by D S Kane
* * *
Jon scanned the street ahead of them as they emerged on the far end of the alleyway from the Bund. It seemed safe enough. “Wait here and press yourselves against the building wall.” He pointed to William and Betsy.
Jon pushed his head out from the alley and watched as Sang entered a taxi. Then he jumped into the street and flagged another taxi. He beckoned to his companions and they dashed to the cab.
* * *
Sokol had jumped down the staircase, one floor to another, and bolted out the door. He made a mad dash across the Bund and raced through the alleyway, still wearing the surgical gloves he’d used when handling the Dragunov. He’d left the rifle in a trash can on the street, but it was clean and inside its case.
As he neared the alley’s exit to the street, he saw some of the Asian’s lunch partners getting into a cab. Sokol drew his handgun but the cab was gone before he could aim. He saw an empty taxi and flagged it down. “Follow the taxi just in front of you.” The cabby nodded and pulled from the curb. Sokol hoped that if he could grab just one of its travelers, he could find out how much each of them knew. Then he would know if the others were required targets. One thing he knew for sure: It would have taken longer than one lunch for Sang to have told his companions all he knew.
* * *
Jon looked out the rear window of the cab. “Rats!”
Betsy asked, “What? Where?”
“In the cab directly behind us.”
William and Betsy both scoured the street behind them.
“We’ll have trouble when we exit the cab at the library.” Jon’s hand folded to a fist under his chin. “Lemme think.”
Betsy pulled out her cellphone. “There’s a souk about a block away. We can exit there and let whoever it is follow us and get ahead. Then we’ll know what he looks like, and we can double back.”
Jon nodded. “Right.”
* * *
Sokol watched their cab slow down and suddenly jerk to a stop. The three occupants bolted from their cab into the crowded market. Sokol tossed a stack of bills onto the driver’s seat and plunged out of the cab. He was less than thirty seconds behind his targets as he charged after them, but by the time he reached their last known position, they were gone. He began a systematic search routine, but fast rather than thorough. Nothing. He had failed.
* * *
The scribbled note led them to the top floor of the prime Shanghai library. There were two copies there but the one numbered four was one of the ones that had been borrowed.
William looked as if he’d been gut-punched. His eyes drifted to the floor. “Dead end.”
“I don’t read Mandarin. What’s it say, Willy?” Betsy tugged his sleeve.
“Book’s out. It could be out for up to two weeks. I don’t know how many of them there are. We need to get the addresses of all the borrowers and visit each at their homes.”
Jon made a face. “How do we get the addresses?”
Betsy shrugged. “I can hack the library’s database. But since I don’t read Mandarin, I’ll need your help.” She touched William’s shoulder.
William nodded. He removed his notebook from its case. “Let’s find a study carrel and get started.”
* * *
Hours passed and the sky shifted toward dusk. The lights in the library came on and Jon stood behind his hacker friends. “Who’s this one?”
William scanned the lines of Mandarin across the screen. “She’s the manager of a restaurant and she borrowed the book a few days ago. So, not our target.”
Betsy turned and faced Jon. “We’ve examined all the people who borrowed copies of this book. There are eleven copies, two still at this library and four borrowed the book before Sang was here. We have the addresses of the five potential targets. All live near the library. The first four are close together, in the Xuhui.”
William handed Jon a piece of paper with scribbled notes on it:
Xuhui—168 Wulumuqi Road, near Wuyuan Road, 5 minutes to Changshu Road M1/7, 10 mins from the Shanghai Library, with M 10 nearby.
Xuhui—472 Changshu Road, 3rd floor, near Changle Road.
Xuhui Old Town—8320 South Xiangyang Road, near Yongjia Road, 5 minute walk from L1&10 at South Shanxi Road station.
Xuhui—983 Xingguo Road, close to Hunan Road, walking distance from the Radisson Hotel.
Pudong—12 Lujiazui near the Bund.
Jon scanned the list. “Let’s do them in the order you have them on the list. Maybe we’ll get lucky and won’t have to cross the river into the Pudong area.”
* * *
They walked about ten minutes from the library, along Changshu Road to Wuyuan Road, then five minutes more along Wulumuqi Road, looking for number 168. It was a row house. Three flights up to the roof. Betsy asked, “Who lives here?”
William read from the notes on the list. “Liu Shun Yee. A merchant. Bank account at HSBC.”
Jon smiled. “Mostly harmless, then?”
Betsy pulled her cellphone from her pocket. “The windows are dark. Let’s call to see if someone’s home.” When the other two nodded, she read the phone number from the list and punched it in. “No answer. So what do we do?”
Jon scanned the building. “We take the path to the back of the house and look for an easy way in.”
The tiny yard was dark. There was one window at ground level and a rear door made of wood. Jon tried the door. Locked. He pulled a small case from his pocket. From the case, he took out a tiny file and placed it at the door handle. He tapped it with the body of his cellphone and the door popped open.
“Quickly, now.” William walked into what appeared to be the family room. He searched the drawers of a wooden desk, one by one. “Nothing here.”
Betsy passed the bookcases in the room. “It won’t be here. Not the library’s book.” She took the staircase up to the loft. In less than two minutes she returned. “No love up there.”
Jon scanned the kitchen and a small study on the ground floor. “Not here.”
They exited the back door and walked the dark path to the street about five minutes back the way they’d come, toward Changshu Road. Number 472 was an apartment building.
William read the scribbled note. “Third floor. Apartment 3-J. Name of the book’s borrower is Sandra Loecher. She’s attending university here and her bank account is also at HSBC.”
They stood across the street while William punched the woman’s number into his cell. He spoke on the phone for several minutes.
“The bad news is, she’s home. I said the library sent us. I told her the book is being recalled to the library because someone with a communicable disease had borrowed it before and several people are now ill. She’ll buzz us in. Let me do the talking.”
The elevator was out of order, so the three walked up the stairs. William knocked on the door and said something in Mandarin. Sandra Loecher replied in slightly stiff Mandarin. William turned to Betsy and Jon. “She say book in living room. No want touch it. We go.” He waved his companions toward the next room.
Jon pulled a plastic bag from his pocket.
Sandra Loecher pointed to the desk. “It’s there. Please take it. Will I be sick?”
Jon slipped the book into the plastic bag without touching it.
William shook his head. “Probably not. We not even sure book contains bacteria that caused previous borrower to be ill.”
In seconds they were back on the street. Jon pulled the book from the bag and handed it to William. “What number copy is this?”
William read the card glued into the back inside cover. “Number seven.” He pulled the list from his pocket. “On to target number three.”
They used Betsy’s cellphone GPS to locate 8320 South Xiangyang Road in Old Town, near Yongjia Road, near the L1 and 10 lines at South Shanxi Road station. It was a huge apartment complex, at least thirty stories tall. Betsy asked, “Why do we not have an apartment number? There must be over a hundred units in the building. We’re totally
fucked.”
William shook his head. “Maybe. But let’s try a few tricks before we give up on this address. The book’s borrower is ‘Alvin Chow.’ He pulled up the real-estate listings for the building. “All the units are ultra-luxury, so there’s a good chance Mr. Chow is multilingual. Might be an English speaker. Aha! He has a huge balance in his current account at BNP. My guess is he’s in the penthouse. Jon, you call the guy’s phone.” He handed Jon the phone.
Jon punched in Mr. Chow’s number. “Ah, Mr. Chow. Do you speak English?” The conversation was somewhat stilted, with Jon explaining there was a problem with the book and could they please have him meet them outside the lobby. Then a lot of “yes” and “no” responses.
The front door buzzed and popped open. “He wants to see me,” said Jon. “Just me. Wait in the lobby.”
Jon took the elevator up thirty-eight floors and when the doors opened, he was met by three very large men in business suits, each holding a semiautomatic handgun. Aimed at him.
“Hello. I’m from Shanghai Library.”
The man in the center motioned for Jon to raise his arms above his head. When Jon complied, the three patted him down for weapons.
Jon remained silent.
They motioned for him to follow and walked down the interior hall of the penthouse to a circular room with bench seats around its periphery. “You wait here,” one of them said. The man walked through a doorway, leaving Jon with the two other guards.
Minutes passed. Then a very thin, short man, possibly less than five feet tall, entered the circular waiting room, holding a thin book. “Here. This is what you want. Yes?”
Jon read the title. “Ah, yes, thanks.”
“Then, go now and never return.”
Jon took the proffered book and hustled into the elevator. He didn’t take the time to look it over. He just ran from the elevator into the lobby and gathered William and Betsy. “Out of here.”
On the street, several blocks away, he slowed, breathless, and handed the book to William. “Well?”
“Sorry, Jon. Another zero.”
Betsy read the scribbled paper. “This is the last address in Xuhui. 983 Xingguo Road, Close to Hunan Road, near the Radisson Hotel. If not here, we’ll have to cross the river and head into the Pudong.”
William took the paper and pulled his notebook computer from its case. “The borrower’s name is Samuel Chin. He’s a tour guide. Almost nothing in his bank account. Nothing else I can find. Almost as if he doesn’t exist. I wonder why?”
Jon said, “Could be he’s CSIS. Chinese Secret Intelligence Service. As a tour guide, he could freely track visitors in Shanghai and ensure none are on espionage assignments. His legend would be pretty bare if Samuel is a backstopped identity.”
“Assuming you’re correct, Jon, how should we handle this?” Betsy shifted from one foot to the other.
Jon sighed. “William. You were a major in the CSIS, weren’t you?”
“Damn it, Jon, you know I was. But I’m not anymore, and if my father finds out I’m in China, there will be a manhunt to find me. I’m no longer welcome here.”
Jon paced in front of his companions for several minutes, talking to himself. Then he stopped. “You’re right, of course, William. We’ll have to do this as a covert mission, when Samuel is either asleep or gone for the night.” He looked at his wristwatch. “It’s after ten at night. We’ll wait another hour and then break in. Very quietly. Let’s find a convenience store and buy a few flashlights.”
Ninety minutes later they were across the street from Samuel Chin’s home. There was no way a tour guide could afford anything this grand. It was probably two bedrooms and very spacious, sitting in one of the best neighborhoods in Shanghai.
William faced Jon. “I think you’re right, Jon. Senior CSIS officer.”
Jon nodded back. “Okay, then. Let’s find the back door.” They searched for an alleyway in vain. “The front door, then.” Jon pulled the bump-key set from his pocket. But before he could use the set, William stopped him.
“Don’t. That door is coated with the reflective paint I had on the door to my Hong Kong apartment. As soon as you make contact, the paint will report an unauthorized attempt at entry. There’ll be a camera somewhere you and I can’t find it, possibly within the paint on the door itself. All our images will be recorded and transmitted to CSIS. We’ll all be hunted.”
Betsy stepped between them. “If it transmits when triggered, then we can hack it.” She took William’s notebook from its case, sat on the curbside and opened it. “Okay then, first I’ll find any networks in this vicinity. Wow. Over fifty, all secured with a password.”
She set to work, hacking into network after network with William aiding her in seeking out telltales indicating a military security level. Over an hour passed, until she muttered “Eureka!”
Jon rushed to view the screen. “How can you tell what in damnation it is? It’s written in Chinese.”
Betsy pointed to the string of numbers and special characters on top of the script. “Here. It’s definitely a security level above that allowed by China’s leaders.”
William examined the screen’s contents. “Betsy’s right. We’ll need to mimic the inflow and outflow of the control characters relating to the reflective paint. “See this?” He pointed to a repeating string. “It’s the paint reporting that no change has occurred. Betsy, copy this string and set it to repeat. Also, see here? It’s the camera embedded within the paint. Set it to reporting the image it now has as a repeating image.”
William pointed to Jon. “It’s all yours, Jon. We’ll handle the network. You just have to find the book.”
Jon pulled the bump-key set from his pocket. “Right.” He tapped the knob’s handle and the door sprung open. Jon disappeared into the foyer and closed the door behind him. He turned on his flashlight and searched for the book on every flat surface in the room. Nothing. On to the kitchen. No love there. Then he passed the bedroom, where he heard snoring. He thought, if I don’t find it in the bathroom, I’ll have to search the bedroom and pray I don’t wake old Benjamin. The book was in the bathroom on the sink adjacent the toilet. Jon scanned the inside back page of the book. It was volume four! He headed out of the bathroom, happy at last.
“What are you doing in my home?”
Jon looked at the man facing him, three feet away. Dressed in pajamas and holding a semiautomatic handgun. “This book, the library wants it returned.”
“What? Are you insane?”
Jon could feel that there was something stuffed within the binding. He pushed it out into his hand and stuffed it into his pocket. “Well, maybe a bit crazy. Look, if you want it, I can let you have it for a bit longer, but I’m next on the borrowers’ list. Why don’t you just let me take it now?”
Samuel shook his head. “What’s so special about this book?”
“I’m an ex-pat. I like to walk the city. At night. The book suits my personality.”
Samuel’s jaw dropped. “You are crazy. I’m calling security.” He backed away, reaching behind him for his cellphone, which was on a table in the hallway.
* * *
Betsy had been staring at the notebook’s screen. It showed a fuzzy vid of Jon with his hands up in the air and Samuel reaching for the cellphone on the table. She sighed. “Jon’s in trouble. Come on.” She placed the notebook computer in its case and grasped William’s hand.
“Just what do you think we can do to help him?” William asked.
She rang the doorbell at Samuel’s home. “Let me do the talking.”
The peephole opened on the door. “Who are you?” Samuel demanded.
Betsy said, “We’re from the Shanghai Hospital for the Insane. One of our charges has escaped and we’re searching door to door. Have you seen a thin Caucasian with brown hair, about six feet tall?
Samuel opened the door and pointed behind him.
Betsy said, “Harold, we’ve been searching for several hours. What are you do
ing here?”
Jon held up the book. “Here it is! The book of truth!”
Betsy faced Samuel. “Please. He means you no harm. Let us take him. Let him keep the book.”
After nearly thirty seconds, Samuel nodded.
* * *
As they reached the street, Jon said, “I could have rendered him unconscious, and then we’d have his gun.”
Betsy shook her head. “And maybe you’d be wounded or dead. The gun isn’t worth the risk.”
“What did you find?”William asked.
Jon shook his head. “Got what we came for. Let’s get out of here now.”
Betsy said, “Not yet. Give me a minute to close this down.” She pulled the notebook from its case and keyed at a furious pace. “Turning off our security bypass. Okay. Now we can go.”
William asked again, “What did you get?”
“I dunno.” Jon held up the thumb-drive. “Whatever it is, this is it.”
* * *
Samuel Chin was now fully awake. He thought about the break-in and the characters who had entered his home. The technology embedded within the paint of the front door had recently been upgraded with some new functionality that might help him determine his course of action. He pulled his jammer-scanner from the drawer of his night-table and aimed it at the front door. The readout on the jammer-scanner contained the backup of the images that had been recorded off-site by the scanner.
He targeted facial images of the three intruders and pressed the “identify” button on the jammer-scanner. It took nearly two minutes to process the data. The identities of the two men came up. Both were marked “terminate with prejudice.” The Asian male was identified as “Major William Wing, CSIS Technical Research and Development,” and the Caucasian male was identified as “Jon Sommers, Mossad assassin.” The female was “unknown.”