“How typically American,” Commander Long said with a low, grating voice. “Playing the part of the diplomat while securing your objectives. There is no United Nations here at Jupiter to give you political cover. We are military men, Commander, you and I. We are both conducting military operations.”
“I’m not a military man,” Dylan said. “Not anymore, at least. I’m a NASA commander. We’re on a scientific mission.”
“A scientific mission important enough to let the men and women of the Kuànggōng perish rather than lend assistance? Do not insult me.”
“Look, commander. I’m awful sorry we couldn’t stop and help them. There isn’t a night I don’t lie awake thinking about that crew. That’s God’s honest truth. It wasn’t my decision.”
“I command my ship,” Colonel Long said. “Do you not command yours?”
“I’m sorry.”
Commander Long shook his head. “No matter what you consider the purpose of your mission, my mission is a military one. You will comply with my instructions.”
“I’m sure we can find a better solution. Do you really want to kill us over this?”
“No,” Commander Long said. He sounded detached, devoid of emotion. “But, if necessary, I will.”
Spy Games
The sweet smell of tulips wafted through the Rose Garden. Orange and cardinal-red flowers atop deep-green stems opened to the bright spring sun. Sara closed her eyes and drew in the scent. Lovely. Clear out all thoughts. Be here, in the moment. Be…
Her aiDe flashed.
“You’re three minutes late reporting in,” Sara told the caller.
“I’m sorry, Director Wells.” The speaker was a confident woman in her early forties. “We found a promising target. I wanted to confirm our information first.”
“Hold a moment.” Sara walked into the now empty Oval Office. Any outdoor conversation might be intercepted. “What did you find?”
“Dr. Zhou Jintao. He’s a senior systems engineer for Shenzhen Astromining. The CIA has been tracking him for several years. Dr. Zhou is out of country on a gambling junket. He’s important enough that Chinese intelligence will have eyes on him during the trip.”
“Where is he now?” Sara asked. She sat on one of the red-and-white-striped couches.
“He’s playing pai gow at a casino in Malaysia.”
“Malaysia? Why not Macao?”
“It’s the economic crisis in South-East Asia. The casinos outside of China are rolling out the red carpet to attract Chinese money.”
“What’s his psychological profile? How can we crack him?”
“That could be a problem,” the confident voice said. “Gambling is the only exploitable vice we’re sure about, but he wagers within his means. We were able to hack an old medical file at his university that indicates a prescription for Xapafin. It’s an anti-anxiety drug for patients with certain biomarkers. He is a connoisseur of whiskey but doesn’t drink to excess. We think he’s straight, but the CIA hasn’t tied him to a woman since they started monitoring him. Loneliness might be an angle.”
“That’s not much to go on.” Irritation crept into Sara’s voice.
“You gave us twelve hours to work a miracle, Director Wells. He’s our best option.”
“Understood.” Push hard but keep her motivated. Sara moderated her tone. “Who has eyes on him now?”
“We know he entered the country from a hack in the Malaysian passport control system. The casino sent a Heli-Drone to fetch him a few hours ago. An agent named Trevor Yang is en route to the casino for visual confirmation. It’s about an hour up a mountain road.”
“An hour? Can’t he fly in?”
“It’s a low-key resort. Guests that fly attract too much attention.”
“All right. Do we have an asset in the casino?” Sara asked.
“Yes. Trevor is friendly with several of the casino staff. I doubt they’ll stick their necks out too far, but they won’t ask questions, either. They’ll give him what he needs, if it’s reasonable. There’s also a dealer. I gather she’s in deeper with him. An attractive local girl. Trevor says she’s smart and ambitious.”
“Get Agent Yang on the line,” Sara said.
The call went quiet for a moment. “He’s taking a casino bus. Since they have gambling on board, any encrypted transmissions from inside would raise the alarm.”
“He’s taking a damned bus?”
“It was the fastest way to get there without drawing attention,” the voice said, unshaken.
“Have him call me the moment he reestablishes contact.”
Sara closed her eyes again and leaned back. She exhaled slowly. Clear out all thoughts. Now, visualize the operation.
#
Sara dialed General McAlester in Guam.
“Sara,” he said. “Do you know where my aircraft is headed, or do you expect the aircrew to loiter over the South China Sea indefinitely?” His words had a teasing quality.
“You know I wouldn’t do that to your crew, Grant. Now if you were up there with them, I might have seen it as an opportunity to teach a general the virtue of patience.” She smiled.
He laughed. “Where’s the target?”
“Twenty miles east of Kuala Lumpur.”
“Sara, that’s one hundred eighty kilometers round trip from international airspace. The SAR drones have a maximum range of one hundred twenty kilometers.”
“I thought you had the newer models with extended range.” Sara sat up straight.
“We do, but the battery keeps overheating. The manufacturer has them torn apart trying to diagnose the problem. We’re stuck with the hundred-twenty-kilometer version.”
He should have told me. “All right, Grant. Let me see what I can do. Have the aircraft head toward Malaysia. I need it over the target in around seventeen hours. I’ll give you an exact time and place once we map out the details on our end.”
“We’ll be there, Sara. I’m sorry you were blindsided by the drones. It was in my last capabilities update, but I should have made sure you knew.”
“Water under the bridge. We’ll make it work.”
Sara disconnected then placed another call.
The image of a handsome Asian man with short cropped, graying hair appeared. He wore a military uniform. “Sara, is it really you?” The voice spoke English with a distinctive Malaysian accent. “It has been how long? Three years? Since the reception in DC, I believe. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Ameer, it has indeed been too long. Are you coming to the South-East Asian cooperation summit in Manila next month?”
“I’m not important enough for an invitation.”
“Of course you are. I’ll make sure you get one, and we can catch up then.”
“I would like that, Sara. That’s not why you called.”
“No,” Sara said with a charming smile. “I need your help. I have an Air Force transport aircraft that needs to cross Malaysia east to west near your capital in seventeen hours. It can go north or south of Kuala Lumpur to avoid the busiest airspace. But Ameer, it has to fly low. Ten thousand feet.”
Ameer frowned. “I’m sure you are not directing an action against Malaysia. Were I not certain of that, I would hang up now.” He scratched the back of his neck. “Will this thing be in the news?”
“I don’t think so. It’s in our interest to keep it quiet.”
“Will it screw the Chinese?”
“Yes, Ameer,” Sara said. “It will screw the Chinese.”
The man’s features brightened. His hands moved off camera and he looked away. “Tell your aircraft to squawk 1242. I added that transponder code to the system as a classified surveillance sensor test. Our air traffic controllers will route other aircraft to give them a wide berth.”
Sara’s shoulders relaxed. “Thank you, Ameer. This means a lot to me.”
“I’ll see you in Manila next month,” Ameer said.
“See you in Manila.”
#
Malaysia�
��s only casino was perched on a mountaintop with a grand view of the countryside and, on a clear day, of Kuala Lumpur thirty kilometers to the west. The gambling hall was once majestic but wasn’t well maintained in recent years. The economic woes that maligned the region had persisted long enough to dampen the gambling industry.
Mira Hamid stacked and shifted thirty-two wooden dominoes to perform a ritualistic pai gow shuffle. She dealt four tiles to each of seven players and four to herself, placing them with precision on the red velvet tabletop. The players arranged their pieces into a front hand and a back hand to try and either beat both of Mira’s hands, or at least to beat one of her hands for a push. Her eyes shot up as Trevor Yang walked behind her players, across the casino floor. The corners of her mouth curled into the faintest of smiles.
Trevor strode to the floor supervisor. The two shook hands and spoke then the supervisor smiled and nodded. Trevor slapped the man on the shoulder and strode across the gaming floor to an ornate door adjacent the cashier’s cage. The door opened for him, and he disappeared inside.
Mira dealt a hand, then another, and yet another. One of her players gathered his chips and stumbled away toward the bar. Her eyes scanned for Trevor. She dealt with confidence and managed to flash a demure smile at appropriate moments, the type of smile that earned her steady tips. It also earned her too many advances from drunk or bold patrons, mostly Chinese. That came with the territory. Trevor emerged from the room. He glanced at her then sidled toward the exit.
Mira felt a tap on her shoulder. Another dealer relieved her, though her shift wasn’t half over. That happened sometimes, especially if a regular player asked for a dealer change or if the pit boss picked up even a whiff of trouble. She took her chip tray and started for the employee’s cashier.
The supervisor, the man Trevor spoke with, hooked her elbow with a finger. “Be careful with Mr. Yang if you value your job. I consider it your personal business, but people are starting to talk.”
Mira nodded, eyes on the floor.
“He wants to talk to you outside.” The man reached for her chip tray. “I’ll log that in for you.” He extended his hand. “Don’t worry, nothing will go missing.”
She handed him the tray.
“Twenty minutes. Then I need you upstairs in the Malaikat Room. Mr. Yang reserved a private pai gow session, and he requested that you deal.”
She nodded and hurried outside.
#
The holographic face of a middle-aged woman materialized over the Resolute desk. Addie, the president’s virtual assistant, said, “Mr. President, the president of China wishes to speak with you.”
“Just a minute, Addie.” President Billmore glanced at Ms. Kido. “I need my office.”
Ms. Kido led Sara and Dr. Okoye down the hall to the Cabinet Room. It was decorated with traditional furnishing, for the most part on loan from the Smithsonian, a point the First Lady had insisted upon. The room’s modern communication technology was tucked away, out of sight. Sara’s aiDe flashed. Trevor Yang. She transferred the call to a holo-projector. Trevor’s image hovered in front of the north wall. He was in a small, enclosed space. A car, with the windows darkened.
“Trevor,” Sara said, “where’s the target?”
A faint smile spread across Trevor’s lips. “Right to the point. He’s inside the casino at a pai gow table. The man didn’t even go to his room. He had his bags taken up and went straight to the tables.”
“Have you spotted his minders?”
“Two of them. They’re not too subtle about it. Do you think there could be more?”
Sara bit her lip. “Are these two locals?”
“Yep, out of the Chinese embassy. They’re the gung-ho type. Dedicated to the state.”
“There’s a decent chance Beijing sent another agent to watch him. We didn’t get any hits from Malaysia’s immigration computer, but I doubt we would. If there’s another agent, he’s traveling on a government-issue false passport.”
“It won’t be possible to get the target out of the casino. Not on such short notice. The nearest place to privately interrogate him is an hour down a winding mountain road. Were anyone to see us abduct the mark, the local PD would have us trapped. It’s hard enough to plot my own escape route, and I actually want to get out. We’ll have to interrogate him here via encrypted comm link. Casino security will pick up that transmission right away. When we broadcast, the clock starts ticking.”
“I’ll have a team of top NASA engineers ready the moment you make contact,” Sara said.
“Hold on a moment, Director.” The car door opened. An attractive Malaysian woman in her early thirties stepped in and sat next to Trevor. “This is Mira,” he said. “She helped me keep tabs on persons of interest for the past several years. If we’re to have any shot at your timetable, we need to trust her.”
Sara felt her cheeks flush. Shit Trevor. You just let a civilian into the middle of my mission. The most important goddamned mission in the history of ever. She breathed in deeply. One. Two. Three. She let the air escape her lips. It’s done. He damn well better be right about her. “Ms…?”
Trevor opened his mouth, but the woman answered. “Hamid. Mira Hamid.” She sat straight, her shoulders relaxed.
“Ms. Hamid, do you know who I am?” Sara leaned toward the holographic camera.
Mira shook her head. “No.”
“My name is Sara Wells. I’m the Deputy Director of the National Security Agency. Mr. Yang… Trevor… is about to run an extremely dangerous mission for us. It’s also extremely important. Vital. When you get out of that car, you’re either committed to helping us, or you walk away and forget you know Trevor or anything about me.”
Miri’s forehead wrinkled, fine lines enhancing her elegance. “Have you lost people before? On missions?”
“Yes,” Sara said.
“Ms. Wells has a reputation for doing everything possible to protect her people,” Trevor said.
“Trevor, don’t talk her into it. She needs to decide for herself.” Sara studied Mira’s expression. “When we’re done, the agency will help you disappear, whether we succeed or fail. Trevor will leave the country tonight.”
Miri glanced at Trevor, her lips pressed together.
She’s in love with him. “Mira,” Sara said in a soft voice, “once the Chinese agents catch on, and they will, your government will help them find you. If you decide to assist us, we’ll give you a quarter million dollars and help you disappear. We can hack you a whole new identity into the Malaysian government systems.”
Miri spoke with a calm voice. “I don’t want money.” She glanced at Trevor. “I want to live in the United States.”
Sara’s eyes softened. She studied the woman. “Done.” She turned her attention to Trevor. “Do you have everything you need to execute the plan?”
Trevor Yang nodded.
“Good fortune to both of you,” Sara said. She cut the transmission.
“You’re not authorized to offer Ms. Hamid US residency,” Nancy Kido said.
“No,” Sara answered without facing her. “But I can damn well put her on a C-42 to Hawaii and classify her presence in the United States indefinitely.” Try and stop me from protecting her.
Ms. Kido opened her mouth to reply.
Sara cut her off. “Record a transmission, Jupiter Express encryption protocol.” A soft chime sounded, the room’s holo-recorder acknowledging her instruction. “Commander Lockwood. Dylan. Our best assessment of Chinese space-based weapons indicates Dr. Tanner was probably right about missiles. Expect a maximum useful range of around one hundred twenty thousand kilometers against a target in your maneuverability class. We’re working an angle to gather more intelligence. It will be at least several hours before I have more to report. I’m moving heaven and Earth to get you an edge. Our hopes and prayers are with you. End message and transmit.” A double-chime sounded.
Someone entered the room. President Billmore. How long was he watching? Did he see me
put Ms. Kido in her place? Does he care? “Mr. President, the espionage mission is underway.”
“How did your call go, Tom?” Ms. Kido asked.
“Well enough. President Li suggested we cooperate,” President Billmore said.
“They’ll cooperate just long enough to get the upper hand,” Ms. Kido said.
“Those were my thoughts. I wish… If only there was a way to trust them.” The president sighed.
Sara stood. Her motion was confident and graceful. It focused the room’s attention as she walked with calm, deliberate steps to the president. “Trust. That’s something both sides could use more of.”
#
“Mira, are you certain? You don’t have to do this.” Trevor rested a hand on her shoulder. They were still seated in the back of a self-driving vehicle, about the size of a SUV. The windows were almost completely black.
Mira nodded. There was no hint of uncertainty or coercion in her eyes. She wanted to do this.
“You get the room ready. I’ll get him in there.” He held her gaze, her deep-brown eyes set with resolve. “Don’t involve any of the staff. The stakes are too high. For us, and for them.”
She nodded again. “Let’s do this.”
Trevor found their mark, Zhou Jintao, still playing the same pai gow game. The table was full, but one of the players was a house shill Trevor tipped well over the years. He gave her a subtle nod from across the floor. She smiled, gathered her chips and, in doing so, spilled a dozen or so onto the floor. Her table neighbors helped her collect them, keeping their hands at arm’s length to make it clear they weren’t stashing a chip or two for themselves.
A man in his twenties seated at a bar table looked up at the commotion. He was dressed in an expensive business suit, a Chinese financial executive perhaps. He was also powerfully built, the type, Trevor thought, who had too much time for the gym and fancies himself the next Bruce Lee. The man noticed the open spot and moved for it.
Trevor quickened his steps and slammed his body in the seat just ahead of the other man.
“What’s the big idea?” the man asked.
Trevor looked up at him with a confused expression. He spoke in fluent Chinese, his words slurred. “Oh. Excuse me. I didn’t see you there.” He turned his back on the man. “Four thousand Ringget of chips,” he requested of the dealer. Around one thousand American dollars. He could sense the man, inches behind him, fuming.
The Gods We Make Page 24