The China Dogs (18 page)

Across the room his phone buzzes with a text.

Zoe?

He walks across and picks it up.

HOPE U HAD A GD DAY.

HAVE INTRSTNG DOG STUFF 4U.

WILL MAIL 2MORROW.

Z

He's pleased to get the message. It means she forgives him for spooking her with the offer of a key. The look in her eyes had surprised him. Made him think she'd run for the hills. Maybe he should have behaved like he normally does.

Guarded. Closed. Impassive.

Only she doesn't make him feel like that. She makes him feel like he's known her for years.

THANKS

He sends the one word reply and then regrets it.

It wasn't enough.

He'd meant it to be cool. Grateful but not overeager. Warm but not pressing. He'd stopped himself from adding a kiss because that would have looked desperate. He'd pulled short of suggesting dinner tomorrow or later in the week because he thought she'd feel pressured. But now he stares down at the phone and
THANKS
looks more ridiculous than any or all of those other things.

Ghost tidies the remains of his dinner and drags himself off to bed.

Almost inevitably, he lies in the dark with his eyes open and his head banging.

When he shutters his lids, the faces of Kathy Morgan, Alfie Steiner, and Matt Wood await him. Lost souls stand in the dark tunnels that separate him and sleep.

And he knows that tomorrow there will be new, bloodless faces for him to meet, new horrors to absorb, new puzzles to try to make sense of.

And he realizes one other thing. Life's too short to make stupid mistakes.

He picks up the phone and sends another text.

WOULD LOVE TO SEE YOU AGAIN WHEN YOU'RE READY. X

 

PART THREE

And Caesar's spirit, raging for revenge,

With Ate by his side come hot from hell,

Shall in these confines with a monarch's voice

Cry “Havoc!” and let slip the dogs of war,

That this foul deed shall smell above the earth

With carrion men, groaning for burial.

W
ILLIAM
S
HAKESPEARE
,
Julius Caesar
, Act 3, Scene 1

 

61

Beijing

T
he two glamorous young women giggling in the ascending lift inside the Raffles Hotel regard themselves
baopo—
high-class hookers—who only sleep with VIPs and ultrarich businessmen.

Their “owner” tells them they have the natural beauty to one day reach the top of their profession and become
baoernai,
“second wives,” to rich and powerful politicians, executives, and local government officials.

It's heading toward midnight as they are ushered into the seventh floor Presidential Suite of the hotel. They have no idea who their middle-aged client is. The teenagers know only what they've been told. He's important. Someone high up inside the party. Someone it's in their interests to pleasure to the
best
of their ­abilities.

And that they mustn't speak.

On no account must they utter a word, unless they're told to.

Their “owner,” a former army colonel named Huan Lee, tries not to catch the eye of the man he's leaving them with. He bows respectively as he shuts the door, then waits outside in the plush Presidential Lobby.

General Zhang is in civilian clothes, not military attire.

He takes off the jacket to his plain brown suit and drops it on a chaise longue. He paces as he looks the girls over and imagines what he's going to do to them.

They are exactly as he ordered.

Young, plump specimens; generous in waists and breasts, shiny black hair in beaded pigtails, both dressed in crisp green schoolgirl uniforms.

They are perfect for venting his anger. For cooling the terrible rage that broils inside him.

He is a soldier. Like the dogs he is turning on the Americans, his instincts are those of an aggressor, a fighter, a conqueror.

He has a
need
to hurt.

“You!” He points to the more round-faced one. “Sit there.”

The girl pads across the plush cream carpet to a dressing table chair.

As she sits, Zhang uses precut lengths of rope to bind her wrists and ankles to the wooden frame.

Hungry-eyed, he turns to the other girl. The one without any sign of fear.

He grabs her one-handed by the throat and slaps her face.

The shock in her eyes excites him.

Enough for him to hit her again.

Only when she cries does Zhang feel excited enough to want her. Aroused enough to squeeze her neck some more and haul her to the giant four-poster.

He keeps his grip while he sexually brutalizes her. His eyes never leave the girl on the chair. Watching her watching him raises his arousal. He is already intoxicated with the thought of what he's going to do to her.

62

Greenwich Village, New York

D
anny's careful not to wake her.

He slips out of bed and gently folds the quilt back around the naked, sleeping body of the woman he's just asked to marry him.

His future wife.

Just the thought of it makes him feel different. More grown up. Almost complete.

Mrs. Jenny Speed.

He creaks his way across the apartment. First, to use the tiny bathroom, then to find postcelebratory Advil in the kitchen before settling behind his computers.

Then he does what most people do online. He scans the dailies. Checks his mail. Flicks through Facebook and wakes up.

After that he does what the
normal
people
don't
do.

He hacks.

Time to earn the retainer Libowicz is paying him. He works from the list he's been furnished with and launches invasive programming right into the central nervous system of some of the biggest firms in Brazil, India, China, and Russia. An hour from now he'll have access to all the mail accounts of their top executives. That's a good place to start. Execs file everything. And everything they don't want people to see, they very helpfully dump in recycle bins, delete file caches, or personal folders. All of which he can open quicker than they can say “Flash drive.”

As his Macs work their magic he returns to the kitchen, this time for coffee.

A phone rings.

For a split second he hopes it's his sister, calling to apologize, to say what an ass she's been and how she's really happy for him.

But it's not Zoe's ring tone.

It's a buzz.

And not any old buzz.

It's the buzz of the new burner. The cheap cell phone he bought yesterday before he met Jenny. The one he'll throw away tonight right after he gets himself a new one.

It's in the bedroom.

With Jenny.

There's no question of being quiet now. He knows he has to get it. Quick. Before she does.

He walks straight into the room and sees the lit-up display glowing inside his jeans pocket. Thank God he didn't leave it by the bed.

Jenny stirs but doesn't wake.

He grabs it and looks at the message.

His heart thumps and his spirits drop. This is a tough one. A get caught, get badly burned one.

He dresses quicker than he's ever done and logs the Macs off. Libowicz's work can wait.

He has more important matters to attend to.

63

Beijing

T
he first girl is still crying when Zhang throws her out of the hotel room.

He is not worried.

Her owner is waiting outside. An ex-army man who has been paid well for his troubles and will make sure she keeps her mouth shut. Even if he has to permanently close it.

And now the other one.

The one who started bravely defiant and then screamed so loudly that he had to gag her with a belt from a hotel robe.

The general tilts the dressing table chair she's tied to and drags it across the vast bedroom to the bed. For a moment he puzzles about how to abuse and hurt her while she's still thrashing around on the chair.

To his astonishment his mobile phone rings. He gave the strictest of instructions not to be disturbed.

There can only be one reason for it.

And it isn't good.

He snatches if off the bedside table. “Yes.”

“General, it is Xue. I am in the Operations Room and have just received word from the presidential building—Xian is on his way over here. He has decided to make an impromptu visit.”

Zhang slams the phone down in fury. Xian means to catch him out. Visiting the Nian Command Center without informing him, intending to discuss it without him present—all this amounts to the ultimate military insult.

One he is not prepared to tolerate.

64

New York

JACKPOT

That was the one word message on Danny's phone. But it was enough to turn his life upside down.

He deletes it.

Powers off the device.

Removes the SIM and dumps it.

He slips a leg over the wild black Kawasaki waiting outside his brownstone and rips up the peace of the early morning all the way down to Wall Street. He drops the phone in a trash can full of flies and plastic at the McDonald's near the bottom of Broadway, turns into the garage of his building and makes his way upstairs.

The air-con inside the loft isn't working, but it doesn't matter. Danny's too wired to notice, let alone care.

The young hacker logs on to his terminal and enters the complicated series of alphanumerical codes he set up to protect his machine and hide its identity.

Finally, he gets to the program that he left running.

Jackpot was the key word for what he's been pursuing.

Danny feels tingles and shivers all over his body, an exhilarating biochemical cocktail of astonishment, excitement, and fear over what he's about to get himself into.

This is a biggie.

A noise spooks him.

A door banging in the corridor.

He races to the spyglass on his entrance door. Sees a fat guy in a blue Adidas tracksuit trying to do stretches before going downstairs for a run. Any other day he'd have been happy with that, would have gone back to his desk without a care in the world.

Not today.

Not jackpot day.

He squints through the peephole until the jogger has lumbered out of view, then he chains the door and opens it a fraction. Enough to hear the lift
bing
and the car open up.

Danny stays motionless. Listens until he hears the doors close. He rushes back inside and locks his front door. Bolts it top and bottom. Heavy dead locks slam solidly across its middle.

He dashes to his window and stares into the street below. The loft was chosen specifically so he can see everything out on the sidewalk.

He waits patiently.

The fat guy in blue waddles out of the front of the building, arms already pumping, big ass swinging as he crosses the road and heads to the patch of park on Rector.

Danny relaxes and returns to his seat.

Now for the hard part.

Cracking the code that Jackpot has thrown up.

65

Beijing

G
eneral Zhang slams yet another door.

He storms his way down the spiraling metal stairs toward the command bunker where Project Nian is being run.

His face is contorted with anger when he enters the room.

President Xian is standing in conversation with Geng Chunlin, the Minister of State Security, and Lieutenant General Xue.

It amuses Xian to see how hot and flustered Zhang is. The horrible man must have been forced to abandon one of his dark pleasures in order to get here so quickly. “General,” he shouts across the room with a smile on his face, “I have decided Minister Chunlin should from now on be based here full-time. I want him to become an ‘independent' observer, on behalf of the party. He will report directly to me and not to Xue.”

Zhang can feel he's being outmaneuvered. Chunlin must have told Xian something about the failures in developing the mood pacifiers for the attack dogs. Now Xian is isolating him, making him feel exposed and undermined. “President Xian, may I speak privately with you?” He gestures to the corridor and the quiet, empty rooms that lie off it.

Xian nods his consent.

Zhang shoots the minister a look of pure contempt as he leads the way outside and into a room two doors down the corridor. A light comes on automatically as he enters. He waits until the heavy door swings shut behind his leader. “Mr. President, your unexpected appearance here—in the dead of night—makes me look foolish. I would have appreciated—”

Xian cuts him off. “You have fashioned your own foolishness, General.”

The rebuff stings and he finds himself answering with more anger in his voice than he knows prudent. “What has Chunlin said to you? It is clear he came to you and has spoken ill of me. We had a meeting and a differing of opinions. Words were said. Voices raised. I suspect he is now briefing against me because of that and the fact that I appointed Xue as operational leader.”

“You speak so much and say so little.” The president pauses, in order that Zhang can see the disappointment in his face. “You are the opposite of Minister Chunlin, a comrade who said nothing ill of your meeting, only that he was concerned about the running of Nian and felt he should be more involved. Those words were enough for me. Geng Chunlin is a man of honor and one I have trusted for many years. It was his sign to me that he had my interests and those of our party at heart. Now what of you, General? Can I trust you to respect my decision and behave as honorably to me?”

Zhang is wise enough to know that in every defeat there is an opportunity to be seized. A victor always wants to show mercy. He seizes his chance and bows his head apologetically. “You are my president and also the Chairman of the Central Military Commissions. If I have offended you, or in any way shown disrespect to you through my behavior, then I most humbly apologize. If you no longer think me worthy of serving you, then I ask you to call a meeting of the CMC and have them remove me.”

“You know that is not necessary. I seek to strengthen our bonds, not sever them.”

Zhang looks up at Xian like a repentant son. “Then I promise to work honorably with Chunlin, but I need your trust to do so. The time has come for Nian to be run as a military operation, not as a political threat. Let Chunlin and me punish the Americans for their defiance. Grant me the freedom to use all the ferocity we have available to quickly bring Molton to his knees and have him beg to you. If you cannot trust me to do that, then I humbly beg you to present my case to the CMC and relieve me of my duties.”

Xian keeps the anger from his eyes. Putting a dispute before the CMC would result in questions being raised over his own leadership and his ability to carry the support of the military. He has no choice but to loosen the leash on Zhang.

“You have my trust.” He walks toward the door. “But guard it with your life. Because if you betray me, that is exactly the price you will pay.”

66

Beijing

I
t's 2:00
A.M.
when General Zhang returns to the Operations Room. He instructs Chunlin and Xue to follow him into an adjacent office.

Once the door is shut behind them he comes straight to the point. “President Xian and I have had a very pleasing discussion about the running of Project Nian.” His gaze falls like a black cross on Chunlin. “He has informed me of your concerns, Minister, and I am indebted to you for volunteering to be stationed in the Operations Room.” He nods to his trusted deputy. “Lieutenant Xue will keep you informed of all operational activity. You will be told of intended actions and the consequences of those actions.”

Zhang takes a breath and lets it inflate the smile on his balloonlike face.

“I have been informed by President Xian that as of this moment I now have complete military control of Project Nian.” He looks pointedly at Chunlin, “It is me—and me alone—who will decide what dogs are activated, when they are activated, and if—or when—any pacifiers need to be deployed to deactivate them.” He lets the words sink in. “Is that clear, Minister?”