Battlefield 4: Countdown to War (24 page)

59

Hotel Majesty Plaza, Shanghai

It had been some time since Kovic had looked in a mirror, and what he saw looked like something that had risen from the dead. In a way it was perfectly appropriate, because that was exactly what he was going to do next. He was going to go and see Cutler and relay the news about Chang. He wanted to watch his face as he listened.

He attempted to shave but it was a challenge inserting the razor between the swollen cuts, bruises and fresh scabs. When he was done he wasn’t sure there was any improvement, but at least he was clean and had made full use of Hannah’s medicine cabinet.

Her apartment was small and austerely furnished, the kitchen evidently little used. This was the home of someone who didn’t do much with her spare time other than sleep. What exactly was there between her and Jin Jié? Had they been involved at Harvard? Why should he care? When she bade him goodnight he thought he detected a different look in her eyes. She had let her gaze remain on his tattered face for a second longer than necessary, as if to imply – were he to ask, she might not refuse. But maybe he was flattering himself. And besides, the timing was all wrong. Louise still haunted his thoughts.

When he woke in the morning she was gone and there was no message. So maybe that was it, their brief partnership was over.

He put on a grey shirt and lightweight blue suit that she’d left out for him. She’d got the right size; maybe she had looked at him pretty closely – if only to take mental measurements. She had even found him some shoes that were well padded to house his flayed feet. He felt smarter than he had in a long time – almost human again – and renewed, ready to step back out into the world and rejoin the living.

The security presence around the US Consulate complex was heavier than usual. There were local police outside the gates, armed with sub-machine guns, and inside was a detachment of Marines in fatigues who looked extremely nervous. You should be, he thought to himself. The eye scanner and hand print reader confirmed his ID and he was waved through.

Mrs Chan was emptying a filing cabinet into aluminium boxes. She let out a piercing scream when she saw him, leapt from her seat and cowered in the corner of the room as if he was the Grim Reaper himself come to announce that her time was up.

‘Good morning! Hope I’m not interrupting anything.’

He smiled in what he hoped was a reassuring way and made for the doors of Cutler’s office.

‘Th-the Chief is in conference,’ she squeaked from her refuge. ‘He said to let nobody disturb him.’

‘Well that’s okay then, because that’s exactly what I am: no-body.’ He let out an exaggerated Dracula-style laugh and opened the door.

Cutler looked up, and the colour drained out of his face. He swiftly glanced at the other person in the room, closed the file in front of him and got to his feet, by which time he had recovered his composure and spread his arms.

‘Kovic! Thank God—’

Kovic glanced at his visitor who was leaning back in his chair. He looked vaguely familiar.

Cutler grasped Kovic’s hand before he could offer it and clapped him hard on the shoulder right on one of Tsu’s blows. He winced.

‘Senator, this is Agent Kovic. Kovic, Senator Hiram Metzger.’

‘Jeez, what’ve the Commies done to you, boy?’

Kovic glanced at Cutler.

‘Got a little lost in the woods but I’m all right now, thank you, Senator.’

He rifled through his mental files trying to recall what he knew about Metzger. All he came up with was that he was a hawk and that he represented some Midwestern state, one of those in deep financial shit with a lot of shuttered factories that built the tanks and planes that won World War Two. Not someone he would expect to
see in China, even on a good day. In fact as far as he could recall, Metzger was an outspoken critic of Chinese imports, who had publicly warned about the consequences of their being allowed to continue undercutting American products. He was a big man in his mid-sixties; one of those classic American males who was once military-grade fit but never stopped eating soldiers’ portions. His shirt buttons strained over the mound of his gut and his neck rolled over his collar, but the eyes that peered out from under fleshy brows were still blue and sharp. What was he doing here?

‘Well, I guess that wraps it up for now,’ the Senator growled. He looked faintly irritated by the intrusion. He struggled to his feet. ‘You know where to find me, Ned. But don’t turn up unannounced – I may be sampling some local delicacy.’

Cutler forced out a laugh.

‘Sorry if I interrupted something,’ said Kovic.

Cutler was still in bonhomie mode.

‘No, no, we’re done. Take a seat while I show the Senator out.’

They were gone about thirty seconds. Kovic looked round the room. There were none of Cutler’s workaholic stacks of paper on the desk, not even his camo laptop. More aluminium boxes were stacked in a corner, and parked behind his chair was a large American Tourister trolley suitcase. Cutler reappeared, closed the door, came back to the desk. His mood had changed.

‘So, this is unexpected.’

Kovic smiled.

‘I’m glad to know you’re so relieved I’m still alive.’

‘Well, of course we are; the authorities told us you’d died in a fire.’

Kovic studied Cutler’s face closely as he replied.

‘Yeah, it looked that way, but the body in the bed was my girlfriend. They got the wrong person.’

Cutler frowned.

‘Who’s they?’

Kovic helped himself to the chair Metzger had just vacated.

‘I need to bring you up to speed.’

He outlined the highlights of his encounter with Tsu and Chang and what he had learned about the border incident.

As he listened, Cutler went pale. He put his hands together in his habitual way, as if hoping for divine inspiration, and pressed his fingertips against his lips. When Kovic had finished speaking, he was silent for several seconds. Eventually he spoke.

‘You realise the incendiary nature of what you’re saying.’

‘Damn right.’

‘This will have to go right to the top – the
very
top. You know what I’m talking about, don’t you, Kovic?’

‘Sure I do. That’s why I came back. But where does this leave you, Chief?’

Cutler looked suddenly indignant.

‘I’m not sure what you mean by that.’

‘
Highbeam
being your pet project and—’

He shook his head and swatted the idea away.

‘Kovic, this is the business we’re in. I shouldn’t need to tell you this. We have to take things on the chin.’

‘Yes, sir.’

Kovic wondered if the murder of the Marines and Louise was something he needed to take “on the chin”.

‘I’ll send this up the line right away. There are sure to be further questions and for your own safety stay in the compound from here on. Get some rest.’

Cutler got up quickly and marched towards the door and opened it. Then he put out his hand and arranged his face into a smile.

‘Good to have you back, soldier.’

60

Pudong District, Shanghai

Hannah rode the elevator up to her apartment. Her life was spinning out of control, her future in jeopardy. Disposing of her boss, the exchange with her father, the efficient dispatch of Tsu’s men – she barely recognised herself. And yet she had never felt so alive. Though she hadn’t admitted it to him, Kovic’s claims about the Admiral’s treachery added credence to her own suspicions, that the texts emanating from the Navy Ministry were not some rogue act, but part of a well orchestrated conspiracy.

She reached her door and turned the key. There was a strong smell of cigarettes. Was Kovic back? She hoped so.

There were at least six of them waiting for her, slouched over her furniture. Three more dressed in forensic suits were sifting through the contents of her bathroom. Instinctively she turned back towards the door, but another of them slammed it shut before she could reach it.

‘Who are you?’

Their suits were too good for MSS. Could they be Tsu’s men? One who was wearing tinted glasses held up a smartphone.

‘Watch.’

She looked at the small screen. Frozen on it was a picture of her father, trussed up in a chair, a wide piece of tape over his mouth. The screen came alive. A hand ripped off the tape. His eyelids fluttered and then he focused.

‘
Hannah, dearest. Please help . . . please do what they say
. . .’

There was a pause while he took several breaths as if just those few words had exhausted him. He looked anxiously to his left as if someone out of shot was directing him. ‘
Give them the American or they will kill me
.’

The screen went blank. Hannah lunged at the man with the phone but two others grabbed her from behind and held her.

‘Do you get the message?’

She didn’t move.

‘We know about him and you.’ He glanced at the two in the white suits. ‘His DNA is all over this place. You are not only a traitor but a whore. Do it. Summon the American, or the old man will suffer – and so will you.’

61

Hotel Majesty Plaza, Shanghai

Kovic gazed at the text: somehow it wasn’t what he had expected.

I want you – now. Come to me.

Well this was an interesting turn, he thought. His mind had been elsewhere, digesting the events of the last few days, the first time he had actually stopped. He was beginning to wonder if his work was done, that there was nothing more he could do. He had dealt with Tsu, discovered who was behind him, convinced Hannah of the danger to Jin Jié, communicated with Garrison—

No, he wasn’t finished at all. He went over his meeting with Cutler and the encounter with Metzger. What had brought the Senator to his office? He paid Mrs Chan another visit. She had recovered herself. Nevertheless he brought flowers, made profuse apologies for upsetting her, asked after her family and even made her blush with a reference to how lonely he would be having to stick around the compound. By the end of this he had established which downtown hotel Metzger was staying in, and had the personal numbers of his chief of staff and PA as well as the Senator’s cellphone.

He spent some time online, studying Metzger’s history. Over the last couple of weeks he had been globetrotting in his capacity as a member of the Senate National Security Committee. Kovic also YouTubed a couple of his more recent speeches back in his home state, strident denunciations of the Chinese for sucking business out of America’s heartland, causing the loss of factories, and blaming them for the devastation of communities with their cheap crappy goods. The man was definitely no friend of China.

He hadn’t decided how to reply to Hannah’s text. Ten minutes passed and there it was again, with the additional message:
I know what you want and I want it too. Don’t let me down
.

62

Huangpu District, Shanghai

Qi took his time counting the money. Kovic had seen him do this a hundred times, and each time it irritated him more.

‘Come on. Surely you trust me after all this time.’

Qi frowned at him and continued to count.

‘I trusted you to bring me back alive.’

‘Well I did, didn’t I?’

He held up his bandaged, blistered hands from the rope descent.

‘After this, we call it quits, okay?’

‘Okay, sure, whatever you want.’

Qi finished counting and put the money in his safe – insisting, as he always did, that Kovic look away while it was opened.

‘Okay, let’s get to work.’

He plugged Kovic’s cellphone into his system, put on the headphones and stared intently at a screen full of digits and characters that made no sense to Kovic. But that was what he was paid for, his ability to read and interpret intel that even other IT geeks couldn’t understand. Worryingly, he was now looking confused. Confused was not good.

‘I don’t like this. I don’t like this at all.’ Qi shook his head. ‘It’s completely dead, like the whole building’s been jammed. This is something new, okay? I may need some time.’

Kovic got up.

‘Time is what I don’t have.’

63

Pudong District, Shanghai

Kovic rang the bell and waited. When she opened the door he was lost for words.

She was dressed in a long strapless dress that stretched to the floor, in silver, with a hypnotic pattern that resembled fish scales. Her face was made-up so she was almost unrecognisable, her mouth painted a lustrous deep red that shone almost as much as the dress. She put up her arms as she came towards him and pulled him to her, burying her face in his neck.

‘They have my father,’ she whispered.

He held her, because it was all he could think to do.

He looked at the men in the room. They looked very like the ones who had chased him and Wu through Shanghai, their tattoos visible. You had to hand it to Tsu; he had organised his private army so well it continued to march on without him. They pulled them apart and frisked him roughly. There was no point in offering any resistance. If he went quietly, perhaps they would leave her alone, though he knew that was unlikely. They pushed them toward the door and frogmarched them both out of the apartment into the elevator. At this stage, his priority was to do what he could to protect her. What guarantee was there that they would release her father anyhow?

As they rode the elevator down to the parking garage, Hannah choked back tears of rage and shame. She felt weak and helpless. She had given in. She had compromised her only asset. They told her that her job might require appalling decisions, that people she cared for might have to be sacrificed; it was part of her training. She had been instructed that in such situations, loyalty to the Ministry, and ultimately to her country, came first. Where was her loyalty
now? A true professional should not have buckled at the sight of a parent in distress as she had. She hoped that Kovic had at least recognised her text for what it was – both a plea and a warning. He had looked so pleased to see her. Had she overestimated him? Just at that moment he gave her hand a small squeeze as if to say,
it’s okay: I know
.

But that made it all the harder. He had come, knowing something was wrong, knowing that her text was out of character, and therefore that he would be walking into some kind of trap.

The doors opened onto the underground car park. They were moving toward a large highly polished black Cadillac Escalade SUV. A metre from the vehicle, she stopped.

‘I want to see him.’

None of them spoke.

‘I got you the American. Give me my father.’ The leader had taken off the tinted glasses. He appeared to have one drooping eyelid.

‘You want to see him? Here.’ He pulled out his phone.

He dialled and waited, then said something none of them could hear. He held up the phone and they all turned to watch her as she looked. The screen suddenly lit up and there he was, her father, still sitting in the chair, but blindfolded now.

‘
Shuyi? Is that you? Are you there
?’

‘Father!’

She tried to grab the phone, but they held it away from her. The old man appeared to be able to hear her. Someone ripped off his blindfold.

‘
Shuyi! I love you
—’

Then something wafted through from the left-hand edge of the screen and the old man jerked back as a spurt of blood shot from his right temple – everything else was drowned out by the volcanic roar of sound coming from Hannah.

Kovic hoped that she would have prepared for this, though looking at the long tight dress he couldn’t see how. She didn’t even have a bag in which to conceal a weapon.

The dress must have been specially made because the thin blade, about twenty centimetres long, appeared to come out of nowhere.
It must have been hidden in a secret pocket sewn into the seam that ran down her thigh. It was very narrow, less than a centimetre, the grip just slightly thicker. He watched with a mixture of dismay and admiration as she wielded it with such speed and precision, it was as if she had trained with it all her life for this moment. She didn’t go for the chest; she went for the face and neck. So quickly did it drive into the team leader’s droopy eye and out again that for a second he looked as if nothing had happened, until it came, a thin jet of blood. But already she had slashed it across the neck of the next man, down the face of the face of the third, and finally into the open mouth of the fourth. And all the time the sound, chilling and inhuman, came from her.

The fourth man was still clutching his weapon but Kovic’s foot smashed into his balls and the gun fell from his grip as he doubled up in pain. A shot zinged over them from a fifth man in the vehicle but Kovic grabbed the fallen gun and took him out with a burst of fire.

The dress, the blade, the rage, all in the enclosed space – it was as if Hannah had morphed into some mythical beast. Now almost methodically, but suffused with anger, she revisited each one with the blade to ensure that none had any chance of survival. He hung back. This was her show, her grief. He knew all about that and what this would mean to her. He remembered Louise, what there was left of her and his own grim satisfaction at watching Tsu’s body twirling helplessly as it plummeted from the mountaintop.

When she was done, she stood there and looked at him, blood dripping from the blade that was still in her hand, her fish-scale dress spattered and sprayed like a Jackson Pollock painting.

‘Okay,’ she said in a quiet voice. ‘What now?’