Tempest

by Mark Dawson

  Danny looked at her. “Does he know?”

  She nodded. “Enough.”

  “It’s from when I was in Vietnam,” Danny explained. “Dwight Lincoln was my CO.”

  “And now he is a senior CIA man?”

  “Yes,” Danny said. “He told lies that he’s used to bolster his career. I know he’s lying. These tapes will prove it.”

  Beatrix took the other cassette. “The men who took Danny tonight work for Lincoln. They’re trying to make sure that he can’t use what he knows to prevent him from being arrested if he goes home.” She held up the tape. “They need these, too. Either Wang sent his men onto the boat to search it on Lincoln’s orders, or he decided to see if there was anything there that he could sell—I don’t know which, but it doesn’t make any difference. I saw them and followed them. They went straight to Wang’s hideout. I don’t make mistakes often, Michael. And I never make them twice.”

  Yeung passed her phone back to her. “Thank you.”

  She decided not to mention that Navarro’s men had followed the two triads back to Wang, too, and that it was they who had killed Wang and not her; she would leave the precise details of her target’s demise opaque for now, and, if Michael chose to believe that it was her doing, then she would happily take the credit. Wang was dead, either way. Yeung had what he wanted.

  Danny pointed to one of the cassettes. “What do we do now?”

  “I’ll go back to Logan and arrange an exchange.”

  “Where?”

  “Not Hong Kong,” she said. “Navarro is here. He’s not going to be happy about what happened tonight, and we don’t know how much he knows.”

  “About?”

  “He found you tonight, didn’t he? We need a reset. Can’t do that here.”

  “So? The States?”

  “You can’t go back. Not now, and probably not for some time, at least not until Lincoln and Navarro are out of play.”

  Danny slumped. “Where, then?”

  She paused for a moment. “Cuba.”

  “What?”

  “It’s perfect.”

  “It’s Cuba, Beatrix. Cuba. Are you nuts?”

  “I know it well,” she said. “I’ve worked there before. And, better, the CIA can’t operate there without serious risk. All their advantages are gone. It levels the playing field for us.”

  He was quiet. “You really think the States are too dangerous?”

  “Yes,” she said, knowing where he was going with his line of thinking. “And, yes, it’s dangerous for Melissa, too. We need to get her out for a week or two. How about if she came to Cuba as well?”

  “I don’t know,” he said. “How would we do that?”

  “Logan could help,” she said. “We could make the deal contingent on her being taken there to be with you.”

  “How would I explain that to her?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “She’s your daughter.”

  Danny started to speak, but he stopped himself. Beatrix looked over at him; he was lost in thought.

  “We don’t have to do this,” she said. “You could stay here. I’m sure Michael could keep you safe.”

  Yeung nodded. “Of course.”

  “But I don’t have time to hide,” Danny protested. “I’ve been hiding all my life, one way or another. I’m done with that. I don’t know how many years I have left before…” He tapped his forehead. “I can’t waste them.”

  “So you have to decide. What are you going to do? Stay or go?”

  He sighed. “I don’t have a choice. I want to get to know my girl while I still can.”

  Beatrix turned to Yeung. “Can you still help?”

  “Of course. You just need to say where you want to go.”

  “Cuba,” she said.

  He bowed his head. “Then you will be able to leave tonight.”

  “Thank you.” She stood. “Can I leave Danny here for now?”

  “You may.”

  “Where are you going?” Danny asked her.

  “To see Logan.”

  “This man,” Michael said. “Do you trust him?”

  “Of course not.”

  “So why take anything he says seriously?”

  “What would we do if we didn’t? He was Danny’s best chance of going home before, and I don’t see how anything has changed. He wants to bring Lincoln down, and Danny can help him to do that now.” She reached for the tapes and held them in the air. “I’m sure he’ll be keen to help.”

  58

  Beatrix stood at the rail of the Shining Star ferry and watched as the big ships and little sampans threaded their way around the crowded harbour. She had left the club and made her way to the dock, where she had caught the last boat across to Hong Kong Island.

  Logan was waiting at the same spot on the rail as the last time they had met.

  “Evening,” she said.

  He turned. “Caprice.”

  “He’ll do it,” she said.

  “That’s good news. Where is he now?”

  “Safe and sound.”

  “The tapes?”

  “He has them. He’s willing to hand them over.”

  “Good. Where do you want to make the exchange?”

  “Out of the country.”

  “Really?”

  “Navarro got a little too close for comfort tonight. There’s too much heat here.”

  “Not so much that we couldn’t manage.”

  “It has to be somewhere neither of us has an advantage. You have an advantage here.”

  “So?”

  “Cuba.”

  Logan shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

  “It’s neutral ground.”

  “It’s not friendly ground.”

  “That’s why I want to do it there. It’s awkward for both of us.”

  “You don’t trust me?”

  “Are you crazy?” She stared him out.

  He chuckled. “I don’t blame you. I wouldn’t, either.”

  “So?”

  “Havana?”

  Beatrix nodded. “That’s what I was thinking.”

  He mused. “Maybe. Lincoln has no coverage there, either—his background is the Far East.” He glanced at her. “I’m guessing you’ve worked there before?”

  “I’m familiar with it.”

  “So, let’s assume I say yes,” Logan said. “How are you going to get Nakamura out? I can tell you now that you can’t use the airport. Navarro will be all over it.”

  “Don’t worry about that. That’s my responsibility.”

  The boat slowed down and the skipper started to guide it to the dock.

  “Fine,” Logan said. “If you can get him to Havana and he gives us the evidence he has on Lincoln, I’ll make sure he gets onward passage. Anywhere he likes.”

  “And you’ll take care of Lincoln?”

  “He won’t have enough juice left to lick a postage stamp. But, just in case, we’ll bury Nakamura so deep it’ll be like he never existed at all.”

  The ferry sounded its horn.

  “There’s one other thing,” she said. “Nakamura has a daughter. A teacher in Miami. He wants her there, too.”

  “So tell him to get her a charter ticket.”

  “Can’t do that,” she said. “She’s never been outside the country before. Doesn’t even have a passport.”

  “You think she needs a chaperone?”

  “I do. It’s not impossible that Navarro has men watching her. I’m sure a covert removal isn’t beyond the wit of the OIG, especially if it means you get the evidence you want. I’ll send you her details.”

  He looked at her and sighed. “I’ll ask.”

  “Be persuasive,” she said. “You won’t get a better offer.”

  Logan grimaced as his words were repeated back at him.

  “Pack up,” Beatrix said to him. “Get his daughter out. I’ll call you when we’re there.”

  Logan reached into his inside pocket and took out a thick envelope. He
handed it to Beatrix.

  “What’s this?”

  “Passport and papers.”

  He extended his hand. Beatrix took it.

  “See you in Havana.”

  Beatrix disembarked and then caught the next ferry back to Kowloon. It was the last crossing of the evening. The night air was still and the water was glassy, the harbour reflecting the glowing city in its black mirror. There were few passengers on the boat, with tourists already back at their hotels or out looking for one last party. A few weary businessmen clutched their briefcases and tried not to fall asleep as the ferry gently rocked them. Beatrix made her way to the stern.

  A quick look around told her that the crew was busy elsewhere, stowing lines or undertaking other routine tasks. She was alone. She glanced up at the observation deck above her. The upper rail was empty.

  She opened the envelope that Logan had given her to find a treasure trove within: a passport, travel documents, a birth certificate, a driver’s licence, a voter registration card, and a typed biography. All of the documents identified an individual—Daniel Arakawa—who lived in Colorado. The name on the documents might have been unfamiliar, but they all bore Danny’s photograph.

  She took out her phone and called Yeung, recounting what had just happened and explaining what she needed to happen next. He said that he could do what she needed and told her to wait at the ferry terminal to be picked up. Beatrix thanked him and hung up. She knew that what she had asked was significant, and, although it was for Danny’s benefit, that Yeung would still consider it a favour for her, too. A favour that he would no doubt expect to be repaid when she returned to Hong Kong.

  She crossed her arms, leaned on the rail and watched the froth churn as the ferry cut through the water. She was tired. It had been a long few days, and she was ready to rest. But that would have to come later.

  There was still work to do tonight.

  59

  Beatrix disembarked and made her way through the quiet terminal building. She walked to the cab rank on Salisbury Road and waited. The clock on the tower that overlooked the harbour ticked around for five minutes, finally nudging one thirty in the morning when a delivery van for a local fish merchant pulled up. Beatrix recognised the name on the side of the van; Michael Yeung had bought the company as a front and used its vehicles for transporting illicit merchandise around the city.

  Beatrix jogged across the pavement, went around to the back of the van and opened the doors.

  Danny was sitting in the back, leaning against the side. She climbed in, slammed the doors behind her and then slapped her hand on the interior panel that separated the load area from the driver’s cabin.

  “Evening,” she said as she sat down next to Danny.

  “He’s making another point, isn’t he?” he groused.

  “What does that mean?”

  “First he puts me in the trunk of a car. Now it’s the back of a van that stinks of fish.”

  “Would you rather Navarro found you before you got to the airport?”

  “No.”

  “So stop moaning.”

  The engine revved and the vehicle pulled away. Beatrix sat down with her knees bent, her back pressed up against the side. She could hear male voices talking and laughing. The language sounded like the Cantonese slang favoured by the triads, but it was too fast and too muffled for her to catch the words.

  “I spoke to Michael,” he said. “I think he’s ready to apologise to you. He knows he’s been unfair. He doesn’t want to lose you.”

  “We’ll see,” she said.

  Danny cleared his throat. “He told me something. About Isabella.”

  She stared into the dark. “What?”

  She heard him take a deep breath. “What was the last thing I told you?”

  “She was in Scotland; then she wasn’t.”

  “She never went to Scotland. The couple pulled out. They wanted a boy.”

  “I don’t care what they wanted,” she snapped. “Get to the point, Danny.”

  “The girl we found was called Clara Foster. Michael’s contact has confirmed that she was removed from the list of children who were looking for homes. According to her file, she was sent to live with her aunt and uncle in Paraparaumu in New Zealand. It’s a small town on the North Island, thirty miles north of Wellington.”

  Beatrix found that she had clasped her hands into tight fists. “That’s for certain?”

  “That’s what the file says.”

  “What are their names?”

  “Karl and Susan Coles.”

  She found that her breath was coming faster and faster. She unclenched her fists and rested her palms against her legs, concentrating on the fabric against her skin, trying to breathe more slowly.

  “Are you okay?” he asked her.

  “Yes,” she said. “I’m fine. I’m fine.”

  “I didn’t want to wait to tell you,” he said. “I know you might decide to go straight there. That’s fine; I’d understand if you did. I wouldn’t blame you at all.”

  She closed her eyes. He was right: that was what she wanted most of all. She wanted to go to the airport, buy a ticket to New Zealand and leave at once. The thought of Isabella with another family was too much for her to bear. Yet, aware that Danny was silent next to her, waiting for her to speak, she knew that she couldn’t leave him. He needed her. He couldn’t go to Cuba on his own. He couldn’t negotiate with Logan. He would be out of his depth.

  “No,” she said. “I’m coming.”

  “You don’t have to.”

  “I do, Danny. I promised that I would help you, and I will. Doing this in Cuba is my idea. I’m not going to abandon you now.”

  I won’t let you down like I did her.

  And as soon as it’s done, once you have your daughter with you, I’ll find mine.

  I’ll come for you, Bella. I promise.

  60

  Beatrix took off the wig and put it into the go-bag with the rest of her gear. Caprice had served her well, and she knew that she was going to need her again as soon as they reached their destination. For now, though, she was done; Beatrix would remove the make-up and change when she could get to a bathroom.

  Beatrix felt the van accelerate up a ramp, picking up speed as it levelled out. They were on an expressway, but she couldn’t tell in what direction they were travelling. They had been driving for thirty minutes when they finally lurched around a corner, rolling her against the wheel arch to her right. The van slowed down to take a ramp, made a left turn and then two quick rights.

  Beatrix listened: the sound outside was different, like they were moving through open space instead of the city. They slowed and then came to a full stop. A stop sign, or maybe a traffic light, Beatrix figured; she could hear the turn signal clicking on and off in the cabin. They made another left and stopped again.

  The doors opened and Beatrix looked out. The van was outside a large building with a sign on the wall that read ‘Hong Kong Business Aviation Centre.’

  She took her Ruger from her bag, went to the front of the van and handed it through the open window to the driver, telling him to give it to Michael for safekeeping until she came back. She was not willing to risk taking a weapon across international lines; she would re-equip herself when they landed in Cuba.

  “Come on,” she said to Danny as she shuffled to the door and slipped down to the ground. “Don’t forget your gear.”

  Danny grabbed the duffel he had at his feet.

  “You got the tapes?”

  Danny tapped his hand against the bag. “Inside.”

  Beatrix grabbed her go-bag and led the way inside the building. A young Chinese woman in a trim business suit approached them as soon as they entered the lobby.

  “Please follow me.” The woman turned on her heel and led the way to a small passenger lounge.

  “When are we leaving?” Beatrix asked.

  “The captain is just finishing the preflight checks,” she said. “You’ll be board
ing in a few minutes. Please make yourselves comfortable. I’ll just need your passports.”

  “Here,” Beatrix said, taking out one of the fake passports that she kept in her go-bag—one of a set that Group Fifteen knew nothing about and could not trace—and the passport that Logan had provided for Danny.

  “Wait here,” she told Danny, and went in search of the bathroom. Inside, she removed her make-up and changed out of Caprice’s gothy black into her own clothes. She repacked her bag, checking that everything was as it should be, and then went back to the waiting room.

  There were leather seats and a selection of cold cuts, bottles of alcoholic and soft drinks, and a coffee machine. Beatrix went over to the machine and made them two coffees.

  “Where did you get the passport?” Danny said.

  “From Logan. You’re Danny Arakawa now.” She handed him the other documents that Logan had provided. “You’ll need to study these on the flight and remember the details. It’s what we’d call a legend—a cover story. It all needs to be second nature.”

  Danny took the package. “Don’t we need to clear immigration first?”

  Beatrix gestured to the terminal. “This will be a full-service operator. They’ll have on-site clearance facilities. It’ll all be taken care of.”

  She took out her phone and navigated to the camera app. She selected video and held up the phone so that Danny was in frame.

  “What are you doing?” he asked her.

  “Logan is going to send someone to get Melissa,” she said. “The idea of going to Cuba might worry her. She won’t recognise the person who speaks to her, either. You need to record a message explaining what’s going on. Whoever picks her up will play it for her.”

  “What do I say?”

  “Tell her that everything is okay. Tell her that you’re waiting for her, and tell her that she can trust the person who shows her the message. Keep it brief. Keep it light. Smile a lot.”

  “Feels weird,” he complained.

  “Just do it, Danny.”

  He shrugged. “All right.”

  He cleared his throat, scratched his cheek and, at a nod from Beatrix, started to speak. His initial halting nervousness didn’t last long, and, by the time he was at the end of the short message, he managed to end with a wide and welcoming smile. Beatrix watched, and, although she tried to keep an encouraging expression on her face, she felt her throat constrict.