So I would like to make an ally of you…” I knew damned well that buttons in luxury hotels have high expectations and don’t work for peanuts. So I peeled another fifty bucks out of my wallet and handed it to him. “…and ask you, if you see or hear anything, anything at all, that you think might be of interest to me, let me know.”

  I held up both hands and made a motion like I was slowing him down. “Now, I am not going to ask you to make an evaluation of intelligence and decide what is useful and what is not. That is not your brief, and it is not a skill I would expect you to have. You just give me anything that comes up concerning Heilong Li and Yang Dizhou: change of schedule, heightening of security, sudden change in his breakfast menu, a call girl who stayed the night…” I spread my hands. “You hear me, right?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And not only will you get to feel good about yourself, young man, but you will also find that Uncle Sam can be very generous when he is grateful.”

  “I have nothing right now, sir. But I will keep my ear to the ground and let you know if I hear anything.”

  “Addaboy.”

  At the door he hesitated a moment and turned back to me.

  “There is one thing, but I don’t know if it’s of any importance.”

  I had my wallet halfway to my jacket pocket. I paused. “Let’s find out.”

  “Well.” He made a face of uncertainty that was almost a wince. “We’re pretty used to a high level of security here at the Mandarin, as I’m sure you know, sir. But the setup in the Oriental Suite goes a little beyond what you would expect.”

  “Yeah, how’s that?”

  “Well, inhouse hotel security is pretty tight. We have the latest in alarm systems and video surveillance, plus security guards and detectives. Most people who are security conscious add to that a bodyguard and, or, a couple of men at the door.” He shrugged. “If you’re on the top floor of a Manhattan skyscraper, nobody’s going to come in through the window, right? Not unless it’s Ethan Hunt.”

  “OK, so?”

  “So Professor Li has two men on the outside of the door, two men on the inside of the door, plus his personal chauffeur and bodyguard, and then he has two men on the roof above his suite. And that is all in addition to the hotel’s own electronic security system, which is cutting edge.”

  I thought about it a second, then nodded. “OK.”

  His face told me he didn’t want me to miss the point so he went on.

  “I mean, that’s a lot of security, right? But the vehicles he uses are part of the hotel’s own fleet. They’re top of the line and bulletproof glass, but I’m pretty sure he could get something more…”

  I smiled. “I get it. It’s a good observation.” I pulled a C note from my wallet and handed it to him. “Anything else, keep me posted.”

  “Of course, Mr. Winchester.”

  The door closed and I sat a while with my ass against the desk staring at a point six inches above the floor, but seeing only Heilong Li’s two guards outside the door, two inside the door and two on the roof. And Ethan Hunt, what film was it? I shifted my gaze to the dark window, with the sparkling lights of the city outside the black glass, and tried to remember for a while.

  It didn’t really matter. The important thing was the six guards, and where they were placed: two outside, two inside and two on the roof. I smiled to myself, then went and had another shower, and dressed for dinner.

  At eight thirty I went down to the cocktail bar, stopping briefly for a chat with Bobby the buttons, and ordered myself a martini, dry. Just for the heck of it I told the barman I wanted it shaken, not stirred. He must have heard it before because he didn’t flinch. He just said, “Naturally, sir,” and went ahead and shook me a martini dry. By the time he’d finished I had located Heilong Li and Yang Dizhou. They were sitting at a table in the corner with two men and a woman, none of whom looked Chinese. The woman was in her forties, attractive, blonde, well-dressed in an expensive, dark blue suit with diamonds that appeared to be real around her neck and in her earlobes. Her eyes were a pale blue that looked dangerous and her makeup was discreet but effective. I figured that probably summed her up. She was quiet, watching, listening, holding a gin and tonic but not drinking it.

  On her right was a big man, six two or three, running to fat. His head was big and enhanced by jowls. His eyes peered suspiciously from pouches and his large lips moved constantly, like he was savoring the air. I estimated his weight at an easy three hundred pounds. Even his thousand-dollar suit couldn’t make him look elegant. For all I knew, he might have had a beautiful soul, but he looked like a greedy, arrogant slob. Make that a greedy, arrogant, dangerous slob.

  The third guy with them was in his sixties and you could see he worked out and ran his two miles every morning before breakfast. He was lean, well-dressed and wide awake. His gray hair had cost as much to cut as I’d spent on my handmade shoes. And his handmade shoes had probably cost as much as my suit. He had ruthless and predatory written all over him and I had a bad feeling that what was going down among cocktails at that table, among those five people, might have wide-reaching repercussions for a lot of other people, other people who could not afford thousand-dollar, handmade shoes.

  As I pretended to read messages on my phone, a waiter from the restaurant entered the bar, approached Heilong Li and bent to mutter in his ear. Li’s only acknowledgment was a brief nod. Then he smiled at his guests and said something, and they all rose and left the bar.

  Chapter Four

  I sat at a table close enough so I could eavesdrop, but far enough away to be inconspicuous. I ordered a salmon, beetroot and avocado salad to start with, with a glass of dry Manzanilla, and a T-bone steak with a half bottle of claret which I told the wine waiter to recommend for me. While I waited I had another martini and sat and pretended to read The Glass Key, while I listened carefully to my prey.

  For a moment I was back in the hills above Sulfur Springs, lying motionless in the shadows of the pines, smelling, watching, listening, while the bull elk grazed peacefully unaware that death was grazing with him in the meadow.

  But it was a moment, no more, and I put the thought out of my mind. You can’t think that way when you’re putting together a hit. Your thinking has to be here, and now.

  Heilong Li was doing most of the talking. He had the calm authority and arrogance that comes with believing you are invulnerable. His English was almost accent free. He was saying:

  “What we can offer you is a license limited by territory. And the territory must be within the geographical and jurisdictional limits of the United States. You are free to set your own price, but CF Inc. takes a cut of between ten and twenty percent. The higher your price, the higher the percentage, with fifteen percent falling somewhere in the mid range.”

  The fat guy laughed noisily and drained his cocktail. As he set his empty glass down on the table he belched. “And China comes in playing hardball. You’re dreaming and you know it. For starters, why the hell should you limit us geographically? Why the hell shouldn’t we have Western Europe too? We can distribute there as easily as anybody. In the second place, fifteen percent, kiss my sweet fanny. You’ll take seven percent and be grateful we don’t just go right ahead and develop our own vaccine.”

  Heilong Li and Yang Dizhou exchanged a few inscrutable words, and though they were
expressionless and incomprehensible, the contempt was palpable. Once he’d allowed the fat guy to palpate it for a while he turned to him and spoke.

  “Mr. Gutermann, we are of course delighted to entertain you as our guest. However, our purpose tonight is to speak about business, and the time we have at our disposal is limited…”

  He left the words hanging and smiled amiably as he watched Gutermann’s cheeks flush red. The woman stepped in by rattling the ice in her glass and, before sipping, then said, “Mr. Heilong, Peter raises a reasonable point as far as I can see. Our resources are among the best in the world. There is nothing to stop us developing a vaccine ourselves, with no need to pay what are, after all, exorbitant license fees.”

  Heilong Li screwed up his face in what turned out to be a silent laugh.

  “Exorbitant. My English nanny used to say, ‘Is as does!’ ‘Is as does!’ I would say to her, ‘Nanny! That is not fair!’ She would reply, ‘Fair is as fair does!’ I would complain, ‘Nanny! This food is not good!’ She would reply, ‘Good is as good does!’ I never did know what it meant! Then, one day, after she was dead, I realized what it meant…” He leaned forward, leering at the woman. “You know what it meant, Ms. Goldbloom? It meant, ‘I have the power, so fuck you!’”

  His laughter was shrill and startling, like the spasmodic shrieking of a parrot in a tropical rainforest. In a curious echo to Gutermann’s reaction, Ms. Goldbloom’s cheeks colored a delicate pink. The third guest’s voice was quiet and measured.

  “Don’t you think you’re overstating the case, Mr. Heilong? After all…”

  But Heilong Li was already shaking his head, holding out the palm of his left hand in front of the man’s face in a bizarre, “talk to the hand” gesture.