Darkness Under Heaven

by F. J. Chase

  “It’s nondescript all right,” he said. The car was a beige Xiali Vela, a compact four-door Toyota licensed copy. He double-parked beside it and killed the headlights. The Vela alarm gave a little chirp.

  “Should we look for something else?” she asked.

  “Not a problem,” said Avakian. He was examining one of the cops’ pistols, a Type 92 9mm. Which looked like a close but much cheaper and unlicensed copy of the German Heckler & Koch USP. Except for the communist star on the grips. Double action, 15-round magazine. A little too big to be easily concealed in the belt. Maybe he could rig something with one of the holsters. He checked the chamber. There was a round in it. “Hop behind the wheel and be ready to get us out of here if anything goes wrong.”

  He exited without slamming his door, carrying the pistol, three tools and a flashlight. Ducking underneath the car without touching the body, he easily located the Achilles’ heel of car alarms—the power wire leading away from the battery. And yanked it out. Not that anyone in the world paid any attention to a car alarm, but now he could work in peace.

  While he was down there he checked for a magnetic key box. Someone who was anal about an alarm usually stashed a spare key. No luck. It would have to be the hard way.

  A screwdriver jammed in between the driver’s window and the weather-stripping opened up a gap. Into which went a thin but stiff metal rod that he’d given a hook on one end and strategically kinked with a pair of pliers. He got it in behind the door lock lever and pushed to open. Now that he was inside, he twisted the metal shaft of the auto body dent puller to jam the pulling screw into the ignition keyhole, nice and tight. The weighted slide hammer that rode on the shaft looked like a barbell. Getting a good grip, he pushed the hammer forward on the shaft and yanked it back against the handle. One bang, two bangs, and on the third the ignition popped out like a wine cork. He inserted his screwdriver into the hole and started the engine. He leaned out the window and called over to the van. “Follow me. We’ll be driving for a while.”

  Avakian turned back on the 4th Ring Road and headed south, then west, joining the steady flow of trucks and vans off to make early-morning deliveries. He kept his speed down and didn’t change lanes, though that really didn’t matter. There would be no losing Judy. That van couldn’t have been locked onto his bumper any tighter if he were towing it.

  Crossing the breadth of Beijing he finally turned north and finally exited near Beijing Polytechnic University. But not on campus. Always feared as hotbeds of potential unrest, Chinese universities were ringed with cameras and surveillance. He parked on the street for the same reason, not wanting to take a chance on any store or parking lot surveillance cameras.

  Judy tucked the van into the space he’d left behind. He popped the trunk open and they quickly transferred the four big gas cans and the cases of bottled water from the van. The bags of food and clothes went into the back seat of the car. And the one toolbox with the remaining bombs on the floorboard between the front and back seats.

  Avakian had filled an empty water bottle with gasoline, and in the back of the van inserted one of the extra flashbulb initiators into the neck just above the liquid. Screwing the cap on over the wires kept the bulb suspended there. Leaving the bottle upright in the back of the van, he set the timer for thirty minutes.

  “I’m not going to tell you that drive was the scariest part of the night,” Judy said as he got back on the Ring Road and continued north. “But it wasn’t all that great not knowing how far we were going to go.”

  “If we dumped the van anywhere near where we stole the car it wouldn’t be hard to put two and two together,” he replied.

  Dawn was breaking over Beijing. First a sooty gray through the haze and dust, then the sun announced its presence with a rich, angry red pollution-assisted sky.

  “Sailor take warning,” said Judy, reading his mind. “Where are we headed?”

  “Back indoors,” said Avakian.

  13

  Commissioner Zhou was trying to make time for a very late lunch at his desk. His morning had been consumed by two missing police officers, their vehicle discovered in an alley. But no trace of the men at all. And that was what had attracted his interest. Officers had been killed by criminals before. They had deserted and joined criminal gangs. But they had never simply disappeared, leaving their vehicle behind but otherwise untouched. A thorough search of the area had uncovered nothing.

  He had just begun tucking into his noodles when Inspector Cheng dashed into the office without either a knock or a word of apology.

  “We have found him!”

  Commissioner Zhou set down his chopsticks, preparing himself for the information to be incorrect, as it had been before. The hunger for recognition had led two of his inspectors to be overly hasty, to their subsequent regret. “Where?”

  “Chongwai. An apartment near the New World Plaza.”

  Directly in the area predicted by the pattern of Avakian’s movements. And not more than two kilometers from his office. Commissioner Zhou almost laughed at the effrontery of the man. “And the details?”

  “The apartment is rented by a Mark Strauss.”

  Inspector Cheng had a great deal of trouble pronouncing the name, and the commissioner did not correct him. “The one employed by the World Bank.” Commissioner Zhou always relied on a mastery of detail to impress his superiors and keep his subordinates vigilant. He had examined Avakian’s dossier many times.

  “Yes, Comrade Commissioner. In the search area you determined.”

  “You may appeal to my vanity when time is less pressing. I now require the details of how he was found.”

  “Inspector He’s team was checking the address and made inquiries with the manager before proceeding to the apartment. This Mark Strauss is out of the country, but the apartment is occupied. There were complaints from other residents about noise at night. The manager assumed that the occupants were guests of the tenant.”

  “Did the manager go to the apartment?”

  “No. Inspector He felt the manager was afraid of a confrontation with a strange foreigner.”

  “What is Inspector He’s status?”

  “Awaiting orders.”

  “Did he radio the information?” This would have been a grave error, and contrary to his specific orders. Other agencies also monitored the police radio nets.

  “No, Comrade Commissioner. He attempted to call your cell phone but only reached the voice mail. He then called me.”

  Commissioner Zhou angrily snapped open his phone. It must have occurred during his last call. He punched in Inspector He’s number. “He? What is your situation? Have you approached the apartment? Good. Do not. That is correct—do not enter that floor. Seal off the building exits and do not alert the residents. Keep the manager under your control. No, no evacuation of residents. It is imperative that we not warn him in any way, so do not display your weapons. By phone, notify the rest of your team and have them join you at once. I will also send additional forces to you, and you will assume tactical command until I arrive. Your orders are to cover all exits and stairs, including the roof and the floor above. Immobilize the elevators but take no action unless he attempts to leave. Yes, capture is preferable, but do not unduly risk the lives of your team. Accept no orders from anyone else without contacting me first. Communicate by radio only within your team. No transmissions through the municipal dispatcher. I will arrive there presently. Yes.” He took the phone from his ear and motioned for Inspector Cheng to follow as he went through the door dialing a new number.

  “Alert the Special Force?” Inspector Cheng asked.

  “No, not yet. I want no marked police vehicles, no uniforms, no brandished weapons to attract gawking crowds and attention from other agencies. I must be sure we have him first. And have him contained.”

  “Shall I call in all the teams?”

  “And have two hundred men converge on this apartment building?” Commissioner Zhou said impatiently. “No. I will call i
n two more teams. The others remain at their work.”

  Inspector 2nd Grade He was waiting in the building lobby when they walked in. Unlike most police, who were generally well fed, he was a slight man who almost disappeared inside his civilian clothes. But he had an intensity that gave him natural authority, and his competence had won the loyalty of his investigators.

  Commissioner Zhou only nodded in response to the salute. “Report.”

  “All exits and the roof are under observation, Comrade Commissioner. The apartment is number 707. The majority of our men are in the stairways and on the floors above and below. The residents on those floors have been ordered to remain in their apartments. The elevator cars remain here.” He motioned toward the two open doors.

  “Very good, Inspector,” said Commissioner Zhou. “Now, is the apartment occupied?”

  “We cannot tell, Comrade Commissioner. With your permission we will enter the apartments above and below and attempt to determine this.”

  Commissioner Zhou thought that over. “You have my permission. But He, the apartment above. One man, not an entire team tramping across the floor to alert him that something is amiss.”

  “Yes, Comrade Commissioner. With your permission I will accomplish this task myself.”

  “Proceed.” Commissioner Zhou turned to Inspector Cheng. “By phone, order a small technical support team with listening equipment to this location. No uniforms, and an unmarked car. No sirens.”

  Cheng plucked the phone from his belt. “Yes, Comrade Commissioner.”

  The sound of sirens in the distance, loud enough to be heard through the glass lobby front. More than one, and drawing nearer.

  Commissioner Zhou was furious. “What is this?” he demanded.

  No response from any of the policemen around him. All of whom began making strenuous efforts to avoid catching his eye.

  Several blue police trucks, lights flashing and sirens wailing, pulled up in front of the entrance. And disgorged a company of the Special Force of the Beijing Municipal Public Security Bureau in their dark blue jumpsuits, body armor vests, blue fabric-covered military helmets, and submachine-guns.

  Commissioner Zhou grimly realized that he had an informer within his ranks. Thinking of what he would do when he discovered their identity helped channel some of his anger. He turned to the nearest sergeant with a radio and snapped, “All teams on high alert. Our presence has been revealed.”

  “Yes, Comrade Commissioner!” The sergeant made the announcement.

  The Special Force were led into the building by their commander, a Commissioner 1st Grade named Kuo. The force was nearly a thousand men, so they had a brigade-level commander. And how unusual that he should arrive personally at the scene of such a minor incident that required only a small part of his unit. Outranked, Commissioner Zhou saluted. “Greetings, Comrade Commissioner. What brings you here?”

  “The orders of the Central Military Commission,” came the reply from a familiar voice behind a group of the Special Force, who immediately cleared out of the way. Revealed were Major General Liang and Colonel Shen of State Security.

  All together, Commissioner Zhou observed. For an idle moment he wondered whether they had spent the day assembled in a limousine in order to be ready when one of their spies called. The Central Military Commission was very high and, by comparison, they were very low. And just who had issued any order would be impossible to determine. Intentionally so.

  “Our congratulations on locating the enemy spy so quickly,” said the general.

  Commissioner Zhou’s first instinct was to begin fighting for control of the operation. But seeing Colonel Shen’s happy face changed his mind. They would be more than pleased to saddle him with none of the authority and all of the responsibility. “Thank you, Comrade General. But your praise is perhaps premature. We know only that some person who is not the registered foreign tenant has been using this apartment.”

  “Commissioner Zhou is too modest about his investigative skills,” Colonel Shen replied for the benefit of the rest. “He is aware that the American Avakian is a known associate of the American who rents this apartment.”

  Mocking him with his knowledge, Zhou thought. “Since, as the colonel has stated, my skills are primarily investigative, I feel I must now stand aside in favor of comrades whose skills are more suited to the task at hand.” A formal bow to the Special Force commander, who was perhaps beginning to grasp the power dynamics at work. And looking somewhat uneasy about it. Commissioner Zhou wondered what promises they had made him.

  “You do not wish to remain in operational command?” said Colonel Shen.

  “How can I command the Special Force?” Commissioner Zhou asked rhetorically. He turned to the Special Force commander. “Comrade Commissioner, when your men are in position I will withdraw mine. They are only investigators, after all.”

  “You have not determined how many people are in the apartment?” said Commissioner Kuo.

  “Not yet,” Commissioner Zhou replied.

  “What difference does that make?” the general growled. “When in doubt, attack.”

  Commissioner Zhou was reasonably certain that the only thing the general had ever attacked was many courses of dim sum. “My inspector will meet with your commanders on floor 6 and brief them on the situation,” he told the Special Force commander.

  As the force began filing into the elevators Commissioner Zhou took the radio from his sergeant and ordered Inspector He to meet and brief them on the 6th floor. And then to immediately withdraw all his people down to the lobby.

  Inspector He merely acknowledged the order. But then the radio net crackled with pleas from the two other team leaders to remain in place. Commissioner Zhou curtly repeated his order.

  And then he stepped outside and called the Public Security Minister directly. The minister was in a meeting, but Zhou related the events of the past hour to the minister’s chief administrative aide, stressing that he had turned the scene over to the Special Force.

  The aide, a very experienced and politically influential deputy general commissioner, had one main question. And it was the one Zhou hoped he would ask. “Who exactly ordered the Special Force to the scene?”

  “I do not know,” Zhou replied. “I had intended to confirm that they were actually needed before I requested them.”

  “And they arrived at the same time as General Liang and Colonel Shen?”

  “That is correct.”

  “The minister will be informed,” was all the aide said.

  Doubtless the Special Force commander would have to explain to the public security minister why he had placed himself under the authority of the army and State Security. Pleased with the way that had turned out, Commissioner Zhou returned to the lobby. All his teams were waiting. He kept Inspector He with him, and sent the rest off to continue their original assignments.

  “But Comrade Commissioner,” said one of the other inspectors. “Has the man not been found?”

  “I do not recall asking you if the work had been completed to your full satisfaction,” Commissioner Zhou replied witheringly. “Follow your orders.”

  “My apologies, Comrade Commissioner,” the inspector sputtered out.

  Though angry, Commissioner Zhou knew they would not continue to work diligently without an explanation. “The American may have other associates, perhaps some of them Chinese, and other ties we are not aware of. These we must uncover, or satisfy ourselves and the leadership that they do not exist. Do you understand?” he said.

  “Yes, Comrade Commissioner,” the team leaders replied quickly, the mention of the leadership invoking the fear he had intended.

  “Then carry on,” he ordered.

  They left the lobby very quickly.

  Leading Inspector He off to a private corner, Zhou asked, “Is the apartment occupied?”

  “The television is on, Comrade Commissioner. There was no opportunity to listen for other voices.”

  “Well done, Inspector.
If it were my decision, you would have remained.”

  “Thank you, Comrade Commissioner.”

  “Place your men at ease, and await further orders.”

  Commissioner Zhou felt calmer now that he had protected himself from all sides. No matter what, the credit for locating this place would be his.

  He looked back over his shoulder. The parking lot was filling with spectators. Pickpockets would soon begin working the crowd. An argument would turn into a fight. Uniformed police should be called for. It would be unfortunate if someone had not thought of this.

  “You have stayed to observe?” Colonel Shen inquired.

  “Who knows what I may learn from such experts?” Commissioner Zhou replied.

  A moment later everyone heard the general shout, “Listen at keyholes? Why? For two people, one of them a woman? Ridiculous. Insulting.”

  Commissioner Zhou could imagine the Special Force commander’s frustration. Realizing that tales of his personal timidity would be circulating the corridors of power in short order, he barked orders into his radio.

  Both Chinese face and foreign reluctance to be associated with a unit that might be breaking the heads of dissidents as well as rescuing hostages from terrorists meant that the Special Force did not have direct access to state-of-the-art equipment and tactics. But according to Chinese manufacturing practice they had good but lower-cost copies. They looked like a SWAT team, right down to the blue fatigues and the embroidered white public security crests on their left shoulders. If their kneepads and drop holsters were rougher, and their vests did not look as if they would stop a bullet of any substance, then at least they were Chinese.

  And they did not use explosives or shotguns to breach the apartment door. They used their feet.

  Receiving the signal to go, the breach man reared back and delivered a kung fu kick to the door. Which cracked but did not open. A second kick, and more face lost. At the third, slightly more frantic one, the lock came loose and the door flew open. Though not much surprise remained.