Stabenow, Dana - Blindfold Game (v1

by Blindfold Game(lit)

  He wondered where the hell Arlene was. He wondered how long he could delay the inevitable before Noortman became suspicious. He wondered if this qualified as cheating on Sara. He wondered if the sweat pooling in his armpits was beginning to show.

  He became aware of Noortman standing behind him. Deliberately relaxing his jaw, he turned.

  “Youre so tall, Noortman said in a soft voice. He reached a hand up to touch Hughs hair. “Your hair is beautiful. Is it real?

  “Am I a natural blond? Hugh said. He tried to laugh and had to abandon the attempt when his voice cracked. “Yes.

  “And your eyes, so brown. Its such a wonderful contrast. Noortman took a sip of his drink. “People tell me I have a smile like What is the name of that American singer? The one who shakes his hips?

  “Elvis! Hugh said. “I knew you looked familiar.

  Noortman smiled, satisfied. He took another sip and set the glass down. He took Hughs glass and set it down, too. A foot shorter than Hugh, he let his hand slide up Hughs lapel to his neck, and pulled his head down.

  A moment later there was a knock at the door. Noortman pulled back, swearing under his breath. “Ill get rid of them. Dont move.

  He went to the door, and Hugh, disobeying orders, followed behind on silent feet. Noortman opened the door and Arlene was there and already swinging her bag. It caught Noortman a hell of a thump on the left side of his head and he crumpled into Hughs arms.

  “Where the hell were you? Hugh hissed at Arlene, dragging Noortman into the dining room and sitting him down in one of the chairs. “I actually had to kiss the guy, for crissake.

  “Think of it as taking one for the team, Arlene told him, and hauled out a roll of duct tape.

  “Notice my self-control, Hugh said. “You still live. He took the duct tape from Arlene and wrapped it around Noortmans torso and the chair back, Noortmans wrists and the arms of the chair, and Noortmans ankles and the legs of the chair.

  “All right already, Arlene said. “The idea is to immobilize him, not shroud him.

  “Hes a spurned lover, Hugh said; “hes not going to wake up happy.

  He added, “You tell anyone I kissed him and youll never work on this planet again.

  “It got the job done, didnt it? Stop being such a big baby.

  Noortman groaned. After a moment his eyes opened and he stared at Hugh, at first bewildered, and then, as realization flooded back, hurt. Hugh felt ridiculously guilty.

  “Mr. Noortman, Arlene said.

  His gaze shifted to her. His brows came together and his voice came out a raspy husk of its former mellifluous self. Everyone was speaking French. “Who are you? What do you want?

  “We have some questions for you, sir, Arlene said formally. She reached into her bag and, before Hughs disbelieving and slightly affronted eyes, produced a large claw hammer. The wood of the handle was worn smooth and the metal of the head was rusty and flaking. “We have no wish to resort to violence, Mr. Noortman, but we mean to have the answers to our questions before we leave.

  After a moment Noortman got his jaw back into working order and said in a slightly shaky voice, “Questions? What questions? I demand that you release me at once. There has been some terrible mistake. He appealed to Hugh. “We were having such a good time. I dont understand what is happening here. Please let me go, and let us talk about this, get things straightened out.

  “Jaap, Hugh said gently.

  Noortmans eyes widened. “How do you know my given name? I didnt tell you. I

  Hugh knelt down next to Noortmans chair and smiled. “Jaap Noortman, Junior. Born in Singapore in 1970, graduated from the University of Singapore in 1986. Worked a year for your father in the Department of Customs, until you were recruited by the pirate Fang Ho to help him identify and move the cargoes he hijacks in the South China Sea. How am I doing so far?

  Noortman swallowed. “I dont know what youre talking about. I was born in Singapore, yes, but I am a respectable businessman. I run a legitimate freight concern here in Hong Kong, you can ask anyone. There has been some mistake. He tried to smile, first at Hugh and then at Arlene.

  The now familiar sneer was missing in action. “Please, untie me, and I will verify my identity.

  “We know who you are, Arlene said, and took the hammer. “Gag him, she told Hugh.

  Hugh hesitated, and then did as he was told. This man had conspired in too many deaths for Hugh to feel compunction now. Arlene was right. The Koreans had been on the loose too long, Fang and Noortman had been active in their cause for too long, too much had been set into motion and too much was at risk. There was no time now for subtle.

  Hugh overlapped the duct tape at the back of Noortmans head and stepped back. Arlene raised the hammer. Noortmans eyes bulged but Arlene didnt wait, she brought the head of the hammer down as hard as she could swing it on Noortmans right knee.

  Her grunt of effort was drowned out by Noortmans muffled scream. The duct tape strained as he tried to double over. Tears streamed from his eyes, mucus from his nose. He made gagging sounds. Hugh kept his face impassive and reached out to rip the duct tape from Noortmans face. He lost some hair as well as some skin. He screamed.

  “Quiet, Arlene said, looking as bored as she sounded, “or well have to gag you again.

  “What do you want? Noortman said, his breath coming in sobs. “It hurts, it hurts, it hurts! The blood had soaked through his pants and his knee was already beginning to swell into a misshapen lump, straining his pants leg.

  “I want to know where your partner is, Jaap.

  Noortman shook his head, moaning. “I cant, I cant.

  “Gag him again, Arlene said. Hugh, a little pale, stepped forward with the duct tape.

  “No, Noortman screamed. “I cant tell you, I cant, hell kill me!

  “Then answer, Hugh said.

  “We know youre working for the two Koreans. What did they hire you to do? Where is Fang now?

  “I cant! Hell kill me, I tell you! He has killed others! Hell kill me, too!

  “I know, Arlene told him, “and Im sorry about this, but I really am in a hurry. She nodded at Hugh. A little pale, he tore off a length of duct tape and stepped forward.

  Frantically, Noortman tried to jerk his head out of the way. Arlene grabbed a handful of his hair and held him still while Hugh taped his mouth again. Noortman screamed behind the gag, and kept screaming as the hammer came down again on the same knee.

  This time Noortman threw up behind the gag, and when Hugh ripped it free he had to step back quickly to avoid being hit by the braised abalone in oyster sauce he had just watched Noortman eat. Arlene grabbed Noortmans hair and yanked his head upright. “In October you met with two men from North Korea in a cafe in Pattaya Beach, Thailand. Who were they? What did they want?

  The bottom half of Noortmans right leg was canted at a hideously awkward angle. Blood ran into his fashionable leather shoe and stained its gold buckle. “I cant, I cant, he moaned.

  Arlene raised the hammer, and this time she reversed it so that the claw side was down. Noortman saw it and screamed again.

  AN HOUR LATER ARLENE and Hugh were in a cab on their way back to the airport. “Where the hell did you get that hammer? Hugh said at random, trying not to think of the scene they had left behind in Noortmans apartment.

  “There were a bunch of construction guys doing a remodel on a shop. There was an open toolbox with the hammer sitting right on top.

  “Well done, Hugh said, but his heart wasnt in it.

  “Whats wrong? she said, unruffled, matter-of-fact. “We got what we needed.

  “Yeah, Hugh said. “We did that.

  Her expression softened. “Youre not in the field a lot, are you, Hugh?

  He tried to smile. “Once a desk man, always a desk man.

  The things he had done in Noortmans apartment would haunt him for the rest of his life. Noortman had broken so quickly and so completely, he had given them everything they had asked for and more, but Hugh could find no c
ause in that for self-congratulation, and definitely none for humor.

  “What next?

  Hugh thought about it. “Home, he said.

  Arlene cleared her throat with delicacy. “Are you, ah, calling in first?

  “You mean the director? Hugh thought about that for a while, too. He had a cell phone, but he always used a landline when he could. Cell phone signals were far too easy to tap into. “Ill call him from the airport.

  “Will he believe you?

  Hugh took a deep breath and let it out. “Probably not. Thats why Im going home.

  “Home, she said. “You dont mean D.C., do you.

  He didnt answer. They rode for a few minutes in silence.

  “Hugh, is this the smart thing to do?

  Hugh gave Arlene one incredulous look, and laughed out loud.

  NOORTMAN LAY ON THE exquisite Afghan carpet where he had fallen from the chair when theyd cut him free of the duct tape. He didnt know how much time had passed. The bleeding had stopped, and so long as he remained absolutely motionless his leg didnt hurt.

  Of course, if he so much as twitched, the pain was agonizing and all-encompassing, subsuming every other sense. At some point, he would have to crawl to the phone and call for help, which he planned to do as soon as he summoned up the necessary strength.

  The color of blood was no longer pleasing to him. He would never again be able to tuck a red silk handkerchief into a pocket and think of his father. Instead he would think of himself, broken, bleeding, lying in his own filth, a victim of strangers who had invaded his own home.

  The police, yes. He should call the police. As soon as he gathered a little more energy.

  They would want to know what had happened. He had invited a stranger into his home and had been attacked, that was what he would say. Of course, his description of his assailant would be suitably vague. He wouldnt want Reeve interrogated, something that could cause untold complications. As a foreign national residing in Hong Kong, he had to be careful not to make a fuss. If he did, the notoriously parochial local police would find a way to invite him to leave.

  He had never been a very good liar, so it was going to take some thinking out before he made the call, and he hurt very much and he was very tired.

  And yet, and yet, he knew a tiny spark of triumph growing deep inside him.

  He had told them, yes, told them enough for them to stop hurting him.

  But not everything.

  The fibers of the carpet pressing into his cheek, he smiled.

  JANUARY

  PETROPAVLOVSK

  FANG WAS SWEATING IN spite of the below-zero temperatures and the brisk onshore wind that dropped the chill factor into the minus double digits. It didnt help that it was three oclock on a January morning six thousand miles north of his usual area of operations.

  The immense, untidy yard was a mass of rectangular containers imprinted with the names and logos of shipping firms from all over the world, Maersk Sealand, Cosco, Pan Ocean Shipping, Teco Ocean Shipping, even Czech Ocean Shipping and a host of other names of maritime freight firms too small or specialized to be immediately recognizable. The containers were lined up in rows forming aisles just wide enough for the tractors and lifts to maneuver between them.

  The yard was brightly lit with halogen lamps mounted on fifty-foot poles, but the containers were stacked three high and cast deep, dark shadows, providing a wind tunnel effect to consolidate every passing breath of air into what felt to Fang like a gale-force draft. He shivered again, the nervous sweat congealing on his spine. The zip of his parka was already up as high as it would go, but he tugged at it anyway, and cursed involuntarily when the teeth caught at the flesh beneath his jaw.

  Smiths head whipped around. He didnt say anything. He didnt have to. An unaccustomed flush flooded up into Fangs cheekbones. He set his teeth and looked down to fiddle unnecessarily with the chest strap of his pack. Like the parka, it was the very best U.S. military surplus issue.

  They were crouched next to a twelve-foot chain-link fence topped with razor wire, just outside the reach of the lights, which were directed inward at the yard and the containers. Armed guards roamed the perimeter, but on a night like this they were spending more time in the guard shack down at the gate that faced the docks than they were on patrol. The shack was a hundred feet away, but every time the shacks door opened Fang could hear a burst of Russian music and loud laughter. Sons of bitches were probably knocking back the vodka with a fine and free hand. All the better for this operation.

  They had gathered together in a group for the first time that afternoon, Smith and Jones and their twenty men, Fang and his ten. The building was a small warehouse with a loft holding up a hoist. There was a small area in back of the hoist where their equipment and supplies had been stacked in wooden crates stenciled with the logo of the United Nations and the notation printed matter on the sides.

  Another of Noortmans little jokes. If hed called for the crates to be anything other than books, foodstuffs, say, or hand tools, no bribe would have been big enough to keep the Russian customs officials from helping themselves to a bonus and discovering the true contents of the crates. The UN logo, even Fang was pushed grudgingly to admit, was a mark of genius. Not only were they books, an observer would conclude, they were most likely tracts on crop rotation or home health care or English as a second language. Also, books were heavy, which would account for the weight.

  They had pried open the crates and dressed in silence, fatigues, cold-weather gear, heavy lined boots with nonskid soles, headsets with microphones keyed to the same frequency. And of course weapons, pistols and rifles, the latest in automatic weapons, with enough ammunition to start a war.

  Smith divided them into two parties, one with him, the other with Jones, and as soon as it was dark led them in small groups by various back alleys to the fence next to which they were currently huddled, blending into the winter landscape with white smocks enveloping them from hood to knee. And freezing to death in spite of the cold-weather gear.

  The door to the guard shack opened with a brief blast of Elvis Presley singing about a party in the county jail, and a stray breeze wafted the smell of sausage to the huddled men a moment later. One of Fangs men stirred. Fang gave him a fierce look and the man subsided, but he was as unused to cold-weather work as his boss was. Fang only hoped they were all going to be able to walk when the time came.

  Approaching footsteps crunched through the snow. Fang looked around and saw one of the guards approaching, a slight, slender man with a mismatched uniform carelessly buttoned, trailing a cloud of cigarette smoke. He moved his hand down the stock of his rifle and felt something touch his arm. It was Smith, who gave his head one small shake, warning Fang not to move.

  The guard wandered down the fence. They caught the occasional snatch of song in slurred Russian.

  The guard paused ten feet from where on the other side of the fence the last man in line crouched, and unzipped his fly. The urine steamed and hissed as it hit the snow. He shook, tucked himself back inside his pants, and zipped them up again. He lit another cigarette and blew out a luxurious cloud. He spoke a few words in Russian in a low voice.

  Next to Fang, Smith replied.

  “Da, said the guard, the only word in the entire conversation Fang understood, and strolled up to the corner of the fence, singing again as he went. It took a moment before Fang recognized the song as “Yesterday.

  Smith signaled the man closest to the corner, who produced a pair of snips and went to work. Moments later he folded back a large section of the chain-link, stepped through to the other side, and held it as the rest of them moved silently through the hole and into the yard.

  The guard watched, still singing, although he had moved on to “In My Room, giving a not bad impression of Brian Wilson. He seemed to go for mournful in his songs, but then he was Russian.

  Once they were all inside the fence, Smiths man bent it back into place and fixed it there with unobtrusive bits of wir
e. The guard nodded at Smith and jerked his head.

  He led them into the labyrinth of stacked containers, keeping to where the darkest shadows were cast, and after they turned the first two corners Fang was hopelessly lost. The yard was deserted, the late shift having knocked off at midnight, but the waterfront of a port city was never completely silent, no matter what season it was, and the wind carried the sounds of forklifts and hydraulic hoists and the subdued rumble of ships engines, drowning out their footsteps in the snow, even if anyone had been around to hear them. It was almost too easy.

  The guard led them to two containers toward the front of the yard, in the row closest to the large gate that fronted on the road that ran the length of the citys coastline. He stopped and turned to face Smith. He motioned, telling Smith without words to back up and take his men with him.

  Smith looked at him without expression and did as the guard requested. The guard produced a ring of keys from a pocket and opened both the padlocks on both container doors. He did something else with a tool Fang couldnt make out in the shadowy light and the customs seals were also open.

  The guard stepped rapidly back from the second door, still singing, this time a new song. Something about “son of a sailor, he thought, but his teeth had begun to chatter and he couldnt make out the words over the noise.

  Another guard stepped from a row of containers, just out of reach for rushing, his rifle cradled in what looked to Fang like a competent grip. Fang, teeth still chattering, waited for the rest of the squad to materialize from the shadows and for him and his men to be arrested and escorted to prison, which would probably be warmer than standing around this yard.

  The first guard stopped singing and said something to Smith. He snapped his fingers and pointed to the ground between them.

  Smith looked at the first guard for a long moment.

  The first guard snapped his fingers and pointed at the ground again. The second guard didnt move.

  Smith reached inside his smock and brought out a fat envelope. He tossed it on the ground. The guard motioned for him to back up even farther, and Smith did so. The guard stooped to pick up the envelope and opened it, thumbing through the contents.