Rising Tiger (6 page)

This was different, of course. The documents had nothing to do with the extermination of an entire people. But it could be even worse than that—the hegemony of one country over the entire world. Sure, Hitler had that goal. But eventually even he must have known than the Germanic people would never be numerous enough to control the entire planet. His pact with Japan would have lasted only as long as that country could kill enough Americans to make them a target for Germany. Then the Germans would have killed the Japanese as well.

As Kurt shifted his analysis from the German documents to those Jake had gotten in Taiwan, he almost immediately found a pattern. Well, not immediately. He had spent hours, gone through pots of coffee and then nearly a half bottle of his best Scotch, sitting on the floor of his home office with papers spread about like a child unwrapping Christmas presents, until he formed a viable conclusion.

His Mandarin Chinese was a little rusty, but he had found payments sent not only to Bill Remington’s account, which Jake had already tracked down, but dozens of other accounts. These would take time to discern, he knew. Checking on some of the routing numbers, Kurt understood that a number of them were in Europe. Not the typical Swiss accounts, since the U.S. government had forced them to divulge information on clients after 9-11. No, these were from Luxemburg, Lichtenstein and Andorra—some of the only secret tax haven states left in Europe. And even those would be gone soon.

Kurt picked up his glass of Scotch and swirled the amber contents around before taking a long drink and enjoying the taste on his tongue as the liquid warmed him from his throat to his stomach.

He reached over and grabbed his phone, but he hesitated for a moment. Who should know about what he had found? Did he trust his own former organization? It wasn’t really something they would have investigated. That was the job of the FBI. He had contacts there. But maybe it would be better if he gathered more information first.

With Toni Contardo gone, he could only trust Jake Adams, who had countless contacts in Europe. And the man was incorruptible. He would always do the right thing regardless of where the facts led him.

Kurt finished the last of his Scotch, got up from the floor, and took a seat behind his cherry desk. Before he made the call, he filled his highball glass half way again and took a small sip. Then he punched in Jake’s number and waited.

●

Jake’s phone buzzed and he checked to see who was calling. He thought it might have been Alexandra, but then realized she would probably still be en route.

Since he was already sitting in an isolated area of the airport, Jake took the call and said, “Kurt. What’s up. I take it you got the files I sent you.”

“Unfortunately. Where are you?”

“Hong Kong airport.”

“You were able to get out of Taiwan. Good. How’d you manage that? Never mind.” Kurt explained what he had found with the German files and what little he knew about the Chinese files from Taiwan.

“This shouldn’t be such a huge surprise,” Jake said. “The defense companies have been sucking off the teat of government since our founding. They rely on conflict.”

“I understand that, Jake, but this could be more insidious. I’ve been analyzing this data for hours—”

“Are you drinking Scotch?” Jake asked his old friend.

“What do you think?”

“I think you retired too soon. That’s what I think. You’re only like sixty-five, right?”

“You asshole. I’m fifty-five.”

Jake laughed. “I asked you to go with me to Costa Rica bone fishing. You should have taken me up on the offer.”

“Is that even a real fish?” Kurt asked.

“I assure you it is. They call them bone fish because you get a boner when you catch one.”

“Seriously?”

“I just made that up,” Jake said. “So, what did you find out about the Taiwanese banking files?”

Kurt hesitated and Jake guessed his friend was drinking more Scotch. Finally Kurt said, “I found the money transfer you had found for Bill Remington, but that was just the tip of the iceberg.” He went on to explain all the other transfers to various accounts around the world, and especially to those tax haven states.

Jake gave a little whistle. “Wow. Do you still have access to the Agency computers?”

“Not really.”

“Would you like access?” Jake asked with a slight chuckle.

“How do you. . .never mind. That might send up a flag somewhere. It’s better that we know before those who have taken money know we know.”

“Good point. So we need to do this off books.”

“What’s this
we
shit?”

“Come on, Kurt. You know you’re bored stiff. I’m sure you don’t mind a little investigation. You still remember how to do that, right?”

“Bite me.”

Jake glanced around the airport terminal, and a Chinese man had just sat down a little too close to him. “Gotta go.”

“Wait. Is there anything I can do to help you?”

He thought for a moment and then said softly, “Yeah. Two untraceable Austrian nines with plenty of extra punch. Preferably from someone at my next location who hated our old friend.”

“I’ll work on that,” Kurt said.

Then Jake turned off his phone and stuck it into his pocket. He checked his watch and saw that his flight to Singapore would be boarding in a few minutes. He also thought about how long Kurt had been analyzing the files Jake had sent his old friend. Wow, the man had to really be bored to find out what he did in such a short period of time.

Jake got on a plane from Hong Kong to Singapore using his Austrian passport. Once he got to Singapore he would use his Canadian passport to check into his hotel.

●

The Asian man pulled out his phone after the man left his chair and headed down the concourse.

Shangwei answered on the first ring. “Did you find our man?”

“Yes, sir. I believe so. There are not a lot of single western men with his description who recently flew in on a chartered business plane from Taiwan.”

“How many could there be?”

“Just one. But this man has short hair.”

“Hang on. I just sent you a text with a photo from the security camera at the business terminal in Taipei.”

He turned his phone and waited for the text to come in. Although the photo wasn’t exactly clear, it was better than the useless photo from the Shilin Night Market taken by that concerned citizen. Without a doubt it was the man he had just sat next to.

“That’s him, sir.”

“Great. Keep your distance. He’s extremely dangerous.”

“I understand.”

“Do you know where he’s going?”

“Yes, sir. He’s getting ready to board a plane to Singapore. Should I follow him?”

“No. I’ve got that covered. Thanks.”

The Asian man shrugged and stuck his phone back in his pocket. A hundred U.S. dollars for that? He wished he worked for Shangwei every day. He got up and wandered back down the concourse, dropping his unused one-way ticket to Guangzhou, China in the garbage can, a small price to pay for access to the secure area.

Singapore

The island city-state of the Republic of Singapore sat at the southern end of the Malay Peninsula. Its position so close to the Equator gave it a constant temperature near ninety degrees, a sweltering heat that made it impossible to keep a shirt dry. Jake had been to Singapore a number of times, mostly just passing through on his way to another mission, and he found that the only change in the city was with the skyline. In fact, to Jake the place could have been anywhere in the world. It was just another big city with a diverse population of Chinese, Malaysians, Indians and European and American ex-pats. He knew that Singapore was one of the most important centers of business in the world. Most international companies had a Singapore office.

Jake had gotten off his flight from Hong Kong and took a taxi to the Marina Bay Sands Hotel and Casino. This hotel was one of the most unique places Jake had ever seen—three fifty-five story buildings topped off by what looked like a cross between an airplane fuselage and a snake.

As the taxi pulled up to this monstrous structure, the sun had already set and the building was lit up like a Vegas strip hotel. On the drive Jake had switched passports from Austrian to Canadian again. He got out and slung his backpack over one shoulder, confounding the bell captain at the door, who relied on tips for much of their income. Jake tipped the guys to go away and let him carry his own damn bag.

The front desk had a line of some of the most beautiful women Jake had ever seen, all eager with smiles to check him in.

“Before you assign me a room,” Jake said. “Please check to see if my wife has already checked in.”

The pretty young woman asked, “What is her name, sir?”

He thought for a second, hoping she had taken his advice. “Alexandra Kline.” He spelled the last name for her.

She typed away at her keyboard and said, “Yes, sir. Room fifty-five twenty-five.”

“The top floor?”

“Yes, sir. It’s a suite. Very nice.”

“Wonderful.” He got the key card, instructions for breakfast, and a password for the internet, before taking off for the bank of elevators.

“Sir, would you like help with your bag?”

Jake turned and smiled. “No, thanks. I’ve got this.”

He rose up the elevator and thought about the case so far. Although he was no closer to finding Bill Remington than the day he left Costa Rica, he was beginning to understand the complexity of the case. The Chinese were obviously making bold moves to increase their power and influence in the world. And the best way to do that was to knock down the current leaders.

Jake got to his room and hesitated at the door. He wasn’t sure if Alexandra would be sleeping. When the door suddenly opened, Jake couldn’t help checking her over from top to bottom. Her hair was a bit more full than he had ever seen it. Her red, white and blue T-shirt from the Montreal Canadians hung down to her bare legs. It appeared to be the only thing she wore.

She let him in and locked the door behind her.

Jake set down his backpack and turned to her. She immediately embraced him in a tight bear hug, her right hand moving up to his hair and feeling the stubble.

“What did you do?” she asked.

He pulled away and looked at her expressive eyes. “I had to cut it in Taipei. Someone took a picture of me with the banker just before he was killed. It was a lot easier doing this without everyone with cell phone cameras.”

Alexandra went over and sat on the bed, her shirt riding up higher on her bare legs. “I agree. I’m beginning to hate the damn things.”

“So. . .the Habs?”

She was confused.

“The Habs,” he repeated. “The Montreal Canadians hockey team. You’re wearing their jersey.”

“This?” She pulled it out from her body at both breasts, making the shirt even shorter. “What’s a Hab?”

“Nobody knows.”

“It’s French,” Alexandra said. “Short for the word Habitant, or an Inhabitant of Montreal.”

Jake let out a sigh.

“I picked up the shirt at the Montreal airport on my way here. I had to ask the clerk what the H stood for.”

He wasn’t sure about their current relationship. Part of him wanted to rip that shirt off her and discover anew her wonderful body. But on the phone they had agreed to be partners. Did that mean strictly business? Or something more? Perhaps a regression to their former status as lovers.

“Are you all right, Jake?”

He scratched the short hair on his head. “Yeah. Just a little tired.”

She got up from the bed and lifted the shirt over her head, exposing her firm naked body, her large breasts pointing right at him, the nipples hard from the air conditioned room or excitement. “I hope you aren’t too tired.”

Without answering, he stripped down and the two of them went at it like high school kids expecting their parents at any time. When they both finished, the two of them lay in bed, their naked bodies pressed together as one, Alexandra behind him, her fingers curling through his chest hair.

“Thank you,” she whispered into his ear.

“You don’t have to thank me for that,” he said.

She slapped his chest. “Not for that, although that was wonderful. I meant for taking me on as your partner. I really need this, Jake.”

He turned his head and kissed her cheek. “I’m happy you’re with me.”

“What have you found out so far?”

Jake turned his body to her and said, “I downloaded your files to my laptop. You were right about Kreuzwelt Industries.” He explained how he had sent a copy of the files to his old boss, Kurt Jenkins, who had done a quick analysis. “They were stupid to keep all of their skeletons on that computer. It makes sense that they wanted to keep you out.”

Alexandra put her hand to her mouth and a tear came from the edge of her right eye.

“What’s the matter?” he asked her.

“I was attacked at my apartment just before I left. I was forced to kill three men.”

He checked over her body and found the bruise on her left arm. “Are you all right? What’s this?”

“I quickly put in an IV and sprayed my blood all over my apartment.”

“Jesus. Your Service will think you’re dead. Or at least kidnapped. Who were they?”

“I don’t know for sure. They all wore masks, but they were Asian. Probably Chinese.”

“How did they find you?”

“That’s my problem, Jake. I shed no tears for those I was forced to kill. I’m concerned about how they tracked me down. I was very careful. I was set up with a car, an apartment, an entire identity. And I made damn sure nobody followed me to my real apartment after I got the information.”

Jake sat up and then put on his underwear. He turned to Alexandra and said, “You’ve got a problem at BND. Someone sent those killers your way. How many people knew you were undercover at Kreuzwelt Industries?”

Alexandra stood up and thought about that, with Jake having a hard time not ravishing her again. God she had a beautiful body, he thought.

“It’s a short list,” she said. “My boss there. Perhaps a couple more people. I set up my own apartment and car, buying it with cash from a dealer. Of course our techs who make our credentials would know my name and address, but nothing more. They wouldn’t give out my real address.” As she talked, she quickly put on her undergarments and then sat back on the bed while she pulled on her pants. “Where are we going? It’s almost ten.”