airborne, slamming into the metal frame of the van and sliding down unconscious.
His assailant was hauled inside. There was much screaming in Mandarin.
The van’s motor strained and coughed exhaust from the tailpipe. The van backed up, knocking Danner over. His helmeted head bounced off the asphalt. Everything went dark.
A second or two-more?-had passed, followed by pain. The broken arm. The bruised thigh. His concussed head.
He was dragged into the van, the smell of sweat, oil and blood overwhelming him. The van doors banged shut. A flurry of angry Mandarin as the van took off. His helmet was ripped off his head.
“Waiguoren!” he heard.
He knew he could not possibly be part of their plans. He’d had Lu Hao under surveillance for months. Where had these guys come from? His cover was now blown. The entire operation was blown.
The pain subsided, replaced by a deep and welcome silence.
FRIDAY
2
11:00 A.M.
HONG KONG
SPECIAL ADMINISTRATIVE REGION, CHINA
The twenty-fourth-floor corner office overlooking the bustling Hong Kong harbor and, on the opposite shore, Kowloon, was spacious, its appointments comfortable. Three flat-panel screens surrounded a sitting area, one displaying a black-and-blue logo of mirror image Rs beneath which was written RUTHERFORD RISK, SECURITY MATTERS.
Brian Primer ran Rutherford Risk’s Asian division. He wore a golf tan beneath a full head of hair, his face punctuated by gray, flinty eyes. Turning to his left, he addressed David Dulwich, one of his six key field operatives, picking up on Dulwich’s reference to a take-away food container in a photograph.
It was but one of many photographs on the coffee table between them, along with a brown paper take-out food container with a wire handle.
“Jesus,” said Allan Marquardt, the boyishly handsome forty-five-year-old CEO of construction industry giant The Berthold Group. Marquardt sported a tailored suit with a blue pocket square and matching tie. The corner of a China Air ticket envelope peeked out from his breast pocket. He was reacting not to the photo, but to the memory of opening the food container less than ten hours earlier and discovering its contents: a photograph of two men-a Chinese holding a newspaper and an American holding his broken arm-taken against the backdrop of a hung bedsheet; a carefully folded ransom note; two plastic bags, each containing a single Q-tip.
Dulwich said, “The one on the right. He’s ours. Cletus Danner. He was keeping tabs on Mr. Lu. Must have walked into this. Both alive at the time of the photo. Confirmed POL.”
“‘Proof of life,’ he means,” Primer informed Marquardt. “You’ll get up to speed on the acronyms quickly. Anything you don’t understand, just ask.”
“Like why somebody would do this?” Marquardt asked.
“It’s a business. Don’t personalize it. U.S. concerns paid out four hundred million dollars last year in ransom in Mexico alone.”
“Come on.”
At thirty-nine, Dulwich had a face lined with worry and consternation. A fleshy scar that looked like melted wax climbed out from beneath the T-shirt he wore under his open-necked Oxford button-down.
“The Q-tips are assumed to be DNA swabs,” Dulwich said. “We’re running them now. Another two days, minimum. But they’ll come back Lu Hao and Cletus Danner. Used to be, you sent a severed finger for the sake of the print. We haven’t seen swabs used before: our takers are young, educated and enterprising. Seems a stretch for a Triad-an organized gang-though not out of the question. Whatever the case, it’s very clever and tells us these are not people to mess with. We want to get this handled and get both hostages home ASAP.”
Brian Primer passed Dulwich the plastic evidence bag holding the ransom note.
“The brown paper’s common enough in China,” Dulwich explained, having already studied it. “Easily purchased. Simplified Chinese characters written in pencil-nothing terribly interesting about that. The lack of a political manifesto suggests it’s all business. That’s good for all of us.”
“Our insurance will pay our half of the ransom,” Marquardt said, “as I assume yours will as well.”
Primer nodded.
Just like a CEO, thought Dulwich, thinking about cash before lives.
“They’ll kill them once they’re paid,” said Dulwich.
“You can’t know that,” Marquardt said.
“Our man’s dead for sure at that point,” Dulwich said calmly, “if they don’t do him before. Our one hope is that as an American he’s worth more to them alive.”
“Why kill him at all?” Marquardt asked.
“Because at some point he’s too great a liability. A Chinese kidnapping a waiguoren. An American, at that? You don’t want to get caught. Better to bury him.”
“Jesus.”
Mission accomplished. Dulwich had gotten the human cost to sink in. Marquardt had turned ghostly pale.
“The ransom demand names the first of the month, so we’re already short on time,” Dulwich continued.
“Our clients typically are given weeks or even months until the drop. This shortened schedule is disturbing,” Primer said.
“The first is the start of the National Day holiday,” Dulwich said, “which coincides with the Autumn Festival this year. It’s an interesting choice.” He set the ransom note on the coffee table.
“You make it all sound so…ordinary,” Marquardt said.
“If only,” Primer said. “The DNA samples. The hurried schedule. By no means ‘ordinary.’”
Dulwich screwed up his courage and asked the question Primer wouldn’t.
“What’s more important to The Berthold Group, Mr. Marquardt? The recovery of Lu Hao’s recordkeeping, or Lu himself?”
“That’s a hell of a thing to ask,” Marquardt said.
“That’s not an answer,” Dulwich said, to his boss’s obvious discomfort.
“What Mr. Dulwich means is: it’s important to clarify and prioritize your goals,” Primer said.
“I won’t lie to you,” said Marquardt. “Lu Hao’s records of the incentives could be extremely damaging to the company and to me personally.”
“You’re referring to the two Australians who just got twelve years in Chinese prison for similar ‘incentivizing,’” Dulwich said.
“The case won our attention,” Marquardt admitted.
It had stunned the entire expatriate community. Bribery, overpayment, “incentives,” were part and parcel of Chinese deal-making. For nearly a decade the Chinese government had been working to ferret out corruption among its officials. But reaching into the private sector and imprisoning foreign businessmen had never seemed remotely possible.
“Remember, Allan,” Primer said, “we’re your representatives in this. We’re not here to judge you. Only to get the job done. The job you want done. And that means prioritizing. If the documents are more important, then so be it. We lost one of our men in this. He’s our priority, so don’t think for a minute we’re going to abandon extraction.
