Tower Thirty Four: The Collectors Book Three (The Collectors Series 3)

by Sewell, Ron

  “Right, follow me.”

  “You’re leaving ya car here?”

  “Why not. Someone will park it. We need to get you out of sight.” The security lights covering the building and its surrounds dimmed before extinguishing. “Thirty seconds before the generator kicks in, so run for the main door. It’ll open before we get there.”

  With their heads low they ran, doors shut in moments behind them. Ten seconds later the lights came back on.

  “What’s with the subterfuge?”

  “Just in case our resident observer chooses to take photos for the family album. The longer no one knows where you are, the better. Follow me.”

  By design, an opening in a far wall showed a lift. The door closed and a rapid descent followed.

  “How far does this thing go?”

  “Best you don’t know. Five years of deception went into building this.”

  The door opened to a long narrow corridor.

  Mike glanced along the bare concrete walls decorated by Emergency Way Out signs and fire extinguishers.

  “This way,” said Stuart.

  They entered a spacious, dark, windowless room filled with a mass of high tech computers and screens.

  “If I didn’t know, I’d say this was a scene from a James Bond movie,” said Mike.

  “This stuff is expensive and it works.” Stuart sat in a chair and began operating a keyboard. “Here’s the edited newscast. What’s missing that’s so important?”

  Mike gave Stuart an exasperated glance. “You’ll need to view the footage to assess what happened. It’ll be a long night.”

  “We’re not going anywhere. Hungry?”

  “Starving.”

  “There’s a well-stocked kitchen and a chef on call. Roast beef dinner and a mug of tea, okay?”

  “You’d better believe it. The mere thought makes me mouth water.”

  “Right, what do you need?”

  “Nothing much. A clean internet line.”

  “Two ticks.” Stuart pressed various keys until the screen changed colour from green to red. “Clean, and every signal’s encrypted via an office in Sydney.”

  Mike studied the keyboard. “What shouldn’t I poke?”

  “Standard keyboard, start working.”

  Mike typed with two fingers and made short work of retrieving a copy of his film. “This screen isn’t great for display.”

  Stuart pressed the right keys and a large screen on the far wall illuminated.

  “Right. See here, the discovery of the treasure. Not much, until we opened a few boxes. Can we fast forward?”

  “Press F plus on the keyboard. At an interesting bit, F minus will stop it.”

  Mike stopped the film on the arrival of the three police helicopters. “The sound’s awful. Those birds destroyed any audio we may have had.”

  “They are, without doubt, police choppers or perfect mock-ups. Our computers might be able to spot the differences.”

  Mike pointed out Petros, Bear and Chinese George as they faced the uniformed police officer who strutted towards them. “This is the interesting bit. Check out the scene behind Petros and Bear.”

  Stuart studied the two men as they approached Petros and Bear. Both were dressed from head to toe in black. Rifles held ready they advanced, the noise of the helicopters’ rotors drowning out everything. In an instant, the butts of their weapons smashed the skulls of Petros and Bear.

  “Stop,” said Stuart. “I need copies of the moment those men were attacked. Item one, to prove them innocent.”

  Mike backtracked the film for five minutes before printing a snapshot of every thirty seconds. “Next.”

  One of the assailants produced a large pistol, walked straight to George, and placed the barrel to his head. Unheard, George’s head blew apart as blood and bone blasted out of his skull. It was unmistakable. His body remained upright for a moment before it tumbled backwards to the dusty ground. The two men in black vanished.

  The arrest and departure of Petros and Bear followed.

  “Can you copy your film? My associate’s a whiz at enhancement. Better facial recognition on the police officer will make our claim water tight.”

  “Where’s the food? I’m famished.”

  Stuart picked up the phone handset as the door opened. A soldier walked in carrying two trays.

  “The chef told me to tell you, if you want more, cook it yourself. He’s going to bed.”

  “Thanks, Corporal. Place them on the table.” He turned to Mike. “Through there,” he pointed, “is a room with a shower and pyjamas, if you wear them. Rest. I need you out of harm’s way.”

  “Am I in danger?”

  “An underestimation if I ever heard one.” Stuart cosseted sources inside the Chinese Secret Service like a mother protecting her children. From one of these informants it appeared Mike’s newscast posed a threat to national security, the truth revealing corruption at the highest level. “Are you in danger? Yes. Up to your armpits in quicksand and sinking. Let’s eat.”

  Mike’s eyes widened. “The condemned man ate a hearty meal.”

  Stuart pulled a tight smile. “Only if you venture to leave.”

  The meal over, Stuart showed Mike his bedroom. “Sleep well. Oh, by the way, you fly out tomorrow evening. British Airways to Hong Kong and Quantas to Sydney.”

  “Where are ya going?”

  “To brief our illustrious leader. Goodnight.”

  * * *

  “Are you awake?” said Petros.

  “No,” said Bear. “’Some idiot keeps asking if I’m awake.”

  “How long have we been in this box?”

  “By my reckoning, a day, no more.”

  “A day without food or water.”

  “You can’t win every one, PK.”

  “Thank God I had a crap before they put us in here.”

  “Who’s a clever boy, then?”

  “Doesn’t being in here bother you?”

  “If I let it. Mind you, I could murder a plate of bacon and eggs. Shall I give reception a call? Tell you what, how about a game of eye spy?”

  “Are you mad? It’s pitch dark in here.”

  “PK, are you always stupid or did you take lessons.”

  “I took the long course but failed the exam.”

  “Thought as much. I spy with my little eye something beginning with D.”

  “Door.”

  “No.”

  “Ok, clever sod, what is it?”

  “Dickhead.”

  “Not funny.”

  “PK, I don’t care if there’re guards outside or not. Our minds need stimulating. What can we refer to? Sweet F A, but we can move, talk, and sleep. If we don’t keep our minds active we’ll go mad.”

  “Ok, I spy with my little eye something beginning with L.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  The ambassador listened as Stuart informed him of his findings. He checked the time again. “Stuart, I agreed to this meeting and promised you five minutes. I’m ready to embark on a round of top-level meetings to witness first-hand the changes in China. The whereabouts of two British nationals is of minor importance. Why are you so sure of their innocence?”

  “I can go through the film with you and prove the police framed these men.”

  “But didn’t you tell me they found the Emperor’s treasure?”

  “You were listening.”

  “I always listen. What do you want me to do before I upset the Chinese apple cart?”

  “Talk to your counterpart in the ministry and inform him Petros Kyriades and William Morris are not guilty of murder. Tell him the proof exists, you have seen it and we’ll give him a copy.

  “Do you believe they’ll take any notice?”

  “I’m striving to prove two people are innocent. I’d appreciate if you pushed hard.”

  “These men being held, where?”

  Stuart shook his head. “I haven’t a clue. And if I waste time trying to find out they’ll be dead and bur
ied.”

  The ambassador went silent for a few moments. “There’s a problem. I can’t be in two places at the same time. I’m going to use my programme of visits as a lever.” He checked the time. “Leave the room, please.”

  “Ambassador, if these men die we did not do our job.”

  Concerned, he stomped out of the office.

  * * *

  Dark rings circled the ambassador’s eyes. He was tired when he went to bed and more so when he woke. He pressed the yellow key on his phone to contact his Chinese counterpart.

  It rang three times. “Good day, Mr Ambassador. I believe you are due to travel around our vast country.”

  In fluent Mandarin the ambassador wished the Chinese minister of internal affairs well. “I may have to cancel the proposed tour. My government informs me two British subjects are at present being held in one of your jails charged with murder.” Wang Sheng attempted to speak. “Please wait until I finish. In my hand, I hold the evidence. Is it possible a stray bullet fired by a Chinese police officer resulted in the death of this man?”

  “Mr Ambassador, why forego your journey. From the incident report, many identified the murderers as British subjects. They are guilty and will pay with their lives.”

  “These eyewitnesses, who are they?”

  “Serving officers with years of experience. There are no reasons to doubt them.”

  “Well, now you have one. My excursion is cancelled. Please arrange for me to visit these men. I assume they are still alive.”

  “Mr Ambassador, many problems and loss of face will result if you cancel your trip. I will arrange for your secretary or any other nominated person to meet these men. In the meantime, please send me a copy of the evidence in your possession?”

  “I accept. Mr Stuart Gardner will be my eyes and ears in this matter. His word is my word. He will be with you in two hours. Please offer my regets for being late for my first appointment. I’m positive you can come up with a suitable reason.”

  “Stuart Gardner. Isn’t he a part of your intelligence service?”

  “No, he’s one of my many assistant secretaries.”

  “My mistake, Mr Ambassador. I hope you find Chinese hospitality to your taste.”

  “Thank you.” The line went dead.

  On the intercom, the ambassador spoke to his secretary. “Is Stuart’s there?” The door opened the moment he stopped speaking. “You have a meeting with Wang Sheng, a representative of the Central People’s Government State Council. He is expecting you in two hours. Dress in a smart suit and tie, and use my car. The more you act the part, the better. He knows you’re the head of British Intelligence in Beijing, so be careful. Play by the rules.”

  “And our missing men?”

  “He didn’t say they were dead but no doubt he has his minions scurrying around like rats checking.”

  “Thanks. Enjoy your trip.”

  “I will.

  Stuart turned on his heel and strolled out of the office.

  * * *

  “Bear, I guess we might lose this game.”

  “Not yet. We’re still alive.”

  “Yeah, no food or water for at least thirty-six hours.”

  “Don’t remind me. The army trained us. We can last a week.”

  “With your body fat, I reckon a month. I’m thinner.”

  Bolts scraping metal-on-metal interrupted their conversation. “What the fuck?”

  A bright beam of light forced them to turn their heads away. A guard placed one plate of food and a bottle of water on the floor and pushed it inside the cell with his foot. With the door open, two guards lit cigarettes and stood with their backs against the far wall.

  With their hands acting as shields, both men faced the ground. The disgusting odour of mouldy rice and bean shoots killed their hunger.

  “Grab the water, Bear.”

  “Something’s not right. They left the door open.”

  Petros read his thoughts. He shook his head. “Not now, Bear, not yet,” and waved his hand towards the door.

  Bear, the light of action in his eyes, used his foot to shut it.

  “It smells putrid.”

  “Didn’t you notice, the rice was stirring itself - weevils or similar.”

  A few minutes elapsed before the guards locked the door and their footsteps abated on the stone floor.

  “Their next move will be interesting,” said Petros.

  * * *

  The ambassadors chauffeur driven Jaguar drove out of the main gates of the British Embassy. In the rear sat Stuart Gardner. He tapped the partition.

  “Just speak Mr Gardner,” said the driver.

  “We’re being followed.”

  “I’d be most upset if we weren’t, sir.”

  At regulation speed the car entered a one-way street leading to one of the buildings that housed the State Council. With a touch of the brakes it glided to a stop outside the recently completed concrete and glass construction.

  Stuart stepped out, and with his briefcase held in his right hand marched up the steps and into the building. A woman wearing the uniform and insignia of an army officer stopped him. “Your business?”

  Concious of the womans gaze. “Stuart Gardner. My business is with Minister Wang Sheng.”

  “You will follow me.”

  At the statutory checkpoint, the briefcase was opened, emptied and inspected. A hand-held scanner covered Stuart from head to toe. With the contents of his briefcase dumped inside, he proceeded to an upper level with the officer.

  She pointed to a seat to the side of a carved wooden door. “You sit.”

  Within seconds, she returned and ushered Stuart into a spacious but sparse office. Facing a picture window stood a man of medium height and build. He relaxed and folded his arms.

  “Mr Gardner,” said Wang Sheng, turning. He held out his right hand. “You brought the evidence your ambassador claims is proof of these men’s innocence?”

  There was silence as Stuart opened his briefcase. “Photographic confirmation and the full details of what happened that night. You may keep them.”

  “Thank you.” Wang Sheng sat at his desk and browsed the photos for over ten minutes. “Impressive. These might be forgeries but our experts can chack. Do you know who filmed this incident?”

  Stuart’s stared out beyond the window. His attention drifted. “My apologies. Please repeat the question?”

  “Mike Newman, is he still in China?”

  “Yes.”

  “I recommend his early departure. Back to your problem. The news is not good. These men appear to have vanished from Beijing central jail. The prison governor will be punished for his incompetence. Even in our well-ordered society we sometimes make mistakes.”

  Stuart remained calm. “I don’t believe you.”

  “What you believe is of no importance. These men are not in any of our prisons. I will study your evidence. This meeting is ended.”

  “Why don’t you check again?”

  “I assure you, nothing has been ignored.”

  Stuart’s facial smile stiffened. “If you discover any information, no matter how small, will you let me know?”

  There was an irritation in Wang Sheng’s voice. “Goodbye, Mr Gardner.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Petros stirred as the cell door groaned open. A blinding light killed the dark. Electric pulses smashed through his body. The world vanished and he tumbled into unconsciousness.

  Bear, wakened by the noise, stiffened as an intense pain froze his nervous system. With his teeth clenched, he struggled with the kaleidoscope of lights filling his mind. Hot and cold spasms tortured his frame until a dark mist enveloped him.

  A short, overweight man wearing a police uniform glanced into the cell. “Are they dead?”

  “No, sir.”

  “In a few hours it will not matter. Dump them on those stretchers, cover their faces and follow me.”

  * * *

  At six-thirty in the evening a co
ntainer truck, delayed by thick fog along the Jinjingtang Highway, lumbered through the entrance to Tianjin Port.

  At the end of a long concrete jetty, the lorry turned right and stopped in a spot reserved for shipping containers. Several men dressed in red overalls with a Dragon Shipping logo emblazoned across their backs prepared the container for lifting.

  A dock administrator approached.

  One of the men handed over a sheaf of papers.

  The man smiled politely and as he scanned through them and removed a sealed beige envelope. “In order.” It vanished into his jacket pocket.

  Within five minutes a crane hoisted the rust-coated container and placed it on top of others secured to the deck of MV Harvest Moon.

  The Captain of Harvest Moon, standing on the port outer bridge wing, waited. He lifted his mobile, pressed one button, and spoke. “Your package is in position. I will be sailing in a few hours.” With no hesitation, he let the mobile fall out of his hand into the water.

  * * *

  Jocelyn tried to relax, removed her shoes and stretched out on the settee.

  “Why hasn’t Teddy phoned?” asked Maria.

  “If I knew, I’d tell you.”

  “What can we do?”

  “Wait.”

  “I can’t handle this. Contact your friend.”

  Jocelyn shrugged. “I’ll do it but don’t expect much.”

  “How can you be so calm?”

  “I’m not. My guts are a mess and my mind is creating scenarios worse than hell. Teddy will call.”

  “You love Bear, don’t you?”

  “He’s everything.”

  The high-pitched warble made them jump. Maria grabbed the receiver. “Maria Kyriades.”

  “Good evening, are you the lady of the house?” said a well-spoken man.

  “I am.”

  “I represent Johnson Double Glazing and this week ...”

  “Fuck off, moron.” She smashed the telephone into its cradle. She turned to Jocelyn. “Did I say that?”