but, aside from occasional bouts of cannibalism, it was Hu Xu’s only vice.
The view of the harbor from this table was exquisite, he noticed as a waiter approached with menus. The Typhoon Shelter Bar was built entirely of unsupported glass walls, and there were panoramic views of nighttime Hong Kong in every direction.
“I’ll have a vodka martini,” Madame Li told the waiter. “The French vodka, not the Russian. Grey Goose. And the lobster, please. How about you, Major?”
Major Tony Tang said, “I’ll have exactly the same.”
The waiter bowed deeply and departed and the two regarded each other with some amusement across the table. Tang, who had seen Hu in many of his manifestations, had never met Madame Li until this moment. He was obviously delighted with every aspect of this new apparition. Hu relaxed visibly, knowing his report to the general would be positive. Only a few diners had been allowed up to the Shelter Bar tonight, and they had all been seated a discreet distance from the major’s corner table.
“Well,” Major Tang said as their drinks arrived, “I must tell you that the general sends his apologies. He won’t be dining with us this evening after all.”
“I’m so sorry to hear that,” he said. “Don’t tell me he’s ill.”
“Busy. He has—how shall we say this—domestic problems.”
“Double trouble? I thought he had those two girls under control.”
The major smiled ruefully, nodding affirmation. “Yes. The terrible twins are at it again.”
“Their Satanic Majesties. If they’re not at each other’s throats, they are at someone else’s. Which one is causing him anguish this time? Jet? Or Bianca?”
“Both, I’m afraid. What a miserable trial he endures at the hands of those two.”
“Bianca battles her own addictions, but she is a brilliant and loyal Te-Wu officer. Jet is the real trial, Major,” Madame Li said, clucking like an old hen. “And yet it is the party who endures her. She is irredeemable, in my view. That wild debacle in Amsterdam should be proof enough of that. Jet is a Western culture junkie, no longer loyal to the party. She should be removed from her duties as a Te-Wu officer.”
With that off his chest, he sat back and sipped his icy vodka. There were few among the general’s inner circle who could say such a thing about Moon’s daughters without fear of losing his head. Hu Xu was plainly one of them.
The major’s response was only a muted “Well, well. We shall see what we shall see.”
“Someone was going to attempt to straighten Jet out. A cultural intervention, I believe it’s called. I take it the attempt failed?”
Major Tang’s shoulders seemed to sag with weight from the general’s offices above. The general’s troubles were his troubles by definition. And China’s fortunes in the next month or so were problematic enough without two daughters who despised each other vying for the general’s attention—and affection.
“You mean von Draxis. Yes, our German friend claimed to have gotten Jet under control. But, now…horrible news. Just hours ago.”
“What happened?”
“A shipment from the South of France was unfortunately disrupted. Someone on our side completely bungled the security while the cargo was in port. We don’t have all the facts yet, but we do know Jet let us down terribly.”
“How?”
“She was supposed to eliminate a British agent in Cannes. For whatever reason, she did not.”
“At some point, Major, the general is going to have to face reality where his beautiful daughters are concerned. Bianca is beset by her own demons. But her skill and her loyalty to her father and to the party are beyond question. Jet, it seems, has failed us again.”
“The general will not acknowledge this, but it’s true. The West has won Jet’s heart. Jet, I think, has permanently slipped her moorings.”
“Then Jet is very, very dangerous to us, Major.”
“Yes.”
“Let me know when action is required.”
Major Tang nodded. “As we speak, the general is up in his office explaining what went wrong in Cannes to the CCP powers in Beijing. He never likes explaining the failures of subordinates. Especially when those involved are—”
“His own flesh and blood, yes. This disrupted shipment—that would be the American goods that Tsing Ping was handling? A transfer from Morocco?”
“Unfortunately, correct. A most vital shipment, as you well know. But these things happen. With your assistance, it shall ultimately be rectified.”
“The goods were offloaded prematurely in transit, I take it?”
“Yes. The man responsible for the loss has already been identified. This bloody Englishman whom Jet let slip through her fingers. He will be dealt with once your mission in Paris has reached a satisfactory conclusion. You’ll find digital photographs of him and his dossier in this packet.” He slid a blue envelope across the table. The word PIRATE was stenciled in red on the outside.
“Pirate?” Madame Li asked, looking at the photographs inside.
“His name is Lord Alexander Hawke. General Moon himself gave Hawke the piratical sobriquet. He’s been a bother to us on several prior occasions.”
“Yes. I recall the name. That Cuban misadventure several years ago, was it not? The botched coup d’etat?”
“Exactly. This Hawke is a direct descendant of the notorious English pirate Blackhawke. The scourge of the Spanish Main in the eighteenth century, according to our research gnomes and Mr. Google. Three centuries have not succeeded in washing the pirate blood out of Blackhawke’s bloodlines. Especially that coursing through the veins of this man Hawke.”
“Good-looking in a coarse way,” Madame Li said, turning the photograph in his hands. “I suppose I shall have to kill him.”
“In good time, yes, someone certainly will.”
“And tell me about Bianca. She’s still having problems in London?”
“Yes. Despite Bianca’s well-known addictions to bizarre sex parties and opiates, she has in the past been an excellent field agent. Unlike her sister, she is, as you know, both efficient and lethal. Sadly, now, the opium seems to be winning the battle. Our French connection in London has been badly compromised.”
“What happened?”
“We were, as you well know, running a highly successful operation there. But we recently discovered that a mole she planted inside the embassy last winter was doubling up on her. Bianca’s agent-in-place, Bulling, was also toiling away for Scotland Yard. He had a weekly brush pass in Regent’s Park with a man named Congreve. Retired from the Yard, now freelancing for MI6 and the man Hawke we discussed earlier. You’ll find Congreve’s picture’s in there, too.”
“What are you going to do?”
“For the moment, we are giving Bianca time to fix this mess. But the general’s patience with her wears thin.”
“Why doesn’t Bianca simply eliminate both Bulling and Congreve and be done with it?”
A pained expression was visible behind the major’s permanent smile. “She is involved with Bulling. Not romantically. Sexually. She confided the bizzare truth to me over dinner when she was last here in Hong Kong. The man is a hermaphrodite. Both sexual organs are extremely prominent but the male predominates—I, uh, well…there you have it.”
“More, more!”
“I forget. You relish these oddities. At any rate, it’s a perverse physical addiction to the man fueled by drugs. He beats her, yet she comes back for more. She has begged her father for time. She even ordered Bulling to eliminate Congreve in the hope he’ll redeem himself. He has failed once. If he succeeds…”
The waiter had brought more drinks. Madame Li sipped his new martini and found it cold and delicious. “I take it her time is running out, Major.”
“Yes. The general’s frustration with both daughters has reached the boiling point. But, enough. Let us turn
