Cheered by their progress, Mcdermid hung up and remained sitting on the packing box, thinking about the new good fortune the Russian woman might have brought. Depending on what she was offering, it could be another billion in the long run.
As soon as she heard the door close, Randi bent to put on her sandals.
Her whisper was so low, so directed only toward Jon, that it would be inaudible from the door around the corner.
“Jon? Jon? I’m going to get you out of this. Can you hear me? Jon?”
“Of course, I can hear you. I’m not deaf, you know. At least not yet.” His speech was thick through his swollen lips. A hint of pain in the cheerful whisper. “Terrific work. I’m impressed.”
Relief rushed through her, mixed with annoyance. “You’ve been awake the whole time, damn you.”
“Now, now.” He tried to raise his head. “Only most of the time. I?”
Randi put a finger to her lips, shook her head, and signaled him to slump again. She stood up and walked around the bare room. She examined the floor, walls, and ceiling, as if searching for another way out. What she expected to find were listening devices and closed-circuit cameras, but there were no cameras and no recent changes in the walls that could conceal bugs.
Nothing hung on the walls, and there were no wall fixtures and no furniture other than the two straight chairs. She could not be completely certain there were no listening devices, but she did know there were no cameras.
She returned to her chair and said in a low voice, “Okay, they can’t see us, and I can’t find any mikes, but let’s keep it down, just in case.
How much did you hear?”
“Most of it. Giving me to them was masterly, probably the only story they would’ve believed. The Russian bit was positively brilliant. The peasant howling and crawling wasn’t bad either. I had no idea you had so much talent as a groveler.”
“Your approval warms my heart. But we’re still trapped here. Unless you want your feet fried to a cinder on your way to a shallow grave, we’d better figure out what to do when they come back.”
“I’m ahead of you. You were doing fine, so I had plenty of time to think. What do you know about the big guy with the crazy hair?”
“Feng Dun?”
“Yes, that’s the name I have for him, too.”
“He’s from Shanghai. A former soldier, guerrilla, and adventurer. Very undercover. Now he’s an enforcer for high-level businessmen.”
“Where’d he get that hair?”
“There are plenty of redheaded Han, probably from some long-ago minority they assimilated. I’d guess the white’s just an odd sign of his aging.
Now it’s your turn. While I was crawling around on the dirty floor, saving your bacon, what did you come up with to get us loose?”
“We jump ‘ and split.”
She was speechless at the inadequacy of that. “You’re kidding.”
“Think about it,” he said, the pain in the voice intensifying the more he spoke through his sore lips. “What else do we have? Are there more of them out there on the other side of that door?”
“They blindfolded me. Probably, but we don’t even know where we are.”
“Yes, we do. Or at least, I do. I’ve been listening, and even though I was blindfolded, too, I was able to figure out a few things. It’s morning now, probably late morning. I heard vendors’ voices, awnings being opened, and boat horns and whistles from the harbor. Plus, I think there was a rumble from underneath us, as if the subway runs somewhere near. I figure we’re in Wanchai again, in some back street not so far from the harbor.”
“From the look of this room, we’re in an old building,” Randi decided.
“And that means probably only one staircase — only one way out.”
Jon nodded. “Right, so our best shot really is to jump them. You can handle Mcdermid, right?”
“With one hand.”
“Use two. Just to be sure, not to mention fast.”
“Consider it done. We’ll need to be out of here in a hurry, before the others know what’s happening. But can you do it? You look seriously banged up.”
“I’ve felt better. The good thing is nothing’s broken, and I’ll rise to the occasion. The threat of death is a fine motivator to get a fellow off his duff.” She studied him and nodded. He had that determined look she had seen in him before. “You’re the doctor.”
“Get me loose, but leave the ropes on so it looks as if I’m still tied.” She undid the knots, her fingers fumbling as she hurried.
As she worked, he said, “They’ll ask you a lot more questions about your Russian contacts. What you’re after. What your arms dealer has to sell and wants to buy … all that. You’ve got to keep their attention, especially Feng’s.” She left the ropes entwined, so they would look tight. “Thanks for the advice. I never would’ve figured it out by myself.”
Jon ignored her sarcasm. “He’ll have his gun, of course. I intend to blind him.”
“Then you make damn sure you get him the first time.”
“I know. I?” They heard the key turn in the lock. Jon instantly slumped in the chair, careful not to move the nylon ropes. Randi resumed her nonchalant posture in the other chair, ready to do business with Mcdermid, if the price was right. Mcdermid appeared first. Feng Dun walked behind, not hurrying, his expression a mixture of suspicion and disapproval. He did not like the way Mcdermid was handling the Russian woman. He cared nothing about Mcdermid’s business, and, besides, he did not trust her. She was too glib. No one had yet asked her to prove that she was who she claimed to be. It was an oversight he intended to correct now. From under his nearly closed eyelids, Jon saw the questions on Feng’s face. And although the killer was distracted, he was watching Jon. Mcdermid walked directly to Randi. “All right, let’s talk about your people. We’re going to?”
“Hold it,” Feng announced. “First I’ll check the American.” He pulled Jon’s head up by his hair. Jon groaned, and he drooled saliva from his slack mouth. Without warning, Feng slapped him across the face. Jon gave a feeble flinch and collapsed so heavily Feng had to support his head with one hand while he used the other to tug on the nylon cords across Jon’s chest.
Randi felt her muscles tense with fear as she tried to maintain her casual slouch on the chair. Jon’s cords held. She had looped them several places, and Jon had expanded his chest to make them tight. When he relaxed, the loops would slip. Then he could work free unseen.
“Finished?” Mcdermid said impatiently. The Altman CEO did not wait for an answer. He returned his attention to Randi. “We … What’s your name, I can’t just call you the Russian.”
“Ludmilla Sakkov.” She nodded toward Feng Dun. “What’s his name?”
“You don’t need to know my name, Russian. If you are Russian,” Feng said, observing her closely from head to toe. “I once fought for the Russians ?”
At that moment, Jon leaped from his chair far more quickly than he had thought possible. Relaxing, feeling the cords slip, then lunging. The loops fell away, the chair clattered backward, and his right fist caught Feng Dun on the point of his jaw. The blow snapped Feng’s neck back and sideways, pinched his spinal column, and knocked him sideways where he would have pitched into Mcdermid, if Mcdermid had still been standing there.
He was not. Two powerful karate chops to the throat and the side of the head from the suddenly standing “Russian” had knocked Mcdermid to the floor, unconscious. Feng’s legs tripped on Mcdermid’s legs, and Feng slammed down onto his shoulder.
“Jon!” Randi shouted.
As Feng landed, he shook his head to clear it and reached under his jacket. They could see his pistol, but he had sprawled too far away for them to reach it with a kick. He rolled over onto his back, the gun in both hands, preparing for a target. At the same time, shouts erupted outside the room. Feet pounded to the door. Feng’s men.
They were trapped again, and they had fewer options.
“The window!” Jon said.
He spun, nearly fell over from a wave of pain, and ran straight at the drapes that covered the big window. He
