The ride to NYC had been blessedly uneventful, and the shock of the broken finger had kept the worse of the pain at bay for a good hour. By the time they had hit city traffic, however, it was a different story.
Hawkes had endured well enough, but it wasn’t a journey he’d like to repeat any time soon. Thankfully, their final destination boasted better equipment than the Range Rover.
The Thanatos was a private yacht, 312 feet from bow to stern, sixty-eight feet at its widest point, with a top speed greater than thirty knots. With more than forty million dollars invested in custom surveillance equipment, the vessel was easily the most connected private ship on the planet.
Currently, it was moored up in a commercial slip at one of the farthest corners of New York Harbor, where the Hudson emptied into New York Bay. With the Staten Island Ferry service and passenger ships from Red Hook and Bayonne coming through several times an hour, The Thanatos blended perfectly into the background, hiding in plain sight.
Hawkes had rolled the Range Rover into the cargo bay, waited for the other car to join them, and then followed Blake up to the bridge – a double-height room stuffed with navigation systems, a panoramic view of the harbor and the New York City skyline visible through the plate glass windows. Most of the controls were automated, but Hawkes knew some human interaction was still required – although he himself hadn’t a clue what any of the dials meant.
The ship’s usual complement of forty-six crewmembers had been largely reduced, leaving a skeleton command of a little over a dozen to oversee the ongoing operation, now Blake’s sole focus. More than enough people to get the job done.
Blake had assembled the crew leaders upstairs, leaving a handful of operators to keep an eye on the systems in other parts of the ship, and was preparing to address the room.
Everyone looked a little tense.
“Things are progressing well,” Blake said after a few moments of silence. He started pacing the carpet. The sun had broken free of the clouds and light streamed through the tall windows behind him. The effect was unnerving.
He continued, “Despite some unforeseen developments, we’re right where we need to be. The biometrics and encryption codes you retrieved from the apartment proved successful. We now have full control of Blake Investments’ assets, foreign and domestic.” He paused. “We also got what we needed from the FBI. But it’s only a matter of time before they figure out what we took from them. We need to be in place before that happens.”
Hawkes heard someone clear their throat nervously.
“Yes?” Blake stopped pacing.
Campbell coughed again. “Sir, the devices are ready to move out. They made it through the containment yard without incident thanks to a little creativity with the TEU registry. There are depots positioned across the city. We can be mobile and en route with the payloads within the hour.”
Blake nodded. “Good. We can finish this briefing later. Get moving and report back when the devices are in place.”
Grayson snapped a salute and turned on his heel, heading for the exit. The others followed, with Hawkes at the rear.
“Wait,” Blake said, as the colonel reached the door. “Not you, Hawkes.”
The colonel suppressed a groan. He had hoped to avoid any more broken bones.
“I need to go over a few things. Your attention would be welcomed.”
Hawkes detected a note of sarcasm. He headed back toward Blake, squinting a little as the sunlight intensified.
“Yes, sir?” he said, drawing close.
“I’ll need you to have your man go through the tactical files we retrieved. I assume he’s up to the task.”
“He got us into the FBI, sir. It’ll probably be child’s play.” Hawkes offered a grin.
Blake remained expressionless. “Good. We need to understand the evac routes and plan accordingly. We’re pissing into the wind otherwise. You’ll need to liaise with the field team once they have the devices in transit, make sure they’re in the optimum positions.”
Hawkes nodded. “Anything else?”
“The other documents, the ones we found on the company databases. Did you locate the military tenders?”
“CAD drawings, tech data, you name it. The company made at least a dozen bids that fell within the search parameters. And we’ve got the details locked up.”
Blake smiled, his skin glowing pink in the light. “Then get our client on the phone. He’s going to want an update.”
“Yes, sir.” He turned to leave. A buzzing noise stopped him in his tracks, coming from one of the consoles. The comms unit flashed impatiently. Blake picked up the receiver and held it to his ear.
Hawkes saw his expression darken. Blake hung up.
“One of the operations leaders picked up something from our storage unit in New Jersey,” said Blake. “The network should be offline, but someone’s hooked the system up to the grid.” He paused. “It looks like we’ve got some uninvited guests.”
“Your orders, sir?”
“We have enough units at the other locations. We can stand to lose this consignment. Find out what’s going on and take care of it. Just make sure there’s no fallout. I don’t want any traces at the scene.” Blake turned and walked to the window. He stared out over the harbor.
“Make sure your burn it, Hawkes. Burn it all.”
Chapter 39
“I’M IN!”
Marshall’s voice echoed through the warehouse, bouncing harshly off the metal walls. Mary turned her head back toward the makeshift office and saw the special agent standing up, the top of his head just about visible above the cubicle walls. She broke into a jog and headed straight for him, Kate following close behind.
“You guys find anything?” Marshall said as they arrived. He sat back down in the chair and took hold of the mouse, spinning around to face the monitor, which displayed a page full of documents and folders with strange-looking file names. He looked pleased with himself.
“We didn’t find anything,” said Kate. “Well, unless you count the other three-dozen shelves filled with explosives.”
Mary rolled her eyes. “Never mind us. You got through? Anything useful?”
“I only just broke through the security. Let’s take a look, shall we?” Marshall accessed one of the file folders and opened up a document full screen. It appeared to be some kind of blueprint; a technical drawing for something Mary didn’t recognize. She saw text on the page, but couldn’t understand the language. The characters looked Chinese or some other kind of Asian script – not exactly Mary’s area of expertise.
“What the hell?” Marshall leaned in to the screen a little closer.
“You know what that is?” asked Kate.
“Not exactly, but it looks familiar.” He scrolled through the document. “Looks like some kind of specification sheet. Hard to tell from the pictures, but it looks like a design for an ECU.”
“ECU?”
Marshall nodded. “Electronic Control Unit. They use them on engines to coordinate pretty much everything hooked up to the system. You’ve probably got them on your car.” He looked at Kate. “Well, maybe not on yours.”
“Thanks a lot.”
Mary sighed. “How does this help us?”
“I don’t know yet. I’ve started an email transfer so we can take a closer look once we get somewhere safe. But it all depends what kind of ECU we’re talking about. This is pretty complex, but if this blueprint is part of a larger set of documentation, we could be looking at vehicle specs here.”
“What kind of vehicle?”
“No idea. But I’m guessing it’s not your average passenger car.”
Mary opened her mouth to reply, but cut herself off. She spotted something flashing on the screen, a small red icon in the bottom right corner. She pointed it out. “What the hell is that?”
Marshall froze. “Shit. This doesn’t look good.”
Mary got the impression that was an understatement.
“What?” Kate took a step fo
rward.
“I think we’ve been spotted,” said Marshall, moving the mouse cursor over the flashing icon.
Mary saw the screen go dark, flickering slightly like an old TV set. Static appeared, a haze of black and white with no sound.
“Is this picking up a signal or something?” said Kate, her eyes narrowed.
“It doesn’t work like that,” said Marshall. “You’d need an analogue signal. This is all digital. Someone’s sending through a feed.” He clicked the mouse. “Dammit, I’m locked out.” He hammered the keyboard with an index finger. “I’d only just started the transfer.”
“How much did you get?”
Marshall looked up at Mary. “No way to know until we get to a working computer.”
“Then we’d better get moving,” she said, turning to leave. “And let’s get the bomb squad down –”
A piercing noise interrupted her, a wailing siren about two octaves too high for a regular alarm. The kind of sound that makes a person wince. She whipped around, searching for the source. The echoes caused by the harsh surfaces didn’t help. She stepped outside the office and glanced about, feeling her pulse start to quicken.
“What’s going on?”
Mary could hear Kate behind her, but she kept her gaze straight ahead, her stomach twisting up into knots. A few feet in front of her, the case that Marshall had left open on the floor was emitting a blinking red light.
She walked forward, carefully. Got down on her knees and tilted her head.
“The noise is coming from here,” she called out, trying to make herself heard over the noise. “The cases. They’ve got some kind of alarm system.”
“They’re all turned on,” said Marshall, jogging over. Kate followed, any trace of her former annoying self now completely vanished. She looked as terrified as Mary felt.
Kate looked at the device, pushing a strand of dark brown hair out of her eyes. “Shouldn’t they be counting down or – ”
The digital display blinked into life. There were no numbers, just four oddly shaped letter Xs where the digits should have been.
Marshall jumped back. “No countdown for us,” he said, looking toward the exit. His body was tensed up, coiled like a steel spring.
He said, “Run.”
Mary was already way ahead of him. Instinctively, she grabbed hold of Kate’s jacket and yanked her forward, breaking into a sprint and aiming for the door. She heard Marshall follow suit, but kept her eyes forward, increasing her pace. The piercing wail of the alarms intensified, Mary’s adrenaline making every one of her senses work on overdrive.
She reached the door, almost slamming straight into the metal. Letting go of Kate, she fumbled with the slider. It wouldn’t budge.
“What are you doing? Get us out of here!” Kate jumped in, lending her weight to Mary’s efforts.
“It’s stuck!” Mary looked over at Marshall. “What the hell are you waiting for?”
The special agent lunged forward, adding a third pair of hands. Mary thought she could hear a whirring, mechanical noise coming from behind them through the cacophony of alarms.
“Get... this... damn... thing... open!” Mary shoved her full body weight against the reluctant slider and felt the metal give way. She heard a grinding screech and the latch finally relented.
“Move!” She flung open the door, catching a waft of fresh air as the parking lot burst into view. “Now!”
The three of them tumbled out of the exit, and immediately broke into a sprint, heading for the nearest cover – Kate’s old Ford.
The sound of Kate’s and Marshall’s footfalls faded from Mary’s mind as she kept her eyes fixed on the car. She knew she was a strong runner, but the twenty feet of open blacktop looked like an impossible distance.
Time slowed. Mary heard something to her rear – a deafening roar that rattled her skull. Before she could process what had happened, she felt something hit her from behind. The impact knocked the wind out of her lungs and she felt herself lifted off the ground.
The last thing she saw was her sister’s beat-up old car, still agonizingly out of reach, and then there was only darkness.
Chapter 40
LEOPOLD CAUGHT THE scent of fried pork as he and Jerome crossed the bustling street. They had taken the metro to the end of the line earlier in the day, and were now in one of the poorer parts of the Songjiang district, a few miles south of the town center. Like most of the more run-down areas of Shanghai, the slums had been demolished to make way for modern buildings, forcing the poorer inhabitants to move further toward the outskirts.
The same proved true here, and the shops and apartments of the Songjiang Xincheng developments looked like blurs on the horizon as Leopold and Jerome ventured deeper into the packed neighborhoods that had sprung up around the edges of the district. It was getting late in the evening, but the streets still teemed with people.
Leopold had tracked down their contact’s address using the hotel’s shared computers, meaning the chances of anyone tracing the signal were unlikely. After a half-hour wait, an incoming secure message from someone calling himself Huang Bo had told them to pick up some cash at a drop point in Songjiang and wait for further instructions.
The money had been easy enough to find – nearly five thousand dollars in small bills stuffed into a brown paper bag and wedged under the floorboard of an abandoned restaurant just off Cangfeng Road. A handwritten note had been attached, giving them an address nearby along with a name and photograph of another local contact.
“It’s just up here,” Leopold said, quickening his pace as they crossed the road, narrowly avoiding an old VW bus trundling noisily along the cracked asphalt. The bus threw up a cloud of yellow dust as it passed by and Leopold wrinkled his nose against the stink of exhaust fumes.
He stepped onto the sidewalk, weaving in and out of the other pedestrians. Most of the area’s inhabitants seemed to be trudging in the same direction, eyes down, making progress slow. A woman carrying a box of oranges pushed past, muttering something under her breath. Her words sounded like an entirely different-sounding dialect to the Mandarin he had heard spoken at the hotel. The smell of cooking pork mixed with the salty odor of roasted spiced peanuts as a vendor pushed a rickety cart past them, disappearing around a corner.
“The Huangma Clubhouse,” said Leopold, pushing through the dense crowd and calling over his shoulder. “I told you I’d find it.” He gestured across the street as they reached the end of the block. “Right where I said it would be.”
Jerome sauntered up, towering over the other pedestrians on the sidewalk. “You got lucky.”
“You call this lucky?”
“Figure of speech.”
Leopold glanced down at the handwritten note. “We’re looking for a Kang Sheng,” he said, switching his attention to the photograph. “Hopefully he won’t be too hard to spot.”
Jerome frowned. “Let me guess – dark hair, medium height?”
“Something like that.” Leopold grinned.
“Who is he?”
“I guess he’s the club owner.”
“Which usually means something else around here.”
“Relax. Let’s just get a couple of drinks and see if we can track him down. I’m sure it’s nothing too sinister.”
“Sure, because you always mix with the most trustworthy people.”
Leopold ignored him and headed straight for the club. “You coming or what?”
***
The Huangma Clubhouse stood four stories high, the front of the building trussed up like a second-rate casino. A gaudy yellow-and-red sign hanging above the double doors announced in both English and Chinese that the establishment was open twenty-four hours, and neon strip lights blinked and flickered silently within the sheltered entryway.
Leopold pushed through a pair of blacked-out glass doors and stepped inside the club. The smell of state cigarette smoke hit his nostrils. He looked around, giving his eyes a moment to adjust to the gloomy lighting.
The Clubhouse had been decked out as a karaoke bar, with a raised stage toward the rear wall and seating arranged facing it. There were maybe a dozen tables, all empty, each with two or three chairs. There was music playing, but nobody was singing just yet – Leopold figured the evening crowd probably wasn’t feeling too melodic.
A handful of patrons gathered around the bar, which stretched half the length of the side wall, lined with stools. They were dressed in dark cheap-looking suits. A few booths were installed nearby for those seeking privacy. Two of them were occupied, but overall the place was mostly dead.
“Can you see him?” asked Leopold, as Jerome caught up.
“Not from here. It’s a little dark.”
“Let’s get closer, then. Maybe get a round in.” Leopold pulled the wad of cash out of his pocket.
Jerome hissed. “Put that away. You want us to get mugged?”
“Why? Is five thousand a lot of money?” Leopold smiled, hoping the bodyguard would catch the note of irony in his voice. It appeared he didn’t.
“Just let me do the talking,” said Jerome. “And stand behind me.”
“Fine. Just don’t scare anyone off. We need their help, remember? Otherwise we’re stuck here.”
“Follow my lead.” Jerome took the photograph of Kang Sheng from Leopold and stalked off toward the bar.
Leopold followed, keeping his gaze on the men standing at the bar. A few of them looked over as Jerome approached. They didn’t look particularly hospitable. One of the men, slightly taller than the others, left his drink on the bar and stepped forward. He was wearing a dark suit, white shirt and no tie. He held up one palm.
“Nǐ bù huānyíng,” he said. Leopold didn’t understand the words, but the sentiment was clear: You’re not welcome here.
Fallen: A Leopold Blake Thriller (A Private Investigator Series of Crime and Suspense Thrillers Book 5) Page 15