“Don’t do anything unless I tell you.”
He spoke rapidly to the customs inspector, but his voice only carried far enough for Alex to catch a couple of words. Alex eyed his bag in the middle of the larger boxes, knowing that it would take him precious time to get to it and make some use of it if the situation turned violent.
“That’s Yau Sin,” Jin whispered. “Chinese Mafia. They run the inspection ports. You can get most anything in or out if you pay their fee.”
Yau pulled a semiautomatic pistol from a holster beneath his suit and pointed it at the inspection officer, directing him toward one of the televisions.
“If you don’t pay their fee,” Jin added, his voice hushed, “then very bad things happen to you.”
The inspector walked over to the TV he’d examined. He nodded to the back and Yau looked inside. He looked back up and without another word shot the inspection officer point-blank in the chest.
He raised the pistol and pointed it toward Jin and Alex. Alex knew he could never reach a weapon in time. Yau walked closer and pushed the pistol into Jin’s side.
“Leave the box, get rid of the body,” he said in Mandarin.
Jin nodded his understanding, never saying a word.
Yau slipped the gun back into its holster, crossed over to his truck, got in and drove off of the tarmac.
Alex looked at Jin and said, “What the hell was that all about?”
“The inspector hasn’t been paying them their fees. Nothing crosses the border without their okay.”
“Nothing?”
“Nothing,” Jin said. “As soon as the truck gets here, we will have to unload the televisions. You will go with the driver when we are done. He is your asset for this trip and he knows far more about the facility than I do.”
“Is that the truck we’re waiting for?”
Jin looked past Alex to the tarmac beyond.
“That is the truck, yes. It will only take us a few moments to load the boxes. Then you can be off.”
He nodded curtly and waved at the truck.
A man climbed out of the truck and met Alex and Jin at the bottom of the gangway, walking past the body with barely a glance. He shook Jin’s hand and smiled. “This is Donald Vance,” Jin said, stepping to the side. “He’ll be leaving with you when we’re done.”
“Pleased to meet you,” the man said, giving a slight bow at the waist. “I am called Liang.”
“Thank you for your help, Liang.” Alex sized the man up quickly. He was much larger than Jin and appeared to be only part Asian. He was well muscled and had an economy of motion that reminded Alex of Brin and the way she moved about the lab when she was working. There was something else in his movements, too. Liang moved like a trained martial artist, and Alex knew that he would be a dangerous man in a fight. And yet there was something in the man’s eyes that appeared gentle. His gaze made Alex trust him instantly.
True to his word, it didn’t take any longer than twenty minutes for the three of them to move the boxes into the large panel truck. Alex tossed his duffel bag into the truck and offered a handshake to Jin.
“Thanks for the ride, my friend. I’ll see you again soon, I hope.”
“Godspeed, Mr. Vance.” Jin bowed and Alex mirrored the motion, though it hurt his hips to do so.
“Ready to go, Liang.” He climbed into the truck and waved once more to Jin.
Liang started the truck and headed off across the tarmac. “We’ll have to drop the televisions at the warehouse. I’ll take you to the facility after that.
Tonight, you’ll stay at my house.”
“Is the facility far?” Alex asked.
“Halfway to the Mongolian border. It shouldn’t take any more than two or three hours to get there, depending on traffic. We’ll go tonight, after it gets dark.”
“Good deal.”
“In the meantime, we will deliver the televisions then enjoy my wife’s fine cooking. I think you will approve. My wife is head chef at one of the finest restaurants in Beijing.”
“You’re a lucky man, Liang.”
“Tell me about it.” He patted his belly and chuckled.
Denny stared at the document in his hand and frowned. It was a single page of a few precisely typed lines and an attached medical report. The report itself was a poor copy, printed from a tiny digital camera. It wasn’t the method by which the report had been obtained—in an organization like Room 59, even the watchers had to be watched.
The information in the report was disturbing on a much deeper level.
“Christ,” he muttered, tossing the document on his desk in frustration. “What the hell was he thinking?” He sat down heavily in his chair. The report had come in from one of his field watchers less than ten minutes earlier.
Room 59 was comprised of concentric rings of secrecy. In order for there to be control, checks and balances, most of those who worked for the organization were watched by others to whom they had no connection. Quiet surveillance of field agents was necessary to ensure the safety and security of the organization. It was, as Kate liked to say, important to back up your backups. And in case that failed, one should always have a way in through a back door or window.
The report was short and to the point. While only trusted doctors were consulted for Room 59
assets, it never paid to trust too much. Routine checks were made on the records and activities of all medical professionals within a hundred-mile radius of any of his field agents. The report on his desk was the result of just such a routine sweep.
The message itself was simple, and the report appeared to back it up.
Alex Tempest diagnosed with primary progressive MS. Medical testing and MRI scans reveal extensive medical problems related to disease. Recommend immediate removal from active missions and debrief for termination of fieldwork.
The report, photographed from the private files of a neurologist named Britton, confirmed what was written in the memo. Not just MS, either, but the bad stuff…the crippling kind.
Denny grabbed his glasses and immediately launched himself through the security protocols that would send an urgent message to Kate Cochran.
Kate appeared almost immediately and activated a secure room for them to talk. It looked like a prison conference room. “Denny?” she asked.
“Why the urgency?”
“We have to talk,” he said. “It’s Alex Tempest.
I think we may have to consider some sort of recall on the mission.”
She was silent for a moment, and even though her avatar was unchanged, Denny imagined the frown creasing Kate’s brow in real time.
“What the hell are you telling me, Denny?
Recall? We
What could be so bad that we’d have to risk everything to get him back?”
It was Denny’s turn to be silent. It was possible that Kate would consider this his fault, but he didn’t think it likely. It just looked bad all the way around, and Denny hated the feeling that produced.
“It’s bad, Kate. Really bad. I don’t know what our wonder boy was thinking, but we’ve got to do something. I’ve got a report here from an agent who did a routine sweep on a Dr. Britton’s office.
He found a record of a recent appointment with Alex.” He took a deep breath. “Kate, he’s got multiple sclerosis. The worst kind.”
“You don’t think he’ll be able to complete the mission?”
“I don’t know, but I do know that what I’m seeing here explains a lot about the errors that happened during his mission to Mexico. And this is a mission that cannot have errors,” Denny replied. “A critical failure here and they’ll be warned but without any real threat. They won’t stop.”
“You’re not kidding.” It wasn’t a question, and Denny didn’t answer.
“What the hell was he thinking, Denny?” Kate asked, slamming her hand onto the table for emphasis. “He’s risking a hell of a lot of lives.”
