The Gaze of Caprice (The Caprice Trilogy Book 1)

by Cole Reid

  “Why?” asked Georgia.

  “Later, I realized the polygraph doesn’t test your answer,” said Xiaoyu, “It tests how difficult you find the question. If you have trouble answering a simple yes or no question it reads like you’re giving a deceptive answer. It may not be the integrity of the answer but the integrity of the question.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Georgia lighting a cigarette.

  “I took the polygraph and they asked me a question I remember exactly. Do you know of anyone in another Triad that played a part in Uncle Woo’s death? I said no,” said Xiaoyu.

  “If you didn’t know, that was the correct answer,” said Mason.

  “I knew,” said Xiaoyu.

  “Because you never believed another Triad was responsible,” said Georgia. Xiaoyu nodded.

  “The real answer was yes,” said Xiaoyu, “I knew no other Triad was involved. But the question makes it possible.”

  “You suspected Deni all along,” said Mason. Xiaoyu nodded.

  “You killed half the Triads in Hong Kong so Deni Tam wouldn’t call your bluff,” said Mason.

  “No,” said Xiaoyu reaching down to grab his tea while staring directly at Mason, “More than half.”

  “And what about Dominguez?” asked Mason.

  “Do you have the transcript of the questions they gave him?” asked Xiaoyu.

  “We can get them,” said Georgia.

  “I’m guessing they asked him: Do you know the identity of Valgani? He said no. That sent up a red flag,” said Xiaoyu, “Because Dominguez was thinking what I’m thinking.”

  “There is no Valgani,” said Georgia. Xiaoyu nodded.

  “What did you mean in Ljubljana when you said you found Valgani?” asked Mason.

  “Valgani is the name of a new building being constructed by Sejad Mehmedovic,” said Xiaoyu.

  “But that doesn’t deny the existence of Valgani,” said Mason, “That just means we know where he got the name from.”

  “I’m new. I don’t know you get codenames from buildings,” said Xiaoyu, “I could see Mitchum finding himself unable to turn anyone in that group then seeing the building and coming back saying he had a spy and that’s what he called it.”

  “What makes you think Mitchum was unable to infiltrate the group?” asked Mason.

  “Because they’re guarded against it,” said Xiaoyu, “There are only five of them. Three of them are blood relatives. No one else knows what they’re doing. The business is legitimate and the construction is all done through subcontractors. They’re project managers, like yourself. The business structure was in the file. They order materials and hire subcontractors. The file was accurate. The only file that was incomplete was the one on Valgani.”

  “There was no file on Valgani,” said Georgia.

  “That’s the reason I say there is no Valgani,” said Xiaoyu.

  “Many agents keep their spies a secret,” said Mason.

  “Mitchum had to have leverage over Valgani,” said Xiaoyu, “The same way you did with me. Money isn’t enough to turn on the group when you all share the same fate if you’re caught. Mitchum couldn’t promise Juric a way out from war crimes prosecution. He had to have some information somewhere, blackmail like you did me.” Xiaoyu looked directly at Mason.

  “Jusuf Juric could be Valgani,” said Mason, “Mitchum could’ve threatened to reveal his identity.”

  “Why do you think Juric is selling weapons, when he’s the manager of the whole construction operation?” said Xiaoyu. The question wasn’t rhetorical but the silence meant he still had the floor.

  “He sells weapons so he can pile up money without anyone knowing,” said Xiaoyu, “Aleksandar Stojanovic is not a real person but he’s legitimate. His job is legitimate and he takes money from his job and pays for his house, his tax and his car. He does everything correct so he doesn’t attract attention. Jusuf Juric is real but he’s illegitimate. He’s a war criminal. He’ll always be. So he has an escape plan. Men like him are paranoid. They always think they should have it better. Deni was like him. He didn’t like being second. And he had planned a way out. He was piling up cash like Juric is. Juric is not going to be hiding in plain sight forever. He’ll get caught that way. He knows. He’s piling up cash from the weapon deals to disappear. He already knows where he’s going. He’s not about to be blackmailed.”

  “So, you’re sure he won’t deal,” said Georgia, “Why?”

  “I’ve been in his office,” said Xiaoyu, “You took a satellite picture of the building and put it in a file. You know where his office is. You don’t know where his mind is until you see the set up. The office is on a floor with two suites. The other suite is empty. When I was there, there were only two people in the suite. A tall man who was hiding a pistol in his jacket, I’m sure I saw the same man near my hotel before. The other man was Juric pretending to be Aleksandar.”

  “What’s that say about Juric?” asked Mason.

  “Juric has a waterfall in his office,” said Xiaoyu, “It’s loud. You have to talk over it. His assistant is hiding a gun and the waterfall is to hide the sound of the shot. If you fired a gun in his office, it could be heard by people above or below. If the gun has a sound suppressor, the sound would be nothing next to the waterfall. That’s what a suppressor does; it makes the shot sound like something else. No one could say they heard a gunshot. It would sound like falling water. The other suite on the floor is empty; no one sees you come or leave. They probably rent that one too. If you mention the name Jusuf Juric, he’ll shoot you or get the tall man to do it. There won’t be any negotiation, no blackmail. The deposits from Mitchum to the account in Sarajevo weren’t big enough for someone in Juric’s position. If Mitchum tried to blackmail Juric, he wouldn’t have been lucky enough to die from a heart attack.”

  “So Mitchum made up Valgani?” said Mason, “Why?”

  “You’re in a better position to answer that than me,” said Xiaoyu, “I didn’t know about him till he was already dead.”

  “Everyone’s got their own side projects,” said Georgia, “That’s why you stay and move up rank, more money for your own projects. Mitchum had so much cash he was a king. Maybe he got lazy or didn’t want to admit defeat.”

  “So no Valgani. That was always an assumed possibility,” said Mason.

  “You knew that,” said Xiaoyu.

  “No,” said Mason, “If I did, I wouldn’t have sent you. That’s why I sent you. That’s called intelligence gathering.”

  “A Mistake,” said Xiaoyu.

  “I need a fresh set of eyes,” said Mason, “I’ve been doing this a while. I have habits, not all of them are good. I make assumptions. Same as her.”

  “You can shut up about me,” said Georgia. Xiaoyu looked at Georgia.

  “What did you think?” asked Xiaoyu.

  “I knew Mitchum—not well—but well enough to obscure my judgment. I didn’t like the man. Thinking he had made up Valgani, I really favored the idea. That confirmed him the self-righteous asshole I thought he was. But we don’t work like that. So we sent you with the idea that Valgani did exist and you came back convinced it didn’t,” said Georgia lighting a new cigarette, “That’s what we needed, Mitchum to be disproved by someone who wasn’t familiar. If you had found Valgani, that would have worked for us as well.” Xiaoyu felt a familiar feeling. It was the feeling of stepping into the cage and being locked in. Xiaoyu sat back in his loveseat, took in a deep breath and let it out. He looked at Georgia long enough for her to feel he deserved a response. He looked at Mason. Georgia realized Xiaoyu wasn’t apt to speak so did Mason. The silence came quick and stayed, sloppy like a drunken suitor. The awkwardness of the situation was muzzled by Xiaoyu and Mason understanding command structures. It was increased by all three realizing Georgia was the most senior. Georgia was seasoned. She spoke up but her voice wavered.

  “Vaudevillian was so named because we put you in a show with other players. You had to interact with others to find V
algani. Vaudevillian is over. The idea was to find Valgani and you did. It’s a building going up,” Georgia took a long drag from her cigarette, “Job well done. But now we have another job, Juric.” Xiaoyu turned his head to look at Georgia. Knowing they spent $7 million on the chip in his head, they would try to get their money’s worth. Any plans with Juric, he knew he’d be involved. Georgia was senior in the room but not senior enough to determine how the Agency would want to handle a war criminal. She had to make a call. The situation was political and personal. It took time to decide what to do—not weeks, months. There was a smaller decision to be made, what to do with Xiaoyu in the meantime. Mason was the strongest advocate for letting Xiaoyu take up residence in Paris. The Agency had apartments in Paris.

  The most feasible solution was a third floor apartment on Avenue de Clichy. The mailbox listed A. Metayer as resident. Xiaoyu spent four months in Paris living as A. Metayer would. He ate alone and spent most of his time alone but he met once a week with Mason. Georgia was there every occasion but one. Their meetings were in seclusion. The gallery safe house was the usual destination. The meetings were interesting. Xiaoyu learned more about Caprice. Stories were swapped by all. Training protocols had been taught to Xiaoyu at a subconscious level, but experience was different. Experience could be gained in first person and alternatively in second person, but never third person. The story had to be told by the owner. Georgia and Mason shared a combined thirty-seven years of intelligence work with Xiaoyu. Georgia’s stories were always more interesting. She spent the first twelve years of her career on the frontline of the Cold War. She made the war seem almost like fun, a high-minded game of cat and mouse. Coincidentally, Chess was the word she used. The sides were clear and the pieces were black and white. After the Wall fell, she said the game became more like checkers, hopping over pieces and pieces changing functions. She said checkers was a boring game—at least—boring for adults. Mason’s stories were different. He joined the Agency in 1993. He rose quickly because of his ability to put moving parts together in his head. His mind worked like a clock. It had a certain rhythm. It liked solving problems with moving parts and it moved faster than the parts. Mason’s mind was one that could construct monuments out of useless parts. Georgia didn’t need parts. She constructed out of thin air. It was debatable who was the better builder. Georgia was fifty. Mason was thirty-five. Xiaoyu was twenty-one. Georgia’s accomplishments stood as edifices against the passing of time. Time was strengthening Mason’s mind and resolve. Xiaoyu had only just begun. Both Mason and Georgia felt he was off to a good start.

  They mentioned this when the plan came to take Jusuf Juric into custody. The idea was to proceed along the same lines as before. Mason again contacted Juric with munitions to trade. An arrangement was made for Xiaoyu to go again to meet Juric. Even though the first meeting had been forceful, Mason felt Xiaoyu had gained Juric’s respect. Gaining his confidence was impossible for anyone who understood what they were doing. Mason decided to set the date for three months out to get time to make arrangements. The honest version was there were no arrangements. Mason wanted to put Juric at ease and make the transaction seem more realistic. Arranging a meeting with Juric too soon after the last meeting would raise flags. Juric was paranoid, like Xiaoyu said. The plan was a simple grab and go. There would be no weapons shipment, although Mason told Juric it would be a smaller shipment than before, about 100 pieces. The shipment ploy was used to put Juric in the proper place mentally, a business mindset. Xiaoyu was supposed to get Juric out of his office and into his car at which point he would kidnap Juric, injecting him with Ketamine and taking him to a remote location before stuffing him in the trunk of a car waiting in the parking lot. Xiaoyu was to drive Juric across the border into Croatia to a safe house in Zagreb.

  • • •

  Xiaoyu landed in Sarajevo eight months and two days after his first arrival in the city. His meeting with Juric was to take place on the following day. He checked himself into the same hotel and went to his assigned room. Xiaoyu returned to the front desk claiming the room smelled of smoke even though he had requested a non-smoking room. He demanded another room. The new room was much the same as the one he had stayed in eight months prior. Xiaoyu scanned the room for whatever was to be found, but found nothing. His routine was much the same as before. He stopped by the same store to buy bread, butter and sausages and made sandwiches for lunch and dinner. At night, he sprayed the polymer paint off his skin and went to bed as Gui, not Alain Metayer or Li Xiaoyu.

  The next morning had a routine. After showering, Xiaoyu dried himself and sprayed his skin with the polymer paint. It was the second time he noticed how realistic the paint actually looked. The paint bonded always to skin not hairs. The Agency had thought of everything—it thought so. Xiaoyu entered the building that housed the office of Sejad Mehmedovic AEC. The experience was much the same, but one note different. The front desk secretary greeted him by name. Mr. Metayer. It was the same desk secretary but he wasn’t sure she would remember his name. He knew she remembered his face. Juric was trying to make Xiaoyu feel more welcomed, which made him feel unwelcomed. He took the short elevator ride up to the almost empty eighth floor and turned right toward the only office suite in use. The tall thin man with the dark suit wasn’t waiting with the door open as he had before, but Xiaoyu could see him through the double glass door. Xiaoyu walked to the door and let himself in. The feeling in the office was different than before. Xiaoyu felt it instantly. He suddenly had a sharp pain in his lower stomach, pins and needles. A violent nauseated feeling came over him. He remembered feeling similar before. The feeling—like all sickness—was a warning. Something was wrong. The tall thin man stood in the middle of the foyer with his hands held in his pockets. The tan leather couches were still sitting opposite each other looking and smelling like they had been recently oiled. The tall thin man held his hand out in the direction of the office where Jusuf Juric pretended to be Aleksandar Stojanovic—the office with the waterfall. Xiaoyu remembered the waterfall.

  “Good morning Mr. Metayer,” said the thin man, “So good to see you again.”

  “I feel the same,” said Xiaoyu walking calmly toward the thin man. With about two meters distance between himself and the thin man Xiaoyu held out his hand for the shake. Xiaoyu lunged forward balling his open hand into a fist. Instead of shaking the thin man’s hand, he back-fisted him in the face. The blow caught the thin man off guard but he recovered quickly returning the blow with a swing of his own. Xiaoyu was able to anticipate the direction of the swing and block the punch with his elbow using his lower stature to position himself for an uppercut. The uppercut sent the thin man backward and made him bite the tip of his tongue. While the thin man was moving backward, Xiaoyu grabbed the lapels of his suit pulling him forward. The sudden forward motion gave the thin man whiplash. As Xiaoyu pulled him forward, he delivered a headbutt to the man’s sternum knocking out wind and forcing the bone to crack. Xiaoyu raised his knee and lowered his center of gravity. He thrust his foot and his body weight into the man’s left kneecap. The man buckled under the strain of his own body weight collapsing sideways to the floor. Xiaoyu quickly crouched down over the man’s body grabbing his right hand, twisting it toward the armpit waiting for a sign. Snap. Knowing the man’s wrist was broken, Xiaoyu patted the man’s body and struck gold. A CZ-99 pistol was holstered in the man’s waist below his suit jacket. Xiaoyu felt in the man’s pockets finding more treasure. A sound suppressor was loose in his right pants pocket. Xiaoyu screwed the suppressor into the barrel of the pistol and pointed into the thin man’s back. Squeezing one round into the thin man’s spine insured he’d never walk again. The thin man screamed before Xiaoyu forced his jaw shut. Xiaoyu put the suppressor in the man’s mouth and looked into his eyes.

  “Is Mr. Stojanovic in his office?” asked Xiaoyu. No response. Xiaoyu shoved the barrel of the gun deeper down the man’s throat, choking him.

  “Last time,” said Xiaoyu, “Is Stojanovic in
his office?” The man nodded with the efficacy of a seriously wounded soldier who knew death had found him. Xiaoyu squeezed once on the trigger ending the thin man’s embarrassment. Xiaoyu had the feeling he was being watched. He was. An elegant looking cylinder was aimed directly at him with its only eye. Xiaoyu looked at the camera. The camera could do no harm but was harmful enough. The feed lead directly into Aleksandar’s office. Xiaoyu guessed Aleksandar was watching the feed. With this thought in mind, Xiaoyu fired one shot at the camera, leaving him alone in the suite with Aleksandar. A shrewd feeling ran over him, Jusuf Juric was no longer playing the role of Aleksandar. He was aware he had been found out. He was also aware Aleksandar would end up unlucky, like the thin man. Jusuf Juric would have better odds.

  Xiaoyu lied down in the foyer behind the north side couch and waited. Going into Juric’s office was the wrong move, so Xiaoyu waited for him to come out. It would be against Juric’s better judgment, but Xiaoyu guessed he would make the mistake of coming out of the office at some point. The game was psychological and it was in Xiaoyu’s favor. Xiaoyu could leave. But Juric would have to come by him to get out. Juric would eventually have to come toward Xiaoyu. Like a thirsty sailor drinking seawater, Juric would eventually give in to a bad decision. Xiaoyu didn’t have to make a decision. He had to wait. Xiaoyu had much of his weight on his chest, with pistol aimed toward Juric’s office. The wait was long. His body grew sore under its own weight. He shifted regularly to relieve the pressure on his ribs. His stomach grew lonely and his mouth dried out. Still he waited. He thought of the Grebo brothers, would Juric call them? If not, why not? Xiaoyu expected they would come and shoot at him with the weapons he sold them. He almost smiled at the irony. The light through the windows phased from yellow to orange to red and out. It was morning when Xiaoyu entered the office and the light through the windows was enough. With that light gone, Xiaoyu lied in an ugly darkness, listening for any sound coming from anywhere. With no light, sound was the dominant species in the suite and it hunted in small numbers. The eighth floor had only two occupants, both hunting in silence. The sound from outside teased the sound from inside to come out and play but eventually even the sound outside died out. The night grew mature and wasn’t as active as it had been in its youth. But still the night lived. Soon, it wasn’t just Xiaoyu’s mouth that was dry, it was also his throat. And the darkness made it hard to aim. But he was used to darkness; he had lived in it. And he was used to waiting out his opponent; he had survived by it. Aiming wasn’t so important; he would shoot at the sound.