horn and turn the wheel in pursuit. A taxicab nearly hits me but the driver slams on the brakes. His tires screech, the car swerves, and he smashes into the rail.
I’m on the new highway now and it’s even more crowded than the first. But the Toyota is now five car lengths ahead and I’m gaining on him. Unfortunately, we pass a police car. The cop turns on his lights and picks up speed behind me. I floor the accelerator and push the Altima to a hundred as I pass a couple of SUVs. Within seconds I’m running side by side with the Toyota. The driver looks at me, scowls, and then he points a pistol out his window. The bullets smash my passenger side, spraying broken glass over the front seat and me. Two can play at that game, so I draw the Five-seveN, aim it across the passenger seat, and squeeze the trigger. The Triad accelerates just enough so that my round smashes the driver’s side rear window, missing him completely.
The cop behind us has apparently radioed for backup because another patrol car enters the expressway just past the Richland Gardens exit. I can’t be bothered with the police; I focus solely on catching my prey. The gloves are off now and no prisoners will be taken.
I speed up to position my car parallel to the Toyota again and then I swerve to the left, ramming him. The Toyota screeches and scoots into the far left lane. Changing lanes to stay beside him, I take another shot at the driver. This time his back windshield shatters and I hit him in the shoulder, I think. The car skids into the rail, bounces off, and wavers perilously in front of me. The guy manages to gain control of the car and moves around a slow-moving bus. The damned thing is now between us, and the two police cars are right behind me. I attempt to pass the bus on the right but a van moves into the lane. My only option is to pass on the far left, a lane crowded with vehicles entering and exiting the expressway. I wait until I pass another taxi and then push the speedometer to the breaking point. The Altima speeds to a hundred and ten as I zoom alongside the bus and eventually overtake it. The problem is that the two police cars do the same thing. Alas, the bus driver doesn’t see them because they’re in his blind spot. He blasts his horn as he changes lanes behind me and the two police cars are forced against the rail. One of them smashes through it and dives off the expressway onto the streets below. The other one spins, overturns, and slides into the center of the expressway.
I hear the sounds of car horns, crashing metal, and squealing tires. The pileup behind me involves at least twenty automobiles but I can’t let it bother me. My prey is making a move toward an exit and I must stay on top of him.
The Toyota takes the ramp to Kowloon Bay and I follow him off the expressway. If he thinks he’s going to lose me in the crowded narrow streets of the city, he’s got another think coming. Traffic essentially halts to a standstill as soon as we’re at street level. There’s nowhere for him to go. What a dumb move on his part. I’m right behind him and we’re sitting in a line of cars waiting for a red light to change. So what does he do? He gets out of the car and begins to run.
Hell, it ain’t
As I walk toward the wounded man I hear so many police sirens that it’s difficult to tell where they are. Most of them are probably on the expressway, dealing with the pileup. But some could be after me as well, so I have to make this fast and get the hell out of here.
My Triad friend is crawling on the ground, bleeding to death. I place my right boot on the wound in his back and say in Chinese, “Talk to me.”
He curses at me in English. It’s funny how some words are universal.
“How did you know I would be at the warehouse tonight?” I ask.
The man curses again so I apply a little more pressure to the wound. He screams and I let up a bit. “Well?”
“It’s just what we were told,” he says.
“So it’s true you were expecting me to be there?”
He moans but doesn’t answer. I apply pressure and he cries, “Yes!”
“Good. Now tell me: Was there an arms deal going down tonight? Anywhere?”
He curses at me again so this time I practically stand on the guy’s back. I don’t normally go in for torturing an enemy to get information, but when time is of the essence and there’s no other way around it then I’ll do whatever it takes.
When he finishes screaming and I let up, he says, “It’s in the morning. At Kwai Chung.”
Kwai Chung is the big container port for all of Hong Kong.
“Where? What time?”
“Eight o’clock.”
The sirens are really close now. I can hear policemen on foot shouting to each other on the street beyond the alley entrance. They’ll be here any second.
I crouch, pull the man’s head up by his hair, and ask again, “Where?”
He mutters a number.
“Is that a terminal?”
He nods and coughs. Blood spurts out of his mouth.
“You wouldn’t lie to me, would you?” I ask.
His eyes flutter, he coughs again, then chokes on the blood and mucus in his throat. I know he’s a goner. He won’t last more than a few seconds longer and I’m not going to get much else out of him. I stand and begin to run down the alley just as two policemen appear at the entrance behind me. They shout for me to stop but I’m in the shadows now. They can’t see me. When I reach the end of the alley, I dart into the street, run across traffic, and duck into another dark alley. I repeat this strategy three more times and by then I’ve lost the cops. The only thing to do now is go back to my hotel and wait until morning. I just hope my late Triad friend was telling me the truth.
16
“Someone set me up, damn it!” I shout to the empty hotel room in Kowloon.
Colonel Lambert, Frances Coen, and Anna Grimsdottir are all online with me through my implants. I’ve given a full report on what went down at the warehouse and I’m hopping mad.
“Calm down, Sam,” Lambert says. “Why do you think you were set up?”
“Because they knew I would be there. They brought along that contraption that screwed with my implants for that very purpose. The Triad I interrogated in the alley confirmed it. Someone told them to expect me. They knew I was a Splinter Cell and that I had those communication implants. I was
Grimsdottir speaks up. “This device, Sam, what did it look like?” She has a soft voice but one can sense intelligence behind it.
“Kinda like a boom box. There was a tiny satellite dish they pulled out of it and set on the floor.”
“I think I understand how it was done,” she says. “They would have had to understand the technology behind the implants and how they work. If you’re right, then they must have had inside information from Third Echelon. It’s the only way.”
“Mike Chan again?” Lambert asks.
“Possibly. If he’s the traitor.”
“Of course he’s the traitor,” I say. “He killed Carly, didn’t he? Have you caught that bastard yet?”
“No, the FBI is on his trail,” Lambert replies.
“Well, it still doesn’t answer how the Triad knew I’d be at the building. The only person who knew what I was doing was Mason Hen—”
That has to be it. Hendricks.
“Um, I think I need to pay a little visit to Hendricks, Colonel.” I look at my watch. There are a few hours left before I have to be at the Kwai Chung container port.
“Mason Hendricks has been one of our most trusted field agents, Sam,” Lambert says. “His record is
