by James Phelan
The touchdown was quick, Kate squeezed Fox’s hand hard as the engines reversed thrust. Five minutes later they were walking down the stairs and standing on the tarmac by the private terminals. It was hot and humid, Fox’s back was instantly wet with sweat.
“Shanghai is seven hours ahead of Paris,” Gammaldi said, adjusting his watch. “It’s now 11.35 pm local time—we left Paris at 1.25; makes it a four-hour, ten-minute flight.”
“Why can’t you be this smart with useful stuff?” Fox joked.
“I want one of those planes,” Gammaldi said as they walked towards a waiting Chevy Suburban. Two Americans were there, an FBI agent and someone from State, along with a Chinese customs agent to issue them visas. Zoe’s took a while longer, but the customs guy seemed eager to get back into the airconditioning
“We’re taking you to the Park Hyatt, Mr Fox,” the FBI agent said, a short, tough-looking woman in her mid-thirties named Sally McKee. “In the Shanghai World Financial Center, it’s where the G20’s taking place.”
“Thanks,” he replied, climbing into the back of the SUV with the others. “Damn, why can’t customs always be that quick?”
Fat drops of rain fell as they left the airport.
“We’ve had downpours like this the last couple of weeks,” the agent said from the passenger seat. “The odd early-morning thunderstorm, too. Humid as hell but at least it clears the air pollution.”
Fox nodded, noting how uneasy Kate looked. He put a hand on her knee, smiled at her.
“You okay?”
She nodded. Tense.
Fox asked, “Is Special Agent Hutchinson meeting us there?”
“I called him as you disembarked,” the agent replied. “He’ll meet y’all at the hotel.”
“How many security personnel have you got here?” Zoe asked.
Agent McKee looked back over her shoulder—giving her the same suspicious look Kate had dished out back at the farmhouse.
“It’s cool,” Fox said. “She’s good people.”
“We’ve got about a dozen FBI agents operating out of the consulate,” the agent replied. “Closer to your hotel, we’ve got the security on the delegates—the President and Sec State are in town.”
“So you have plenty,” Fox said, a little relieved.
“Their entourage is about three hundred Secret Service personnel deep, deployed in the hotel next door and a few nearby locations,” she said. “Add to that another few representatives of the White House Military Office and there’s a carrier group close in on the East China Sea.”
“Cool,” Gammaldi said. They watched the lights of the big sprawling city flash by, driving in silence for a couple of minutes. Fox could see his friend was going to say something stupid. “So, Zoe, you got a boyfriend?”
She cracked a smile.
“I am sorry, Alister,” she said. “Not with all the condoms in the world would I fuck you.”
“Jesus! I was just asking…”
“I am joking, you are a good guy.” Her smile made him blush. “The answer is no. The men in Paris are the same as anywhere: married, gay, or both.”
“Or they’ve gone all metrosexual,” Kate said.
“What is metrosexual?” Zoe asked.
Fox looked over at Gammaldi, bemused by the first friendly exchange between the two women.
“More waxed and preened than we are,” Kate explained.
“Tell me about it! Dieting even.”
“Didn’t know you guys had a monopoly on dieting,” Fox said.
“I think there’s plenty you don’t know about women,” Gammaldi murmured.
“And what, you know everything there is to know about dieting?”
“Don’t try and dodge the issue, buddy,” Gammaldi said, big shit-eating grin on his face. “Your scant knowledge of women.”
“And what, these two know everything there is to know about men?”
“It is a simpler topic,” Zoe said.
Kate laughed; finally the two women had made some kind of connection.
They joked the rest of the way into town, Kate’s good mood only fading after checking her iPhone.
89
WASHINGTON, DC
In Washington they were a half a world away from the action, but it felt like they were in the fire. More military aides had arrived, widening the scope of the intel being mined out of China. McCorkell, with Valerie sitting next to him, had Hutchinson on video con.
“Our friend here still has guys looking for Fox in Paris,” McCorkell said quietly, looking over at Bowden who was now hauling all hands on deck to move to Shanghai, pulling in favours and working up contingencies, which were reactive at best.
“Let him,” Hutchinson replied over the video con. “Makes me sick to think of how things have been run back there, but I tell you what, I’m glad I’m here right now, so close to the epicentre of where this is all converging—even with this leg and all.”
“You spoken to your director about changing things in here, running the plays from your end for the final stage?”
“Spoke to him and begged like you wouldn’t believe. His hands are tied,” Hutchinson replied. “National Security Council are a hundred per cent for this being a covert intel and military action, so Bowden is their point man.”
“Yeah, heard as much from my end.”
“The fact that the President is over here has only strengthened the NSC’s viewpoint—you should see the way the Marines are running around on this boat.”
“I think they call it a ship.”
“Whatever, I’m just glad it doesn’t fly,” Hutchinson said. “We’re about to deploy. We’re gonna leave this ship and head for Shanghai posthaste, call you from the hotel.”
“We’ll be here.”
“Bill, if this doesn’t work, I mean, if we can’t stop him…” Hutchinson said. “This move of Babich’s, all the chatter in Moscow pointing to a power play—it’s bold and it’s scary as fuck, I’m man enough to admit that. A resurgent Russia? Handing our backyard over to them?”
“Jesus, if this pans out like that, I don’t think we’ll have to worry about it,” McCorkell said. “We’ll all be working in the mail room on Capitol Hill as reward for our job not-so-well-done.”
“I just wish I knew where the Chinese stood on this,” Hutchinson said.
“The fact that they’re letting the guy hang there is symbolic enough,” McCorkell said. “Their only answer to the State Department is some version of they’re looking into it.”
“It’ll take too long to get anywhere with them, let alone shake some form of Beijing truth from the tree,” Valerie said.
“Yeah, well, tell you what,” McCorkell said, “Babich has Chinese intel onside.”
“And that’s a dangerous thing,” she said; it hung in the air a moment.
“Well, at least they won’t know why we’re there, we’ll just be another part of the US security umbrella around POTUS and Sec State,” Hutchinson replied. “There are limits on the number of security personnel in the Summit Zone but I’ve got a few Secret Service boys pulling out for fifteen while we meet up with Fox.”
“Just be careful,” McCorkell said.
“I can lie my way out of anywhere,” Hutchinson said. “Bet Fox can too.”
“We used to have a joke around the White House,” McCorkell said. “We’re just going to keep on telling the truth until it stops working—and nowhere is truth-telling more important than in intelligence. Intel agencies thrive on secrecy—they don’t do so well in democracies.”
“Soviets did all right at that, didn’t they?”
“They lost the Cold War because their bureaucracy was bigger than ours, simple as that,” McCorkell replied. “Nothing ’specially wrong with how their KGB worked, all came down to their bloated bureaucracy and all that entailed—bureaucrats are people that get in the way of things getting done.”
“Sounds like our boss here,”
Valerie said.
Hutchinson laughed. “Don’t worry, China’s got about a billion of them.”
“Probably,” McCorkell said. “But till they’re a democracy their intel machine is one mean mother; a dangerous, wild animal.”
“Yeah, well…” Hutchinson looked off-screen, nodded to someone before looking back at his camera. “Russia may have lost the Cold War, but they’re all in power now, those guys.”
“Damn right. Godspeed, buddy.”
“And don’t go too hard with that leg,” Valerie said, “or you’ll be sent to Walter Reed and come out part Terminator.”
“Ha! And Bill?”
“Yeah?”
He paused on the phone line.
“Tell me I’m not crazy,” Hutchinson said. “You think Fox can do something about this—in place of the CIA or our guys, you think that too, yeah?”
McCorkell looked at Valerie—she appeared as apprehensive as anyone in the room.
“He’s as skilled up as any agency paramilitary field officer,” McCorkell said. “And if you’ve seen the day he’s had so far, you’d realise he’s in pretty rare form.”
Valerie nodded, convinced.
“He’s the only option that we really have time to deploy—short of you and a couple of guys hanging around hoping to see Babich in the building, taking a shot at him and getting this secret protocol back,” Valerie said. “Sorry boss, I respect you—hell, I think you would have had some moves once, but right now I’d put the house on Fox.”
“Yeah, me too,” Hutchinson said with a laugh. “And, believe me, the thought of waiting around for Babich and putting a nine-mil through his frontal lobe is tempting, but I don’t care much for Chinese jail.”
“I know it ain’t the food—you love that shit,” Valerie said.
“Hey, that’ll do,” Hutchinson replied, mock serious, then, “Bowden still doesn’t have faith in Fox?”
“He wanted him in a bag before, hasn’t countermanded that yet. Will he come around? Maybe,” McCorkell said. “Ironic, really. Bowden has the same intelligence-officer curse as Fox: he doesn’t trust anybody until it’s almost too late.”
90
SHANGHAI
“He will be here soon,” Lavrov said, checking his watch against the time Boris Malevich’s Air France flight was due in.
Babich nodded. He didn’t like waiting now that things were so near. The thought of soon having the document in his hands … Something he’d wanted so long to see … He picked at what was left of his burger and fries, tossed the napkin on the plate, and got up from the dining table. Lavrov’s three guys were seated by the door, quiet, waiting. He looked into the adjoining room.
In the lounge, Zang had made himself at home. Fair enough, he’d arranged this suite, he was the host. His entourage was made up of a few security guards, two local mistresses, and three political guys. The Chinese politicians were chatting. Zang had the girls on his lap. His guards were playing a dice game and eating sweets. They were not quite the A-Team by US or Russian standards but they were the closest thing to it in these parts and they were all wired by one fact—their guy was about to become king. When Babich came to power in Russia, Zang would be the conduit to the security services in China. Whether he then stayed in the military or went into politics, Babich could care less—he had a powerful ally here who’d served a purpose.
Babich left them to it and went to his bedroom. Checked his watch. The press conference they’d booked was just over
Lavrov had set up a digital HD camera and put a seat by the wall. Babich sat down, straightened his tie, while Lavrov closed the door, set the lighting and hit record.
91
SHANGHAI
A few blocks away from the hotel there was a huge crowd of protesters and thousands of police in riot gear.
“This seems out of place in China,” Fox said as they passed through the first security roadblock.
“Shanghai is a little different to other parts,” their State Department driver said. “Place has long been such a melting pot of international trade, it’s got something of a unique style to it—it’s like another China.”
“They are peaceful,” Zoe noted, looking back at the masses standing there with placards and glowing paper lanterns.
“Both sides,” the driver said. “Anywhere else in China, save for maybe Hong Kong, the police and military would have either locked everyone up, run them over with tanks, or scared them home before a decent crowd had even formed.”
Fox felt like the day was picking up tempo yet again: he was closing in on Renard’s killer, on Babich … It was all spiralling together …
One of the world’s tallest buildings came into view as they turned the corner: the 101-storey Shanghai World Financial Center. Sparkling new, lit from within, it was a jewel in an impressive cityscape of skyscrapers.
They passed through the final vehicle checkpoint. It was a floodlit, cordoned-off area with dogs sniffing for explosives, guys with mirrors looking under cars for hidden hardware, efficient inspection teams checking credentials. They were waved through, the process efficient enough to impress a Formula One pit crew.
From the hotel’s driveway, they followed Agent McKee as they were individually screened through a pair of airport-like checkpoints.
Walking through the foyer, Gammaldi whispered to Fox, “Lots of hardware…”
He scanned the mass of hi-tech cameras and sensors cleverly worked into the lobby’s decor. US security people were scattered around, recognisable by their dark business suits and communication earpieces.
Once through, they took the lift up to the seventy-ninth floor. Fox rotated his head, easing the travel cricks from his neck.
“Wonder if this is how the space shuttle launch feels?” Gammaldi pondered, noting the hyper-powered speed with which the lift rose. Thirty seconds later they were entering their room, a single suite, fine for their needs. The agent made a call on her mobile, Kate went to the bathroom, Fox fixed some soft drinks for everyone. When he heard Hutchinson enter, he started to make a joke—until he saw the wheelchair.
“Andy—what?”
Fox knew about the mid-air incident with Babich, but Andy hadn’t told him he’d been shot. Hearing about Brick and Capel made Fox’s neck flush red with anger. They were damn good men doing their job …
He listened as Hutchison filled him in and then introduced Zoe. Gammaldi needed no introduction.
“So this agent has the document—the secret protocol,” Hutchinson asked.
“Yep,” Fox replied, finishing his Coke. “Don’t worry, we know what he looks like, but I can’t see how he’s going to get through all that security.”
“Babich has the local Chinese officials onside,” Hutchinson said. “They like the idea of having a future Russian President who’s their new best friend.”
Kate came from the en suite, iPhone in hand. She seemed glad to see Andy.
“Lach,” Hutchinson said, “you understand we can’t be seen to be in any kind of action here.”
“I know.”
“But if you need the cav, if it comes down to it, I can get them moving from just next door—they’re in the Jin Mao Tower’s Grand Hyatt.” Hutchinson looked serious. “Sec State is there with a dozen Secret Service and four Delta operators. There’s a bunch more service boys and girls nearby, too. If it’s an emergency, they can be over here in five minutes—just don’t cry wolf or we’ll have an international incident in all the news services.”
“Got it. What about you? Where you at?”
“I’m with the big boys.”
Fox gestured for more info.
“USS New York, landing ship, out in the East China Sea just beyond the territorial limit, about seven hundred Marines on board … I’ll helo back in here, pick you up from the roof if need be.”
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” Fox said. “I’d really enjoy an early night.”
&
nbsp; “Yeah,” Hutchinson said, “I hear you.”
“And this room-service breakfast menu looks sensational,” Gammaldi said, eating a packet of pistachios from the mini-bar and studying the menu.
Hutchinson looked back to Fox.
“We know that the handover is happening in this hotel,” he said. “And that Babich won’t risk leaving until he’s made his announcement and made his move. You two know the guy’s face from Paris—you’ve gotta intercept him.”
“He is a murderer, I am here to apprehend him,” Zoe said, making sure both Fox and Hutchinson were clear on her intent. “I take him, the French security delegation will meet me in the lobby where they will assist me in transferring my prisoner out of the country.”
“Yeah, well, good luck with that,” Hutchinson said. “Just so you know, pretty much all the staff aides and line workers are staying in this hotel. All the senior diplomats and politicians are in the hotel next door as it’s a more secure site.”
She nodded like it was going to be a walk in the park.
Fox asked: “Russians are over there?”
“Yeah, and the French, Brits—most of the G20 are there.”
“What’s stopping the Russian delegation or their embassy sending in a heavy team to track and find Babich?”
“Like us they won’t risk anything that overt and, like I said, there’s limited security personnel allowed, otherwise we’d have fifty agents from the Secret Service in here with you. Chinese military have this building locked down. They figure nothing will go down, the foreign security personnel are here more to keepeach country’s staffers out of trouble when they get drunk. Bet your ass on one thing though—”
“What’s that?”
“Wherever Babich is in this hotel, he ain’t staying in a room facing the other building—Russian operators would have God knows what ready to rock if they knew what room or floor he was staying on. He’s somewhere in here, but the Chinese security are keeping him tight … The Russian Embassy across the river is going nuts, NSA intercepts are working triple-time to keep up with all the chatter—seems Moscow is going to send them all to Siberia if they don’t make sure Babich is in a casket before sunrise.”
