by Rob Jones
Scarlet shrugged. “Another day, another dollar.”
“You think you can handle this?” McShain asked.
“Pretty sure,” Hawke said. “But we’re going to need more help so I’m going to make a call.”
“And what about you?” McShain said, facing Scarlet.
She sighed. “Don’t ask me. I’m still dazed by Joe Hawke using the word phenomenon.”
CHAPTER SIX
The Blue Orchid was a luxury nightclub buried in the heart of Hong Kong’s entertainment district on the east end of Pottinger Street. It was on the same island as Lao’s office, so it was just a short ride in a cab through a few blocks of the financial district and they were there, but halfway into their journey Hawke received a text message.
It was from Ryan Bale. He said that he and Sophie Durand had been briefed by Sir Richard Eden and instructed to join him immediately. They were already in Hong Kong and wanted to meet in a bar before they spoke with Victor Li at the Blue Orchid.
Hawke and Scarlet emerged from the cab into a warm subtropical afternoon, the air buzzing with the sounds of a busy city and traffic pollution rising into clouds that hung gray and heavy above the dense skyline.
The bar was busy but there was no sign of Ryan or Sophie yet. Hawke ordered two whiskies and he and Scarlet took a table by the window overlooking the street outside.
“Just like old times,” Scarlet said.
“How do you mean?”
She shrugged her shoulders and took some of the Scotch. “Don’t you remember Karachi?”
Hawke nodded. Yes, he remembered Karachi. Hart and the rest of the top brass had flown the ultra elite subsection of his unit into Pakistan where they were to meet with local liaison before entering Afghanistan and neutralizing a terrorists’ compound in the Tora Bora region.
“Back when you were in the SAS?” Hawke asked.
Scarlet smiled and downed her drink. “The good old days.”
“And now you’re part of the SIS. A very different life I’d imagine.”
She nodded but said nothing. Hawke had known she was lying about being in the Secret Intelligence Service ever since Agent Nightingale had told him so. His former CIA contact had once saved his life and he trusted her a lot more than he would trust Cairo Sloane, and that was for sure.
But all Nightingale had told him was that Scarlet had never been part of MI5, and this cute little bombshell was the full extent of his knowledge about her. He knew she was lying, and he knew she was working for a powerful agency, but who exactly was still a mystery.
The same went for Sophie Durand, the French spy currently shacked up with Ryan Bale in the world’s most unlikely relationship. She too had told him she was attached to the DGSE, the French Secret Service. They had first met when they were searching an apartment in Geneva. Her backstory also turned out to be a web of lies, busted once again by the enigmatic Nightingale. Hawke wondered if she had told Ryan the truth about her background since they had been seeing each other. He doubted it.
“So why did you leave the SAS, Cairo?”
She ran her finger around the edge of the glass. Black nail varnish, smooth white hands, beautiful but lethal.
“Some things are better left unsaid, Joe. You know that.”
“But...”
Before he could finish his question, he heard a familiar voice call his name. It was Ryan Bale, now walking across the lobby and stepping into the busy bar. He was wearing a Batman t-shirt under a denim jacket and black jeans. He still hadn’t combed his lanky hair. Sophie was wearing blue jeans and a simple black shirt. Her hair was up.
“These are your friends?” Lexi asked, eyeing them suspiciously.
Hawke nodded. “Ryan saved my life once. I never forget something like that.”
They approached the table and smiled.
Scarlet smiled at Ryan. “Another two whiskies please, waiter.”
“Very funny,” said Ryan.
“No, I’m serious,” she said. “Go and get more drinks, boy. We have a serious job to do and I won’t work on an empty stomach.”
Ryan sighed and went to the bar with Sophie. They returned moments later with a bottle of whisky and five glasses.
Scarlet looked at the bottle and raised an eyebrow. “But what’s everyone else going to drink?”
They took a few minutes to catch up. It turned out that Ryan and Sophie had spent the last two weeks together at her place in the south of France in the hills just outside of Marseille. Apparently Lea Donovan wasn’t the only woman capable of falling in love with the world’s most annoying nerd, Hawke thought.
They talked about Lea’s disappearance, and how it was linking up to everything else, but the thought she might have been harmed, or worse, depressed them and they were silent for a long time, each staring into their glasses. If they were thinking the same thing as Hawke then they were wondering if she was still alive.
Ryan nodded his head and sipped his drink. “Then let’s get her back,” was all he said.
Hawke, Scarlet and Lexi then gave Ryan and Sophie a longer briefing about the last few hours in Hong Kong, and what they had learned about the murder of Felix Hoffmann and his links to the theft of the Xi Shi portrait and the disappearance of the secret Tesla machine.
Ryan’s eyes widened like saucers. “This is unreal!”
“Sounds like something from a disaster movie,” Sophie said, stunned as Hawke finished describing the potential of the device.
“Hardly,” Ryan said. “The US Government has been working on controlling the environment for decades, whether it’s tsunamis, floods, rain levels or even earthquakes, like in this example.”
“Here we go again...” Scarlet rolled her eyes and started searching her pockets for a cigarette.
Ryan ignored her and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Cloud seeding as a form of weather modification has been around a long time. They fire silver iodide into the cloud and this induces precipitation.” He turned to Scarlet and spoke very slowly. “That means it makes it rain.”
“I know what it means, boy. If you’re going to bore us to death then at least make it fast.”
Ryan was undeterred and sipped hurriedly at the Scotch before continuing. “The American Government’s HAARP facility in Alaska is one of the classic conspiracy theories.”
“HAARP?” Lexi asked.
“High-Frequency Active Auroral Research,” Ryan said.
“Oh, sure,” she said. “I know that one.”
Ryan continued. “It’s built of a massive number of antennas that are there ostensibly to research the ionosphere but theorists have blamed it for just about every disaster from earthquakes to exploding space shuttles.”
“Interesting,” Scarlet said. “And when you say theorists you mean those sad little wingnuts who sit in the dark with hats made from tin foil?”
Ryan gave her a sideways glance and continued. “All I’m saying is that the US Government, and others around the world, do have active research programs into altering the natural environment. The Tesla Oscillator is just a very early example of this.”
“Do enlighten us,” Scarlet said, sipping her whisky.
“Tesla invented his oscillator in the eighteen-nineties as a simple way to generate electricity, which at the time was a fairly new idea.”
“And what does this have to do with what we’re doing now?” Lexi said.
“He’ll get there in the end,” Hawke said, noting Lexi’s confusion.
“Like I said, it was used for generating electricity, but in his later life Tesla claimed he had used the machine to create an earthquake in New York. His comments were reported but largely ignored, and when the powers-that-be decided to discredit him and ruin his reputation, the earthquake claim, along with all his other ideas, simply faded away.”
“This is earth-shattering news, boy” Scarlet said.
“Yes, well... ah – very funny,” Ryan said. “But seriously...”
“A great album,�
� Hawke said, but urged Ryan to continue when confronted with so many blank expressions all at once.
“The thing is, the original Tesla machine that he claimed had caused the 1898 earthquake was actually very small, only seven inches long and weighing just a pound or two. If this picture is anything to go by,” he said, pointing at the size of the crate being loaded into the helicopter on the ambushed vessel, “this new device is tens of times bigger and would cause an earthquake big enough to destroy an entire city no problem at all.”
“And that,” Hawke said, downing his drink, “is probably the best news we’re going to get all day. Let’s go.”
*
Less than half an hour later they emerged from the bar and walked down Pottinger Street towards the nightclub. Halfway down on the right Hawke was the first to see the sign – a neon blue orchid, bright in the late dusk.
Groups of well-dressed people were already congregating outside the club on the sidewalk, pulling money from their wallets and purses and checking their hairdos.
Hawke surveyed the crowd. “This is the place.”
“More up-market than I was expecting,” Sophie said.
“My boss has good intel sources,” said Lexi. “If he says this is where we’ll find Li, then this is where we’ll find him.”
Inside was a plush entrance hall with stairs leading down to a luxury cocktail lounge and dance floor, behind which was a small door leading through to a smaller part of the club.
Hawke studied the busy club suspiciously. All they had to go on was the grainy picture of Victor Li that Jason Lao and McShain had given them back at the office, but already he was certain his man wasn’t in the main area.
“I think our man must be hiding through there,” Hawke said.
Scarlet nodded. “So let’s go in and find out.”
In the corner on a sumptuous semi-circular bench seat of white leather was a small crowd of people gathered around a central figure. He was dressed in black and regaling everyone with a lengthy tale, a Champagne flute in his hand.
Hawke recognized the man at once from the photo Jason Lao had given him and he felt the old buzz that used to come so often when he was on the verge of accomplishing a mission. Like a hawk swooping for the kill, he wasted no time in weaving through the busy nightclub on his way to Victor Li’s table.
The music was intense and the smell of expensive perfume and flavored vodka filled the room as Hawke neared his target. Lights flashed, and a glitterball sent sparkling flashes of silver all over the men and women dancing in the club. A place like this only made sense if you were pretty drunk, he thought, remembering his own turbulent youth back in London.
As they reached the dais with the private tables, two men roughly the size of walk-in wardrobes closed the pathway and raised their hands.
“That’s far enough,” one of them said.
“This is a private area, so go back,” said the other.
Scarlet fronted up to the first man. “I’ll kick you in your private area if you don’t let us past.”
Both men laughed. “I must weigh three times what you do, woman. How are you going to get past me?”
Hawke whistled and shook his head.
In a flash, Scarlet delivered her promise, and threw in a free Krav Maga inside chop on his collar bone for good measure. He collapsed in a heap on the floor with his hands all over his balls and screaming like a baby.
Scarlet sniffed. “That’s how.”
The other guy raised his hands and smiled. “Be my guest...”
Lexi and Sophie covered the second bouncer while Hawke, Scarlet and Ryan stepped up to Li.
“Victor Li?”
The man looked from his crippled bodyguard over to the strangers in front of him with nervous eyes. “Yeah, who’s asking?”
Hawke said no more, but smashed the Champagne glass out of his hand and grabbed him by the throat. Li panicked and went red, and the women around the table screamed and scattered.
“Who stole the Xi Shi portrait?” Hawke asked, his hand tightening around Li’s throat.
“Please, I can give you money. My employer has more money than you could ever dream of spending. Please, let go of my throat and I’ll give you all you want.”
“Do I look like the kind of man who would fly from London to Hong Kong to rob a little scrote like you for money?”
No response.
Hawke shook him violently. “Well?”
“I guess not...” the man whispered.
“One more time and then I’ll squeeze your throat until you pass out. When you wake up you’ll wish you were dead. Who stole the Xi Shi portrait?”
“Okay, okay...please, just let me breathe.” As he spoke, and his concentration was focused on Hawke, Scarlet reached inside his jacket and surreptitiously got his iPhone and passed it to Ryan who uploaded something onto it. Thirty seconds later it was back in Li’s pocket.
“A name, now.”
A look of surrender appeared in Victor Li’s red, bulging eyes. His remaining bodyguard looked on in silent horror as Sophie pushed a concealed pistol into his stomach and Lexi traced her fingers up his neck at the same time.
Li spoke quickly. “His name is Johnny Chan.”
“Johnny Chan?”
Li nodded. “I swear it. He’s the best thief in Hong Kong.”
“Is he really?” Scarlet said.
“But he doesn’t like it if you call him that. He calls himself a cat burglar.”
“How the hell would you burgle a cat?” Ryan said. “Sounds like it might be illegal.”
Scarlet turned and faced Ryan. “I told you never try to be funny.”
“Sorry.”
“Thanks for that image, Ryan,” Hawke said. He returned his attention to Li.
“And where can I find this Johnny Chan, famed burglar of cats?”
“You can make jokes now,” Li said, his voice hoarse with the effort of speaking through Hawke’s iron-grip, “but you mess with a man like Johnny Chan and you end up in Kowloon Bay.”
Hawke tightened his grip and pushed his knee down on Li’s stomach, compressing his diaphragm. “Listen, I don’t give a damn about Johnny Chan and Kowloon Bay. All I care about is finding the portrait he stole and fast because it’s going to help me find someone I care about a great deal. Sadly, I do not care about you and I will hurt you if you do not help me. Where can I find Chan?”
“If you have a death wish that’s your business,” Li said. “But you won’t find him in Hong Kong. He took the portrait out of the city as soon as he stole it.”
“Where did he go?”
“Shanghai.”
Scarlet sighed. “Great. One of the biggest cities in the world.”
Hawke tightened his grip. “That’s no problem, is it Victor?”
“Why not?”
“Because you’re going to tell me how to find him in Shanghai.” Hawke pushed down with his knee until Victor’s eyes were about to pop out like Champagne corks.
“I’ll give you what you need,” Li said.
Hawke grinned. “I thought you might.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Dragon Island, East China Sea
The man known only as Mr Luk watched the distant sea crash against the rocks of Dragon Island. Somewhere above him, high in the subtropical canopies, was his master’s house. From there the view stretched three hundred and sixty degrees, from Hangzhou Bay in the west and the East China Sea in the east.
But down here, on the docking platform, things were less salubrious.
Luk fixed the motorboat to the mooring post and told two guards to take the prisoner into the boatshed. Normally he would take his work into the master’s basement where the slaves waited in terrified silence, but on this occasion time was short and the boss had told him to make it fast.
Luk knew why the man had to die. He was a criminal investigator in the Special Branch of the Shanghai Municipal Police. Such a man would be feared by most, but in this case Luk knew this dynamic would
be very much reversed. The inspector knew only too well who had kidnapped him from his apartment in Nanhui. He had already begged for his life very convincingly.
All of this meant nothing to Luk. He couldn’t feel emotions. Some had called him a robot, but never to his face. He thought of himself simply as pure and neutral. Whatever he was, his master appreciated it and he was paid very well for his unique talents.
They dragged the inspector into the boatshed. His screams were muffled by the oily rag they had stuffed into his mouth when they piled him into the hull of the boat. The men tied him to an old engine block while Luk half-closed the door, but not completely. He liked to watch the Nankeen night herons flying in and out of the Xixi wetland park. They offered him solace in a brutal world.
Then Luk lit the portable paraffin blow lamp.
Yes, the fools had failed in the West, but that was in the past. Now the quest had been passed to him things would be different. He would not make the same mistakes as the others had. His master’s desire would bring the sort of savage reforms to the global system that it so badly needed.
Problems like the inspector simply had to go away.
He ordered one of the men to remove the rag, and the inspector gasped for breath. His desperate, babbled pleas for mercy were silenced by a casual wave from Luk’s index finger.
“Tell me all about Jason Lao,” Luk said quietly, as if he were asking an old friend about a mutual acquaintance.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the inspector said. “Please, my wife is pregnant! Please don’t kill me.”
“Shhh, inspector. You will disturb the herons.”
“All I can tell you is Jason Lao contacted the SMP from his base in Hong Kong and I was ordered to put a tail on you. That is all. They didn’t tell me why I was to follow you.”
Luk smiled gently and stroked the inspector’s sweat-soaked face. “That was very rude of them, and very unfortunate for you.”
