piece of simulator technology from ShinComm Corporation. The car dealers used it so more people could test drive the cars, but the controls were so realistic they could also be switched to “live” mode, and drive a real car remotely around the estate.
He turned to the Porsche dealer behind him. ‘The controls were just like the real thing,’ he called. ‘And the graphics — wow!’
The dealer made a polite bow. ‘It’s a new system. Smoothvision live video combined with amazing RC software from ShinComm. My customers can drive a car through Shanghai, London, or the French Alps from these controls — a real car. Anywhere we have a Porsche dealership. Helps to sell the cars. And if someone takes a car for a test drive and gets too aggressive, we can take control from here and bring them back safely.’
Ekstrom felt his smartphone vibrate and turned to walk away from the hubbub in the marble atrium. Well, well — another message. Two in just a few days. Where was he going next, after the hit at the Country Club? Ekstrom entered his password to decrypt the message.
His eyebrows raised slightly in surprise. Two targets now — and both here in Balong, at the same place. Unconventional.
And the second target — Ethan Stone. Ekstrom had been expecting that one, ever since Williams loused up in Hong Kong. But it was a much more interesting challenge than his first assignment. And the car dealer had just given him an idea.
This was just getting worse. Stone came out of the luxurious Shui Hu Hotel and walked back up from the yachting marina when it hit him. Huge, shiny, dark blue in front of him. A dark blue truck in front of him with a satellite dish deployed on its roof, and a familiar logo on the side panel. GNN Worldwide News. Virginia Carlisle was here again. What was she doing? Did she know Stone was here? Or Oyang? Was she really extrapolating from that post Stone had made on the NotFutile.com web site?
Impossible. There was only one person who could have told her to come here to Balong. Carslake. But why would she listen to Carslake anyway? Stone needed another chat with Virginia Carlisle.
Chapter 53 — 1:19pm 12 April — Balong Polo Resort and Country Club, Zhejiang Province, China
The Polo Tournament was a big event, but it still shouldn’t be that difficult to find Virginia Carlisle. Stone strolled out to a tented village on the edge of the polo fields. Which were in themselves vast. Each field roughly four times the size of a football field.
The scene was nauseatingly reminiscent of Hello magazine, but with a Chinese twist. Argentinian polo players mingled with electronics and textile barons from China’s Gold Coast. Exquisite dim sum and fragrant rice alongside the canapes and caviar. And the ever-present champagne. Stone thought of Ying Ning telling him about that poem on the plane.
It wasn’t quite like Du Fu’s poem, this. Photographers bobbed about among the crowds, searching for the quintessential image for Rupert’s press release. Glamorous and rich. They were rich all right. Not so sure about glamorous. Chinese millionaires, plus Shanghai expatriate wives lusting over South American lads in tight trousers. At least Virginia Carlisle had real glamour on her side. Should make her easy to spot.
And so it proved. She’d had a GNN studio set up in the Country Club. Stone flashed a confident smile at the security guy and walked into the studio.
And there she was on all the live TV monitors, just about to begin a piece in front of the cameras. She had stayed in her regular TV character. US army combat trousers, olive drab T-shirt. Tailored for a thousand dollars on Fifth Avenue, naturally.
The energy coursed through Virginia as soon as she stepped in front of the bluescreen. An amazing sight. She bounded on there like a cheerleader. Stone watched her do her stuff through the monitors. The picture showed her back in Sichuan, in the village Stone recognised as Shang-ri La. He’d passed it on the bus. Virginia’s crew had obviously given up on the search and taken some footage of the picture postcard Chinese town for later use. Risible. Crass. But absolutely effective. Half of Asia looked like Shanghai — but Shangri La? Shangri-La was definitely China. So why not use it?
And if you have Virginia in the foreground, well… She had been placed into a scene, standing on a stone-built traditional bridge over the river. Her face breathed honesty, credibility, gravitas, and just a tiny bit of passion. She spoke to you through the camera like she’d known you for twenty years. Animated, engaging, beautiful. There were some ducks and a couple of pagodas behind. There were two guys in front, out of camera shot, with a silver foil board to get the lighting right, and a wind machine purring quietly to the side. Stone’s favourite was the hair lighting consultant, because “filming great hair is never easy”.
GNN’s commitment to authenticity knew no bounds.
Virginia had seen Stone, too, flashed him one of her thousand-watt smiles. Then she looked back to the camera and made the finger signals for three-two-one. Winked to Stone on two. She was off and running, taking it from the autocue in one smooth take.
So that was Carslake’s game, Stone thought as he watched. Carslake wanted his fifteen minutes of fame on TV with Virginia Carlisle. He was going to tell the world that he discovered this weird object under the mountains. He’d get the GNN technicians to mock up bogus radar pictures of an object underground, make it look convincing.
‘Cut,’ shouted a producer, and Virginia stepped away from the screen.
‘Well, lookee here,’ she said as Stone approached her. ‘It’s my old friend, Ethan Stone. How much time d’ya waste in Sichuan, honey? Feeling pretty silly that I scooped your stuff?’ Even her voice was in TV mode. No upper class Vassar girl tones now.
‘You seem pleased to see me,’ said Stone. She did, in her usual confrontational way. ‘What brings you to the Polo Tournament?’
‘What the heck? Everyone’s here aren’t they?’ she said. A great reply, it really was. Conveyed no information whatsoever. She spent the day with make-up girls and chick-lit, but Virginia was razor-sharp. And always good value in a confrontation. Which Stone was about to provide her with.
‘Come on!’ she said. ‘Lighten up. It’s a bit of fun. I can be anywhere while I’m here!’ Her arc-light TV smile had just switched on again. With a flick of the head her hair rippled and fell, a curtain of blonde silk over that army T-shirt. ‘It’s disgustingly easy to report from anywhere in the world. At least,
‘So do you buy it?’ asked Stone. ‘Carslake’s story?’
‘Of course not,’ said Virginia. ‘It’s all crap. You know it and I know it.’ She turned to the producer. ‘Let’s take a break. I need to have a chat with Professor Stone here. I think he’s got something he wants to tell me.’
