Retrieval

by Ethan Jones

  He limped down the slippery rungs. His ankle was burning in pain, and, at one point, he almost lost his footing, but made it safely down to the dark, narrow alley. He listened for a moment for police sirens or rushing footsteps.

  Nothing.

  So he shuffled toward the mouth of the alley, and when he reached it, he studied the street and the parking lot behind a small café. His light blue Mercedes was the only car parked there, next to a black truck that belonged to the café’s owner. Han paid him handsomely so that nothing would happen to his precious forty-one-year-old convertible.

  He cast a wide gaze around before he slipped into the driver’s leather seat. It was not very comfortable, but he did not drive a classic car because of luxury, or nostalgia for years gone by. No, Han had picked the Mercedes because it was impossible to hack. Newer cars were relatively easy prey for hijackers, who could interfere with the vehicles’ Wi-Fi system and take control of the vehicle’s functions. There was nothing digital in the German masterpiece, just steel, plastic, and glass.

  Han turned on the car, then slipped the clutch, ignoring the pain that shot up from his ankle. The car glided smoothly forward and out of the parking lot. He glanced to the left as he came onto the empty street. He shifted to second gear and looked in the rearview mirror. No one was tailing him.

  He doubted he had so easily lost the police and the one who had sent them. He looked over his shoulder, but still there was no car behind his Mercedes. What’s going on?

  Han turned on the counter-surveillance system he had installed in his car. It was a radio frequency detector that automatically scanned the vehicle for GPS transmitters and other kinds of tracking bugs. The system required about sixty seconds for a full sweep of the Mercedes, but Han would start to notice anything unusual within the first few moments.

  The first hit came about fifteen seconds later, just as Han had made a left turn. The dashboard-mounted monitor alerted him to a tracking chip planted in the undercarriage, on the right side of the car, by displaying a colorful graph of activity, like a heart rate monitor. Han grinned. Amateurs.

  He turned on the homing switch, and the screen pinpointed the exact location of the transmitting source. Han stopped on the side of the street and waited until the scanning was complete. No other alerts about more spying devices. He stepped outside and felt with his hand inside the rear wheel well. His fingers found a matchbox-sized, GPS-enabled device securely attached to the metal frame by a magnet. He smiled, crushed the device under his heel, and returned to his seat.

  Before he had lifted his foot off the clutch, a silver sedan slithered up behind him. The car had no markings, but Han had a feeling it wasn’t just a random resident out for a late-night drive. His hand went to the pistol. If he had more time or was better prepared, he would have tried an electronic attack, attempted to take control of the vehicle, which looked like a newer model Honda. But he had no time and no idea how many other vehicles might be following him or trying to surround him. He shrugged. Desperate situations demanded desperate measures.

  He stepped outside and aimed the QSZ-92 pistol at the silver sedan. Han fired a quick burst. His bullets lifted sparks off the Honda’s grille and skimmed over its hood. His intention was not to kill or wound the police officers or whoever was inside the sedan. He just wanted to end the chase.

  A gunman popped his head out of one of the back windows. A submachine gun glinted in the faint light coming from a single lamppost a few yards away from the sedan. The gunman slid half his body out the window and turned the weapon upon Han.

  The hacker fell behind the front of the Mercedes as bullets hammered the vehicle. Shards of glass fell over his shoulders as the windshield erupted. He was not worried about any of the rounds striking him. What if this is suppressive fire so that other gunmen can advance toward my position?

  The thought darkened his long thin face. He crouched near the right-side corner of the front and waited for a moment. Then he stole a peek. The gunman was still firing round after round, but he was aiming his fire at the back of the car.

  Han lay on his side, then fired a few rounds. He tried really hard to miss the shooter. Even after the barrage against the Mercedes, a gut feeling told him the gunmen did not want him dead. But Han was not going to be taken alive.

  The shooter emptied his magazine and slid back into his seat.

  Han realigned his pistol with the sedan’s right-side front tire and squeezed off the last few rounds in his pistol. He was not sure if his bullets hit the mark. The Honda did not drop to that side as he had expected.

  He took advantage of the break in the gunfire to reload his pistol. Then he cocked it, which released the firing pin with a single pull. The weapon took a twenty-round magazine, since the 5.8 x 21mm calibre was narrower than the standard Western 9mm Parabellum rounds. Han wished he had armor-piercing cartridges.

  He double-tapped his pistol. The right tire exploded, and the sedan sank. Han smiled and returned to his driver’s seat. He released the clutch, stepped on the gas, and shifted gears. The Mercedes tore through the street as fragments of the broken glass flew around the cabin. Han cleared off what was left of the windshield with the pistol, then looked over his shoulder. The silver sedan was still in its place and getting smaller and smaller by the second.

  The Mercedes drifted around the next turn as Han downshifted, but he was a heartbeat too late. The turn was sharper than he expected, and the car bounced over the curve and onto the sidewalk. Han eased up on the gas and fought the wheel for a moment, before the car returned to the street. He thought about whether he should continue to his safehouse, which was only a ten-minute drive away. It was in a secluded, abandoned warehouse, part of a larger decrepit industrial park, where Han had created a small but efficient hideout. It was off the grid, he had never taken anyone there, and, as far as he was concerned, no one was aware of that location. Yes, I’ll go there, stay underground for a while, until this all blows over. Then, I can find who exactly is looking for me, and why.

  He slowed down and drove extremely carefully for the next few minutes, not wanting to attract anyone’s attention. A bullet-ridden Mercedes would be easy to remember; and it would be a straightforward task to find speeding vehicles in the recordings from the security cameras that were located all over the neighborhood.

  When he came near the industrial park, Han sat up straighter in his seat and became even more vigilant. His eyes studied every back alley and every parked vehicle. He took in every detail of the buildings, examining the windows and the doors.

  Nothing suspicious.

  He circled the hideout, uncertain whether he should turn in or keep driving. A spine-chilling feeling told him to turn around, floor the gas pedal, and drive away as fast as he could. But he shook his head and along with it the feeling burdening his being. My nerves are shot. I’m just getting too old for this stuff...

  He parked behind the hideout, in an abandoned garage, then covered the car with a black tarp he had stored there for this exact purpose. Then he limped across the alley to his safehouse. He glanced at the rusty metal door and looked around for footprints in the dirt. Then he walked to the window and glanced inside. It was dark, and he could not see anyone.

  He shrugged. Han, you’re being paranoid. There’s no one here. Nobody knows about this place.

  He sighed and fished the keys out of his jacket. He also pulled out his pistol and held it next to his side. You never know...

  He opened the door, stepped inside the small apartment, and then closed the door, making as little noise as possible. The hinges protested with a small creak, then the entire warehouse sank into silence. Han stood in place, waiting for his eyes to grow accustomed to the dark. In a matter of seconds, he could make out the light switch a few feet away from the door.

  He reached and flicked it.

  Nothing happened.

  He flicked it down and up again.

  Still nothing.

  He tried it a couple more times, but
he was still in the dark.

  Han cursed out loud.

  A bright light flashed, lighting up the entire room, and a warm, yet firm, voice said in English, “Mr. Han, I’m glad you made it.”

  Han looked at the man sitting in a chair in the middle of the room. He was holding a pistol pointed at Han’s chest.

  The hacker shook his head as he recognized the man. “Javin Pierce, what are you doing here?”

  Chapter Two

  Han’s Hideout

  Outskirts of Beijing, China

  “It’s your lucky day, or night,” Javin, the Canadian operative, said with a small grin. He gestured with his left hand to Han’s pistol. “You won’t need that anymore.”

  “This ... this is what you call luck?” Han said in slightly accented English.

  “Would you rather have an MSS agent sitting here?”

  Han shook his head. The MSS was the feared Chinese security agency. “No, but I can’t say I’m glad to see you.”

  “The feeling is mutual. Now, drop the gun.”

  “Will you kill me?”

  “No. If I wanted you dead, you’d already be dead. We could have killed you when you left the apartment, or when you jumped from one building to the other. That was impressive.” Javin stood up and walked toward Han, keeping his Sig Sauer P320 9mm pistol pointed at the hacker. “But you’re getting rusty. You almost botched up the landing.”

  Han cocked his head. “How did you—”

  “That’s not important. The gun.”

  “That’s my only hope.” Han’s fingers tightened around the pistol’s grip.

  “No, your hope is in what you know, and what you can find for us. The pistol, that’s useless.”

  Han hesitated for another moment.

  Javin fired a round that zipped close to Han’s gun-holding hand. “Next time, I won’t miss.”

  “Fine, fine.” Han put the safety back on the pistol and tossed it a few feet away from him. “How’s that?”

  “Much better. Any other weapons on you?”

  “No.”

  Javin picked up the QSZ-92 pistol and placed it in his waistband. His eyes never left Han’s face. “Hands up.”

  “I told you I’m unarmed.”

  “I need to make sure...”

  Javin patted down Han and stopped when he noticed the rectangular-shaped object in Han’s front pocket. “What’s that?”

  “Not a weapon.”

  “I can see that.”

  “It’s nothing of interest.” Han brought his right arm down.

  Javin shoved his pistol in Han’s side. “Don’t move.”

  He retrieved the hard drive with his left hand and put it into his side jacket pocket. He continued the search and took two cellphones and Han’s car keys from his pockets. When he finished, Javin said, “You can turn around now, and take a seat.” He pointed at the chair.

  Han stumbled onto the chair and looked at Javin. “Now what?”

  Javin shrugged. “It all depends on you, and how much you want to cooperate.”

  Han returned the shrug. “It depends on what you ask for.”

  “Great, I’m glad you’ve agreed to work with—”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “What did you say?”

  “I have to hear what you want, first.”

  “But you’re not saying ‘no’ right away. And that’s an agreement in my book...”

  Han shook his head. “I might have a different book.”

  Javin took a few steps closer to Han. “Look, you’re not in a situation to impose terms. But you still have options. I’ll outline them for you and you can pick.”

  “You really make it sound like I have a choice in the matter.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression.” Javin’s voice carried a hint of mock regret. “You chose when you decided to go behind the MSS’s back. You stuck your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

  Han gave Javin a defiant glance. “Allegedly. Their investigation cleared me of all wrongdoing.”

  “Yes, I’ve studied the report. That was a mistake, which MSS is determined to fix pretty soon.” He tapped the pocket where he had stashed the hard drive. “I’m sure it has all the intel they need.”

  “I doubt that,” Han said, but his voice did not ring with the resolve he was hoping for.

  “If this doesn’t help, they have you.” Javin pointed with his pistol at Han’s chest. “You know MSS; you used to work for them. What do they do to people who refused to cooperate?”

  Han held Javin’s eyes for a moment, then swallowed hard, but did not reply.

  Javin said, “That’s what I thought. Now, here are your three options.” He began to count with his left-hand fingers. “You refuse to help me, well, us—”

  “Who is us?”

  “Me and my partner, Claudia. You know her?”

  “I’ve heard of her.”

  “Okay, so you know about us. And we’re working with Zhang Wei—”

  “Really, that snake Zhang?”

  “If you’re talking about the one who likes to ride motorbikes—”

  Han spat on the ground. “Yes, that rotten bas—”

  “So, you’re familiar with Zhang and what he can do to you if you don’t help us. Extremely painful.”

  Han nodded. He tried to keep a calm face, but Javin noticed the first hint of fear flash in Han’s eyes. The hacker flinched and his right hand twitched. He began to tap his left leg nervously, and his head slumped a couple of inches.

  Javin said, “Your second option is to try to fool us, pretending you’re helping. You’re the best at what you do, Han. I have to give you that.” He offered the hacker a small smile. “We’ll probably not even know you’re deceiving us until it’s too late. Our operation would fail, and Zhang Wei, along with others, would be in big trouble. Nobody likes trouble, especially Zhang. If you betray him…”

  Han swallowed hard again, then said in a weak voice, “I thought you were giving me options…”

  “I am, and I’m not finished. The third option is for you to work with us, execute perfectly everything we ask of you. Then, once you’re done, you can go back to your life.”

  “Just like that.” Han snapped his fingers.

  “Almost, but hey, you get to decide which option you prefer. However, before you decide, let me show you something.” Javin reached for his phone and swiped his thumb across the screen searching for a file. It took a few moments longer than he had anticipated, because this was a different phone from his agency-issued one. Javin was scrolling through a cheap model, a burner phone he had bought shortly before arriving in China. Every phone used in Beijing or elsewhere in the country connected to the wireless providers, which the government controlled and strictly monitored. Every single phone call, email, or text message that Javin sent or received would be intercepted by the authorities and fall into the hands of the MSS. So Javin and everyone on his team used burner phones to reduce their chances of being under constant surveillance.

  When he found what he was looking for, the Canadian agent took another step closer to Han. “Listen to this one. I think it’s one of the best songs I’ve ever heard. What do you think?”

  Javin tapped the screen and a boy’s voice began to sing a sweet lullaby. He was high-pitched and a bit off tune, but nothing that couldn’t be improved with a little bit of training. “He’s adorable, isn’t he?” Javin turned the phone toward Han.

  The hacker jumped to his feet, fists clenched and fire in his eyes. “If you touch my son—”

  “Sit down, right now. Sit!”

  Han remained standing.

  Javin fired a round that zipped over Han’s head.

  He ducked and held his left ear. The gunfire noise had almost burst his eardrum.

  Javin said, “Don’t ever think I’m kidding, and don’t force my hand. I don’t want to kill you, but I’ll do it, if you press me. You got that?”

  Han nodded, although the fire burned
wildly in his eyes.

  “Good, now, let’s enjoy the song, shall we?”

  Han shook his head. “No, turn it off, turn it off.”

  Javin turned up the volume. “I want you to hear it, in case you pick the wrong option, and this is the last time you ever hear your son’s voice…”

  Han shook his head again. He looked away, then cursed under his breath, but Javin was able to hear him. He wanted to tell Han that it was not over, and that everything would be all right. But that would be a lie. Even if the hacker was unharmed by the MSS and was able to complete his assignment without a glitch, the man Javin’s team was targeting was perhaps even worse than the security agency. They had political masters, standard protocols, and procedures in place to protect against personal vendettas. But the millionaire artifact collector had no conscience, no morals, and tons of money to have his wishes carried out even beyond the grave. If word got out about what Han was doing, he would be finished, along with his family.

  And word always got out…

  The song ended with a wave of applause. Javin studied Han’s face twisted into a dark scowl. He had not said a word yet. It’s hard to make a decision, I know. Javin sighed and slid his thumb across the screen. “Should I play another song?”

  “No, no, just turn it off.”

  Javin nodded. He had no other song of Han’s seven-year-old son. “What option are you taking?”

  Han looked at Javin and cocked his head. “Which one do you think?”

  “I’ve seen people do stupid things. Let’s hear it.”

  “The obvious one. Option three.” Han gestured with his right hand, in case Javin should misunderstand his words.

  “You made the right choice.” Javin nodded, and his voice rang without any scorn.

  “What do you want?”

  “We’ll explain that soon. Once my team arrives.”

  “Your team?”

  “Yes, Claudia, Zhang, and others.”

  “I don’t want to see him.”

  “He wants to see you.”

  Han shook his head. “You don’t understand. Zhang and I … there’s bad blood between the two of us.”