58
NICHOLAI STEPPED OUT on the little balcony.
Across the boulevard, lit by the amber streetlamp, the monk still stood under the tree, facing south.
The mission was a “go.”
Nicholai started to pull a cigarette out to light it and acknowledge.
Then the monk moved.
59
“WE HAVE Papa Bear.”
“Kill the abort signal,” Haverford said. “Where the hell was he?”
It turns out that Papa Guibert found himself a new honey and took her to her place. He was surprised and a little indignant to find out that handlers were looking for him.
“So I wanted a little variety,” he told the Brit who was under Haverford’s employ. “So what, I am French.” He didn’t really expect a Brit to comprehend a man’s sexual needs. The British were about as sensual as their food.
“Keep him on ice,” Haverford ordered. “Did you signal the Monk back?”
“Confirmed.”
Haverford sat down and looked at the illuminated wall clock.
Twelve minutes out.
60
VOROSHENIN WAS on the phone.
The old man had broken – no Frenchman of his generation would let a beautiful woman have her brains spattered all over the walls – and confirmed that his son had died in the car crash, and “Michel Guibert” was the cover of an agent working for the British.
The British my liver, Voroshenin thought. The British are assclenching happy just to hold on to Hong Kong, they’re not going to wake the dragon by messing about in China. Besides, it wasn’t London that had control of Nicholai Hel, it was Washington.
Kang finally came on the line.
“The father confirmed my hypothesis,” Voroshenin said.
There was a long pause, then Kang said, “Enjoy the opera.”
I will, actually, Voroshenin thought.
61
NICHOLAI SAW THE MONK start to turn to the north, then change his mind and face south again.
The mission had been aborted, then just as quickly revived. That didn’t trouble Nicholai – the
But then the monk did something unexpected. He turned to face the hotel and looked directly up at Nicholai. Even from that distance – five floors down and across the street – Nicholai could feel the monk’s eyes, almost as he had once sensed the intensity of Kishikawa-sama and Otake-san.
Nicholai nodded.
Cupping one hand around his cigarette, he lit it – the signal that he was ready to proceed. He took a long drag, then stepped back into the room and shut the doors behind him.
Then he left the room and went downstairs.
62
“GO PLAYER acknowledged.”
“Roger that.”
Now all Haverford could do was sit and wait.
Worst part of the job.
63
DIAMOND MADE A POINT not to be in, or even near, the office. But he left word where he could be reached and an order that he be immediately briefed on any developments coming out of Beijing.
Waiting around is the shits, he thought.
64
THE NORTH WIND had picked up again and Nicholai wrapped his scarf around his neck as he stepped out into the cold night air and waited for Chen and the car. Where were they? Chen was usually pathologically prompt.
Across the boulevard the monk walked away, toward the south.
The last check, Nicholai thought with a twinge of sorrow. The last chance to stop this thing literally just walked away.
The car came up the street, its red flags snapping in the stiff breeze. It pulled up in front of the hotel, the back door opened, and Chen got out.
“Sorry to be late,” he said. “Traffic.”
He looked afraid.
Chen ushered Nicholai into the backseat and got in beside him.
Nicholai started to greet Liang, but saw that it was a different driver.
“Where is Liang?” Nicholai asked.
“Sick,” Chen said. The smell of fear came off him. A sheen of greasy sweat shone on his cheeks.
Nicholai took two cigarettes from his pack and offered one to Chen. The escort took it, but his hands shook as Nicholai held the lighter up to the cigarette. He steadied Chen’s wrist and said, “Perhaps it was catching.”
“Maybe.”
“You should go home and take care of yourself.” Nicholai looked into his eyes. “It’s all right.”
“I’m so sorry,” Chen answered, “that I was… late.”
“Truly, it doesn’t matter.” He let go of Chen’s wrist. Nicholai sat back in his seat, smoked, looked out the
