But he’d already made up his mind.
He was going to Thailand.
Chapter 5
Beijing, China
Two large personnel carriers rolled to a stop in front of a six-story chrome and glass building on the outskirts of Beijing, followed by a heavily plated mobile headquarters van with run-flat tires and gun ports dotting its sides. A squad of police in SWAT gear emptied from the vehicles and formed two columns on the sidewalk. Pedestrians paused and quickly detoured to avoid whatever was happening. Three men in neon emergency vests set up bright orange cones in the street and began waving traffic around them.
A black SUV pulled to the curb and the men stiffened to attention. A diminutive man in a black suit stepped from the vehicle and looked over the officers, and then nodded to the lieutenant at their head as more SUVs arrived.
“Let’s do this,” the little man said.
The lieutenant nodded and called out an order. The assembled gunmen chambered rounds in their weapons and prepared to storm the building.
~ ~ ~
Huang glared at the telephone on his desk and then back to the pile of paperwork he was plowing through, the phone’s ringing as insistent as an angry wife. He dropped his pen on the contract he was reviewing and reached for the handset.
“Yes?”
“Sir, there’s a group of men from the government on their way up. At least twenty of them. Armed.” It was the security guard in the lobby of the building headquarters for Moontech – Huang’s creation, a thriving technology firm that was bravely forging into the new world of global capitalism, hosting tens of thousands of websites and developing myriad programs and apps.
“What? Are you serious?”
“Completely, sir. They’ll be there any moment.”
Huang hung up and pushed back from his desk, alarmed. He operated his company honestly, paid off all the right people so he wouldn’t be disturbed, didn’t engage in piracy or any of the other schemes that had been the undoing of so many of his competitors. In other words, he was clean.
He moved to his door in time to see a squad of police carrying assault rifles tromping across the office floor, led by a suited man with a lupine face. Huang’s workers froze at the sight, nobody daring to move. The officers dispersed and rounded them up at gunpoint.
Huang stepped through the door and confronted the little man, hands on his hips. “What is the meaning of this?”
“Huang Qi?” the suited official demanded.
“That’s correct.”
“You are under arrest.” The man turned to the two officers behind him. “Cuff him.”
Huang’s expression was shocked. “For what? I haven’t done anything.”
“We will be the judge of that.” One of the cops worked his way around Huang and twisted on handcuffs.
“This is an outrage,” Huang said. “My company is known for its honesty.”
“Save it. Where are your servers located?”
Huang blinked in surprise at the question. “In…in the basement. Why?”
The official withdrew a phone from his jacket pocket and made a call, ignoring Huang. “Send the tech team to the basement. Hold the workers until we’ve interrogated them all.”
The blood drained from Huang’s face. “I don’t understand. Please. Why are you doing this? All our permits are in order, our accounts are audited, we–”
The little man’s hand snaked toward Huang like lightning. Huang’s head snapped to the side from the force of the slap.
“You don’t ask questions. I do,” the official hissed, his whisper more menacing than if he’d screamed. He looked over Huang’s shoulder at the officer behind him. “Take him to headquarters.”
Huang bit back his outrage at being struck in full view of his employees and allowed himself to be led to the elevators. The expressions on his people’s faces were all the information he needed to grasp how dire his situation was. He didn’t understand how he could have gone from a leading member of society to a prisoner in seconds, but he knew he was in serious trouble. That the man in the suit hadn’t shown him any identification told him that this was an irregular operation. And in China, irregular meant more dangerous than a black widow.
The cops led him downstairs to an unmarked van and shackled his cuffs to a steel bench in the rear before closing the door. His alarm intensified – this was not how the police operated. Eventually, another man in a suit arrived, slid into the driver’s seat, and started the engine.
“Where are you taking me?” Huang asked.
The man ignored him. Huang tried again and the man called out over his shoulder through the heavy steel grid that separated the cargo area from the cab. “Shut up or it will go worse for you.”
Huang didn’t pursue it. He’d find out soon enough what had happened. He searched his brain for anything that could have prompted the raid, and kept arriving at the same answer: somehow, one of his competitors had exerted leverage on cronies in the government, and was using the police to shut Moontech down.
~ ~ ~
Jiao Long watched silently as his men removed server after server from the racks in the icy-cold basement and carried them to the freight elevator, where they would be taken to headquarters and dissected for any hint of information that could aid him in his search. This was an issue of national security, and as such was of the highest priority, his superior had made clear. He was free to use whatever means at his disposal that would deliver results, including detainment and confiscation.
Jiao was a twenty-two-year veteran of China’s MSS – the equivalent of America’s CIA, the clandestine arm of the government responsible for espionage and countermeasures, as well as protecting the nation’s secrets. There was no higher authority, and it answered directly to the premier, who routinely gave it carte blanche to conduct its affairs however it liked. That imbued Jiao with the power of a god over the citizenry, and he was never more in his element than when running an operation like the one against Moontech.
That subversive elements in the company were at work was a given; at least, that was where all the current evidence pointed. If that turned out to be false, it wasn’t his concern. There was no redress for his victims, no court to complain to. He was effectively untouchable, and could and would ride roughshod over anyone in the way in his quest for answers.
“Notify me when the servers are at headquarters. Put the interrogation team on the workers. I want answers. Is that clear?” he instructed his subordinate, Deshi.
“Yes, sir.”
“I’m going back to headquarters to learn what our friend Huang knows. I’ll leave my cell on.”
~ ~ ~
The interrogation rooms at MSS were grim, the walls gray unfinished concrete, the temperature frigid by design. Huang was shackled to a steel islet mounted to the wall, forced to stand as he waited for whatever was to come. A steel door with bubbling anthracite paint stood at the far end, and he tried to ignore the slight slope in the floor that fed into an oversized floor drain in the center of the room – he didn’t want to contemplate what purpose it might serve.
The bolt on the outside of the door slid open with a clank and it opened. Jiao entered, followed by a pair of guards, one carrying a metal box, the other pushing a red mechanic’s rolling cart. An array of power tools lay on the black rubber top, and a deep-cycle solar battery rested on the bottom tray.
Huang swallowed hard at the sight, and prayed that it was all intended for intimidation rather than actual use.
“You’ve been a naughty boy,” Jiao said in a reasonable tone, as though chiding him for a traffic infraction. “You are accused of high crimes against the people’s republic. Treasonous acts that are punishable by death. It would be best if you admitted what you’ve done, and who’s in this with you, so we can take corrective measures. If you don’t, I will get it out of you one way or another.”
Huang’s eyes widened and he shook his head. “I swear I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
<
br /> “I knew you would say that. Subversives never admit their sins when confronted. It’s one of the perennial truths of my job.”
“I am telling the truth. I don’t know anything. What am I accused of? Investigate it and you’ll see. I’m innocent of any wrongdoing. I’m a loyal citizen,” Huang protested.
“I’m disappointed that you’ve decided to go this route. I’m always hoping to be surprised by an honest man. But don’t worry. My methods are highly effective, if agonizingly painful. You will confess.”
“There’s nothing to confess. I swear…”
An hour later Jiao confirmed that Huang had indeed been truthful in his declarations of innocence. Too late for Huang, but that was the job. Jiao regarded his two companions and wiped a fleck of gristle from his forehead with a handkerchief.
“Hose it down. We’ll chat with his second-in-command next.”
Chapter 6
Malibu, California
Drake hung up the phone as a low growl rumbled from the driveway in front of the house. Allie had been reluctant until he’d made her go to Facebook and look at the photo that had affected him so profoundly. She’d tried to explain that she was overwhelmed with the estate and the lawsuits, and that what he was asking would be a major disruption in her life.
“Allie, I know that, and I understand. But you’re the archeologist. I wouldn’t recognize a Khmer temple if it bit me. You’re the expert, not me. I wouldn’t ask you to do this if it wasn’t important.”
“How do you know they aren’t BS-ing you about that part, just to give you a pretense for looking for the plane?”
“We’ll get a complete briefing tomorrow. If it sounds like an invention, we’ll bail. That simple.”
She had paused for several moments. “I think you’re kidding yourself if you believe anything involving…those guys…is ever simple.”
“Allie, I don’t trust them as far as I can throw them, but I verified the legend of the temple. It’s as solid, or more so, than the Paititi account, and we did pretty well on that.”
“If you don’t count getting kidnapped, almost killed a bunch of times, and losing my father.”
Drake had sighed. “I’m sorry I called, Allie. I…I just wanted you to be part of this. We worked really well together, and I can’t imagine going on another expedition without you.”
Her tone had softened. “Let me do some digging. I’ll call you later when I decide.”
“I miss you, Allie.”
“I miss you, too, Drake. It’s just that everything’s so complicated right now…”
“It doesn’t have to be. Between us.”
“Easy for you to say.”
That had been two hours ago, and Allie had just called back to say she reluctantly agreed and would be on the first flight out in the morning, arriving at nine at LAX.
“Take a charter flight, Allie,” he’d said. “I’ll have one waiting for whenever you want to take off. It’s on me.”
“If you think plying me with luxury is going to work, it might.”
“That’s my hope. I’ll arrange it and send you an email. You sure you don’t want to come out tonight?”
“It’ll be a miracle if I can get everything done by tomorrow. Have them at the airport at seven a.m. And if they have croissants and good coffee, that would definitely earn you some points.”
“I’ll ensure they do. As well as mimosas and anything else you want.”
“Coffee’s more than enough.” She paused. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“I’m glad. Thanks, Allie. You won’t regret this.”
“So you say.”
The sound of a high-performance exhaust was unmistakable, and Drake approached the entry with puzzlement. When he opened the door, he was surprised to see a canary yellow Lamborghini Aventador LP 750-4 Superveloce parked in the driveway.
“What the hell…” he whispered to himself, and then the V-12 motor shut off and the driver’s door rose.
Spencer’s tanned face grinned at him as he climbed from the car. “Hey, buddy. How’s it hanging?”
“Spencer! Haven’t seen you for…forever. Is this yours?”
“Yup. Thought I’d take it for a spin up the coast. Trying to be low key and all.”
Drake eyed him skeptically. It was a little too coincidental that Spencer would appear out of nowhere minutes after the CIA departed. His suspicions about Spencer immediately returned, but he didn’t voice them. “How many tickets did you get? It looks like it’s breaking about a dozen laws just sitting there.”
“None today. But don’t ask how many I’ve had since I took delivery.” Spencer neared and gave Drake a slap on the shoulder. “What are you driving?”
“Oh, I’ve got a lifted FJ Cruiser. Not quite on par with the space shuttle here.”
“Probably gets better gas mileage, though.”
“Yeah, and I can occasionally hear the radio.”
Spencer took in the exterior of the bungalow and shook his head at Drake. “Didn’t anyone tell you that you’re rich?”
Drake shrugged. “What? It does the job. It’s just me, so what do I need with a castle?” He grinned. “You want the tour? It takes about ten seconds.”
“Sure.”
Drake led him inside, showed him around, and then offered him a drink. Spencer opted for a diet soda, and Drake a bottle of water. Spencer admired the view from the deck, and then caught sight of Kyra going into her house. When Drake arrived with the drinks, Spencer gave him a knowing look.
“I see why you like the place. Nice view, huh?” he said, a leer in his voice.
“Oh, that’s just Kyra. The neighbor.”
“Damn. I knew I lived in the wrong area.”
“What? Last time we talked you were in escrow on a house down in Corona del Mar, weren’t you?”
Spencer grimaced. “Laguna Beach.”
“Right. Oceanfront, ritzy neighborhood, new development, mega-expensive?”
“That’s the one. I closed a little over a month ago. I’m suing the developer. It’s a piece of crap.”
“What? How can it be crap for twenty million bucks?”
“Twenty-seven all in. The soil isn’t compacted correctly, the foundation’s cracking, the sheetrock is buckling – it’s a nightmare.”
“But you’ll get out of it, right?”
“Turns out half the other owners are also suing him.”
“Didn’t they have to disclose that?”
“Sure. They just didn’t. So now it’s up to the courts. And the prick countersued me for damaging his good name.”
“That’s a nuisance suit.”
“Turns out the developer knows some judges, because they froze a bunch of my money as potential damages.”
“But you have a ton left.”
“Yeah, but I have a big burn.” Spencer took a long pull on his soda. “Did I tell you I bought a plane?”
“No. What kind?”
“A jet.”
“What do you need a jet for? Why not just lease one or something?”
“To get to my boat.”
“You bought a boat, too?”
“Yup. That’s what rich guys are supposed to do, right?”
“I suppose…”
Spencer withdrew his phone from his pocket and thumbed through the menu until he had a photograph on the screen. He handed it to Drake, who whistled.
“Wow. That’s sick. How big is it?”
“Hundred and eighty. You and Allie should use it sometime. It’s in the Mediterranean right now, at a boatyard. They’re doing maintenance. I bought it from a sheik for a song.”
“What’s a song these days?”
“Thirty.”
“Million?”
“Actually more like thirty-five, with the work they’re doing.”
“Easy come…” Drake grinned. “Do I even want to know how much the plane cost?”
“I got it from the bank. The guy who’d owned it went bankrupt. Another land develo
per. Crooks, all of them.”
“So a good buy?”
“For a Gulfstream, sure.”
Drake’s mouth fell open. “You bought a Gulfstream?”
“I know. But it sold new for fifty-eight. I got it for thirty-five, three years old, only four hundred hours on it.”
“Kind of like a car, huh? Depreciates thirty percent when you drive it off the showroom floor?”
“A little like that.” Spencer set his can down. “The problem is that it’s eating me alive. The boat crew is about three quarters of a million a month, including the mooring cost and the maintenance. The jet costs three mil a year. And the attorneys are burning cash like it’s going out of style.”
“At least you still have most of your money. That’s not terrible. It’s rich-people problems.”
Spencer frowned. “Well…I invested most of it with a hedge fund. The other day I asked for fifty mil back, but they only allow redemptions once a year, and I just put it in last month.”
“Ouch. That’s a lot of money to tie up with one group.”
“I know. And the front page of the Wall Street Journal last week broke that they’re being investigated by the SEC and the Justice Department.”
“But your money’s still there, right?”
“Oh, sure. They just can’t give it to me for a year.”
Drake tilted his head. “Can you at least verify they have it?”
“Well, they said yes, but when I asked for proof, they started shuffling. All about how they don’t divulge trading positions because it could jeopardize their moves, and that a lot of it’s in currency and derivatives and hedges and credit default swaps…”
“I’m getting a headache.”
“Yup. I have another attorney clipping me for five hundred bucks an hour working on that one.”
“Yikes.”
“And then there are the other lawsuits. A guy I used to hang out with is suing because he says he had a deal with me that I reneged on. A woman claims I gave her an incurable social disease. Another claims she’s my common-law wife from Peru. The cockroaches come out of the woodwork.” Spencer sighed. “And to top it all off, my gardener claims he tripped on my stairs and wrenched his back. Of course that’s my fault. I’m liable. But he only wants five million.”
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