“Damn, where the hell did he come from?” Lambert says. “He was well hidden from our satellite. Sam, the SAT images reveal the sniper to be one man,” Lambert says. “Repeat, it’s one guy.”
Before I can adequately plan a defense strategy, the two Chinese gunmen appear on deck. They’re armed with semiautomatics, which they’re all too eager to point at the guy in the strange uniform that they see lying at their feet. The only thing I can do is to toss the live CS grenade into the air, right in front of their faces. I roll myself into a ball, covering my head as the damned thing explodes. The two men scream in pain and surprise. One of them falls off the boat, hitting his head on the edge of the dock as he plummets into the water. The other guy tumbles back through the gangway into the salon. The gas is affecting me and I find it difficult to crawl along the deck to the other side of the boat. At least the sniper can’t get at me there. I take a moment to breathe the fresh air, clear my head, and attempt to ignore the ringing in my ears. Finally I stand, lower my goggles, and switch on the thermal vision. Using extreme caution, I peer around the foredeck and focus on the marina. Sure enough, I see the heat- outlined shoulders of a man crouching behind a collection of barrels on the pier. He’s got a rifle, probably a tactical sniper model, and he’s ready to fire again. I draw the Five-seveN and aim but he shoots at me, forcing me back behind cover.
At that point I hear steps on the gangplank as someone runs out of the yacht and onto the dock. In a few seconds I see him running toward Mindanao Way. It’s Eddie Wu, abandoning ship. I’m just able to aim the Five- seveN from my prone position and get off a shot in his direction. The round chips the wood beneath his feet but doesn’t do any damage to him. Wu disappears around a corner and there’s no way that I can pursue him. Why didn’t the sniper shoot
Moving around to the dockside of the yacht is impossible with the sniper over there. He doesn’t seem to have any intention of moving. I have no choice but to reach into my backpack and grab a frag grenade. It’s my last one — I should have stocked up when I was with Lambert and Coen yesterday. That’s one of the problems with taking detours when you’re on the way home from an assignment. You don’t always follow the normal routine of debriefing and restocking.
Okay, this one has to count. I pull the pin, stand, and throw the grenade over the top of the yacht toward the barrels. The sniper fires again while I’m visible and he catches the top of my backpack. Luckily I’m in the act of dropping to a crouch position — if I’d lingered at full height for a split second longer I’d be a dead man.
The grenade explodes, momentarily brightening the pier with a blinding flash of lightning. I wait a good ten seconds before I carefully peer around the foredeck again. Nothing happens. With the night vision on, I see that the barrels are smashed to bits and there’s a hole in the boardwalk. No sniper.
“Do you see the shooter on the SAT image?” I ask, pressing my throat implant.
“Negative,” Coen answers. “Either you got him or he slipped away under cover.”
“What about Wu? Don’t tell me you lost him.”
“I’m afraid he’s merged into traffic patterns.”
“Great.”
I stand and cautiously move around the deck to the gangway and go inside the boat. The Chinese guard that caught the CS grenade in the face is lying dead on the plastic sheet next to Kehoe. I kneel and examine the FBI agent and see that they really worked him over. He apparently suffered some serious damage to the inside of his mouth. What did they do? Then I notice the pair of bloody pliers on the floor next to the chair in which Wu was sitting. I can’t help but grimace when I see at least three of Kehoe’s teeth lying next to the pliers, the roots torn and mangled. And… oh, no, it’s the agent’s tongue lying on the plastic sheet beside his head. The poor guy bled to death.
There’s an open bottle of bourbon sitting on the dining table. I can’t help grabbing it and taking a swig. I’ve seen some terrible things in my time and this has to be in the top ten.
Pressing on my implant, I say, “Frances?”
“Sam?”
“Shit, Frances, tell the FBI that Kehoe has been tortured and killed.”
“What’s the pier number?”
“Pier Forty-four, Marina Del Rey. I’m on the yacht
“Are you all right?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” I’m a little shaken from the sniper attack and seeing Kehoe in such a condition but I don’t mention that.
“I’ll get on to Kehoe’s people right away.”
She says the FBI will pick up their boy and clean up the mess. I need to disappear, and fast. As I return to the deck I carefully scan the pier with my thermal vision turned on and see no trace of the sniper. The cops will probably be here any minute, thanks to the noise of the grenades.
I scuttle down the ramp and run to the smashed barrels. As I search the boardwalk for any clues indicating the identity of the sniper, I find three spent shells. I take one of them and recognize it as a 7.62mm NATO — a common round used in sniper rifles. This rings a bell somewhere in the back of my head but at the moment I don’t know what it is. I pocket the shell and head for the marina exit before the cavalry arrives, all the while slightly paranoid that a damned competent assassin most likely has his eye on me.
27
Andrei Zdrok had experienced many setbacks and successes in his long career as an international criminal. While he maintained his status as an extremely wealthy man, the ups and downs of his business constantly drove him into states of unbearable anxiety and worry. He was often surprised that he had never developed ulcers.
To his comrades, Zdrok was very good at exhibiting a self-confident persona regardless of what turmoil the Shop might be suffering. This character trait was essential for leadership. His fellow board members — Prokofiev, Antipov, and Herzog — were aware of the hardships the Shop had faced over the past year and in many instances displayed despair and fatalism in the face of an uncertain future. Not Zdrok. He continued to push his team into new frontiers and new partnerships in order to put the Shop on the map again. Zdrok knew his fellow workers perceived him as a crotchety and humorless slave driver, but that pressure was what kept the Shop alive.
Just when it seemed that the organization was back on its feet in the Far East and making progress toward becoming a powerful force in the arms black market, the Shop had suffered another setback. It was clear that the Lucky Dragons were no longer their allies. America’s National Security Agency, Central Intelligence Agency, and Federal Bureau of Investigation were sniffing around in the Shop’s Asian headquarters, not to mention interference from Interpol, the Hong Kong police, the Red Chinese, the GRU, MI6, and countless other intelligence and law enforcement agencies around the world.
In short, the Shop was on the run again.
Zdrok had packed up his flat on the Peak and disappeared before the authorities came looking for him. The antique shop on Cat Street was now a crime scene and completely inaccessible. The Triad that protected him had turned their backs on him.
The Benefactor was his only friend and it was to him that Zdrok fled.
Zdrok took the glass of bourbon from the Benefactor and thanked him for the hospitality.
“Don’t worry, Andrei,” the Benefactor said. “You’ve been in worse scrapes. It won’t be long and we’ll be out of Hong Kong.”
“Going to China seems more like jumping from the frying pan and into the fire.”
“That’s a very good English expression, Andrei. Your English is getting better.”
“But my Chinese is shit. I don’t even know how to curse in Chinese.”
“That you’ll learn quickly, my friend.”
Zdrok looked at his ally and studied him. It was such an unlikely relationship. Who would have thought the Shop would benefit from a man so well connected with the organization’s enemies?
“Have you heard anything from the police?” he asked.
The Benefactor shook his head. “No more than what I told you last night. They know the antique store was a front for the Shop. They’re probably tearing apart your computers and looking into the facility up in the New
