Spies? The word evoked frightening images of irrefutable accusations, inevitable arrest, and the sound of a cell door clanging shut with irrevocable finality.
“Here they come.”
The two uniformed men stood in front of Chi-Wen’s neighbor who handed over his yellow ID card and travel permit. The army officer’s eyes narrowed and his lips pursed. “Step out of line,” he ordered.
“Anything wrong?” the young man asked in a surprised tone.
“You are going on to Shatin?”
“Yes, I have business there this afternoon.” Spoken with an air of self-importance. China’s new breed of entrepreneurs.
“You’ll need a correct date stamp, then. This one is for yesterday.”
The young man squirmed. “I couldn’t get an earlier flight from Beijing.”
“It’s against regulations. You must have the proper stamp.”
“But that could take hours. I’ll miss my meeting.” He leaned slightly toward the security guard. “Comrade, it’s just one day off. Can’t it be overlooked?”
The guard merely shrugged as if to say the matter was out of his hands, then moved on while the officer escorted him away. “Your papers.”
Chi-Wen fought to control his anxiety as the man’s dark eyes studied him. Stay calm.
“Passport.”
“Of course.” Chi-Wen yawned to affect indifference, though his body prickled with tension. Behind the guard, he glimpsed the airport exit, a freedom he would never reach. In a moment he’d he discovered and carted off to jail.
“Thank you.”
“Fernando!” A skinny girl in shapeless gray pants and white blouse was hurrying toward him, pushing through the crowd, waving a People’s Daily over her head. “Cousin! What kept you? Everyone is waiting outside!”
The security officer turned to look.
Chi-Wen felt his knees weaken as he realized this was the Zhongshan University student he was to meet. He was certain he was done for.
Distracted by the noisy entrance, the guard handed back his papers with an avuncular scolding. “You shouldn’t keep family waiting.”
The girl embraced him. “The name is Mei Ling,” she whispered in his ear. “Hurry! We must get you out of here!”
Chi-Wen returned the embrace then gratefully followed her to the airport exit. As he pushed open the door, his hand shook. That was close, he thought. Too close.
Near New Territories
Ng’s seventy-five foot custom English cutter sliced silently through the South China Sea toward Macao. Sleek and low in the water, the craft’s exterior resembled a racer more than a yacht. In fact it had been fashioned after the old cutters used in the early nineteenth century to pursue smugglers; its sliding bowsprit and topmast provided speed and easy handling. The interior, however, was designed for different sport — complete with a large main salon fully appointed with rosewood pool table and marble wet bar, a master suite with king-size bed and Jacuzzi, ample quarters for two other guests, and a galley befitting any gourmet chef.
While Camille guarded Lili in a guest bedroom, David Kim sat in the main salon reading the papers Ng had put before him with growing confusion. And fear. Despite the air-conditioning, he reached inside his suit and peeled his sweat-soaked handmade shirt from his clammy skin. “I don’t understand. This looks like Zee Enterprises has somehow bought a controlling interest in Kim Company. I never okayed any stock purchases.”
Ng laughed at the look on his face. “It was quite easy.” His eyes gleamed. “I simply used your tojang to make the transactions. A legal signature, I assure you.”
“But why? You said Zee Enterprises was to be a subsidiary of Kim Company. Nothing more. You promised —”
“Promised?” Ng found the notion hilarious. “I’m a businessman, pure and simple. I’m motivated by profit, not ideology or politics. Certainly not morality.” He spread out a wad of chits. “Your debts. I’m afraid you’ve run up quite a hefty tab these past few weeks.”
“I’ll pay it back.”
“Where do you propose to get the money?”
“I’m head of one of the most successful companies in Korea,” he said with genuine indignation. “I’m good for it.”
Ng’s smile disappeared. “You’re good for nothing, my friend.” He shook his head. “If only your father had paid more attention. Though I suppose it’s understandable. Having his own flesh and blood, his only son, inherit the business. He was blinded to the facts. He believed improved earnings and increased market share in the China plants meant you’d settled down, given up your decadent ways. But of course, we both know you hadn’t changed at all.”
Ng leaned forward. His scarred face was close enough to make David pull away. “I had to make a business decision. Kim Company was on the brink of disaster before your father died. With you at the helm, it would have fallen off the edge. I bought these shares,” he said pointing to the stock portfolio, “to protect my investment.”
David tried to recover. “We’re still partners,” he stammered.
“No, we’re not. I dissolved our partnership.”
Bewildered: “How?”
“Also with your tojang. “Ng didn’t bother to mention his short-lived relationship with DeForest. The American entrepreneur had provided Camille with the initial information on Kim Company, and then given Ng a needed infusion of capital to buy up David’s shares. DeForest’s untimely death was fortuitous. “I’m the sole owner of Kim Company now.”
For several minutes David sat stunned as the enormity of the situation sunk in. He could not believe he had lost his company, though he held the proof. Zee Enterprises owned Kim Company and Paulo Ng was Zee Enterprises. He knew it was his own fault. He had betrayed his father’s trust. Still, it seemed unjust. To lose everything. He appealed first to an imaginary court. Couldn’t he make amends? It wasn’t too late, was it? “What can I do?” he whimpered. “I’ll do anything.”
Ng looked at David’s shaking hands, disgusted by the manicured nails, the soft fingers. “You’ve brought dishonor to the Kim name. If you were your father, you would consider suicide.”
“You’re crazy!” But the perspiration along his hairline attested to his panic.
Ng ignored the outburst. He clapped his hands and two men, one the ex-sumo wrestler from the casino, entered. Each took one of David’s arms and dragged him toward the door.
“What are you doing?” the Korean screamed.
“I understand your generation rejects the old ways,” Ng said evenly. “That’s why I’ve decided to help you.”
Beijing, China
Foreign Minister Lin was less sanguine than General Tong about Lili’s escape. “She’s got the secret, Han. I want her found.”
“The same informant who told us where to find her in Beijing claims Chi-Wen Zhou is headed for Hong Kong. Evidently, he plans to meet her at the Peninsula Hotel.”
Lin smiled for the first time since Lili’s escape. “Then that’s where I’ll meet her.”
Near Macao
She was a lost soul in a raging sea, screaming wind, tossing deliriously on the backs of giant black waves. Then the waves opened up, folding her into walls of water, sucking her beneath the surface, into the darkness. Somehow the blackness passed and she was rising once more toward the light, toward the torrent.
Help me! Don’t let me die!
As if her prayers had been answered, the wind died down and the waves became soft rolling hills, rocking her in a gentle cradle.
No!
A pair of hands shaking her from side to side. She was not floating outside on calm waters, but lying on a hard bunk in a cabin.
“Can you hear me, Dr. Quan?”
The face was not Asian, yet not European. Speaking to her in English, with a heavy accent. In the fog she couldn’t place it. Not Chinese. She tried squinting to see properly, but it slipped in and out of focus. She thought there was mustache and a scar. Like a Z. How funny!
“Can you hear me?”
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The voice was coming closer again.
“Dr. Quan? Can you sit up?”
Lili felt hands shoved under her, pushing her to a sitting position. Reluctantly she moved until she was upright. Her head began to spin and for a moment she feared blackness would return.
“Wake up, Dr. Quan.”
She closed her eyes until the dizziness passed. “Where am I?”
“You’re on my yacht headed for Macao.” Ng put a cigarillo in his mouth.
Yacht? How did I —? Slowly it all came back, nightmarish images — her wild escape from Beijing, Lee Tong’s shooting, the strange Korean, someone injecting her, and blacking out. Lili opened her eyes fully. A man in a white suit was smiling. Why did he seem so familiar? “Who are you?”
The man flicked his gold lighter so the dragon etched on the side seemed to belch fire. “The name’s Paulo Ng.” He lit his cigarillo and took a long drag.
Blue smoke, white suit, something about his voice —
Win-win. It’s essential that everyone’s special needs be satisfied.
Like a curtain rising, Lili pulled the scene from her memory. “You’re the man at the Peninsula Hotel.”
“And the dim sum restaurant.”
I’d leave room for the saan tat if I were you.
My God, she thought, three weeks ago in Hong Kong he’d been following her. “What do you want, Mr. Ng?”
The pirate’s admiring look was genuine. “A direct woman. I like that. I suppose that explains how you’ve managed to outwit three of the most important men in the Chinese government.”
Sensing danger, Lili was deliberately evasive. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Of course you do, my dear.” Skipping details, Ng explained he was a businessman who had made a deal through David Kim with Lee Tong. He knew Ni-Fu Cheng had discovered the secret of longevity and before he died, passed it on to Lili. “You give me the formula, and you’ll be free to go,” he said reasonably.
Lili tried to swallow her fear. This man was lying. He’d never let her go. He couldn’t afford to have a witness survive. “You’re even stupider than you look,” she said with contempt.
Ng roared with laughter.
“Excuse me,” Camille entered, “we’ll be docking in a few minutes.”
Ng nodded. “Dr. Quan, we can finish our little chat at my villa.” To Camille, he said, “Tie her up. We wouldn’t want our guest to disappear again.”
Guangchou, China
Mei Ling was silent during their bus ride from the Baiyun Airport.
Through the downtown commercial area of Guangchou toward Zhongshan University, everywhere he looked, Chi-Wen felt a disturbing sense of déjà vu — the Beijing Road bookstore, the fast-food noodle house, the White Swan Hotel, their familiarity a bittersweet reminder of the time he’d spent with Lili. Less than three weeks ago he was walking down these same crowded streets with her, frustrated by her ingenuousness, fascinated by her independence, falling in love. Now he was returning alone, not sure if he would ever see her again. The thought made him shudder.
Mei Ling tapped him on the arm to indicate they’d reached their destination. “I’m taking you to an apartment near the university,” she explained. “You can rest there.”
“How soon can I leave for Macao?”
The girl shrugged. “Since the student coalition announced more class boycotts, the government threatened a crackdown. They’ve already detained a few student leaders, so we’re planning a hunger strike.”
Chi-Wen was stunned. He had no idea so much had happened in the last twenty-four hours.
“We’ll have to wait until dark. If police security at the airport and train stations picks up, we’ll have to find another route to get you out.”
“What would that be?”
The girl looked at Chi-Wen for a long moment before she responded. “Can you swim?”
Macao
Headlights swung onto the driveway and stopped.
“Open the gate, dammit!”
“Sorry, sir. The remote’s not responding.”
“Get out and move it manually!” Ng ordered the bodyguard, who doubled as chauffeur.
The silence of the black night was broken by the driver’s footsteps echoing off the gravel of the long, twisting driveway. Beside the massive wrought iron gate, he casually hunched down to inspect the motorized mechanism, assuming the circuit breaker had been tripped. As he leaned closer to reset the toggle switch, he was surprised to find it already in the correct position. Puzzled, he noticed a six-inch iron bar carefully wedged between the chain and the sprocket wheel jamming the entire assembly. Buddha! This could only be the work of a saboteur. He’d better warn the boss.
It was his last thought. In one swift movement, a piano wire pulled tight around his neck from behind, dragging him breathless and dying into the bushes.
Silently, Halliday removed the coil and rewrapped it around his left wrist.
From within the Rolls, Ng grew impatient. “Find out what’s keeping that idiot!” he snapped at his second bodyguard.
The guard was almost fifty feet up the driveway when the poison dart struck his jugular. Brushing frantically at his neck, he thought a bee had stung him. Until his limbs grew numb and his breathing stopped.
The occupants of the Rolls-Royce did not hear the heavy thud of his body hitting the ground.
“All right,” Ng told Camille a few minutes later. “I’d better handle this myself. Lock the doors and watch the girl.” He stepped out of the limo and squinted into the darkness. The night air was still and muggy. “Pei-Jun?” So quiet he could hear the blare of a ship’s horn far off across the water. “Yu?” Where were those pox-infested sea slugs? He took his gold lighter from his pocket, flicking it this way and that, but the shadows gave up nothing.
“Put it out, please.”
Ng froze, trying to locate the voice.
“I said shut it off.”
Ng flicked off the lighter and was cloaked in darkness.
“That’s better.”
He felt a presence approaching from behind.
“Good evening, Mr. Ng.”
Furious someone had infiltrated his compound, unwilling to lose face. “Do I know you?” he asked in a conversational tone.
“Let’s just say I was also a partner of the former Walter DeForest.”
“He never mentioned you,” Ng said.
“I’m not surprised. Loyalty wasn’t one of Walt’s strong suits.”
“Loyalty and business don’t always mix.”
“So I’ve learned.”
Ng began to turn his head, but was dissuaded by the barrel of Halliday’s .45 against his neck.
“Don’t do that,” the voice in his ear ordered. “And don’t try anything. I know all about your deal with old Walt. And David Kim and Zee Company.”
“I see.”
“I’m not sure you do,” Halliday said. “Lili Quan would never have gone to China if I hadn’t orchestrated her trip. The secret of shou is rightfully mine. Now, hand over the lighter.”
Ng did as he was told. Whoever he was, this man was obviously no fool. Ng would need to keep his cool if he was going to reverse his position.
“Throw down your weapons.”
Slowly, Ng reached in his pocket and withdrew his cigarillo case. “I have no weapons. Just this.” He opened the case, holding it up for Halliday. “See.”
The CIA officer patted him down carefully. “Okay, turn around,” he said.
“Would you like one?” Ng offered.
“No thanks.”
The Macanese shrugged and took one before returning the case to his pocket. “I could never get our mutual friend to try them either,” he said putting the cigarillo to his lips. “I suppose DeForest preferred the more macho image of a cigar smoker.”
Halliday flicked the flame as if to offer a light, but used it to watch the pirate’s expression. “That was not an intelligent move, Mr. Ng.”
The scarred face contorted, a mass of twisted fury as he vainly blew on the end of the cigarillo. “What the —?”
“I’m afraid your Dobermans won’t be able to hear that,” Halliday clucked, grabbing the high-pitched whistle. “Tranquilizing dart. They’ll sleep for hours.”
The dark orbs grew narrow. “My compliments, Mr. —”
“The name’s Halliday.”
“Mr. Halliday. You are quite a resourceful fellow. Look,” he said trying again to regain his composure. “I own Kim Company.”
“So?”
“So you still need a way to market the formula.”
“I’m listening.”
Ng smiled to cover his disgust for the greedy foreigner. He’d sweet talk him now. Later he’d screw this fornicating waigoren. “You and I can be partners.”
“Walt once told me, ‘never work for a company you can’t own.’ ”
“Good advice.”
“Yes,” Halliday agreed. “But I’d add one thing.”
“What’s that?”
Halliday cocked his .45. “Never take partners.” He squeezed the trigger, blowing Ng’s brains out. “It’s too risky.”
At the sound of gunshots, Lili, huddled in the back seat, bound and gagged, produced a low, throaty cry of terror.
A harsh slap from Camille. “Shut up!” she hissed, then climbed into the driver’s seat. “We’ve got to get out of here.” Shifting to reverse, she floored the accelerator and raced blindly down the driveway.
Halliday was ready.
Whack!
The first bullet blew the left rear tire. The Rolls swerved, but Camille kept going.
Whack!
The second hit the right rear tire and the limo skidded to a bumpy stop.
Halliday moved to the front of the car and stood in the glare of the headlights. “Out!” he yelled.
Panicked, Camille shifted to drive and tried to gun the engine. Too late. Halliday fired. The sputter of erupting radiator fluid ensured that the Rolls wasn’t going anywhere. Then, aiming directly at the driver, Halliday fired again. The sound of shattered glass and another whack! The Eurasian woman went limp, a dark red hole in her forehead.
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