Red Phoenix: A Thomas Caine Thriller (The Thomas Caine Series Book 2)

by Andrew Warren

  Ted looked Blayne in the eye. Blayne looked away, and said nothing.

  “Well, I have,” Ted continued. “It’s not pretty. And that’s just for starters.”

  “Jesus Chris, this is a disaster.”

  Ted nodded. “Yes sir, it is. And more importantly, it could derail the President’s new deal with China.”

  Blayne looked up and squinted his eyes. “What do you mean?”

  “I’m telling you, this kid went deep. He dug up shit as far back as 1989. Personnel records of CIA-planted agitators that were part of the Tiananmen Square protest. Operation Canary ring any bells?"

  Blayne shook his head. "That's all ancient history. That's—"

  Ted cut him off. “John, this kid has intel, somewhere, that links a United States intelligence agency to the goddamn Tiananmen Square Massacre! You think the Chinese will sign the President’s bullshit environmental deal if that leaks out?”

  Blayne ran his hand over his bald scalp. “Fuck. Look, Ted, the President is adamant, he wants this exchange to go through. He wants to give them back this hacker for the journalist they’re holding in Beijing. I’ve tried to talk him out of it, but he’s not budging. It’s not just the trade deal, he’s got an election coming up. He’s afraid the Chinese will execute this kid on some trumped up espionage charges. Something like that, with national news coverage … there’s no way his approval ratings don’t take a hit.”

  Ted stood up and slid his phone in his pocket. “Then he’s going to have to deal with the worst intelligence blowback this country has ever seen. We’re talking thirty-plus years of dirty laundry, hand delivered to the PRC.”

  Blayne grimaced. “We can’t allow that to happen, but we have to maintain deniability for the President. What if this hacker, Sun Wai Tung … what if he had an accident?”

  “Sun Wai Tong, sir. And that would still leave us exposed. What if the information is on a dead man’s switch somewhere? What if it’s with a hacker who was instructed to release it in case of Sun Wai’s death? Until we can get our hands on everything he downloaded, we can’t afford to lose him. But there is another way.”

  “Such as?”

  “We approach this from the other end. What if something happened to the journalist, in China? No journalist, no trade. Less exposure for us, and it buys us time to put some real pressure on this guy.”

  “Can you make that happen?”

  Ted smiled. “Well, as you know, John, the NSA is not chartered to operate on foreign soil. But if you give the word, I may know someone who has an asset in place.”

  Blayne sucked in a breath of air, then nodded. “Do it.”

  “Yes sir. See you in two weeks.”

  Ted waved and strode out of the room. He stopped in the hall outside and turned his phone back on. As he walked, he began to tap out a text message.

  DNI ONBOARD. PERMISSION TO DEPLOY?

  He waited for a few minutes. Then his phone chirped with an incoming message.

  GO FOR RED PHOENIX DEPLOYMENT.

  Ted slid the phone into his pocket, whistling a tune to himself as he walked down the stairs.

  Chapter Five

  Caine charged across the dim apartment towards the withered form of Allan Bernatto. His green eyes seemed to glow from within with rage and hate. Bernatto stepped backwards and slammed into the sink. The older man reached out and grabbed a frying pan off the tiny stove.

  As Bernatto swung the pan like a club, Caine raised his left arm and blocked the feeble blow. He slammed the butt of the pistol into the older man’s forehead as he drove his knee up into his abdomen. Bernatto gasped in pain and bent forward. Caine grabbed his wrist and twisted. The frying pan clattered to the floor.

  Keeping his hold on the older man’s wrist, Caine yanked backwards. Bernatto flew towards him. Caine slid aside and lashed out with a savage kick. The blow sent Bernatto flying into the sitting room. He fell to the ground and sprawled across the dusty, faded Turkish rug.

  After he hit the ground, he rolled towards the couch. He reached into the dark space under the dilapidated piece of furniture.

  As Caine charged towards him, Bernatto drew a small pistol from a concealed mount under the sofa. He raised it with a shaking hand and pointed it towards Caine. But he was too late. Caine was upon him. With a swift kick, he knocked the gun from Bernatto’s grasp.

  Caine grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and dragged him to his feet. He spun and tossed Bernatto sideways through the air. The older man slammed into the wall. His glasses flew from his face as the drywall behind him buckled and collapsed inwards.

  Bernatto struggled to pull himself from the hole in the wall. Before he could move an inch, Caine’s forearm slammed into the older man's throat.

  “Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for this? How long I’ve dreamed of killing you?” Caine hissed, his eyes glowing with inner fury.

  Bernatto struggled to speak, but Caine pressed his arm down harder. The older man clawed at his arm as it crushed into his larynx and windpipe.

  “The White Leopards … they tortured me, Allan. For days. Weeks. I don’t even know how long. I lost track of time. And I never said a word. But none of that hurt as much as the truth. You burned me. You left us there to die. And then you framed me for the whole thing.”

  Bernatto struggled to form words. “Not … supposed … to torture. You … were supposed … to die.”

  Caine withdrew his arm, then drove the elbow forward into Bernatto’s nose. There was a sharp crack as the cartilage cracked. Blood streamed from the older man’s nostrils.

  Caine grabbed the old man again and pulled him from the wall. Chunks of plaster and drywall exploded from the hole as Bernatto flew through the air again.

  He slammed to the ground and immediately rolled over. His fingers clawed the carpet, searching for the gun Caine had knocked from his hand.

  Caine pulled his pistol from his waistband.

  “Don’t,” he hissed. He cocked the hammer of the Berretta PX4. The mechanical sound echoed through the still air.

  Bernatto froze.

  “Hands where I can see them,” Caine said. His voice was no longer angry. It was cold and emotionless. He kept his distance from Bernatto, making sure the older man could not reach him with his feet or hands.

  Bernatto raised his hands and slowly turned around. He sat up on the floor, facing Caine. His chest heaved as he gasped for breath.

  “The man outside, the one with the newspaper … he was with you?”

  “Just a local I hired. I wanted you to see him.”

  Bernatto nodded. “Made me waste time with a surveillance detection routine. Gave you a chance to get into position. Smart. Are you here on your own? Or did someone send you?”

  “Your friends at the CIA finally realized what a snake in the grass you were. Rebecca saw to that. She’s shining a light on all your unsanctioned ops. Assassinations, bribes, drugs, arms deals … Christ, Allan, you tried to provoke a war between China and Japan. You’re an embarrassment now. A mess that needs to be cleaned up.”

  Bernatto’s chest heaved as he struggled to breathe on the dusty floor. “So Rebecca survived? Good for her.”

  “You put her in a chair, Allan. You took her legs.” Caine took a step forward. His cold, green eyes glinted in a shaft of sunlight. “The CIA wants you dead or alive. But because of that, more than anything else … because of what you did to her, I’m thinking we go with dead.”

  Caine leveled the pistol at Bernatto’s head.

  “Wait, there’s something you need to know—”

  “Goodbye, Allan,” Caine said. His finger wrapped around the trigger.

  “Jack Tyler’s son is in danger!” Bernatto shouted.

  Caine stopped.

  “What are you talking about?”

  Bernatto lowered his hands. Caine did not move the pistol.

  “Jack Tyler, your old partner. He had a son, Sean. Sean Tyler. He’s in danger. He’s going to be killed. And I know where he is
.”

  “Bullshit.”

  Bernatto picked his mangled glasses up off the floor. He twisted them into position and put them back on his face. One of the lenses was cracked. He squinted up at Caine with his dark, scowling eyes.

  “It’s true. You promised Jack you would look out for him. But you never checked up on him, did you?”

  “You son of a bitch. You were listening the entire time? You sold us out and listened to Jack die for your own fucking amusement?”

  Bernatto shook his head. “I took no pleasure in what I did. It had to be done. You were wearing a mic, so I listened. That’s all.”

  “Had to be done? Why, to line your pockets?”

  “You know why as well as I do, Tom. You can’t requisition government funds to assassinate arms dealers. Or stage a coup to secure oil rights. Your unit, the missions we undertook, the work you did … where do you think that money came from? What do you think paid for your weapons and equipment? The informants, the bribes? All of it?”

  “You’re telling me you funded unsanctioned operations with drug money and arms deals?”

  “I did what had to be done. What the country needed but couldn’t admit was necessary. I’ve been at this for a long time, Tom. What you call ‘unsanctioned,’ three presidential administrations called ‘deniable.’ You’re a fool if you think otherwise.”

  “I was a fool to trust you. To believe you were anything other than a two-faced greedy sack of shit. I should have known you would hang me out to dry at the first opportunity.”

  “I betrayed you. That’s the past. It’s over. But killing me isn’t going to erase the blood on your hands. It’s not going to change who you are.”

  “I am what you made me,” Caine growled.

  “Is that really what you believe? Or just what you tell yourself to sleep at night?”

  Caine started to speak, then stopped. He stared at Bernatto.

  “Sean. Where is he?”

  “He’s in China. And that’s all you get until you let me go.”

  Caine’s eyes glinted in the harsh light. His lips twisted into a grim smile. “I can make you tell me, Allan.”

  Bernatto looked up. “Yes, I’m sure you could. But Sean doesn’t have much time. I know exactly how long I have to hold out for. And you don’t. That gives me the advantage.”

  “So I’m supposed just let you go? And trust that you’ll tell me? That this isn’t a setup?”

  “Yes. That is exactly what you’re going to do.”

  “And why on earth would I do that?”

  Bernatto peered up at Caine over the rims of his bent glasses.

  “You risked your life in Japan, twice. First to save a gangster’s son. Then to save that girl, Hitomi. You barely knew those people. This is Jack Tyler’s son we’re talking about. And I swear to you, he’s a dead man unless you do as I say.”

  Caine’s face was still, unmoving. His features looked as if they were carved from stone.

  “You’re a killer, Tom, but you’re not the operative you once were,” Bernatto said. He had his breath now, and a trace of his old arrogance crept back into his voice. “Maybe it was Rebecca that made you soft. Maybe it was the torture. Or maybe you just burned out. Lord knows this life can do it to a man. But we both know the man you are now is not going to stand here and let Sean Tyler die. Not when there’s a chance, no matter how small, that you can do something about it.”

  Caine gritted his teeth. His mouth twisted into a snarl.

  He pulled the trigger.

  The gunfire was deafening in the tiny apartment. A furious cry exploded from Caine’s mouth and he fired twice more.

  Then there was silence. Smoke danced in the narrow beams of sunlight that cut through the room. The bitter smell of gunpowder filled the musty air.

  Bernatto shook his head to clear the ringing in his ears. He turned to his right and saw three smoking bullet holes in the dusty carpet.

  He turned back to Caine. His lips curled into a sneer. “I take it we have a deal?”

  Caine kept the pistol trained on Bernatto. “If you’re lying to me, if this is a trick, there’s no place you can hide that I won’t find you.”

  Bernatto lowered his arms.

  “I know that.”

  Caine lowered the pistol.

  “Get your things. We’re leaving.”

  Chapter Six

  The Ministry of Land and Resources, like most government buildings in Beijing, was a nondescript slab of gray bricks and glass. Inside, the hallways were as cold and lifeless as the exterior. It was a sterile labyrinth of white walls and tile floors. The only decoration was the occasional propaganda poster. The smiling faces on the posters promised “A New China” or “One People, One China.”

  As he walked down the hallway, David Fang slowed his steps, allowing Helen Wong, the Vice Minister, to keep pace.

  “Madam Vice Minister,” he said, his voice warm and full. “This property we’re discussing … this is not some fertile farmland, providing rice and flour for the good people of China. This is a slum. The water is polluted, the local economy is stagnant. My proposed factory would increase the GDP of the region a hundred-fold.”

  Helen glanced sideways at Fang as they descended a wide, steep set of stairs. David was tall, lean, and handsome. His skin was a deep tan, and his eyes were dark, lively, and intelligent. His hair was jet black, without a trace of grey. At forty-five years old, he looked younger than men ten years his junior. He wore a crisp, white suit and a black silk knit tie.

  “Factories like yours are the main reason this area is so polluted, Mr. Fang,” Helen said. Her stern face twisted into a scowl. “This Ministry is already under intense pressure. I’m sure you’re aware, China is about to sign onto the Global Environmental Accords with the U.S. We've vowed to close down industrial sites and reduce pollutants in our river water. We’ve also committed to a twenty percent reduction of industrial land sales.”

  As they moved through the busy lobby, they crossed over one of the few splashes of color in the building. The tile floor beneath their feet was inlaid with a massive red circle, the Ministry’s seal. The circle was wreathed in gold and contained five yellow stars. Like the Chinese flag, the largest star represented communism. The other stood for the various classes of Chinese people, all united under one political system.

  Fang resisted the impulse to shake his head as he stepped over the enormous red circle. He knew no star on that flag represented him. No government or political system defined his destiny.

  “I couldn’t agree more, Helen," he said. "That’s why Fang Industries has recruited the top environmental scientists in the country. Based on their recommendations, I'm sure we can reduce pollutants from my existing factories, given time to—.”

  “That’s too little, too late, Mr. Fang. This has become a hot button issue, and the Premier wants this agreement to go through. There’s nothing I can do.”

  “Before you answer, please, allow me to demonstrate my respect with a gift.” Fang smiled as he held the door open for her. His teeth gleamed even whiter than his suit. They stepped out onto the gray marble stairs that led down to the street. Red paper lanterns hung above the building’s entrance, swaying in the breeze.

  Helen shook her head. “Mr. Fang, I …” Her voice trailed off as she turned and stared at a commotion in the street.

  Two white limousines blocked traffic at either end of the street. The blocked rows of cars honked their horns, and drivers shook their fists out the windows. A few bicyclists darted around the limos, but most took care to give the entire scene a wide berth. The last thing anyone wanted to do was attract attention outside a government building.

  Fang smiled and gestured with an outstretched arm. Outside the Ministry, eight luxury automobiles were fanned out across the street. They formed a semi-circle of gleaming metal and chrome.

  Each vehicle was a sparkling brand new Rolls Royce Dawn. The luxury convertibles were loaded with massive twin turbo V12 engines, le
ather interiors, and a host of other features. The fan of cars ranged in color from the darker grays and blues, to a bright canary yellow. Their eight silver angel hood ornaments sparkled in the sun, like a troupe of metal ballerinas.

  David walked over to the center vehicle, a shimmering pearl white model. He opened the driver’s door. The door opened right to left, a so-called “suicide door,” to allow easier entry into the vehicle.

  “For you, Madam Vice Minister. I didn’t know what your favorite color was, so I got you one of each. The yellow one is custom, by the way. There are only seven official colors, but I thought eight would make a more auspicious gift.”

  Helen gasped. Each of the vehicles in the blocked street was worth more than three million Chinese Yuan.

  “Hao jiahuo,” she exclaimed in disbelief. “Mr. Fang, one car is quite enough for me, and I already have that taken care of. Get these out of here. Now!”

  “Ms. Wong, I don’t wish to be disrespectful. Your predecessor and I had an arrangement regarding the sale of this land. All I’m asking is for you to honor our agreement.” Fang’s voice dropped in pitch. “It’s the honorable thing to do. And it’s the smart thing to do. For everyone.”

  “My predecessor was brought up on charges of corruption,” Helen snapped. “He is being transferred to a state prison as we speak. Unless you wish to join him, I suggest you clear the streets of this outrageous bribe and leave.”

  She leveled a stern gaze at Fang. “But before you go, let me make one thing clear. I am well aware of your unsavory criminal connections, Mr. Fang. I‘ve ordered my department to perform a complete audit of all your factories. If I find a single yuan of Triad money in your books, I’ll shut you down in a heartbeat. Are we clear? Qingchule ma?”

  Helen squinted at the vehicles and shook her head. Then she turned and walked back into the Ministry.