Fugitive

by Chris Bradford

  Connor glanced up and down the crowded street, pedestrians spilling off the pavements and scooters zipping past in every direction. But there wasn’t a taxi in sight and, beyond a name, he had no idea where he was headed. The address for Charley’s clinic had been on his old smartphone. Even if they were lucky enough to hail a cab, it was doubtful the driver would speak English as fluently as their guide, if at all. He turned to Zhen. ‘Do you know where the 1933 Building is?’

  Zhen nodded. ‘Lao Changfang? Sure! It’s in Hongkou district, north Shanghai.’

  Reluctantly Connor clambered aboard and sat next to Amir, praying his decision to use Zhen wasn’t sentencing their guide to death. As the rickshaw pulled away, Connor felt hostile eyes upon him and shot an anxious glance over his shoulder. Mr Grey stood in the shade of a market stall awning, a roasted black scorpion on a stick held between the fingers of his bone-grey hand. With his glacial stare locked on to Connor, he bit clean through the scorpion’s tail and chomped on its bulbous toxic stinger. Connor shuddered. He realized if he was to have any hope of beating Mr Grey, he would need every ounce of wit and martial arts skill just to survive. But would that be enough to vanquish such a cold-blooded killer?

  ‘What’s at the 1933 Building?’ Amir asked as the rickshaw turned a corner and the assassin disappeared from view.

  ‘Charley, I hope,’ replied Connor, settling uneasily back into his seat. ‘Mr Grey has threatened to pay her a visit if we don’t find Colonel Black.’

  Amir stared at him in horrified bewilderment. ‘But we don’t know where the colonel is!’

  ‘Nor does Equilibrium, apparently.’

  The rickshaw bumped over a pothole in the road as Zhen took a left turn and headed north past the old city wall.

  ‘Equilibrium?’ questioned Amir.

  ‘That’s who’s behind the attack on Buddyguard.’ Connor clenched his fists in fury as he thought of their friends being ‘contained’ somewhere by the secretive and sinister organization.

  Amir’s brow creased. ‘I remember. You mentioned Equilibrium in your Russian operation report.’

  ‘Yes, but I’ve no idea who or what the organization is, except that Mr Grey works for them. As far as I could gather at the time, they were funding and protecting Viktor Malkov in an attempt to gain political influence in Russia.’ Connor clicked his fingers as he was struck by a thought. ‘Come to think of it, that might be how Equilibrium infiltrated Buddyguard HQ – through Malkov and his communications with the colonel! There might not be a traitor.’

  ‘We still can’t rule that possibility out,’ said Amir.

  ‘After reading my report, Colonel Black assigned Bugsy to investigate Equilibrium further.’

  Amir nodded thoughtfully as if several pieces of the puzzle had just fallen into place. ‘That must be why Bugsy was so secretive about his trip. He must’ve uncovered something significant or damaging about Equilibrium, which explains why the colonel left HQ in such a hurry.’ He looked at Connor. ‘So what’s the plan now?’

  ‘We get to Charley first, ensure she’s safe, then somehow locate the colonel. She may even know where he is –’

  A familiar hum whirred above their heads.

  Connor glared at the tiny hovering craft. ‘Well, there’s a surprise!’ he said, his tone sarcastic. ‘Mr Grey wasn’t going to let us out of his sight for long. Zhen, ditch the drone!’

  ‘No problem,’ said their guide, cutting down a back lane. The laundry hanging from the criss-cross of washing lines provided cover as the rickshaw changed direction up a side street, then shot along a narrow alleyway. After a couple more switchbacks, they popped out on to a main road and merged with the traffic.

  Zhen grinned. ‘Easy!’ But the smile fell from his slender lips when the incessant buzzing returned with a vengeance. Their guide cursed in frustration and pedalled on. The road led straight on to the Bund and they soon found themselves beside the Huangpu River again, the drone hovering over them like a malevolent wasp.

  ‘We’ll never lose it out in the open,’ said Amir.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ replied Zhen. ‘I have a plan.’

  Bearing right off the Bund, their guide ignored the red no-entry sign for bicycles and entered a tunnel beneath the river. The air was thick with exhaust fumes and Connor and Amir were forced to cover their mouths. But Zhen hadn’t gone far when he stopped the rickshaw and turned against the flow of traffic. Cars and taxis honked angrily and a white van swerved to avoid them as they exited the tunnel the wrong way. But the risky manoeuvre had done the trick. The drone operator had fallen for Zhen’s ploy and sent the craft to the tunnel’s exit, on the opposite side of the river.

  ‘Good work, Zhen,’ congratulated Connor, looking up into a drone-free sky. He hadn’t wanted the assassin following their every move. Then an unnerving thought dawned on him. If Mr Grey knew where to find Charley, then so did Equilibrium. They could be watching the place. And who was to say they didn’t have her already? Of course, there was a slim chance the assassin had been lying, but –

  Connor pulled out his new phone and dialled a number from memory.

  ‘Who are you calling?’ asked Amir.

  ‘Charley. This phone’s secure, isn’t it?’

  Amir nodded uneasily. ‘For the time being at least. But hers might not be.’

  Connor decided he had to take the risk. The line rang twice before connecting. He heard a series of escalating beeps, then the phone cut off. Connor tried again, hoping he’d just lost signal. The same beeps greeted him, except this time an automated message followed: We’re sorry, but you’ve reached a number that is unavailable or no longer in service …

  ‘No answer?’ said Amir.

  Connor shook his head. ‘Disconnected.’ His concern for Charley exploded into panic. Had Equilibrium got to her already? Or had Charley received warning from Colonel Black and ditched her phone?

  ‘Can’t you go any faster?’ he urged Zhen.

  ‘Always faster!’ gasped Zhen, maxing the throttle and pedalling harder as they crossed over a bridge into north Shanghai. ‘Be there in five minutes.’

  Those five minutes were the longest in Connor’s life, the traffic seeming to grind their journey to a snail’s pace as the rickshaw squeezed its way between cars, taxis and lorries, fighting off mopeds and delivery bikes for gaps. Amir kept a watchful eye on the skies, while Connor grew more and more agitated in his seat.

  ‘That’s it up ahead,’ said Zhen eventually, turning off the main road and pointing to an immense four-storey concrete building at the end of the street.

  ‘Stop here,’ ordered Connor. As desperate as he was to find Charley, he couldn’t take unnecessary risks. He had to surveil the area before making his approach.

  Zhen pulled over to the kerb.

  ‘Doesn’t look like a medical clinic to me,’ remarked Amir, his gaze sweeping over the grey and oppressive concrete block that stood beside a wide canal. An ominous lattice of round and square windows faced west on to the street and gave the building the appearance of a rectangular multi-eyed spider. The whole construction was both formidable and menacing.

  ‘The 1933 Lao Changfang used to be a slaughterhouse,’ explained Zhen, automatically going into tour-guide mode. ‘Its architecture is unique.’

  ‘You can say that again,’ remarked Amir.

  ‘Over the years, the building has been a medicine factory, a cold-storage facility and a boutique shopping centre. Recently it was bought by a Chinese billionaire and closed to the public. There is a rumour that it is now an advanced medical research facility.’

  Connor scanned the area for threats. Almost at once he spotted a number of CCTV cameras dotted along the drab concrete walls and two security guards at the entrance. Opposite, more CCTV cameras lined a modern glass-and-steel office block, although interestingly they were pointed towards the 1933 Building. The road leading up to the entrance was light of both traffic and people and there was no obvious sign of enemy surveillance, but that didn’
t mean agents weren’t watching.

  ‘Zhen, can I borrow your mask?’ asked Connor. Their guide handed over the grimy pollution filter and Connor used it to conceal his face before stepping out of the rickshaw. ‘Stay here,’ he instructed Amir. ‘If you notice anything unusual, buzz my smartband.’

  Nodding, Amir watched the street and skies as Connor headed towards the building. He kept to the far side and followed casually behind a couple of office workers. Up close, it was even more intimidating. He looked up at the gridwork of windows, the building’s black eyes giving up nothing of what was inside. Then Connor caught a glimpse of sun-blonde hair in the top right corner. Squinting, he spied Charley on the rooftop balcony, gazing out across the city skyline. His heart soared and, as he raised a hand to attract her attention, his smartband buzzed urgently –

  A white telecom van screeched to a halt in front of him. The side door flew open. Strong hands reached out and Connor was dragged inside before Charley had a chance to look his way.

  The Director gazed out of the window of the Chairman Suite on the eighty-seventh floor of the Grand Hyatt Hotel, atop the Jin Mao Tower in the affluent Pudong district. Few knew the true identity of the head of Equilibrium, but the reflection in the glass revealed her to be a short woman with a bob of black hair as smooth and dark as the velvet jacket that cloaked her compact frame. Her watchful eyes were the colour of unrefined oil. And from her slim alabaster neck hung a vibrant jade-green pendant of a fire-breathing dragon, the curled creature nestling in the small hollow above her slender collarbone.

  By now the bright midday sun had burnt away much of the polluted haze and the view from the Chairman Suite stretched across the cityscape as far as the eye could see. But not as far as the Director’s domain extended – which was why she was so vexed that a pair of teenage boys had somehow slipped her net.

  Savouring a sip of Dragon Well green tea from an antique porcelain cup, she turned to the two Equilibrium agents responsible for the screw-up: a middle-aged man by the name of Heng with a narrow jaw and bowl haircut; and a younger woman called Yuan, whose steel-framed glasses hardened her otherwise pretty looks into a permanent stony stare.

  ‘Explain yourselves,’ said the Director, taking another slow and unhurried draught of tea.

  ‘It isn’t my fault,’ Heng cut in first. ‘I tailed the targets all the way from London before I handed over to –’

  ‘You needn’t have handed over to me if your surveillance hadn’t been so careless!’ retorted Yuan, shooting her associate a sideways glare.

  ‘I wasn’t the one to lose them on the Bund,’ snapped Heng, a flush rising in his cheeks. ‘That was your fault. I’d done my job –’

  ‘If you’d done your job properly,’ Yuan continued, her tone harsh yet even, ‘then all four targets should’ve been crushed to death in the demolition.’

  Heng’s mouth flapped open like a goldfish’s as he struggled for a response. ‘Th-th-the other two didn’t show! I can’t be held responsible for that. And no one could’ve anticipated the boys’ insane escape route – sliding down the builders’ rubbish chute like sewer rats! Anyway, you had multiple opportunities to kill them after that and failed.’

  ‘They hospitalized four of my men,’ said Yuan fiercely, rounding on her associate. ‘Thanks to your lack of intel, we seriously underestimated the targets’ capabilities. The failure is as much yours as it is mine, if not more so –’

  The Director held up a hand for silence. ‘Enough of this blame-gaming. What I want to know is where our targets are now, and what you’re going to do about it.’

  Yuan straightened. ‘I’ve agents hunting them down as we speak. They can’t have got far. Their faces don’t exactly blend in. In fact, I expect confirmation of their capture any moment. As for the other two targets –’

  A knock at the door interrupted her and a hefty security guard escorted a charcoal-suited man into the luxurious hotel suite.

  ‘Ah! Mr Grey,’ said the Director, raising the teacup in greeting. ‘I trust you bring me better news?’

  The assassin nodded. ‘I tracked down the rickshaw to a bicycle repair shop in Old Town. The targets were “enjoying” an early lunch in the insect market.’

  She looked past the assassin. ‘So where are they then? Or did you execute them on the spot?’

  ‘I let them go.’

  The Director almost dropped the teacup. ‘You did what?’

  ‘We only have two targets in our sights,’ Mr Grey explained. ‘We need bait for the bigger fish. Why not let Connor reel them in?’

  The Director drained the teacup. ‘Excellent work, Mr Grey.’ She shot Yuan and Heng a withering look. ‘At least someone round here shows initiative. Shame on you both that a lǎowài has shown you up!’

  The two agents bowed their heads and stared resolutely at the carpet.

  Setting aside the fine porcelain teacup, the Director ushered Yuan and Heng out of the Chairman Suite with a wave of her hand. Being on the top floor of the five-star hotel, the exclusive suite led directly out on to the uppermost balcony of Jin Mao Tower’s world-famous atrium – a vertigo-inducing barrel-vaulted space of circular golden corridors and staircases that wound in a spiral all the way down to the hotel lobby, thirty-one floors below.

  Before allowing the security guard to close the door on the two agents, the Director addressed Yuan. ‘As lead agent, the success or failure of any operation is your sole responsibility. Don’t ever fail me again.’

  Red-faced, the agent replied, ‘I promise I won’t.’

  As she bowed her head, the Director glanced at the muscle-bound guard manning the door. ‘Show Heng out first.’

  Nodding, the guard seized Heng by the collar of his jacket and belt of his trousers. Then, picking him up like a piece of garbage, he tossed the bowlcut-haired agent over the balcony rail. Heng flailed and tumbled, screaming all one hundred and fifteen metres of the way down, until he smashed into a bloody and broken heap on the crimson carpet of the hotel lobby below.

  The Director smiled in satisfaction at his departure, then turned to Yuan, whose eyes had widened into saucers behind her glasses. ‘No, Yuan, you will not fail me unless you wish to check out early too.’

  Connor fought for his life as the van accelerated away and careered round a corner.

  ‘Get off me!’ he snarled, struggling in the man’s iron grip. His abductor was broad and solid as a brick wall, his square-jawed face hidden behind a pollution mask and his eyes obscured by a pair of mirrored shades. Managing to wrench an arm free, Connor caught his assailant with a crunching roundhouse punch to the jaw. Then he wound up for a second strike.

  ‘Whoa! Hold up, Connor! It’s me!’

  Connor froze mid-punch. Having dislodged the mirrored glasses with his first blow, he now got a good look at his abductor’s flinty eyes and sharp crew cut of silver-grey hair. Rather than wanting to punch him, Connor could almost hug the man. In fact he did. Overwhelmed by the unexpected reunion, he wrapped his arms round the soldier’s broad chest. ‘Colonel! Sorry, I didn’t realize –’

  In a rare moment of tenderness, the colonel returned his hug. Then, stiffening back into his usual stony demeanour, he extracted himself from Connor’s arms. Lowering the black mask, he wiped away a thin stream of blood from his lower lip with the back of his hand. ‘Solid punch, Connor. Someone’s trained you well.’

  Connor laughed with relief. ‘Yeah, Steve’s a good instru–’ he stopped and corrected himself – ‘was a good instructor …’ He trailed off, his initial rush of joy dissolving with the memory of his murdered combat teacher.

  The colonel stared at him, unflinching, but he didn’t need to ask any further to understand. ‘I feared as much. The others?’

  ‘Taken,’ replied Connor. ‘But we’ve no idea where or why.’

  Colonel Black slumped against the side of the van and hammered his fist into its metal panelling, leaving a knuckle-sized dent.

  ‘Everything all right?’ asked a familia
r voice from the driver’s seat.

  ‘Bugsy!’ exclaimed Connor, his joy returning at the sight of his surveillance tutor. Twisting his bald head round, Bugsy shot him a wink and grinned. ‘That’ll be the first and only time you get away with hitting a commanding officer!’

  To Connor’s ever-increasing amazement, Amir now peered round the edge of the passenger seat. An elated smile was plastered across his face too, clearly glad to be reunited with his logistics mentor. ‘Wait till I tell the others you floored the colonel! They’ll never believe me.’

  ‘Don’t worry, Amir. I’ll be your witness,’ Bugsy told him, laughing.

  ‘Steve’s dead,’ said Colonel Black flatly.

  The tragic news cut Bugsy’s laughter short and his grin sagged into a fierce glower. ‘Murdering scum!’ The engine roared as he drove the van even harder. ‘What about Jody? Gunner? The recruits?’

  Amir answered with a sorrowful expression. ‘Captured. But we’ve reason to think they’re still alive.’

  ‘Equilibrium won’t kill them,’ said the colonel, rising to his feet. ‘Not yet at least. Not while we possess this.’ He pulled a discreet flash-drive stick out of his pocket. ‘They’ll use them as leverage to get this back.’

  ‘What does that contain?’ asked Connor.

  ‘Everything Equilibrium doesn’t want the world to know.’

  Colonel Black braced himself against the van’s roof as Bugsy weaved through the traffic and joined the city’s middle ring road. Slipping the flash drive back into his pocket, the colonel nodded behind him and demanded, ‘Now who’s that? And why’s he with you?’

  In the darkened back corner of the van a small trembling figure lay huddled, eyes round and fearful.

  ‘That’s Zhen, our guide!’ said Connor, noting with alarm that the boy’s slim wrists and ankles had been bound with zip-ties. ‘He’s been helping us. You can let him go.’

  Zhen offered the colonel a timorous smile and held up his hands. But Colonel Black shook his head. ‘Sorry, but I don’t trust anyone at the moment. First, explain what you two are doing here in Shanghai?’