Jon as Feng translated. A look of understanding came over Mcdermid’s face. Randi could see belief in his eyes, saying to himself, Yes, of course. Why didn’t I guess that from the start?
Feng was not looking at Mcdermid. He was staring at Randi’s feet. He stepped closer, grabbed her hands, and turned them over to peer at the palms.
Distracted by Feng’s movements, and relieved that the blowtorch was not going to be necessary, Mcdermid said, “Feng? What is it?”
Feng dropped Randi’s hands, grabbed her chin, and tilted it up. He stared at her face, her eyes, her hair. His long fingers felt like steel nails against her forehead and scalp, and her stomach plunged.
She pulled back. “Owww! You’re hurting me!”
“Stay still.” Abruptly, the fingers dug into her forehead below the hairline. Her flesh-colored scalp and black wig peeled off in his hand, revealing the tight skullcap that held down her own hair.
“Feng!” Mcdermid’s broad face looked stunned.
Feng pulled off the skullcap, and her blond hair tumbled out.
His two musclemen gaped as if they had seen a miracle.
Mcdermid announced stupidly, “She’s not Chinese!” “No,” Feng said, without taking his gaze from Randi’s face, “she’s not Chinese.”
“But how did you—?”
“Her feet,” Feng said. “Rural people wear sandals most of their lives.
She doesn’t have the gap between her large toe and the others.” He studied her with a kind of admiration. “Her hands have been artificially coarsened and aged, probably with latex skin. The same kind of product gave her eyes an Oriental fold and shape. She’s probably wearing contact lenses, and there’s a subtle pigmentation on her skin from some kind of long-lasting skin dye. It’s a remarkable piece of intelligence tradecraft, the work of experts.”
Everyone in the room, except the unconscious Jon, stared at Randi the way they would at an exotic zoo animal.
Fear rushed through her. She thought fast. They would no longer believe her story that Jon had hired her. Feng had deduced that she worked for an intelligence agency. Nothing would change his mind about that now.
Whatever new lie she told must contain that admission. Sweating, she considered possibilities … what Feng and Mcdermid might believe..
what legend she had the skills to make credible.
“So,” Feng said in that ghostly voice that seldom varied, which made it all the more intimidating. “You aren’t Chinese, but you speak Mandarin as well or better than I do, and I’d guess Cantonese and Shanghainese, too, yes? Certainly English. You’ve understood every word we’ve said.
You’ve been ahead of us from the start. You’re highly trained by a large organization with global interests and the need for operatives who can speak foreign languages. Even our American friend there can’t speak Chinese. But he isn’t CIA, is he? A special person, perhaps, recruited for a special mission, but with a real Langley agent to work with him, yes? And, of course, that Langley agent would be you.”
Randi made a decision. She curled her lip and said in disgusted Russian, “Don’t insult me.”
Ralph Mcdermid took a half step back, his eyes wide as if he had been slapped across the face.
Feng Dun blinked.
“And you’re right about Colonel Smith,” she continued in perfect Russian. “He’s not CIA. What or who he is precisely, I know as little as you.” Give them a small confirmation. It could distract them. “But I’d like to know, too. It could prove useful to us later.” Mcdermid demanded, “What did she say?” When Feng translated, Mcdermid frowned angrily. “Why is a Russian agent following me?”
Randi switched to Russian-accented English. “The Altman Group isn’t the only arms dealer.”
“Russian intelligence is interested in doing business?” Mcdermid sensed profit. “Does the Kremlin want to work with us?” He had done good deals with Russia in the past, but recently Moscow had grown greedy, demanding a larger cut.
“In Russia today, life is good for few.”
Mcdermid studied Randi. He decided, “You’re not working for the government. You’re moonlighting for yourself or others. For one of your capitalist oligarchs, perhaps. Someone who wants to know what the Altman Group is doing for reasons of business utility.”
Randi gave a slow nod, as if reluctant to admit it. “We do what we must.
My father was GRU. One becomes accustomed to living well.”
GRU was the old Soviet military intelligence. Feng said, “Does this oligarch have a name?”
“Possibly.” She cocked an eyebrow and looked at Mcdermid.
Feng turned his head toward Mcdermid, too. Then he glared at her. “I don’t believe you. What weapons deal is Mr. Mcdermid making in Hong Kong that brought you here?”
“Stop, Feng.” Mcdermid saw dollar signs. Russia still had weapons many people wanted, particularly in the Third World. Although those dictators and self-appointed kings cried poverty, they managed to come up with the cash when it came to guns and ammunition. If this woman had access to a private store, which had probably been looted from the government’s dwindling supplies … “We need to talk.”
Feng remained focused on Randi’s face, searching it for something he could not quite pinpoint but seemed sure was there. Then he looked at Jon Smith. He had still not moved. Feng again considered Randi.
“Feng,” Mcdermid repeated.
The enforcer glanced at him, turned, and walked toward the door.
Mcdermid followed, after a reassuring smile at the moonlighting Russian agent with the business connections.
Chapter Thirty
In an inner office, Ralph Mcdermid’s cell phone rang. He took it from his pocket. “This is Mcdermid.” The polished voice said, “We need to talk.”
Mcdermid covered the mouthpiece. “I’d better take this,” he told Feng Dun.
“Very well. My people must eat anyway.”
Mcdermid nodded. “It’s been a long night. Get something downstairs. I want white toast and coffee. Cream and sugar. A Danish, if you can find one. Then we’ll talk more about the Russian.”
The footsteps of Feng and his men thumped down the wood stairs, while Mcdermid found a seat on a packing box that held adult toys for a sex shop on the street floor.
He returned to the phone. “I have good news for you.”
“What news?”
Mcdermid related the capture of Smith and the Russian agent. “This is the end of our major problem. All of the copies of the manifest are destroyed.” The voice on the other end said with relief, “Excellent. And did you give my information about the SEAL operation to Feng Dun to pass on?”
“Yes, it’s over. He made the connection to one of his people, who got the information to the sub’s captain. You hadn’t heard?”
“Not yet. It will be a pleasure to act surprised. The White House won’t try again, now that they know the Chinese will be watching for more attempts. Tell me about the Russian woman. You say she was spying on you? I don’t like the sound of that.”
Mcdermid filled him in. “We can make use of her perhaps. I’ll know more soon.”
“It’s interesting, but let’s keep our focus. I’m out on a limb on this.
We’d better bring it home.”
“You’re out on a limb? Consider my position. If I’m not worried, you don’t have to be.”
“What will you do with Smith?”
“Whatever we need to. That’s Feng’s province. But first, I want to find out for whom he works.”
“If anything happens, I know nothing about this.”
“Naturally. Neither do I.”
