by Brad Taylor
Great. Just perfect. We’ll both go to jail from a catfight.
The woman passed right in front of her and glanced her way, then hurriedly exited the lobby. Jennifer followed, seeing her on the street headed toward the Venetian casino.
She considered her options. She knew she stood out in the mass of Asians and would be easy to spot if the woman had any training whatsoever. She considered simply jogging up to her and engaging her in conversation, just another single female looking for some companionship. She’d sensed the woman wanted that on the ferry. Seeing her caught at the light, she decided to execute that plan.
Casually get next to her at the crosswalk, then express surprise at seeing her.
She quickened her pace so as to be held up at the light as well. The woman sprinted through the traffic to the far side of the road.
Shit.
The woman hadn’t glanced back, hadn’t acted like she was fleeing, so Jennifer felt fairly confident she was just jaywalking. Having done her homework while waiting on the phone geolocation, the woman’s destination was problematic. The Venetian was the largest casino in the world, encompassing a multilevel indoor mall complete with faux indoor canals threaded throughout, along with the enormous casino itself. If the woman entered out of Jennifer’s sight, she’d be lost in seconds.
Jennifer waited on a break in traffic, then sprinted across as well, seeing the woman going up and over a bridge that spanned a giant man-made lake.
She lost sight of her entering the building and picked up the pace to close the distance. Pushing through a crowd in the lobby, she jogged around a sculpture, her head swiveling left and right. She saw nothing but Asians. She stopped and did a slow circle, focusing on the stores lining the hallway to the casino. A flash of movement caught her eye, going much faster than the crowds window-shopping, and she saw the woman entering the casino, looking back at her. She waited a beat, then followed.
The room was huge and manned, like all casinos, with massive security, both electronic and physical. If the woman was smart, she’d simply stop and wait Jennifer out. Worst case, she would alert security about someone following her.
Keep going. Please keep going.
And the woman did, speed-walking straight down the middle, bypassing the bar in the center of the hall and continuing to a set of escalators at the back. Jennifer kept her in sight, matching her pace but continually looking for any sign that she was spiking interest.
She reached the escalator with the woman two-thirds of the way up. Knowing it was a huge risk, but also realizing she couldn’t allow the woman the head start by waiting until she was out of sight, she stepped on and began climbing. She saw her target’s eyes widen, then watched her take off, hopping the steps two at a time.
So much for compromise.
Jennifer did the same.
She reached the top and entered the Venetian mall, a maze of hallways all lined with high-end stores. She saw the woman sprinting down the corridor to the left, looking back every few seconds.
Here we go.
Jennifer considered pulling off and attempting to circle around, to get the woman complacent again, but couldn’t risk losing her. There was no chance the woman would outrun her. Not unless she’d spent the last six months exorcising demons through the same roadwork Jennifer had done. She pumped her legs, building up speed, flying by and drawing stares.
The woman reached a large open area and swerved right, Jennifer a few seconds behind. When Jennifer turned the corner, she was faced by a food court peppered with tables and people milling about. The woman was at the far side, now drawing attention because of her sprint. She glanced back once and barreled straight into a table, knocking food and beverages into the air as she fell to the ground.
Jennifer increased her speed, intent on ending the chase here and now, while the target was on the ground.
Scrambling to her feet, an expression of terror on her face, the woman stumbled out of the food court and into another passageway.
Jennifer ignored the people openly gaping at her, making no attempt to justify her actions. Only a few seconds before security shows up. Need to end this now.
She raced to the end of the food court, coming up with the rudiments of a plan: Get the purse. Let the woman go, but get the virus.
She had seen the target put everything she had been passed into her shoulder bag, and maybe, just maybe, she could gain control of that before security closed down on them both. A fight was now out of the question, although if it came down to it, both ending up in jail would be preferable to the woman escaping with her deadly prize.
She turned the corner and slowed, seeing a split in the hallway. One corridor was narrow and deserted, an antiseptic beige with no decorations of any type, ending at two double doors. The other led back into the concourse of shops.
She followed the crowds to the concourse, scanning for the target, a full head taller than the people milling around the stores. She saw nothing. She stopped and glanced back to the other hallway, the press of time eating at her. Every second she gave the target led to an exponential advantage, as the possible avenues widened like the ripples in a pond.
She sprinted back to the deserted corridor and raced to the doors at the end. She flung them open and found herself in a large storage room full of cleaning supplies. The target was on her knees at the far end, next to another set of doors. Seeing Jennifer enter, she whipped her head up and snarled.
Jennifer saw a glass syringe in her hands. She screamed, “Don’t!”
And the woman stopped.
Jennifer held her hands up in a gesture of surrender. “I’m not going to hurt you. I promise.”
The woman pulled off the cap to the needle.
“Don’t do it. Please. Put the shot down. I don’t know what they told you, but you’re holding something that could kill thousands of people.”
The woman hesitated.
Jennifer continued. “Don’t let them use you. That man you met doesn’t care about you. He only cares about harming others. Killing innocent people.”
The woman spoke for the first time, her face a neutral mask. “There are no innocents.” And jammed the needle into her thigh.
Jennifer sprang forward, not even consciously sure what she was doing. The woman forced the plunger home, ripped the syringe out, and hurled it at her.
Jennifer snatched a tray off of a shelf and used it as a shield, hearing the syringe thump against it, then shatter on the floor. She held her breath and backpedaled the way she had entered, watching the woman escape through the other double doors.
Every instinct in her body screamed at her to run, a prehistoric fear of the invisible death the syringe held, now out in the atmosphere. But she couldn’t leave it for others to find. A time bomb for the end of the world.
Taking shallow breaths, she searched the nearest shelf, finding a bottle of chlorine bleach. She took in a lungful of air and advanced, squinting her eyes out of instinct.
She dumped the entire bottle on the shards of the syringe, coating everything in a pool, the undiluted chlorine vapor causing her to squint for real.
Feeling her lungs demand air, she dropped the bottle and fled, not opening her mouth until she was back in the hallway.
She sagged against the wall and gulped fresh oxygen, feeling nauseous, the thought of the virus inside her making her skin crawl. A lethal, mindless organism replicating in her lungs, starting on its path of destruction.
She wondered if she was now walking dead.
55
Retro and I left the City of Dreams mall and entered the hallway that led to the reception desks of the Hard Rock. We’d dropped off Knuckles in front of the lobby and given Decoy and Blood the northern exit, all of us squeezing out any escape route.
I’d given instructions to maintain a very loose net, wanting to follow the general without spiking him. A tall order since just about everyone around was Asian. We might as well have been on a Sesame Street production of “one of th
ese things is not like the others.” While not catastrophic, it would have been bad enough except that our target had laid out a pretty good trap recently, and I had to assume that he knew everyone from that day on sight. Since Knuckles hadn’t been in the surveillance that led to Kowloon Park, I was betting that he was still an unknown, which is why he got the lobby.
We passed the Hard Rock souvenir shop and I could see the corner of the lobby bar. I put my hand on Retro to slow him right when my radio came to life.
“Pike, Knuckles. Target just stood up. I think I spiked him.”
“Did he show recognition?”
“No. Two Aussies went to the bar, and he focused on them. When I entered, he stood. I think he’s just antsy.”
And well he should be.
“Which direction?”
“Coming your way.”
I said, “Retro, get inside the souvenir shop. Get your back to the window, out of sight. I’ll trigger when he’s past. Blood, Decoy, circle to the City of Dreams. He’ll exit that way.”
It was a risk, but I’d missed the entire countersurveillance trap the general had executed because of my ferry-ride fiasco, so I was betting I was an unknown as well.
Staring at some ridiculously overpriced watches on display, I caught the general approaching out of the corner of my eye. I turned my head and sauntered away, ostensibly window-shopping. I waited for him to pass. The seconds dragged out into a minute, and I had to move or look stupid.
I turned to enter the souvenir shop, the rotation giving me a glance down the hallway. The general stood in the middle of it, his hands clasped to his front, staring at me.
As I turned, he waved, drawing my attention.
What the hell?
I stopped and he waved again, then motioned for me to come to him.
So much for his not knowing me.
He abruptly did an about-face, walking to the table he had occupied before. He sat down and continued to stare at me.
This is certainly a new experience.
I suppose I should have scurried away like a roach, but really, what was the use? I was burned and no good for further surveillance, so I didn’t see any real harm in taking up his invitation. I figured I might find out something.
I walked over to him, seeing a bemused expression on his face. He said, “I wasn’t sure, but now I am.”
I sat, saying, “You’re good enough that it didn’t matter. You would have been sure the next time you saw me tracking you. I’m burned either way.”
“Well, now it appears we have a little situation. I’m assuming you know who I am, and because of it, I’m assuming you wish to take me somewhere unpleasant, which, of course, I can’t allow.”
I grinned. “You don’t really have a say in it. Try to leave and I’ll get you, whether you recognize the men about to pound your ass or not.”
“Why don’t you bring them here? Let them get some refreshments. I’ve been in their shoes before. I’m sure they’d appreciate it.”
“No thanks. I’d just as soon you didn’t see how many I have on the ground.”
A little dig to get him thinking.
I continued. “Instead, why don’t you just give up? Make it easier on all of us.”
“For what?” he said. “I’m just a carpet salesman enjoying Macau. I mean you no harm and will be traveling home soon.”
A line from Jennifer’s favorite movie, The Princess Bride, flashed in my head.
I said, “We are men of action. Lies do not become us.”
He looked at me like I’d just grown a horn, the stilted prose falling flat.
Oh well.
He pulled out a Samsung Galaxy phone, saying, “I’m assuming this is how you tracked me.”
He opened the back and removed the battery and SIM card, then dropped the phone into the water of the flower vase on the table.
He said, “There is only one way you will stop me, and that’s right now. I’m going to head over to that security man and ask him to escort me out of here. I will not mention you in any way, unless you alert your team and I feel in jeopardy. Doing so would only cause me issues.”
“You make one move to stand and I’m going to knock you out right here.”
“Really? And then what? You’re going to tell the police that arrive you’re a spy for the United States and I’m carrying a deadly virus? What will they think when they don’t find a virus on me or in my luggage?”
I said nothing.
“I’ll tell you what they will do: They’ll arrest us both. We’ll be locked down until China can sort it out, and that could take a long, long time. I don’t know about you, but I’ll be left to rot. I don’t mind. My mission is done. Will the US come for you?”
I thought of Knuckles and what had happened in Thailand. The tepid response of the Oversight Council.
I said, “Stopping you crazy bastards from releasing the virus will be worth it. Believe me, it will supersede whatever China does to me or my team.”
He said, “Crazy? Not any more crazy than what your country does. Or Israel. You try to destroy our ability to get the very same weapons you and your allies have. You’re the only one in history to ever use it, on innocent civilians no less, and I’m the one that’s crazy. But I don’t wish to debate the state of the world. I told you, I don’t have the virus. I’m done and headed home.”
So he passed it to the female. I thought about Jennifer tracking her, wondering if she’d found a bed-down site. Praying she had, because I was leaning toward letting him go.
I had to admit, the guy had an enormous set of brass balls and a steel-trap mind. He’d thought through the entire scenario before he’d ever waved. If he hadn’t been trying to kill half the world, I would have admired his skill.
I said, “Okay. Go talk to your security guard. We’ll be meeting again, I’m sure, on terrain that’s much more favorable to me.”
He squinted, and I realized I hadn’t asked about the virus. About what had happened to it. Giving away my hand.
He shifted to stand, and I clamped my hand on his arm in an iron grip. I leaned into him. “But before you go, I have to know where the virus is right this minute. If you don’t have it, it means you’ve set it to be released. Tell me where it is, or I’m going to get us arrested, right here, right now. I get the virus and you go free. Fair deal.”
He stared at me for a moment, then said, “It’s on its way to Iran. You cannot get it. You don’t want us to have nuclear weapons; well, now we have something better. You can have me arrested and beat me for further information, but it won’t alter that fact.” He stood. “Let your government know that. We have a weapon that is worse than the one they are trying to prevent us from building. Tell them to remember that.”
I watched him walk out the front door, talking to the security guard. I saw Knuckles watching as well, then he turned to me with an incredulous look on his face after the general had exited.
My phone rang, and I saw it was Jennifer.
“Tell me you got the bed-down. Give me some good news, because our side of things has been strange to say the least.”
What I heard clinched my stomach in a river of fear.
56
So it’s inside me.
The thought made her feel queasy, the idea of the virus bubbling away in her bloodstream disgusting. But the mirror didn’t lie.
Elina leaned in closer, repulsed at what she saw: Her eyes were bathed in red, as if she had coated them in blood.
I look like a monster.
It had been a day and a half since her escape from the Venetian, and she’d begun to wonder if maybe her contact had been tricked. If the virus wasn’t real. She had stayed in her room as instructed and had followed the proscriptions about eating and drinking to the letter — scrubbing the room service plates and silverware with soap and hand-sanitizer before placing them outside her door — but hadn’t felt the least bit sick.
She’d used the time wisely, booking a flight to New York and applyi
ng for an electronic authorization to enter the United States in accordance with the instructions Malik had passed for the visa waiver program.
He had yet to contact her again, and she wondered if destroying her phone had been a good idea. She’d immediately done so the minute she’d left the Venetian, dropping it over the side of the bridge and into the lake as she crossed back to the Conrad. She knew she wasn’t as well trained as Malik, but she did have some history to fall back on. As she had fled from the supply closet, she had wondered how the woman had known where to find her and had remembered the assassination of Chechnya’s very first president.
In 1996, Dzhokhar Dudayev was killed by two laser-guided missiles while he used his satellite phone. Everyone knew the Russians had intercepted the call with a piece of magical technology, sending the missiles right to the source. She’d heard the equipment had been provided by the United States and, while running breathlessly across the bridge, had become convinced it was now tracking her.
She’d left a message in the draft folder letting Malik know, but he hadn’t responded. It didn’t worry her, because he’d said there would be no contact until necessary, and he’d check the e-mail account when he couldn’t dial the phone.
In truth, she wanted a response for reassurance. A reminder that what she was doing was just. The woman in the storage room wasn’t like the Kadyrovtsy. Bullying, sadistic men who tortured and killed out of sheer pleasure. Instead, the woman had shown kindness on the ferry, her smile something that would have been impossible to fake. It had been genuine, and Elina was convinced she was not the enemy.
And yet, the woman had tried to stop her, which made her an enemy. The thoughts were confusing, and Elina wanted to tamp them down. To forget.
She stared into the mirror, her red orbs burning back like the source of all evil.
* * *
After a fitful night, tossing and turning while her mind wandered in the zone of half-awake/half-asleep, her subconscious running amok with the thought of the virus consuming her whole, she awoke before dawn and immediately went to the mirror. Rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, she leaned in and saw they were clear. A trace of red, but no more than she should have had given the lack of sleep.