“I want them found,” he snarled. “Tonight.” He knew his son would have to be silenced. He had no choice. “When you do, bring them directly to me. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“They cannot be allowed to leave the country.”
If only Lin had listened to him and kidnapped the girl when she’d first arrived in China, they’d have the secret by now and be done with her. Dammit. Everything had become so complicated.
The cadre was halfway to the door when Tong decided. The matter was too delicate to delegate. “On second thought, comrade, wait for me outside. I’m coming with you.”
Half past ten, Bin Go returned to the safe house, an empty apartment on the eleventh floor of an abandoned fourteen-story building. “She’s escaped,” he reported.
“How?” Chi-Wen demanded.
“Someone helped her get away,” Bin Go said. “Less than an hour ago. I had one of the students watching the Foreign Ministry Building. He didn’t see her leave, but he overheard a couple of cadres who’d run outside just after she disappeared.”
Chi-Wen started for the door. “I must find her.”
Bin Go shook his head. “Forget it. In Beijing she could be anywhere. There are still hundreds of thousands of students and citizens marching in the streets. Our rally was a bigger success than anyone anticipated.” Smiling, he added, “If anything, she has a perfect cover to escape.”
Chi-Wen considered this information. Perhaps Bin Go was right. He’d never find Lili here. And if she had escaped, she would try to make her way to Macao. She’d need a passport to enter Hong Kong. He hoped she remembered the address Tu had given them. “I’ve got to get to Macao as soon as possible.”
Bin Go produced a plane ticket for Guangchou. “It’s all arranged. Including the fax you asked me to send.”
Chi-Wen hadn’t eaten or slept since Lili was taken that morning. His stomach grumbled in protest and he yawned deeply.
“I’m afraid food and sleep will have to wait until you reach your destination. Your plane takes off in one hour.”
Near Changan Avenue, Lili and Tong slowed their pace, their footsteps echoing on the pavement.
Just before midnight, Tiananmen Square bustled with activity, the atmosphere more of a holiday parade than a political demonstration. The final hours of May 4th, a traditionally festive day, coupled with the oppressive humidity, explained the reluctance of most to leave. Near the Gate of Heavenly Peace, mothers and fathers bounced babies on their shoulders, teenagers giggled with friends, old men argued with one another while they cracked melon seeds between their teeth. Many carried posters calling for freedom and human rights like those Lili had seen during the past three weeks. What made this rally different from the marches in Changsha and Shanghai was the swell of ordinary citizens openly participating. It was as though they suddenly sensed the possibility of real change.
Lili and Tong joined the protective coloration of the throng until they reached the corner of Dongdan Street. “There.” Tong hurried over to a willow tree where he’d locked his bicycle. “We can ride from here.”
“How far do we have to go?” Lili asked, eyeing the ancient one-speed black Flying Pigeon with concern.
“The airport. About forty kilometers. My friend has a private plane ready to take you out of China.”
Lili did a quick conversion. “Twenty-five miles? We’ll never make it on this bike. Not if Lin or your father send men after us.”
“There’s no other way.”
“A motorcycle,” Lili said. “Like that one.” She pointed to a young boy astride a Honda 175CL. It had a flat seat for two. “Ask him if it’s for sale.”
Tong shook his head. “Flying Tiger Brigade. He’ll never part with it.”
“What kind of brigade?”
“Feihudui, liumong! “ Tong replied. “A bunch of hooligans. A few months ago they roamed the streets in large groups scaring people. Now they’ve taken on the cause for democracy. They ride around Beijing giving students information about the police.” Tong’s contempt was transparent.
“And you don’t approve?”
“Of course, I support the student movement,” Tong insisted with conviction. “It’s just these kids,” he improvised. “I don’t trust them.”
“We need his cycle.”
Reluctantly, Tong stopped the boy and began to haggle. At the same time, Lili scanned the crowd.
“Lee Tong!”
Tong had been recognized.
Lili’s stomach gave a sickening lurch. A block away, she spotted the same black Shanghai in which she’d been kidnapped yesterday. Beside it stood General Tong, staring at them.
“It’s my father!”
“Give the boy whatever he wants,” Lili ordered. “We’ve got to get out of here!”
“Sixteen hundred yuan. That’s almost five hundred U.S. dollars.”
Lili jumped on the bike. “When we get to Hong Kong, I’ll repay you.”
The general got back in the car. The crowd prevented his driver from moving more than a few feet at a time.
“Okay.” Tong reached into his trouser pocket and handed the boy a wad of renminbi.
“Hurry!”
Tong took his place behind Lili.
She turned the ignition key and kicked down on the starter pedal, praying silently that the engine would start. It coughed to life. Thank God.
“Hold on,” she shouted, remembering not so long ago, she’d asked Chi-Wen to do the same. Gunning the throttle, she accelerated, plunging into the thick and restlessly moving stream of marchers and bike riders.
Chi-Wen held his breath as the immigration officer dressed in white jacket and red-starred cap checked his papers before boarding the CAAC flight to Guangchou. He was traveling on a Philippine passport stolen four hours earlier in a crowded restaurant. Fernando Sison had been inebriated at the time and would likely not miss it until morning. The papers said he was huaqiao, overseas Chinese, first generation born in Manila. Chi-Wen could expect special status — provided the credentials passed scrutiny. Fortunately, the passport already had an authentic visa stamp from the Chinese consulate in Beijing. Even the hastily pasted photo of Chi-Wen seemed impressive enough to convince the casual eye. He prayed he wouldn’t be asked to speak Tagalog.
The official smiled at Chi-Wen. “Have you had a pleasant trip, Mr. Sison?”
“Very,” Chi-Wen replied in Chinese, painfully aware that the business suit Bin Go “borrowed” from his father was one size too big.
The official never noticed. “Zai jian,” he said courteously, as he placed the final exit stamp on the passport and waved Chi-Wen through the gate. “Have a good flight.”
Lili maneuvered sharply around the pedestrian traffic as Tong directed her through the side avenues of Beijing. Dongdan Street to Dongsi Street to Dongzhimennei Road and onto Dongzhimen Wai Street.
“I think you lost him,” Tong shouted above the motor.
When they turned onto Jing Shun Road, the four lane, willow-lined boulevard leading to Beijing International Airport, Lili rocketed the motorcycle forward until it reached its maximum speed of sixty miles per hour.
Safe!
“Oh no!”
Lili looked back to where Tong was pointing. Bright headlights glowed in the distance. Unusual since drivers in China always used parking lights at night. The vehicle behind them was moving up fast. A black Shanghai. The general obviously figured they were heading for the airport and had taken a shortcut to the highway. She thought quickly. “Is there another route?”
“The old road. But it’s badly paved.”
A quick backward glance. She could not judge how far they were, but they were closing quickly. “I’ve got to try.”
Tong indicated a spot just ahead. “That way.”
Gravel flew like machine gun fire from under the cycle’s spinning treads as it took the hairpin turn.
Tong tightened his grip around Lili’s waist.
The Shanghai swerve
d onto the narrow, dirt road.
Grimly, Lili clutched the hand levers, fighting to keep the wheels under control. She knew they were going too fast for safety, but she had no choice. The Shanghai would soon be right behind them.
She passed several modest farm houses and rice paddies before she saw it. Two hundred yards ahead, obscured at first by darkness, was a pedestrian bridge with a catwalk not more than three feet wide. It was worth a try. In the moonless night, the driver of the Shanghai would not realize the danger until it was too late.
Lili slowed the cycle until the general was just two car lengths behind.
“What are you doing? They’ll catch up with us!”
“Don’t worry,” Lili tried to reassure Tong, at the same time gunning the throttle. It didn’t respond. Her heart beat wildly. The Shanghai was only one car length behind.
Come on, dammit!
Again she raced the motor. This time the cycle lurched forward, whipping easily over the narrow bridge.
As Lili predicted, the Shanghai followed her tail. But just as the driver reached the bridge, he saw he’d never make it. A sudden swerve to correct his mistake brought the front end of the car over the edge, lunging into the irrigation ditch. Headlights disappeared beneath the muddy water.
“It’s stuck!” Tong breathed.
Lili nodded without looking back. If they were lucky they had a few miles lead, if they were really lucky, the car would remain stuck for hours. Either scenario, she was determined to outride them. “Which way?” Her heart pounded as she continued toward the airport, unsure what lay ahead.
The next fifteen miles were a nightmare with only the cycle’s dim headlight to guide them through the twists and turns of the one-lane alternate road. At one point, Lili fishtailed dangerously to avoid a large branch lying across her path. Just as she did in Westwood months ago, she produced a controlled slide-out that stopped her dead, narrowly avoiding a collision.
Thirty minutes later they reached the airport. Tong directed her to a private airstrip a quarter mile away. “There it is!” he pointed to the Kim Company Learjet parked across the field.
From the cockpit David Kim saw them and ordered the pilot to start up the engines.
A noise behind alerted Lili. “What the —? ”
The Shanghai had reappeared! They must have gotten the car out of the ditch and returned to the main highway.
The cycle screeched to a halt. “Get off,” she told Tong. “We’ll have to make a run for it.”
Together they bolted across the field.
The heavy whine of the jets was deafening.
The cabin opened and a Korean called to her in English. “Dr. Quan. Hurry!”
A burst of rifle fire jangled every nerve in Lili’s body.
“Run!”
Tong, sprinting, tried to close the gap between them.
A bullet ricocheted off the cockpit door. A second one exploded just above Lili’s head.
“Don’t shoot the girl!” General Tong ordered in Chinese.
“Hurry up!” David screamed.
Lili summoned whatever reserve she possessed and bolted up the stairs. Lee Tong followed a few feet behind. When she reached the top, David pulled her inside the plane, pushed the steps away, and slammed the cabin door shut, leaving Tong outside.
“Help me!” Tong pounded on the fuselage.
“Open the door,” Lili demanded.
David ordered the pilot to begin the takeoff.
“But he’ll —”
The sound of guns firing over and over again.
The jet began to taxi.
Lili looked outside the window. Lee Tong lay crumpled on the tarmac.
The plane barreled down the runway.
“You let them shoot him!” she screamed. “Why?”
“He was expendable,” David said simply.
Bewildered. “I don’t understand. Who are you?” she asked, fighting back panic. This man was no friend. She began backing away, aware that once again she’d been betrayed. “Get away from me!” Her voice was weak.
“I suggest you sit down and enjoy the flight, Dr. Quan.”
Blindly, Lili tried to rush past David, but he caught and spun her around like a rag doll. Then someone was behind her, smelling of jasmine and holding something in her hand. A needle. A syringe.
“No!”
Camille plunged the needle into Lili’s left biceps. “Sleep tight, cheri.”
Too late. Lili felt the hot squirt of the liquid enter her muscle. Almost instantly everything went black.
On the field General Tong trembled with anger and sorrow. He shook his head as he watched the jet disappear into the dark night. Lili Quan had escaped. She had beaten him. He could forget shou. Wanting to live forever, he reasoned, was just fear of dying. As a soldier, Tong never feared death. For him, immortality lay in defeating China’s enemies. Now that Deng had sanctioned force against the students, General Tong could control the ultimate outcome. Like his son, some students would die so that China could remain the dragon it had always been.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Friday
May 5
Macao
A pair of tree sparrows courted one another in the early morning light, their melodies echoing across the tiny Portuguese province. Parked as if to sightsee, Halliday aimed his telephoto lens not at Macao spread below, but at Ng’s gated estate perched on a flattened mound of Guia Hill. Even with the windows open, the air in his rented Mercedes 300E was stifling. He swiped lazily at a long-legged insect hovering near his face.
It had been a long time since he’d been a field agent stalking criminals around the world and, despite the physical discomforts, he reveled in the sense of being his own man. In the field, the Company wasn’t bogged down by the bullshit of legalities and bureaucracy. This would be his last stakeout. He had one task to finish before heading back to Hong Kong.
A photo of the man DeForest had met in California lay on the seat beside him. Halliday put down his Nikon 8008 and studied the face seamed down one side by a strange Z-shaped scar. Paulo Ng. An ugly son of a bitch. But a damn smart one. At least according to his dossier. Dealing with him might not be as easy as DeForest. But then again, he had the element of surprise on his side.
As he sipped cold coffee from a Styrofoam cup, Halliday wondered just how long he’d have to wait for Ng’s return. Last night the houseboy said his boss had taken his yacht for a sail. He was expected home sometime today.
Unconsciously, he patted the .45 automatic he wore in a shoulder harness under his jacket. After all, he’d waited this long. He could wait a few more hours.
Just before seven a.m., he heard the sound of engines.
Ng trained his binoculars on the horizon, sweeping them across the sky until he located a growing dot racing toward him. He jumped from his limousine and switched on the warning lights at the end of the makeshift runway. The Learjet whistled overhead once, banking sharply to the east, circling out over Castle Peak Bay, and sweeping back a second time over the pair of desolate islands known as The Brothers for a landing on the larger of the two “sibs.” Barely ten miles long and just two miles wide, the thin strip of hard land floated in the South China Sea like a won ton in a teacup. But it was precisely its total isolation that suited Ng’s needs.
A few minutes later, the plane touched down in a cloud of sand. The cabin door opened immediately and David Kim disembarked.
“You have the girl?”
David nodded. “Camille has her sedated.”
“No problem. We’ll transfer her to my yacht. By the time we reach Macao she should be able to talk.”
“What about my plane?” David asked.
“Send it home.” Ng put his arm around the Korean’s shoulder. “You’ll be my guest for a few days. Don’t worry. I’ll see that you get back to Seoul.”
Hong Kong
The first red glow of dawn streaked the horizon as the 747 swept in low over the bay and banked into Kai Tak airport
. Dylan felt a surge of excitement. Part of it was Hong Kong itself. He’d been here only once, years ago, but the island held fond memories of exotic sights and sounds and smells — a place of endless intrigues and infinite possibilities. Most of it, though, was the anticipation of seeing Lili again. What had happened to her in China?
As he passed customs, he heard the page. “Attention, arriving passenger O’Hara. Please contact Pan American information.”
“I’m Dr. O’Hara,” he told the petite Asian woman at the Pan Am counter.
“A message for you,” she said pleasantly, handing him a sealed envelope.
His face must have registered surprise as he read the note inside because she asked if anything was wrong.
“No, not at all, “ he replied without looking up.
“May I be of further assistance?” she queried. “A taxi perhaps?”
Her voice interrupted his musing. He’d been thinking about the message. “I would appreciate that.”
“Where to, sir?”
“The Peninsula Hotel.”
Guangchou, China
Chi-Wen’s eyes swept over the faces of waiting relatives and friends.
He had no idea what the student sent to meet his plane would look like — only that he (or she) would wave a People’s Daily, smile and deliver a prearranged greeting. No one in the crowd seemed to be waiting for him, and he couldn’t leave the airport until his contact showed. He followed the disembarking passengers down the concourse to a breakfast stall where he purchased a small bowl of salted fish and rice, the strain of the past twenty-four hours manifested in a rapacious appetite. Two yuan bought him a second bowl, which he ate slowly, savoring the smoky flavor.
“Papers, please.” An airport security guard accompanied by an army officer initiated an inspection at the far end of the breakfast line.
Waves of nausea overwhelmed Chi-Wen as his stomach twisted in panic.
Next to him, a young man in a suit as baggy as his own, banged down his rice bowl and began a frantic search through his jacket pockets. “Damn nuisance!” he grumbled in Mandarin. “Do they think we’re all spies?”
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