Act of War

by Brad Thor

  Exiting the restaurant, he turned off the iPhone and then tossed it down a storm drain. Stupid, arrogant girl.

  Back at the safe house, he checked on the other four princelings. They had eaten and were watching a Chinese DVD. He’d been loath to leave them alone, but he’d had little choice. To their credit, they had behaved themselves. Even the smokers had done as he had asked and had limited themselves to smoking in the bathroom with the window cracked. He had no desire to draw undue attention to the safe house, or to his charges. As soon as he could bring Daiyu in, they’d be able to get some sleep, and then they would be on their way.

  The FBI agent, though, was now an issue, and there were only two ways to deal with him. Either Cheng could come up with a suitable distraction to help Daiyu slip away, or he’d have to pick the right spot and put a bullet in the back of the man’s head. While a bullet in the back of the head was a lot easier to accomplish, it brought with it a host of new problems, not least of which was the possibility of a police dragnet if they found the body before the Chinese had been able to flee.

  He couldn’t risk it. He’d have to find a way to help her shake the tail without the agent’s knowing he’d been spotted. The easiest way to do that was to pick a business that had multiple entries and exits.

  After changing clothes, he left the safe house and found a small store where he bought Daiyu sweatpants, a sweatshirt, and a Boston Bruins baseball cap. Just changing her appearance was going to go a long way toward helping her disappear.

  Next, he walked over to Avenue De Lafayette to explore the Hyatt Regency Hotel. It was a large, busy building with a restaurant, a café, and, most important of all, many ways in and out. It would be perfect. There was even a lobby bar from which he could take in everything as she entered.

  As soon as he had mapped out how it would all unfold, he removed his sterile cell phone and called her at the restaurant.

  “Do you know the Hyatt Regency Hotel?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she replied. “I know it.”

  “Ask for the check then. Once you have paid, don’t do anything differently. Just walk to the hotel. Forget the man is there. Don’t look over your shoulder, don’t acknowledge him at all. Understand?”

  “Yes, I understand,” she said.

  Cheng decided it would be better to keep her on the phone and talk her all the way in. If anything, it would help keep her calm and prevent her from doing something stupid.

  It didn’t take long before she announced that she could see the hotel up ahead. Soon after that, she was outside and coming through the front doors. Cheng told her to walk straight to the main elevators, come up to the lobby level, and then take the guest elevators to the fifth floor. He would meet her there in the south stairwell.

  Looking over the lobby, he watched as Daiyu arrived and did exactly as he had instructed. He then waited for the FBI agent in order to see what he would do. Cheng had figured the man would park himself on a chair somewhere in the lobby and wait for her to come back down. Cheng was wrong.

  Seconds later, the agent arrived, but with two other agents in tow. This was not good. Cheng needed to act fast.

  There was no time to wait for the elevator. In fact, the sooner he got out of the lobby, the better. Keeping his head down, he moved to the stairwell, opened the door, and began taking the stairs two and then three at a time.

  When he reached Daiyu, he grabbed her by the arm and ordered, “Move. Now. Up. Go!”

  On the seventh floor, he steered her out of the stairwell and down the long, carpeted hallway. At an ice machine station, he directed her into the little room, pulled out the clothes he had purchased for her, and said, “Hurry. Put these on.”

  Daiyu motioned for him to turn around. Considering how she was dressed and how she had behaved, he wasn’t fooled by her false modesty. “Make it quick,” he stated, turning his back.

  When she had dressed in the sweatpants and sweatshirt, he had her tuck her hair up under the Bruins cap and then looked at her. Good enough.

  Shoving her other clothes behind the ice machine, he stole a glimpse into the hallway to make sure it was safe. There was no one there.

  Taking Daiyu by the wrist, Cheng moved quickly toward the stairwell at the other end of the hall.

  When they got there, he opened the door and stepped onto the landing, but his heart caught in his chest. There were voices and the sound of heavy footsteps coming up toward them.

  “What is it?” Daiyu asked as he backed out of the stairwell and silently closed the door.

  “Trouble.”

  They moved even faster now, back toward the stairwell they had originally been in. Cracking the door, Cheng listened and didn’t hear anything. It sounded safe until he heard the squelch from a radio. There was only one thing left to do.

  Backing out of the stairwell, he dragged Daiyu behind him, his eyes scanning the wall for what he wanted. When he found the fire alarm, he activated it.

  Instantly, strobe lights began flashing and the earsplitting wail of the alarm filled the air. Seconds later, guests began to stick their heads out of their rooms, unsure what to do next. Was there a fire? Was it a mistake?

  Turning to Daiyu, Cheng said, “Stay close to me. Don’t say a word and don’t let go of my hand.”

  The young woman nodded and Cheng led her back to the stairwell. Before he opened the door, he gave her a final reminder to be as quiet as possible. When she nodded, he opened the door and checked to make sure that whoever had been beneath them with the radio had not yet made it to their floor.

  Convinced that it was safe, as long as they went up, he drew her into the stairwell and began climbing.

  By the time they reached the tenth floor, hotel guests were already streaming in from the floors above and heading down in a torrent of robes, workout clothes, and pajamas. It was exactly what Cheng wanted. It would be impossible for the FBI agents to identify the masses of people flooding down to the lobby and out onto the sidewalks.

  Stepping onto the tenth floor, he searched until he found the service elevator and then pulled Daiyu into the vestibule. Depressing the call button, he removed his pistol, affixed its suppressor, and though he already knew the weapon was hot, checked to make sure a round was chambered.

  The young woman stared at it aghast. “What’s that?”

  “A rice maker,” Cheng replied as he retained his hold on the pistol and concealed it with the plastic bag her sweats had been in.

  She resented his insolence. “You do not have my permission to shoot anyone.”

  The remark made him smile. “I don’t need your permission. You’re not in charge here.”

  “But my grandfather—” she began.

  He shot her a stare that cut her off midsentence. “I told you. We’re not in Beijing and I don’t care who your grandfather is.”

  “You’ll be made to care,” she replied.

  “Perhaps. But until then, you’re going to keep your mouth shut and you’re going to do what I say or you won’t live to see your grandfather again.”

  The young woman folded her arms across her chest and refused to look at him.

  Obstinacy. That was fine by him, especially if it shut her up. And as long as she followed orders.

  The elevator arrived, they stepped in, and Cheng selected the basement level. The hotel had underground parking and he planned for them to slip out via the side entrance on Chauncy Street.

  He watched each floor blink by, ready for the worst should the doors open and they be confronted with a threat. Nothing happened. Even the hotel guests had stuck to the stairwells.

  Arriving at the lower level, they exited the elevator into a long service corridor lit by bright, overhead lighting.

  “This way,” he said.

  They followed the deserted corridor to a door that read Garage, Exit Only, No Reentry, all of which were fine by Cheng.

  The alarm was still blaring as he leaned against the crash bar and pushed the door open with his hip. There
was no sign of movement anywhere in the garage. They had almost made it.

  “We’re going to walk up the ramp and out onto the street,” he said. “Keep your eyes down and stay close.”

  Crossing the garage, Cheng kept his eyes peeled. Already in his mind, he was planning what he would do once they were outside. They would take a left on Chauncy, move away from the hotel to Summer Street, and start carefully working their way back to Chinatown and the safe house.

  At the top of the ramp, Cheng stuck his head out, looked both ways, and then led Daiyu onto the sidewalk. The sound of approaching police cars and fire engines could be heard in the distance.

  The street was lined with parked cars. It was a very long block with a CVS and a Macy’s at the end, and no other streets or alleyways branching off before then.

  They had only made it about twenty feet when a man shouted, “Bao Deng! FBI! Stop right where you are!”

  The federal agent hadn’t called out to Daiyu. He had called out to Cheng, specifically, and had addressed him by his alias. Somehow, the Americans were on to him. He had been left with no choice. Pushing Daiyu to the ground, Cheng spun, raised his weapon, and began to fire.

  The FBI man’s pistol jumped twice in his hands, accompanied by two loud reports, before it fell silent and he dropped to the ground, dead.

  There had been only one agent, but there were very likely more on the way. Cheng pulled Daiyu back to her feet.

  “Move!” he ordered her.

  She looked at his left shoulder and gasped. “You’re bleeding.”

  “I told you to move.”

  Prodding her toward Summer Street, Cheng ignored the pain in his arm and assessed what he would have to do next. Boston was no longer safe, and sleep was out of the question. In fact, the United States was no longer safe. They needed to get on the road and get to Medusa as soon as possible.

  CHAPTER 56

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  INDIAN VALLEY, IDAHO

  The first asset to arrive on station was a surveillance drone, which circled far above the home of Ren Ho. The small ranch, consisting of the house, a barn and several outbuildings, and horses and other assorted livestock, was on the edge of the Payette National Forest.

  The terrain was such that a full-on, daylight assault was impossible, so Harvath had suggested something else.

  Nicholas wasn’t crazy about using one of his dogs as a prop. And the idea was only made worse by the fact that he wouldn’t be allowed to be there when everything happened. But considering there was no other option, he’d given in.

  Special Agent Roe had forwarded all of the information the Bureau had compiled on Ren Ho to Harvath in-flight. They had his naturalization information, his tax returns, and a limited amount about his business dealings. According to the FBI, he was a manufacturer’s rep who paired American companies with factories in China. He had been married at one point, but divorced and the wife had moved back to China. They had a college-age son, who held dual citizenship and appeared to be living with the mother back in Shenzhen.

  Roe had included a State Department travel history in the file and told Harvath that the NSA was working to gather any intelligence it could from Ho’s phone, email, and credit card histories. The CIA had come up completely empty. There was nothing in their files on anyone named Ren Ho.

  Shortly before landing, Roe called the plane back and gave Harvath a full rundown on what had happened in Boston. An FBI agent had been following one of the princelings, a girl named Daiyu Jinping. She had eaten dinner alone, which was unusual for her, but what was even stranger was that she had been talking and texting nonstop on an Apple iPhone, but after going to the restroom at the restaurant, the behavior not only stopped, but she had returned with a completely different phone.

  Because of the heightened alert, the agent following her reported the suspicious behavior to his superior. The superior then reached out to the other surveillance teams. All of them had been convinced that their subjects were in for the night. A check on the princelings’ cell phone locations had confirmed their assumption. Finally, someone at the FBI called for physical confirmation and one by one, the surveillance teams began to report that the subjects were missing. The phones were plugged in and turned on, but no one was home. Panic quickly spread.

  Extra agents were immediately sent to back up the man following Daiyu Jinping. When she entered Boston’s Hyatt Regency Hotel, some agents gave chase, while others went to the security office to monitor the CCTV cameras. Rolling back the footage, they wanted to see if anyone had gotten on the elevator with Daiyu or passed anything to her in the lobby.

  They didn’t see anyone, but they did see a man who entered one of the stairwells shortly after the FBI appeared in the lobby. Rolling back the footage a little further, they pinpointed when the man had entered the hotel and were able to piece together everything he had done. He had avoided all of the cameras—all except one near the cash register in the bar. Within minutes of transmitting the image back to the Bureau, the agents had a confirmation. It was Bao Deng.

  But no sooner had the man’s identity been confirmed than the fire alarm had been activated. It was an obvious ruse, but it complicated things tremendously for the FBI. They had called for additional backup, including Boston PD, but none of it had arrived in time.

  One agent remained in the security office to monitor the CCTV feeds, while the others tried to locate Deng and the princeling. With all of the guests trying to evacuate the hotel, it was like fighting against a wave of salmon swimming upstream.

  Then, Bao Deng had been spotted on CCTV with another figure in a service corridor on the lower level. The agent in the security office rightly pegged figure number two as Daiyu Jinping and fed out a description of what she was wearing and where the pair was headed.

  As they came up the garage ramp and exited the hotel, they were accosted by the first FBI agent able to get to them. There was a gunfight. The agent was killed and Deng and the princeling disappeared.

  It was bad news on many levels. Not only had a federal agent lost his life, but all of the princelings had now successfully slipped their surveillance. Harvath was willing to bet Bao Deng hadn’t been sent to Boston just to pick up Daiyu Jinping. He very likely had something to do with the other four Chinese students’ falling off the grid.

  Leaving the cell phones plugged in and turned on meant that they didn’t want anyone to notice they were gone. That was the most troubling part about all this. Eventually, their absence was going to be noticed. Apparently, though, by that time it wouldn’t matter, which could only mean one thing. The attack was about to happen.

  When the Carlton Group’s jet landed in the resort town of McCall, Idaho, about thirty miles northeast of Indian Valley, an FBI command center had already been established at the airport.

  A helicopter would transport Harvath, Sloane, Chase, and Nicholas’s dog, Argos, to a ranger station in the Payette National Forest. The ranger knew where Ho’s ranch was and was fairly certain he could get them right up to the property line and drop them off without their being seen. From there, they would be on their own.

  The plan was for the helicopter to return to the airport to pick up a team of HRT shooters, while everyone else, including local law enforcement, would approach in SUVs via two unpaved roads.

  Harvath had only two rules—nobody did anything until he gave the go-ahead, and Ren Ho was to be taken alive at all costs. Once the radio codes were established, gear was parceled out, and everything was settled, they launched.

  While Argos might like Harvath, he didn’t like being separated from his owner. According to Sloane, he had exhibited the same nervous behavior at the NCTC when Nicholas had taken Draco inside and she and Chase had taken him back to the Carlton Group offices.

  Harvath tried to reassure the enormous animal by scratching his neck and behind his ears. Eventually, the beast put his head down on his huge front paws and seemed to relax.

  Chase looked at Harv
ath and said via his headset, “That dog is going to hate your guts by the end of the day.”

  Harvath shook his head and looked out over the rugged landscape. He had always thought Idaho was one of the most beautiful states in the Union. It contained lots of space with very few people to bother you. If he was right, and the Chinese were planning to collapse the U.S. with a series of EMP devices, Idaho was definitely one of the places he would consider making his stand. If you had prepped enough in advance, and didn’t have any major medical conditions that required hospital visits, you could probably ride it out somewhat comfortably.

  The helicopter pilot radioed the ranger station once they were in range and then, after circling the clearing to get a visual, flared and came in for a landing.

  Opening the door, Harvath hopped out first, followed by Argos and then Sloane and Chase. Once they had retrieved their gear from the cargo compartment, they retreated a safe distance away and flashed the pilot a thumbs-up.

  It took only a moment for the giant bird to lift off and fade from sight beyond the soaring pines. Once it was gone, the thundering sound of its rotors was replaced by something else—total silence. It was amazing how quiet the forest could be.

  The ranger introduced himself and led the team to his SUV. On the hood, he had laid out a detailed topo map. He explained where they were, where Ho’s ranch was, and the route he would be taking to deliver them to the drop-off point.

  “You all ready to go, then?” the ranger asked.

  Chase looked at Argos and then at Harvath. “What do you say, Dr. Doolittle?”

  “Help me get him in the truck,” Harvath replied.

  Walking around to the back of the SUV, they opened the tailgate and coaxed Argos to jump inside. Once the dog was in, Harvath leaped up and joined him. He had the dog lie down and then took his giant head in his lap.

  “All right, let’s do it.”

  Chase removed a tube of Derma Bond—the medical equivalent of Krazy Glue—and Sloane produced the small stone they had selected at the airport.