by S. E. Smith
“I’ll stop after we finish at the Red Brick House,” Brian said.
“If one of us rents it, won’t they be able to trace us? Unless Tyrell rents another one,” Makayla asked with a frown.
Brian flashed a wry grin. “I’ve got that covered,” he promised, turning onto Shanghai Street.
“What are we going to do about this afternoon?” Tyrell asked, leaning forward and resting his hand on the back of the seat.
“Helen, Makayla, and I will meet with Ren Lu,” Brian stated with a thread of steel in his voice. “You are going to use that powerful lens on your camera to capture some photos of Ren Lu and make sure that we don’t have any other visitors.”
“I hope these little microphones really work. They look more like toys,” Tyrell mumbled, reaching into his pocket to finger the tiny box containing a wireless microphone and earpiece.
“If Kevin gave them to us, they’ll work,” Brian assured him.
Several minutes later, Brian pulled into a loading space across the street. Makayla marveled at not only his luck, but his skill at finding a spot in the lane lined with blue and green delivery trucks. Anxious to find what they were looking for, they all opened the doors to the car at almost the exact same time. Makayla’s lips curved upward when she heard Tyrell mutter a curse under his breath that small cars and tall men were not compatible with each other.
“It should be illegal to make cars this small. It’s worse than the head on the Defiance,” he muttered and gave her the lopsided grin she loved.
Makayla shook her head in sympathy before turning to look around her. Each side of the street was lined with huge high rise apartments. Glancing down the street, she could see a small, red brick building that looked out of place among the towering buildings. Workmen, dressed in yellow and orange vests, worked nearby while metal railings ran along the roadway that looked like it was being worked on. Pedestrians walked by, going about their daily business.
Along the street, a truck slowed and pulled into a loading area. Workers stood ready to help unload items from the truck into the local Food and Environmental Hygiene Department. She turned when she felt Brian’s hand on her arm. It took a second for her to realize the others were waiting for her.
“Sorry,” she mumbled, stepping around the car.
Helen and Tyrell were already crossing the street. Makayla nodded to Brian when he shot her a questioning glance before they both darted across to join the other two. The four of them quickly walked along the sidewalk down to the two-story, colonial style building.
Makayla’s gaze moved over the Chinese double-clay tile roof and down over the arches that showcased the beautiful ironwork of the second floor verandah. There was only one window on the first floor facing the street while there were three windows on the side closest to them. It was impossible to see inside the building through the glass, ironwork, and black shutters that covered them. They continued past and slipped behind a small brick wall to the black painted door on the other side.
Tyrell stood in front of Brian, his massive six foot two, two hundred and sixty pound frame blocking Brian from view. He fiddled with the camera he had hanging from his neck. Helen stood next to him while Makayla faced both Tyrell and Helen. To a casual observer, it would look like they were having a conversation.
Makayla kept her gaze glued on Brian. Within less than a minute, he had picked the lock on the door and slipped through it. Helen went next. Makayla glanced up at Tyrell, who nodded for her to go.
“I’ll be the lookout and distract anyone if they come. Go find the next clue,” he said with a grim smile.
“Thanks, Tyrell,” she whispered, slipping behind him and disappearing into the building before she closed the door behind her.
The interior was completely devoid of light except for the twin glows from Brian’s and Helen’s cell phones. Makayla fumbled in her purse and pulled her phone out as well. Pressing the button, she swiped upward on her phone and tapped the flashlight.
She walked slowly forward, gazing around. The building had been renovated into a type of theater for the performing arts from the looks of it. The windows were covered on the inside so the interior was dark. A stage had been built against the back wall while a staircase across from it led to the upper floor.
“I’ll check the upstairs,” Brian murmured.
“I’ll check along the walls,” Helen said.
“I guess I’ll check out the other rooms – and hope there are no monsters, bogeymen, or hired hitmen waiting in the shadows since I’m the only one without a gun,” Makayla muttered under her breath while staring after the other two when they disappeared in opposite directions.
Makayla decided right then and there that she didn’t have what it took to be a police officer, spy, or whatever the hell Brian was now. Give her the ocean and a boat under her feet and she was fine, give her an enclosed, dark area while being hunted by killers and she concluded she was ready to climb under the bed with the imaginary monsters and hide.
Shaking her head at her musings, she started across the room, heading in the direction of several doors she had noticed along the far wall. She stepped around several wooden boxes sitting on the floor and walked toward the first door.
Opening the door, she saw some faint light from outside coming through the window. It looked like they may have been offices at one time. She was about to step inside when she heard Brian call for Helen and her. Turning, she closed the door behind her and hurried back toward the stairs.
She paused at the foot of the staircase and gazed upward. Brian was on the landing separating the two floors. He motioned for Helen and Makayla to follow him. They climbed the stairs, their footsteps echoing in the stillness of the building.
“What is it?” She asked in a hushed voice.
“I’m not sure. I found a faint arrow on the wall upstairs,” he admitted. “It looks like there is a piece of paper attached to one of the beams above it.”
They shone the light from their phones up at the ceiling. Sure enough, along one of the beams there was a small piece of paper attached to it. Makayla looked at Brian and Helen. Helen wouldn’t be tall enough, but she might be if Brian could boost her up.
“Do you think you could lift me up?” Makayla asked.
Brian nodded and handed his phone to Helen. Makayla tucked her phone back in the pocket of her jacket and moved over to Brian when he squatted down. Sliding her leg over his shoulder, she steadied herself using the wall. Once she was sitting on his shoulders, he stood up, holding her lower legs to keep her balanced.
Makayla stretched, her fingers barely touching the corner of the white piece of paper illuminated by the light from Helen’s cell phone. It took her four tries before she was able to grab enough of it to pull it down. She held it tightly while Brian lowered her back to the floor.
She carefully climbed off of his shoulders, holding on to them so she wouldn’t fall. She gave Brian a brief, triumphant smile and held up the paper before unfolding it. Her brow creased when she saw a jumble of letters and a small key taped to the paper.
“What is this supposed to mean?” She asked, blowing out a breath in frustration.
Brian took the paper and the key from her, studying it. Makayla bit her lip before she reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone. She quickly did a search for Geocaching in Hong Kong. A moment later, she grinned in triumph again, this time glancing at the encrypted code key from the website and the letters on the paper.
She copied the key to her notes before turning to him. “Read me the letters,” she requested.
Brian read out the letters and she typed them in. Once he was finished, she started deciphering the code. Helen stood closer, watching what she was doing.
“No, that should be a W,” Helen whispered, understanding what Makayla was doing. “Outside Kowloon Tong MTR station, Exit F, CLP Box, top left corner. That’s about five kilometers from here.”
“Let’s go,” Brian muttered, folding the paper and
sliding it into his pocket.
The three of them made their way back down the stairs. Brian switched off his light when they reached the door. On the other side, they could hear the muted voice of Tyrell laughing and chatting with someone. They waited, growing frustrated as the minutes passed. Almost ten minutes later, Tyrell called out a goodbye. Brian carefully opened the door.
“Clear,” Tyrell muttered, standing in front of the opening to cover their exit. “Damn, I didn’t think that cop was ever going to leave.”
“What happened?” Helen asked in concern.
“He was an amateur photographer,” Tyrell replied with a sigh. “He liked my camera and started asking questions. Did you guys find the next clue?”
“Yes,” Brian replied, glancing back and forth before crossing the road back to the car. “We need to head to the Kowloon Tong MTR station.”
21
Half an hour later, Brian pulled up on Somerset Road in front of the Kowloon Tong Station, a gleaming white building with blue accents. There was a small line standing at the front ticket area while exiting passengers either waited or walked down the street, heading for the next destination.
Makayla saw Brian’s lips tightening in the mirror when he saw there was no place to park, even temporarily. His gaze flashed over the front of the building. He turned his head when she touched his shoulder.
“We’ll go. You circle around. Give me the paper,” she instructed.
“Here you go,” Brian said, pulling the paper with the key attached out of his pocket and handing it to her. “I’ll circle around and see if I can find a spot to park along the edge of the road.”
“Hopefully, it won’t take us long to find it,” she said, taking the paper.
She glanced around to make sure it was safe to get out before opening the door and sliding out. Helen and Tyrell also pushed open their doors. The three of them hurried across the almost deserted street.
Glancing around, she turned, trying to see if she could make sense of what the note said. A frown of frustration creased her brow and she turned to Tyrell and Helen with an almost desperate expression. Helen looked just as puzzled as she did.
“What is a CLP Box?” Makayla asked.
“I don’t know. I was hoping it would be something obvious,” Helen admitted, glancing around.
“Power box,” Tyrell muttered. “Look for some type of power box.”
“Power box?” Makayla repeated with a puzzled glance.
“There,” Tyrell said, pointing upward. “Follow the conduits. They have to lead to a junction, or CLP box.”
“This way,” Helen said, her gaze following the line of gray metal pipes protecting the electrical wires inside.
They started forward, cutting around the ticket booth. A transit worker called out to them when they started to go around one of the gates. Helen pulled out her identification and flashed it before speaking in rapid Cantonese. Whatever she said, it must have worked because the man hurried forward and opened the gate for them.
Helen motioned for them to follow her and they walked quickly around the curved wall, following the conduits. She slowed when they reached the far wall. Her gaze narrowed on a group of large electrical boxes on the wall next to a door marked Danger – Do Not Enter: Electrical.
They hurried over to them. From a distance, Makayla could see there was a tall, narrow, clear plastic box sitting on top of the one closest to the corner. Even from several feet away, she could see it had two labels taped to the side with the message Do Not Remove on it. Makayla looked at Tyrell with a doubtful expression.
“Really?” She asked in a questioning tone. “Would Harrington really hide something as important as the key to the next puzzle in such an obvious and risky place?”
“How am I supposed to know how spies think? I’m not crazy enough to get into a career where people try to kill me all the time,” he retorted, reaching up and pulling down the box.
Makayla and Helen gathered around him, watching him unhook the plastic latch. Inside the container was a small notepad and an odd assortment of items, mostly junk. There was a souvenir Buddha keychain, several toys from a child’s meal, a pen, some business cards, a dollar bill from the U.S. with a website written on it, and a metal pin with the words I love Hong Kong.
Makayla thumbed through the notepad. Written inside were comments from people from around the world who were doing the Geocaching. She shook her head at the other two, there was nothing that needed a key or had additional numbers on it. She handed the notepad back to Tyrell.
“Nothing,” she said, glancing around the terminal again before pulling the paper and the key out of her pocket. She unfolded it and read the message again. “CLP Box....”
She touched the key. It was too large to go in the small lock on the box. Her gaze followed the conduit down to the box again. The wires stopped there, but they had to go somewhere else. Her gaze turned to the door marked Electrical. She ran her thumb over the key and glanced down at the lock on the door.
“What are you thinking?” Tyrell asked, replacing the plastic box.
“What if…,” Makayla’s voice faded and she pulled the key off the paper and walked over to the door.
Her hand wrapped round the long metal handle. It was locked. She fitted the key to the deadbolt just above the handle. Sure enough, it slid in. She twisted it and felt the lock give. Pulling open the door, she glanced over her shoulder at Tyrell and Helen before disappearing inside the small room.
*.*.*
Brian gazed down the street, waiting. His fingers flexed on the steering wheel while his gaze followed each person who entered and left the building. Looking up, he watched a city bus approach from the other end of the street. It passed him and pulled into the drop off space in front of the Metro station.
His mind wandered back to the night before while he impatiently waited. Holding Makayla in his arms again had been a combination of pure pleasure and agonizing torture. The more time he spent with her, the more he wanted. He had always had a physical attraction to her, but there had also been something deeper. Three years ago, he had been too stupid and callow to understand what it was until he had lost it.
His fingers itched to pull the ragged photo out of his wallet. Over the last few years, he had tortured himself with the urge to call or text her, but he had been too much of a coward. His job allowed him to access a lot of information, but even he couldn’t stoop that low. If he was truthful with himself, he would’ve admitted that it was more out of fear of finding out Makayla had moved on and found someone – someone like Tyrell – than out of any moral or ethical code. As long as he didn’t know, he could still hope and dream that one day he would get up enough nerve to see her again.
He hadn’t been completely ignorant of what she was doing. Deep down, he figured his mom probably knew that he was hungry for any tidbit of gossip about Makayla. She often shared what she had heard from Henry with him in her emails. He had hungrily read over each piece, proud of Makayla’s accomplishments, curious as to whether or not she missed him as much as he missed her, and wondering if she would ever forgive him for being a jealous fool.
Two days after they had broken up, he had made reservations to return home after he had had enough time to cool down and think things through, only he never made it. The afternoon he was supposed to leave he had been called into Senator Womack’s office. Instead of the Senator, though, it had been two other men he had never met before offering him the chance of a lifetime to move up in his career working with foreign governments. The next thing he knew he was in an intensive six month training program before he was deployed on his first mission.
Brian glanced down at his fingers. He forced himself to draw in deep, calming breaths the way his handlers had taught him. His life had become too dangerous for him to think of having a long-term relationship with anyone, especially someone like Makayla who deserved a man who would always be there to cherish her.
He jerked when he felt the vibrati
on of his cell phone. Pulling it out of his jacket pocket, he glanced at the message. His gut tightened and he slowly responded.
Harrington didn’t make it, the message read. Any more info?
Affirmative, he typed, pausing before adding, Soon.
Brian sat back in the seat and stared out the front window. A part of his mind continued to process everything going on outside the Metro, while another part absorbed the information he had just received. The fact that two years’ worth of undercover work and the lives of thousands of innocent people were at stake if they couldn’t find the information Harrington had hidden, wasn’t lost on him. What else wasn’t lost was the fact that Harrington had recently confided in him that he had a wife and son – a wife who was now a widow and a son who would never know his father.
This was another reason Brian had avoided trying to contact Makayla. The thought of loving her and having to lie to her day in and day out, to leave and possibly never come home, or to have a family and know that not only was he risking his life, but theirs if his enemies discovered them had been too much to risk.
He had asked Harrington about it just days before over a beer at one of the local bars. It had been the night that Brian had given Harrington the orders from their handlers to proceed with stealing the information Harrington had uncovered on Sun Yung-Wing’s private computer. They had concluded they would have one chance to copy the files containing the detailed lists of buyers, suppliers, amounts, and locations of shipments of weapons being dispersed to terrorist groups around the world.
Brian felt his stomach clench when he remembered their conversation and the happy, but also haunted look in Harrington’s eyes. Personally, Brian had thought the man had been crazy, but there was nothing he could have done to change the situation. Harrington was in too deep to be pulled out without jeopardizing the mission. The only good thing was that Harrington’s wife and son were in the States visiting her sister and brother-in-law.
Now, he would have to inform Harrington’s handler that the British agent had left behind a family. Harrington’s wife would be well compensated financially, but that could never compensate for losing her husband, or the fact that she would never know the truth of his career. Harrington insisted it was worth it, that having a wife and son made what he did worthwhile. Brian had been doubtful.
