Chapter 15
It had taken most of the rest of the day to reach the small military post built into the side of the gorge. Bill hadn’t gotten a lot of information out of Nao Hu, but he did get enough to understand that this route had once been a major smuggling corridor. Even if no one was using it much, the Chinese still felt the need to establish a presence in the area.
The Vietnamese, on the other hand, ignored the area, despite tensions between the two countries that existed since the border war. Hu claimed that once a month, a Vietnamese patrol would scout the post, seeking to make sure that no military build-up was taking place in the narrow gorge. The Chinese, bored, would often invite the Vietnamese patrol in for drinks, before sending them on their way. It seemed the tension existed more at a government level than in the rank and file.
Still, Hu said it would be better to avoid the men at the post. Bill quite agreed. An American dropping in for coffee would not have the same effect as the predictable Vietnamese patrol would.
The rocky gorge was navigable only by a narrow trail that wound its way along the bottom. The post, looking more like a rundown shack than a proper military establishment, was built on a ledge about fifty feet higher than the gorge floor. Music, and voices raised in argument, filtered down to Gardner’s ears.
“What are they doing?”
“They try have fun. Relax.”
Bill didn’t know if the man meant for him to relax, or was trying to describe what the men in the post were doing. Either way, he forced his muscles to relax. The trail began an accent towards the post, abandoning the gorge floor due to large and impassable boulders. They would be forced to walk within feet of the men in the shack. Hopefully the guards would just stay inside until he passed.
“They can’t see American,” Hu whispered. “Else they die.”
Bill understood. They couldn’t afford to be seen. No doubt they had a working radio inside to report anything untoward, and even if he disabled the radio, if he was seen, one of the men would undoubtedly hike out to report the American. If he was seen, he would need to kill the men. All of them. That left a bad taste in his mouth.
Slowly, they inched their way up the trail, careful not to dislodge any rocks that might alert those within the shack that someone approached. Bill slowed his breathing, and allowed his focus to gather on the task at hand. More deaths resulted from panic and overreaction than anything else. He needed a clear head and sharp wits.
The trail passed right by the door to the shack, allowing only about six feet from the door to the ledge and a fifty foot drop to the bottom of the gorge. A five story fall was nothing to sneeze at. The back wall of the shack looked to be either the cliff wall itself, or it had been built right next to the cliff wall. It was entirely possible that another room had been dug into the wall to allow for more room. A single window by the door faced the ledge and the trail. Bill and Hu would need to sneak under the window and by the door without being seen, and also make their way down the trail and into the rocks on the descent side of the trail without being seen.
The shack itself was a low built thing that could be climbed over on the cliff wall side, but Bill didn’t hold any faith that attempting such a rash action would go unnoticed by those inside.
Slowly he moved forward, Hu now following as Bill’s natural instincts for leadership assert themselves. Utilizing every trick he had ever learn when in the military, he moved catlike along the trail, careful to use the larger rocks as stepping stones and avoid the crunchy gravel as much as possible.
He got to within ten feet or so of the shack when the door swung open and someone partially stepped outside. Most of the man’s body remained inside as the soldier continued his argument with his companions inside. That could change at any moment.
Bill realized several things in the instant the man had opened the door. First, the moment the man moved outside fully, he and Hu would be spotted. Secondly, he had no weapon other than the explosives and his knife. Neither weapon was ideal in this situation.
With no hesitation, he pulled Hu after him as he scrambled silently forward. He reached the side of the shack and hugged the wall beyond the view of the door. Hu, his breathing also under control, looked at Bill in concern. Both understood that if the soldier decided to move their way down the trail, they would be spotted instantly. If he was just going to the ledge to relieve himself or get away from his companions for a moment, then they might stay safely out of sight until he decided to re-enter the shack.
The lawyer held his breath and edged forward until he stood just around the corner. If the man stepped in their direction, he would have to act quickly. This first guard presented no problems, but it was the two others inside that Bill was concerned about.
He waited.
Suddenly the Chinese soldier stepped into view. No doubt the man merely wanted to take a stroll, for he certainly didn’t notice them at first, but Bill didn’t hesitate. He lashed out with a powerful kick that launched the man out over the ledge. With a despairing cry, the man fell from sight.
Almost seemingly like one motion, Bill recovered his balance and yanked Hu around, pushing him to the corner of the shack where the wall met the cliff face. “Climb,” he ordered.
Hu understood the gravity of the situation, and he started to climb the shack wall just as the other two guards, having heard their companion’s cry, came running out the door to look over the edge.
Bill hoped fervently that the two guards would mistake the man’s fall for an accident and not look around for other possibilities. Hu, nimble as a cat, darted up the wall and rolled onto the shack’s roof. Bill Gardner followed more slowly, finding scant hand holds on the splintery wood, and praying that the two other soldiers wouldn’t turn around and look.
Neither did. They talked excitedly as they looked over the edge, pointing and arguing amongst themselves as they tried to locate their dead companion. Bill managed to get to the roof, and he followed Hu’s example and rolled along the top until he came to the other side of the shack. He dropped down and crouched in the shadows there next to Hu. They waited.
Finally the two soldiers ran down the trail in the direction that Bill and Hu had come from, that being the quickest way into the gorge and to the body of their companion. Gardner regretted the murder, for murder it was. The man had been innocent and Bill had killed him in cold blood without so much as a chance to defend himself. No matter how necessary the man’s death might have been, Bill felt ill.
Hu whispered in his ear, “They gone. Come. Stay low.”
They hurried along the path until the shack had disappeared behind them. Once Bill felt safe enough, he pulled his companion to a stop. “Wait. What will they do about this incident?”
“Report it.”
“I know that, but will the Chinese react swiftly and come to investigate, or will they just ignore the incident, thinking it an accident?”
Hu shrugged. “Who knows?”
“Yeah, who knows…” Bill ran a frustrated hand through his hair. More than ever, he felt like this mission was doomed to failure. He just couldn’t see how he, mostly alone, could meet his objectives. Shaking aside the feeling, he turned towards the trail. “Okay, my friend. We have a long walk ahead of us, so we might as well get started.”
Hu nodded and they trotted off. Gardner couldn’t help but think that both of them were somehow dupes in a conspiracy that reached well beyond what they knew of.
High up on the mountain another Chinese soldier lowered his binoculars and considered what he had seen. The two men, one looking to be a white man, American, Russian, or European—he didn’t know which—had slipped by the watch post below. He hadn’t seen how the pair had made it past the guards below, but he had clearly heard the death scream of one of the soldiers. He didn’t need to see it to know the man had fallen off the ledge and into the gorge. Accident or not, the timing was suspicious. He was in no position to do anything about it. His role was to observe the Vietname
se border and report any troop movements, and this secret watch post was isolated.
He rubbed his tired eyes. He had been up here for four months and he longed to be back home. Sighing, he moved to a small shack situated under some trees. He needed to report this. He hoped the report might jog someone’s memory that he was out here all alone. Maybe, he would even be relieved and sent home. Anyway, someone was sure to be interested in the fact that a white man had slipped across the border.
Nearly two weeks later, Bill and Hu finally reached Beijing. Bill had no doubt that if the little man hadn’t been along, he would have been captured or killed long ago. Hu knew where to go, what to avoid, and where they could find food and shelter. Bill found it all surreal. He felt like a fugitive, and every sound put him on edge. He wondered how long before a door was kicked in and soldiers would surround him. He didn’t relish such a fate. No doubt he would disappear into some hidden prison where he would die a very lonely death.
Hu somehow maintained a level of optimism that put Bill to shame. The small Chinaman seemed invigorated by the cloak and dagger lifestyle. The man’s hope and faith in seeing his mother released kept him going.
Hu led Bill through a suburb of Beijing filled with immigrants from all over. There were enough large white men walking around to make Bill’s presence less notable to the local populace. Hu seemed to know exactly where to go as they made their way through the tall apartment buildings.
“We stay here,” Hu explained. “Many Americans. Many Brits. You fit in.”
“That’s good,” Bill replied. “Tell me, Hu, how are we going to find this plane? How do we even know it is still in the area?”
“Still here,” he insisted.
“How do you know that? If Iran bought it, why hadn’t they delivered it by now. It has been over two weeks since the auction.”
Hu shrugged. “I told need…” he seemed to struggle with his words “…demonstration,” he finished. “Iran no buy until see what plane can do.”
That made sense. They would want a live demonstration before the funds change hands, so the Chinese government wouldn’t risk moving it until afterwards. That gave Gardner a very narrow timeframe in which he could accomplish his task. He didn’t imagine that either the Iranians or the Chinese were anxious to delay the transfer for very long. No, the demonstration would take place shortly, of that Bill had no doubt, but how to find out when and where.
“Do you know anymore?” he asked his guide.
Hu shrugged again. “No. Only know in Beijing.”
“Okay, then I’m going to need a map and someone who knows everything about the city.” He thought about it for a bit. “Preferably a thief.”
Hu blinked in confusion. “A thief?”
“Oh yes. Thieves make it their business to know where everything is. They need to know where to steal and where not to steal. If anyone knows, it would be a thief.” Bill smiled. “Yes, that would do nicely. Can you get me the map?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Then I’ll go get us a thief.”
Hu regarded Gardner with a look that questioned the sanity of the American. “How you find a thief?”
Bill chuckled and shook his head. “Don’t worry, my friend. I’m an American. I’m a big fat target for a wily thief. All I need is a large wallet and directions to the shopping district. The thief will come to me.” He looked around. “Where do I find you?”
Hu pointed to a hotel. “There. I no go in. I wait for you.”
Bill understood. This district housed many foreigners, and only Chinese of influence and money would come here. Gardner imagined that a significant amount of international business took place in such lobbies. “Fine. I’ve got some money, so when I return with our thief, we will figure out where to stay.” He nodded towards the hotel. “I don’t know if we should stay in something so obvious.”
Hu grinned. “Large store two kilometers that way.” He pointed towards the east. “You go there. Catch thief.”
“Thanks.”
Gardner walked for perhaps a mile before finding a large shopping mall. The mall was thronged by people, many tourists and foreigners who had plenty of money to fling around. He looked down at his scruffy looking clothes and realized he needed to change into something else. Currently, he didn’t look like a rich American.
Finding a clothing store, he purchased new clothing using a credit card—nothing fancy, just expensive causal ware. It felt good to be in some clean clothes. Since the train ride into the heart of China, he had managed to find the time to take a shower or two, but his serviceable clothing looked…ill-used, to say the least. He still carried the satchel with the explosives in it, his knife, and a handgun he had picked up along the way. He had enough money to live lavishly for a time, but the sooner he could complete this mission the better.
Looking more like a rich American, he began strolling from shop to shop, keeping his eyes out for any pickpocket or would-be thief. He knew better than to wonder into isolated areas—especially outside—where a gang could simply beat him and take what they wanted. No, he needed a solitary thief, one with a quick wit and nimble fingers.
Bill had several other reasons for wanting a thief. Thieves would not be used by the government to spy on either their own citizens or the many foreigners in this part of the city. In addition a thief would most likely know ways around the city that others, even professional spies, would not. General Hynes had given him the tracker to locate the beacon he had stashed aboard the plane. But he had to get within a mile of it to be sure, and a thief would cut down the search time significantly.
People thronged around him, chatting, laughing, and hurrying about their business. Occasionally he spotted security mingling with the crowds, and once he saw a group of slurry teenagers slinking through the crowd, dressed in styles ten years outdated in the States.
The mall atmosphere resembled those back home, except more of these people felt comfortable in tight spaces, jostling each other, brushing up against one another in lines or at counters. Americans would find the invasion of personal space disquieting, but here in China such contact was the norm. In addition, Bill realized, it allowed the pickpockets more opportunities to lift a wallet or piece of jewelry here or there.
For thirty minutes, the lawyer wandered around the mall without spotting a single person who might be a thief. It dawned on him then that he needed to make himself conspicuous—an easy mark. How to do that? He spotted a jewelry store situated in the corner of a junction of the mall. Perfect.
He wandered in and pointed to the most expensive men’s watch in the place. “I would like to see that, please.”
The salesman’s eyes lit up. No doubt he was already calculating his commission on a watch that cost nearly nineteen thousand dollars. “Of course, sir,” he replied in passable English. “This is a very good choice. The Jaeger Amvox5 just is perfect for any occasion, providing just the right amount of flash and decorum.”
Gardner nodded, knowing the rehearsed speech meant little to the salesman. “Let me see it.”
The man retrieved the watch from the secure case and handed it to Bill who looked carefully at it. After a moment, he snorted and tossed the watch back on the counter—much to the horrified man’s astonishment. “What is this!” Bill demanded, raising his voice. “Do I look like an idiot! This watch is just a cheap imitation!” Actually, Bill had no idea if that was true or not. But in China, who knew for sure?
“Sir!” the man protested. “I assure you—”
“You assure me? Are you questioning me, sir? Do you think I don’t know my watches?” Bill pulled out his wallet and began pulling bills out one at a time, tossing them carefree onto the countertop. “You might as well rob me now!” he yelled into the ashen man’s face. “Take it! You might as well! Trying to sell me an imitation!”
“No, sir, please, it is genuine,” the man hastened to say. Another man, probably the owner, was rapidly approaching, his face a study in consternation at the
disruption in his store.
Bill pulled out some more money and threw it in the face of the salesman. “Steal me blind will you? Then take it now! Take it all! I heard stories about places like this. Selling sham merchandise! I’m insulted!”
The owner finally arrived, shoving his speechless salesman out of the way. “Sir,” he said, gathering up the bills and pushing them back towards Bill. “We are an honest business. Please take your money and leave.”
“You’re blasted right, I’ll leave,” Gardner muttered loudly. He snatched his money from the counter and stuffed it haphazardly into his wallet, which he thrust into his back pocket without any attempt to secure it safely. Turning on heel, he stormed out of the shop and shoved his way through the crowd as if irritated that they would not give way before him.
Now, where are you, my thieving friend, he thought to himself. Someone should have noticed that little display and prepared to make a move the moment he left that store. No thief could resist all that money he had flashed around and the seemingly easy location to get at his wallet. Come on! Where are you?
A young man, his hair dyed red like any number of the teenagers that roamed the mall, suddenly bumped into him. Up until that moment, Bill had been shoving people out of his way, leaving a trail of protests and curses around him. No doubt, this thief assumed to receive the same treatment, only he expected to have Bill’s wallet firmly in hand when the lawyer shoved him. Instead, Bill grabbed the man’s wrist and pulled him close.
The bulge where his wallet should be was gone. Bill had to hand it to the thief. He had nimble fingers.
Locking the man’s wrist, he twisted, bringing the thief around and facing away from the Gardner. The hold was painful and the thief let out a startled cry as Bill brought him to his toes.
“Please, good sir! I give it back! I give it back!”
Surprised and pleased that the man spoke English, Bill bent over the smaller man and whispered into his ear. “Do exactly what I tell you, and I’ll let you have the wallet and the money.”
“I mean no harm!” the man insisted.
“But I might. You will come with me and make no fuss. Try to get away and I’ll hunt you down and turn you over to those nice looking police men. I think they would love to find out about your chosen career path.”
“No! Please! I do as you say. I come!”
“Glad to hear it. Now move.” Keeping the thief’s arm twisted behind his back, he shoved the man forward. He marched the terrified man out the door and down the street. For a quarter of a mile, he said nothing, just focused on keeping the man moving forward.
Eventually they came to the hotel where Hu spotted them and came up quickly. “He thief?” he asked with a nod to the prisoner.
“Yes, this is the one.”
Hu then talked to the man rapidly in Chinese. The thief responded. After a time, Hu looked up at Bill. “He know where the plane is. He will show us best way to get there.”
“Yes, I will,” the thief agreed. He paused. “Do I keep wallet?”
Bill spun the man around and put his nose an inch in front of the smaller man’s face. “Get us there and you can have the wallet.”
“I get you there.” He glanced around. “I take you tonight.”
Chen Lee looked up as the young intelligence analyst burst into his office. “News, sir. I have news.”
Lee grimaced in irritation and tossed the report he had been reading onto the desk. “It better be important, boy,” he responded sternly. “Or you’ll find yourself on some ship in the High Seas trolling for junk on the bottom of the sea floor.”
The young man swallowed. Everyone knew that was exactly where Lee had been assigned before his promotion and subsequent duties to protect the new fighter plane, now housed in a warehouse next door. “I just got a hit on Bill Gardner’s credit card.”
It took Lee a moment to remember. “The American in the UAE?”
“The same sir.”
“Well?” Lee said into the resulting silence.
“Oh! Sorry! Uh, I have a hit on the man’s credit card.”
The young analyst looked so sincere, but Lee didn’t have time to coddle the young fool. “You said that already. Why is this important?”
“What? Oh! Because the credit card was used right here in Beijing.”
Lee snapped to his feet. “Here?”
“Yes, sir!”
“Where? At a mall in the Chayoang District.”
That made sense. The Chayoang District housed more than sixty percent of the foreign companies doing business in China. An entire industry had grown up around these companies to meet their usually lavish needs—lavish by Chinese standards anyway. “How did he get into the country? I thought I ordered his passport flagged.”
“You did, sir. His passport hasn’t been used.”
“An alias then?”
The analyst shrugged. “If so, why use his real credit card?”
Maybe the man wasn’t so foolish after all. Unwilling to give the analyst any credit for the thought, he snapped, “Shut up and let me think!”
A report a week ago about someone slipping across the border down near the Vietnam boarder came to mind. The report had been vague, although a death of a soldier had been reported in the same area. Lee’s natural suspicion rose. He didn’t think this American’s presence in Beijing at the same time the new fighter plane would be demonstrated to the Iranians was a coincidence. He had no doubt that the man was an American spy.
“Double security around the plane,” he ordered. “I don’t want anyone who isn’t a known Chinese man to get near that plane. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, sir!”
“Get to it.”
The man saluted and left, leaving Lee to his thoughts. He knew he should have taken the time to kill the American in the UAE. He regretted that mistake, but he didn’t plan on making another. No, this time, he would kill the American. It had taken him nearly forty years to get this promotion and he would be hanged if he allowed some American spy to ruin it.
He grabbed the phone from off his desk. “I want to see Wong in my office immediately.” He hung up before the woman on the other side could acknowledge the order. Wong, like himself, worked for the Ministry of State Security (MSS). MSS had been tasked with seeing to the security of the new fighter plane and the safe transfer to the Iranians once they had paid for it. However, Wong, unlike himself, was a professional assassin. He would be perfect for this job of hunting down the American and killing him.
Lee smiled to himself. He relished hearing of the American’s death.
The First End Page 15