Hong Kong Black: A Thriller (A Nick Foley Thriller)

by Alex Ryan

  Nick took another bite of burger and couldn’t help but smile. Normally, he was not a fast-food type of guy, but the quarter pounder was doing wonders for his mood. He hadn’t realized how much he needed nourishment. Amazing how something as simple as a burger and fries could rejuvenate a soul. If only Dash had thought to buy him a milkshake, then the holy trinity of American gluttony would’ve been complete. He swallowed and forced the inappropriate smile from his face, “Okay, so now what?”

  “Now we wait to hear what Major Li has to report,” Zhang said. “Hopefully, he and Lieutenant Chung discovered something at the Port of Hong Kong.”

  Nick nodded. “And after that?”

  “After that, I’m going to arrest you,” Zhang said with his first smile of the afternoon.

  Dash shot the Snow Leopard Commander a disapproving look.

  Nick couldn’t tell if the man was serious or not. Technically, he had broken his promise to Zhang by “working” for Lankford, but the truth was more complicated than that, and Zhang knew it. Nick put the odds at fifty-fifty that Zhang would make good on the threat. This was China after all, and the political fallout from Nick being associated with Peter Yu and Lankford, and their deaths, could elevate the decision out of Zhang’s hands. Yes, Zhang was a kindred spirit, but he was also a soldier, and soldiers follow orders. Nick flashed the Snow Leopard his cockiest grin. “Just promise you’ll let me finish my cheeseburger first.”

  “Yes, of course, Nick,” Zhang said. “Enjoy it, because last I heard, they don’t serve McDonald’s in Chinese prison.”

  Both men laughed, but Dash didn’t. She looked back and forth between them with an incredulous “this isn’t a joking matter” look on her face.

  Downrange humor, Nick thought. Guess it’s a guy thing.

  “Where the hell are Li and Chung?” Zhang said, looking at his watch, a scowl replacing his smile. “They should be here by now.”

  The air conditioner unit kicked on, the fan blowing on high and the compressor making a hell of a racket. The cool air felt good to Nick, but Dash immediately hugged herself. Nick had the urge to put his arm around her, but it didn’t feel right with Zhang in the room. So instead, he just kept eating until he’d polished off every last crumb of his McDonald’s. At ten minutes after seven, Zhang dialed Li’s mobile.

  After twenty seconds or so, he hung up and with a huff said, “Straight to voicemail.”

  A beat later, there was a knock at the door.

  With a look of relief, Zhang walked to the door, checked the peephole, and then opened it. Too Nick’s surprise, there was only one man standing in the hallway, and it was not Major Li but a junior Snow Leopard whom Nick surmised was Lieutenant Chung. The Snow Leopard hurried into the room and shut the door behind him.

  The new arrival spoke in rapid-fire Chinese, reporting directly to his Commander without even glancing at Nick or Dash.

  Nick watched Dash’s face as the young man spoke, and he could tell from her expression that the news was not good. Then she gasped.

  “What?” he whispered.

  “Major Li is dead,” she said.

  Nick’s mind immediately started to race. If Li was murdered, that meant the entire task force was now in danger. The hotel room was no longer safe. They needed to move, and they needed a plan. Despite the overwhelming impulse to interrupt, he held his tongue until Zhang and the new arrival had finished talking.

  Zhang turned and looked at Nick. “For your benefit, I’ll paraphrase. As you might recall, Lieutenant Chung and Major Li were working together on tracking the shipping container and trying to identify the ship that lost it at sea. This morning, Major Li was killed in an industrial accident at the Port of Hong Kong.”

  “What kind of industrial accident?” Nick asked.

  “The kind where a shipping container fell on him while he was interviewing a loading superintendent with twenty-seven years’ experience at the docks.”

  “Oh my God,” Dash said, her hand clasped to her mouth.

  “It was no accident,” Lieutenant Chung said in heavily accented but passable English. “At breakfast, Major Li told me he had a new lead he was pursuing, and he was going to meet with a man who he thought could prove it.”

  “So you found a paper trail?” Nick asked.

  Zhang shook his head. “Chung and Li completed their record review last night. They didn’t find a single entry documenting the shipping container we found being loaded on or offloaded from any vessel in the Port of Hong Kong over the past three weeks,” Zhang said, stepping in.

  “I’m not surprised,” Nick said. “They probably paid to keep it off the books.”

  “That’s exactly what Major Li said,” Chung replied. “So he decided to offer a cash reward and promise of immunity from prosecution to any loading superintendent who would talk to him about the black-market container business.”

  “Apparently, his instincts were right,” Zhang added.

  “Now no one at the docks will talk to us,” Chung said.

  Nick looked at the ceiling and shook his head. “If the people behind this are willing to murder Major Li . . .”

  “Then none of us are safe,” Dash said, finishing the sentence.

  “Yep,” Nick said. “This is not about Nèiyè Biologic versus the CIA anymore. This is about Nèiyè Biologic versus anyone who threatens them, including the Chinese government.”

  “This is bigger than Nèiyè Biologic, Nick. Major Li was right. They must have a partner,” Zhang said. “But tactically speaking, I agree with you. We must assume each of us is on the kill list. The enemy has the upper hand right now because they know where to look for us, but we don’t know where to find them. It is no longer safe for us in Hong Kong. Let me make some calls,” Zhang said, retrieving his mobile phone.

  “Wait,” Nick said. “Use my burner phone—it’s possible your phone is being monitored.”

  “I’m the Snow Leopard Commander. My phone is both secure and encrypted.”

  “Try telling that to Major Li,” Nick fired back. “Look, until we can get our footing, we all need to go black, not just me.”

  Grudgingly, Zhang swiped the phone from Nick’s outstretched hand and made two calls. Nick couldn’t follow either of the rapid-fire conversations, but neither lasted long.

  “Mind if I keep this?” Zhang said, holding up Nick’s phone.

  “Do I have a choice?” Nick said.

  “No.”

  Zhang and Chung dialogued for a minute, then Chung disappeared out the door.

  “What’s the plan?” Nick asked.

  “Chung is going to pick us up at the hotel’s loading dock in a nongovernmental vehicle and drive us to a private marina, where I have a contact who owes me a favor. From there, we’ll arrange transit by boat to the airport in Zhuhai, where I have another friend who owes me an even bigger favor.”

  “You actually have two friends?” Nick said. “Miracles do happen.”

  “That’s one more than you have, Foley—try to remember that,” Zhang fired back. “Anyway, as I was saying, from Zhuhai, we can fly wherever we need to go.”

  Nick looked at Dash, and they read each other’s minds. In unison they said, “Beijing.”

  “Beijing is our home turf, so in that sense we have an advantage, but it’s also the first place our enemy will look for us once we leave Hong Kong,” Zhang replied. “I’m not sure if that is wise.”

  “Yes,” Nick said, “but where we’re going to go in Beijing, nobody will find us.”

  “Oh no,” Zhang said, shaking his head. “Absolutely not.”

  “Oh yes,” Dash replied with a grin. “We have two questions we need to answer: how big is the black market for organ harvesting, and who is trying to kill us? There’s only one man in all of China who might know the answer to both questions, and that man is Gang Jin.”

  CHAPTER 21

  Grandma’s Kitchen

  Beijing, China

  Dash’s journey from the hotel in Hong Kong back to
Beijing was nerve-racking, uncomfortable, and smelly. It began with a covert EXFIL from the hotel in the back of a delivery van loaded with mushrooms and overripe fruit, commandeered by Lieutenant Chung. After that, they took a five-hour ride on a dilapidated fishing boat that smelled so foul belowdecks that she had actually vomited and needed to spend the rest of the transit to Zhuhai topside. Finally, they took to the skies in what Nick declared “the biggest piece-of-shit airplane he’d ever seen,” a Harbin Y12 whose cabin reeked of cigarette smoke and human excrement from the malfunctioning lavatory system. The flight required not one but two refueling stops en route, each time making her wonder if this takeoff would be her last. By the time they landed at a private airfield outside Beijing, she was dirty, hungry, and exhausted.

  Nick had capped off the journey by informing Zhang, “With friends like yours helping us, who needs enemies?” To which Zhang had replied that he thought it would be safest if Nick rode in the trunk of the loaner sedan for the hour-long drive from the airport into the city. Their juvenile alpha-male banter continued, unabated, all the way to Grandma’s Kitchen. The moment Zhang pulled their ubiquitous four-door Geely into a parking spot behind the restaurant, she heard Nick’s stomach begin to growl. The aroma of bacon frying and waffles cooking was overpowering, and she wondered who in the group would be the first to suggest a breakfast stop before heading underground.

  As Zhang put the transmission in park, she looked over at Nick. The expression he wore told her that he was experiencing the same powerful and disturbing feeling of déjà vu that she was. She had not been back to the Underground City since her husband’s death. She had intended never to return, but here they were, getting ready to head below for another excursion into the dark and dangerous underbelly of the capital. Access points to the Underground City were scattered throughout Beijing; all of them were locked, but most were hidden in plain sight. This particular entrance was located in the oddest of places, inside the pantry of Grandma’s Kitchen. The entrance had existed long before the restaurant had occupied the location; she had no idea what purpose the structure had originally served.

  “Everyone ready?” Zhang said.

  “Yep,” Nick said, his stomach growling audibly again. “Unless, of course, I can talk you into stopping for breakfast first.”

  “Sorry, Nick. We’re not on vacation.”

  “Can’t blame a guy for trying.”

  Three minutes and one heated confrontation with the restaurant manager later, the four of them were standing in the pantry of Grandma’s Kitchen. The ancient steel door that led to the Underground was concealed behind a shelf of foodstuffs. Nick grabbed the frame and slid the entire rack away from the wall on silent castors.

  “This is how you access the Underground City?” Zhang said with surprise.

  Nick nodded. “You didn’t know about this access point?”

  Zhang shook his head. “No. We have a map of dozens of entrances, but this one, I am not familiar with. Unfettered access to the Underground City is a counterterrorism catastrophe waiting to happen. After this incursion, I will give the order to weld this door shut.”

  An uneasy silence lingered in the air until Nick said what Dash was thinking: “What happens the next time we need to use it? If you weld this door shut, we all lose access.”

  “You’re the last person who should be making such requests,” Zhang said, glaring at Nick. “You’re under arrest, remember?”

  “I understand your concern, but Nick makes a good point,” Dash said, playing peacemaker. “After what happened with Qing, I swore never to come back to this place again, yet here we are, only two months later, once again in need of Gang Jin’s help. Maybe you should defer any decision on the door until after this is over.”

  The way Zhang screwed up his face at her comment, he looked like he’d just sucked on a sour lemon, but after a beat, he said, “All right, I’ll defer the decision until after I meet this Gang Jin criminal you both seem to think so highly of.”

  Nick flashed her a conspiratorial smile and pulled the heavy steel door open to reveal a steep, sloping concrete staircase descending into the blackness. Dash reached into the void and swept her palm along the wall until she felt a metal box. She flicked the switch, and a series of battery-powered red LED lights illuminated the stairwell. Her dead husband, Qing, had installed these lights, making frequent excursions into the Underground City that he’d kept hidden from her during their marriage.

  Gooseflesh stood up on her neck.

  She wondered if it was the ghost of Qing or the breath of cool air exhaled from the mouth of the Underground rushing over her skin.

  “Maybe I should go first?” Nick said, jockeying to step in front of her.

  “I’ll take point,” Zhang said, cutting Nick off.

  “But you don’t know where you’re going,” Dash said.

  “That’s never stopped me before,” Zhang said with a wry grin, beginning the descent.

  It was cool underground, eighteen degrees Celsius year-round, but it felt stagnant. The air had a faint but pervasive odor that she decided must be an amalgam of damp concrete, rodent feces, and mold. It was not an agreeable smell, and it made her stomach uneasy. A drip of water from the ceiling landed on her scalp, sending an involuntary shiver down her spine.

  When he reached the bottom of the staircase, Zhang paused and waited for the rest of them.

  “Which way?” he said.

  “Right,” she and Nick said in unison, gesturing to the long, gaping tunnel that faded into the blackness.

  Zhang clicked on an LED flashlight and set off toward the heart of the Underground City.

  She could not help but marvel at this place—a sprawling subterranean complex spanning eighty-five square kilometers built under the heart of Beijing. The excavation project was launched in 1969 under Chairman Mao’s direction and was originally designed to accommodate half of Beijing’s then population of six million in the event of a nuclear attack. More than three hundred thousand laborers had toiled for a decade, excavating and building a complex web of tunnels, staircases, ventilation shafts, drinking-water wells, sewage lines, food production and storage nodes, and mixed-use chambers. But the massive undertaking had been terminated during the Cold War, incomplete, unutilized, and unknown to the rest of the world. Plans had been entertained by the government in the years leading up to the 2008 Summer Olympics to convert the Underground City into a tourist attraction with shops, restaurants, and bars, but the plans had fizzled after the money had run out, leaving the Underground City once again forgotten.

  Forgotten by most but not all. Eighty-five square kilometers of climate-controlled real estate infrastructure in a city as crowded and expensive as Beijing does not go unnoticed. A vibrant black-market economy of illicit commerce and real estate brokering flourished beneath the streets. Down below, anything could be had for a price—drugs, sex, weapons, black-market tech, and shelter. It was an Underground City in the truest sense, with its own law and leadership. Patrolling gangs who worked for Gang Jin—the Underground City’s “mayor”—kept order, enforced the rules, and collected “taxes.” The money that flowed through the Underground City now was millions more than city planners had dreamed of for legitimate enterprise. This black-market economy was exactly what Dash hoped to exploit. If anyone in Beijing knew how to plug them into Nèiyè Biologic’s illegal organ-trade business, that person would be Gang Jin.

  They continued down the dark tunnel, toward a dim yellow glow in the distance. As they walked, the light gradually intensified along with her anxiety. The heated banter they’d shared at Grandma’s Kitchen was now replaced by brooding introspection. No one was talking. The tang of testosterone in the air among these three alpha males was almost palpable to her. Zhang had asserted himself as the leader, as he should, but it was also evident to her that should the situation take a turn for the worse, Nick was perfectly willing, and perfectly capable, of taking that mantle. Aboveground, such a scenario would never presen
t itself, but down here . . . different rules applied. Although she dared not say it, in the Underground, Zhang was more of a liability than an asset. Were she traveling with only Nick, she was confident that Gang Jin would receive them and give her request due consideration. But bringing two Snow Leopards into Gang Jin’s domain without advance warning could be disastrous. He could see such an act as a betrayal of trust—a traitorous and threatening misjudgment that could destroy the fragile alliance they had built during her last visit.

  She reached out and touched Zhang’s arm.

  “Yes?” he said, keeping his gaze forward down the tunnel.

  “I’m not sure how to say this, so I’m just going to say it . . . Down here, you can’t be Commander Zhang of the Snow Leopards.”

  “What are you talking about, Dazhong?”

  She felt her cheeks flush and hoped he didn’t notice. “When we meet Gang Jin, I think it would be better for you to use a cover identity—strategically speaking, that is.”

  “I’m not afraid of this Gang Jin. He’s a petty criminal.”

  “He’s more than that. He runs the entire Underground, and he has connections in a world that we have no access to. If he feels threatened, he’ll become defensive and uncooperative. He might even consider me bringing you here a betrayal.”

  Zhang stopped walking and turned to face her. “You speak of him like he’s an equal—like he’s one of us. He’s not. He should count himself lucky that I’m not sending my entire unit down here to clean the place out.”

  “She’s right,” Nick said, stepping up beside her. “Last time I checked, we didn’t have an entire unit of Snow Leopards with us for backup. We walk another hundred meters down this tunnel, and the rules change. Down here, Gang Jin makes the rules. Down here, he’s in charge. You trusted us once before, and everything worked out. All we’re asking is that you trust us again.”

  Zhang looked back and forth between them and then grudgingly said, “All right, we do it your way. What’s my cover?”

  “I haven’t decided yet,” Dash said. “Let me take the lead. Who you are depends on how things are going.”