Hunt for Jade Dragon (12 page)

Bank of Geneva

Geneva, Switzerland

T
he flight from Lima to Geneva took a little more than fourteen hours. Wyss had cars waiting for them at the airport and the board was taken to the Metropole Hotel, on the bank of Lake Geneva, while Schema, in a separate car, went directly to the offices of the Bank of Geneva.

“It's good to be back in Switzerland,” Schema said to the driver as they left the hotel.

“It is always good to be in Switzerland,” the driver replied. “Would you like me to wait for you?”

“Yes,” Schema said. “I should only be an hour or so.”

The car pulled up to the curb in front of the bank, and inside, Schema took the elevator to the seventh floor, to Wyss's office. Wyss's secretary, a mature Frenchwoman, greeted him as he entered.

“
Bienvenue
, Monsieur Schema. Mr. Wyss and his associates are expecting you. Please go on back.”

“
Merci
,” Schema said as he walked past her desk. He suddenly turned back. “His associates?”

“Yes,
Monsieur
.”

Schema walked past the reception area to Wyss's office and opened the door. Florian Wyss was sitting at his desk. He looked up when Schema entered. His face was pale and his hand was wrapped in white gauze.

“Florian, what happened to your hand?”

Wyss shook his head. “I am very sorry, Giacomo. I had no choice.”

Schema walked farther into the room. “What are you talking about?”

“He gave me no choice.”

“Who?” Schema said.

“That would be me,” Hatch said. He walked into the office flanked by Torstyn and Tara and four Elgen guards. The guards immediately surrounded Schema. “And I believe Mr. Wyss is referring to the sizable transfers we just made.”

Schema turned white. “Call security,” he said to Wyss.

“Giacomo, what kind of welcome is that?” Hatch said calmly. “After traveling halfway across the world I thought you would at least offer me a drink.”

Schema glared at him, red with rage. He would have lunged at him were it not for the guards surrounding him.

“No?” Hatch said. “Then I'll help myself.” He walked over to the credenza on the far side of the office and poured himself a drink from a crystal decanter. “Ah, the good stuff. No wonder you bank here.” He stepped back toward Schema. “Of course, I would have preferred that you had gone down with the
Ampere
, but, as it turns out, it is fortuitous that you didn't. Otherwise I might have had some trouble locating a few of your accounts.”

Schema looked back at Florian. “What have you done?”

“I had no choice, Giacomo. All the money has been transferred.”

Schema leaned in. “Surely not . . .
everything
.”

Florian grimaced. “Everything.”

“How could they have even known about those accounts?”

Florian glanced over at Tara, who smiled darkly. “They have ways of getting into your head.”

“It's done, Giacomo,” Hatch said. “Everything is gone. Except you, of course. You're still here. Now, I could easily remedy that and shoot you right now, but where would the fun be in that? So I propose a challenge. You are a fugitive from nearly every civilized country and now you have no money to run. Oh, and I put a million-dollar bounty on your head. Let's see just how long you can survive. Florian, call Interpol. Inform them that a known fugitive has entered your bank.”

Wyss blotted his forehead with a handkerchief. “Please, Admiral Hatch . . .”

“Wrong answer,” Hatch said. “Torstyn . . .”

“Yes, sir.”

“Help Mr. Wyss understand how much I dislike being disobeyed. He still has one hand with flesh.”

“Please, no,” Florian said, lifting the phone. “I'll call right now. I'll alert Interpol immediately.” He pushed a button on his phone. “Connect me with security.”

Hatch turned to Schema. “It's pathetic, isn't it, how quickly loyalties turn? You really can't trust anyone these days. Now, if I were you, and thankfully I'm not, I would run. And joining the others isn't in your best interest. I've already sent guards to the Metropole to collect them.” Hatch grinned. “Some of the EGGs and I have a bet on how long you can resist capture.” He flourished a hand. “It's a game of sorts.” He turned to Wyss. “If you please.”

Wyss spoke into the phone. “This is Florian Wyss of Bank of Geneva. I would like to report a known fugitive who has been seen in our bank. Yes. Immediately.” He hung up and looked at Schema. “I am very sorry.”

“You will pay, Hatch,” Schema said.

“Yes, so you've said,” Hatch said. “But I'm still waiting for the bill.” His dark gaze turned to amusement. “Now please hurry. If you're captured today I'll lose the bet. And you of all people should know”—he leaned forward and his voice dropped—“that I hate to lose.”

An alarm sounded. Schema glanced once more at Florian, then turned and ran out of the building.

Hatch laughed. “That went well.”

Wyss used his bandaged hand to blot the sweat from his forehead. “I've done everything you asked. You'll release my wife and daughter now?”

Hatch looked at him quizzically. “Of course not.”

Florian blanched. “But you said that if I cooperated . . .”

“Yes, I did,” Hatch said. “Allow me to explain. There is a fable about a man who comes to a riverbank and is about to cross when he sees a viper. The viper says to the man, ‘I would also like to cross the river. Would you please carry me across?' The man replies, ‘No, you're a viper. You'll bite me and I'll die.' ‘Don't be foolish,' the viper says. ‘If I bite you, we'll both drown.'

“The man, convinced by the snake's reasoning, puts the viper on his back and swims across the river. As he reaches the opposite bank the viper bites the man and slithers off. As the man lies dying he says, ‘I carried you across. You said you wouldn't bite me.' ‘Sorry,' the viper replied. ‘I'm a viper. It's in my nature.' ”

A broad smile crossed Hatch's face and he leaned forward. “Thanks for the lift, Florian, but I can't really help myself. It's in my nature.”

“What will you do with my family?”

“Your wife and daughter will be held as GPs.”

“What are GPs?”

“They'll find out soon enough. Unfortunately, you won't. Now, if you'll excuse me, we're needed in Taiwan.” Hatch said to Torstyn, “We'll be in the car. Finish him.” Hatch walked out of the office followed by Tara and his guards.

Wyss just stared at Torstyn in horror. “Please . . .”

Torstyn reached out his hand. “It won't hurt . . . for long.”

Timepiece Ranch

A
fter my practice session with Gervaso I knocked on my mother's door. She answered, smiling as soon as she saw me. “I was just thinking about you.”

“I need to ask you something,” I said.

“Of course,” she said. “Come in.” As I stepped into the room she said, “This sounds serious.”

“It is.”

She closed the door, then looked at me, her arms folded at her chest. “What is it?”

“Is there something going on between you and that Joel guy?”

“Something?”

“You know.” I hesitated and she tilted her head.
“Romantic.”

She thought for a moment, then said softly, “I don't know.”

“What does that mean?”

“Just what I said. We're close friends. I care about him. I don't know where it's going.”

I suddenly felt defensive. “You care about him? How long have you even known him?”

“I've known him longer than you think,” she said. “You've met him before, you know.”

“I have?”

“When you were four. He helped us move from Pasadena to Idaho.”

“How did you know him?”

“Anna, Joel's sister, worked with your father at the hospital. Shortly after your father died, she disappeared. She had told Joel about the Elgen and told him that if anything happened to her he should help us hide.”

For the first time in my life I realized that all our moving around wasn't just about me. “So you've known about the Elgen since I was born?”

“Of course. It was a company your father was working with. The MEI was something we thought might change the world, not the way Hatch does, but for the better. James Hatch worked with your father. In fact, we had him over for dinner.”

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. “Dr. Hatch was in our
home
?”

My mother nodded. “We called him Jim back then. He came over to the house once for a barbecue.”

I was speechless. It was like hearing my mother was in a book club with Hitler. “You barbecued with Dr. Hatch? The man who kidnapped you and tried to kill me?”

“He wasn't trying to kill anyone back then. In fact, you weren't even born. I was thirty-six weeks pregnant when they placed the MEI in the hospital. I gave birth to you the next week.”

“Then why didn't you recognize him in the parking lot at PizzaMax?”

My mother smiled. “It had been almost fifteen years. He's changed a lot since then.
And
he was wearing sunglasses.”

“This is unbelievable,” I said.

“Believe it or not, Jim Hatch was a pretty normal guy. He brought me flowers in the hospital when you were born.”

I struggled to process this. “What was he like?”

“He was a little insecure, but hardworking and very ambitious, which isn't always a bad thing. I don't know why he turned out the way he did. I think he got caught up in something that took him over. The lust for power can do that.”

“He's insane now,” I said. “And evil.”

“Maybe. But he wasn't back then. It's easy to place people in black-and-white categories of good or bad, but the truth is there's a lot of both in all of us.”

“You're nothing like Hatch,” I said. “Neither am I.”

“You're right. There's one big difference.”

“What's that?”

“Love.”

“He loves himself,” I said.

My mother shook her head. “No. He feeds his hunger, but that's not self-love, just selfishness. Deep down he must hate himself or he could never be so cruel. When people do things contrary to their own moral foundation, they either feel guilty and change or try to break down the foundation of their belief.

“Jim Hatch has tortured and killed people. Unless you're a sociopath, the only way to do things like that and still live with yourself is to convince yourself that the end justifies the means.”

I just sat quietly thinking.

“And, Michael, you don't have to worry about me. I'm not going to do anything foolish.” She stepped closer. “I'm glad you came over. I wanted to talk to you about something too.”

I looked up at her.

“I'm afraid.” She breathed out slowly. “Afraid and conflicted. And I don't know what to tell you to do.” She put her hands on my shoulders. “I'm terrified of you going to Taiwan. I feel like any mother must feel sending a son off to harm's way. If the reasons weren't so important, I'd never let you go.” Her eyes filled with tears. “Part of me
is so proud of you that I'm without words. The other part . . .” She wiped her eyes. “I'm still your mother. I'm supposed to protect you.”

I bowed my head. I didn't know what to say.

“It's not fair that you've been placed in this position. You're so young.”

“Alexander the Great was only sixteen when he ruled the world,” I said. “And Joan of Arc was only seventeen when she led the French army.”

“And she was nineteen when the English burned her at the stake.”

“Maybe not the best example.”

“One of the last things your father said to me before he died was to keep you safe. I haven't done a very good job at that.” She looked me in the eyes. “I wonder if he would be disappointed in me.”