Ghost Sniper

by Scott McEwen

  “It appears the woman might be in danger as well,” Chao said. “Send the suspect’s photo to the Ministry of State in Beijing immediately. They can scan it with facial recognition software to learn if he’s in the database.”

  The investigator snapped his fingers, signaling for one of his men to take care of it at once.

  Two more police officers appeared. “These tourism brochures were found in their hotel room.”

  Chao looked the brochures over. “They were planning to visit the Zhangjiajie Forest.”

  Another officer stepped into the doorway appearing slightly winded, as if he had been running. “The suspect was just spotted fleeing south in a black Land Rover. One of our men is in pursuit.”

  Chao and the investigator shouldered past him out the door and ran across the lobby toward the exit.

  “Be sure he’s taken alive!” Chao repeated as they jumped into a waiting police car in front of the hotel. “I don’t care how many of your men he kills—I want him alive!”

  “We’ll do our best,” promised the investigator.

  Chao knew that catching an American CIA agent alive in the middle of Hunan Province would be a lot like catching a unicorn, only better, because it would guarantee him a promotion to the Beijing office.

  The investigator got on the radio, making it clear to his men that the suspect was not to be killed under any circumstances.

  Chao sat in the backseat as they raced through the streets of Zhangjiajie in a wild attempt to join the chase. Excited reports were now coming over the radio saying the suspect in the Land Rover was driving like a lunatic, and that so far he had already taken out three police cars by ramming them off the street.

  “Drive faster!” Chao shouted. “I want to be there when he’s caught!”

  THE LAND ROVER was battered, but it was built like a tank compared with the Chinese-made Chery QQ patrol cars chasing after it.

  “Break it in the way you’re gonna drive it!” Gil snarled, ramming the tiny police car out of his way as it tried to get alongside him. The police car jumped the curb and crashed into the corner of a building. “Three down, half a million to go.”

  He was disoriented now because of the chase, listening in frustration as the GPS system tried bringing him back on course for the city of Chongqing. He and Lena had never made it to the Dragon Wall. The local police had responded far more quickly than he’d planned for, giving him serious doubts about his escape plan.

  Maybe burning three men alive in an elevator had been a little overkill.

  “Well, go big or go home,” he muttered, cutting the wheel and gunning it around a corner to bring himself back onto the proper heading. He didn’t think it would be much longer before the police started shooting at him. Their fuel-efficient little cars couldn’t keep up with the Land Rover, and they were just no match in a ramming contest.

  He felt sorry for the person Nahn had stolen the Rover from, because the truck wouldn’t be fit to use for a garbage can by the time he was finished with it.

  CHAO WAS ON the phone calling for a roadblock to be set up on the far side of the Lishui River. “If he’s stupid enough to try for Chongqing, we’ll trap him on the bridge!” he said excitedly, tossing aside the phone. “Do your men understand he’s to be taken alive?”

  The investigator was getting tired of the government man’s incessant hounding. “They understand very well. There’s no need to continue pestering me about it.”

  Chao took immediate umbrage as they flew past a disabled police car that had crashed into the back of a city bus. “Do you realize how important this is? If this man is CIA—”

  “I understand very well!” the investigator barked over the back of the seat. “And he’ll be taken alive. So relax and let us do our jobs!”

  The driver cut the wheel so sharply that Chao had to grab the handhold over the door to keep from being thrown across the seat. The radio was alive with a cacophony of excited calls requesting additional units. They were trying to box in the suspect, but there were never enough cars because the American was picking them off one at a time.

  Someone called out asking for permission to open fire on the tires.

  “No shooting!” Chao shouted. “Tell them no shooting!”

  The investigator grabbed the radio, ordering no shooting under any circumstance.

  “He’s definitely headed for Chongqing,” the driver remarked. “There’s no other place for him to go from here. It’s the bridge or nowhere.”

  Chao sneered. “We have him. He’ll never make it off the bridge.”

  GIL ANSWERED HIS phone, knowing it would be Nahn. “Whattaya got?”

  “You’d better hurry!” Nahn said. “They’re blocking the far side of the bridge.”

  “They sure got their shit together in a hurry!” Gil checked the mirror to see that he’d picked up another cop car. There was steam coming from beneath his hood now, and there was a bad shimmy in the front right. “Have your people gotten Lena to the airport?”

  “She’ll be on the ground in Taiwan in six hours.”

  “Excellent.” Gil jerked the wheel to ram the lone police car out of the way. “How’s the fog on the bridge?”

  “Thick but passable.”

  Gil saw the pillars of the Lishui River Bridge drawing into view over the hill. “See you in a bit.”

  He tossed the phone out the window and jammed the pedal to floor, speeding up the grade to the bridge approach. As the suspension bridge came fully into view, he glanced up at the mirror to see five police cars in hot pursuit, finally enough of them to box him in. He saw brake lights in the fog on the bridge and realized traffic was coming to a stop because of the roadblock at the far end.

  “Not a good sign,” he muttered, cutting onto the safety median and racing past the slowing cars. The police cut onto the median right behind him, lining up to follow in echelon along the four-foot-high guardrail.

  Out of the fog appeared a flatbed tow truck with its ramp down, its yellow lights flashing atop the cab. “This is gonna taste like shit!” Gil locked up the brakes, skidding out of control up the ramp.

  CHAO LEANED FORWARD in the backseat of the fourth police car in the line, watching in triumph as the battered black Land Rover slid cockeyed up the tow truck’s ramp to slam into the back of the cab. He let out with a cheer, but sucked it back in as the Land Rover caromed off the cab and careened over the guardrail.

  “No!” he shouted, watching the Land Rover tumble off the bridge and disappear into the fog. “No, no, no!” He banged his fists on the seat like a child throwing a tantrum, all hopes of securing a Beijing post lost forever.

  The investigator smiled in the front seat, Chao’s livid outburst music to his ears.

  47

  LANGLEY, VIRGINIA

  09:30 HOURS

  Forty-eight hours after the Land Rover impacted the surface of the Lishui River, Director of the CIA Robert Pope discovered that the Chinese Ministry of State had learned Gil’s true identity through facial recognition and was in the process of searching the river for his body. Deep river currents had washed the Rover more than a half mile downstream before it was located, and by the time Chinese authorities fished it from the drink, all of the windows had long been broken out of it.

  Pope sat before his computer, staring at the screen for a long time. At length, he took off his glasses and then sat looking out the window. It would be his responsibility to break the news to Marie Shannon. The poor woman had been through so much already, and now her ultimate nightmare had become a reality.

  He rocked back in the chair, lacing his fingers behind his head.

  So far the Chinese were not telling the outside world that they had identified an American CIA agent operating within their borders, and Pope doubted very seriously they ever would. There were too many reasons to keep it secret, and almost nothing to gain by making it
public. This meant he could take his time about telling the White House. Had Gil been captured alive, the political situation would have been much different, so the colder, more calculating part of Pope’s persona took solace in the fact Gil had not been captured, and he hoped that his body would not be found, though he was certain the Chinese would make every effort.

  There had been some initial confusion in Beijing as to what had happened to Lena Deiss, but the Ministry of State quickly tracked her to Taiwan, where she was now outside its reach. Pope briefly considered sending an agent to intercept her there, but something told him to let the sleeping dog lie for now. If Gil’s body was found, and the Chinese decided to make a public stink about it, there would be time enough for looking into Lena Deiss.

  Pope’s most immediate responsibility was to Gil’s widow.

  He got up from the chair and went to find Midori in her office, where she sat collating intelligence files on their developing Saudi operations.

  “Gil’s dead,” he said quietly. “I’m going to Montana to tell his wife. I’ll be back in twelve hours.”

  Midori stared at him.

  “He crashed off a bridge in Hunan Province,” he went on. “They’re still searching the river for his body.”

  “My God,” she croaked. “What happened? I mean . . . how?”

  He shrugged. “It looks like he set some Russians on fire in a hotel. I don’t know what he was thinking. Anyhow, the police caught up to him before he could get away this time.”

  “Fire? What about Lena Deiss?”

  “She made it to Taiwan.”

  “Are we going after her?” Midori paid close attention to the drift of his gaze as he pondered his response.

  After a few moments, Pope answered, “No. We’ve got enough to focus on.”

  “What about Blickensderfer? If Gil’s dead, are we going to resume the operation?”

  “Keep him under surveillance for now. I’ll decide about him later.” He returned to his office and called the airfield, ordering his Gulfstream G650 jet prepped for immediate takeoff.

  48

  GALLITAN COUNTY, MONTANA

  14:05 HOURS

  Marie Shannon was in the stable with her horses when she heard the rotors of the incoming helicopter echoing off the frozen foothills surrounding the ranch. The winter air was cold and crisp, so there was a sharpness to the sound that caused the hair to rise on the back of her neck. Her 120-pound Chesapeake Bay retriever, Oso Cazador (Bear Hunter), came trotting into the stable to stand protectively at her side, growling low in his throat. Helicopters had come to the ranch before, and they had always been harbingers of trouble.

  Marie went to the door, her heart hammering in her chest as she watched across the ranch. A US Air Force Black Hawk helicopter was coming in low out of the east, a giant sky-blue dragonfly sweeping up contrails of snow along its approach. It set down a hundred yards from the stable, and as its door slid open, Marie prayed against heaven and earth for Gil to appear.

  When a tall man with white hair stepped out of the aircraft, her eyes flooded with tears, and she sank into a crouch, hugging the dog tightly to her. “Daddy’s dead,” she whispered hoarsely.

  Marie forced herself back to her feet, wiping away the tears as she stood in her maroon Carhartt and watched the man trudging toward her through the knee-deep snow, holding up the wide collars of his overcoat against the blowing cold.

  By the time he arrived at the stable, he looked chilled to the bone. “Mrs. Shannon, how do you do? I’m—”

  “Bob Pope,” she said, her brown eyes penetrating. “There’s no one else you could be.”

  He nodded sadly. “Yes. Yes, I am. I apologize for arriving unannounced like this. I’m afraid I bring bad news that I couldn’t imagine sharing with you over the telephone.”

  She steeled herself. “Where was he killed—or can’t you tell me?”

  “China,” he said quietly. “I don’t have all of the details, but I’m willing to share what little I know.”

  She swallowed the egg-size lump that had formed in her throat. “What was he doing in China?”

  “The truth is, I’m not sure. I didn’t send him.” Pope had not yet worked out whether to mention Lena Deiss. “He said something about BASE jumping from a popular mountain in Hunan Province.”

  She crossed her arms, her eyes remaining steady. “Mr. Pope, please don’t expect me to believe that my husband was killed in a BASE jump.”

  “No,” he said. “That’s not what happened. I’m not sure he ever made it to the mountain, to be honest.”

  Marie had lived on the ranch all her life, and she was accustomed to the harsh Montana winters, but she felt suddenly cold. “We’ll go inside,” she said softly. “I can see you’re freezing.”

  “Yes,” he said with a kind smile, his boyish blue eyes grateful. “I am.”

  Pope followed behind her and the dog as they crossed the ranch to the new house, rebuilt the year before, after Muslim terrorists had burned it to the ground.

  Inside, the house was quite warm. A fire blazed in the fireplace, and the smell of an apple pie baking in the oven pervaded. Marie’s mother, her long gray hair in a thick horsewoman’s braid like her daughter’s, stood in the kitchen doorway wiping her hands on a towel. She met Marie’s forlorn gaze and realized that her son-in-law was dead. Lowering her eyes, she turned back into the kitchen.

  “Make yourself comfortable,” Marie said, taking off her coat.

  Oso trotted into the kitchen to see what kind of food he could score from Grandma, who spoiled him rotten.

  “Thank you,” he said, taking a chair near the fire.

  “Does your flight crew need some coffee brought out?”

  What a fine woman this is, Pope thought to himself. What was Gil thinking, running off with the likes of Lena Deiss? “No,” he said. “They’re fine. The helo is warm enough, and I believe they brought a thermos, actually.”

  “Okay.” She settled into the rocking chair opposite the CIA director. “I’d like to know what happened, please. Every detail.”

  Again, Pope felt the stab of Lena Deiss. “I’m afraid I’m very short on details. I don’t know how much Gil might have told you, but during his last mission for me, he took it upon himself to rescue a dozen or so young Russian women who’d been sold into prostitution. He killed quite a few members of the Russian mob in the process, and they put a price on his head. Judging from the intelligence I’ve gathered so far, it appears he ran afoul of three Russians during his trip to China and ended up killing them. There was a police chase, and Gil’s truck crashed off a very high bridge into a deep river. I’ve been keeping tabs on the situation, and it appears his body was found just a few hours ago.”

  Tears spilled down her cheeks. “Will they send him home?”

  “I can almost guarantee they will not,” he said. “I don’t expect China to admit that Gil was in the country. He was traveling on a Canadian passport under another name, and for this reason, they have assumed, incorrectly, that he was there to carry out a mission for the CIA. For the Chinese to admit the CIA is carrying out operations so deep inside of their country would be embarrassing to Beijing. It could also complicate the trade negotiations now taking place between China and the US. As you probably know, China is accustomed to getting the better end of most trade deals, and they’re not likely to risk the status quo over an incident such as this. Had Gil been captured alive, things would be very different, but that’s not the case.”

  “Luckily for the CIA,” Marie said, not kindly.

  “For the CIA, yes,” Pope admitted. “For me personally, much less so. Gil was my friend, as was his father, and I hold myself partially responsible for what’s happened. I’ve kept him extremely busy these past couple of years. I pushed him too hard, and I think he lost himself—lost track of what was most important to him. My apology doesn’
t even begin to make up for that.”

  Marie ignored the apology. It was useless to her. “So that’s it. No funeral at Arlington. No recognition. Nothing. He’s just gone.”

  “I’ll tell the president when the moment is right. After that, I’m sure there will be a private ceremony at Arlington if you’d like to have one.”

  “For what? To bury an empty box? To be given a goddamn flag in exchange for my husband?”

  “Only if you desire it,” he said quietly.

  “I certainly don’t desire it!”

  “I misunderstood. I’m sorry.”

  Her tone turned accusatory. “I sometimes see drones over my ranch,” she said sharply. “I assume that’s to keep an eye on my mother and me?”

  “That’s been done at Gil’s personal request, yes.”

  “Well, he’s dead. So will the spying continue?”

  “I think once his death is made public—perhaps in a few months—any danger to you will pass.”

  “Then I should expect to see your drones until then?”

  “I can order them to fly higher, if you like. You won’t see them.”

  “I would appreciate that.”

  “Consider it done.”

  She drew a breath, unsure if she truly wanted to ask the question that had been haunting her for months. “Can you tell me if he was seeing anyone?”

  Pope did not hesitate. “To my knowledge, Gil was still very much in love with you. I have no knowledge of him spending time with any other women.”

  She nodded, wiping her nose with a tissue. “Is there anything else I need to know?”

  “I don’t believe so, but I’d like to leave you my card. I’ll remain at your service for as long as I’m with the CIA.”

  She felt her anger spike but conquered the urge to tell Pope just how much she despised him and the CIA. “That’s very kind of you,” she said carefully. “Thank you.”