The Gaze of Caprice (The Caprice Trilogy Book 1) (47 page)

The
FAMAS
rifles were second generation and more expensive than first generation.  They referred to the rifles as
laptops
.  Filip asked what generation were the
laptops
and Xiaoyu raised two fingers; raising two fingers also raised the price.  Filip didn’t make much noise over the price because Xiaoyu was very forthcoming.  He told Filip that the
laptops
were all used but refurbished.  Even though all had been used before, none of them had been in
work place
environments, only training. 
Work place
meant combat zones.  The fact that the rifles were coming from
schools
meant the buyer was willing to pay more for them.  How much, Filip couldn’t say.  Filip wasn’t the buyer.  The buyer Xiaoyu would meet later.  Filip changed the conversation away from business once again.  He asked Xiaoyu about his background—like business topics—Xiaoyu stuck to the script. 
French
military
. 
His father
. 
Back injury
. 
Decommission
.  He answered with hesitations like referencing still memories, unlike remembered data.  Talking about his father seemed to pain him like talking about the parachute accident that caused his decommission. 

The file on Alain Metayer came to life as did Xiaoyu.  His senses were dulled by his own story.  Talking about the Triads wouldn’t have made sense to him.  It was past tense.  Telling the story of Alain Metayer was more interesting.  No agent, green or gray, would have told the story better.  Georgia herself might have believed Xiaoyu was a half-Vietnamese Frenchman if the story wasn’t her creation to begin with.  The tale itself was so unstoried, Filip believed most of it.  Under different circumstances he would have believed all of it. 

Filip and Xiaoyu shared one last cigarette and Prosecco before toasting to Filip’s hospitality.  Xiaoyu shook his host’s hand and strayed back in the direction of his hotel.  Xiaoyu had been purposefully taciturn, forcing Filip to draw the answers out of him.  He was precise with details but not wordy.  He drew the conversation out to fill and kill time.  As he walked back to his hotel room he remembered the last customers sitting out on the terrace, Filip, himself and a man and woman sitting within earshot of the table.  With Xiaoyu dragging out the conversation, he still couldn’t out last the couple at the adjacent table.  They were there to stay.  If the man and woman had a mutual interest, they would have left the café much earlier.  Although not ex-military like his counterpart—Alain Metayer—Xiaoyu had been under orders before.  He knew the expressions.  Xiaoyu kept Filip at the table because he wanted to.  The man and woman stayed because they were ordered to.  Xiaoyu’s steps were slow and sure.  He walked comfortably and without hesitation.  There was no need for looking over his shoulder, not yet. 

• • •

The key turned like a tight screw.  Closing the door behind him Xiaoyu stood in darkness.  He told himself he was more comfortable in the darkness than anyone else would be.  If Filip knew he was lying, he would have ended their business relationship the same night.  Xiaoyu’s mind had always worked better in darkness.  The darkness was more expansive so his mind could be also.  He thought about Mason, the Chessmaster.  In the darkness, the picture of Chessmaster was made clearer.  His mind was a machine.  He wasn’t arrogant or egotistical like Xiaoyu’s first impression.  He was a person of pure calculation.  He enlisted Georgia’s help because she had more experience and the relationship between the two was close.  Xiaoyu knew it was closer than he could guess.  But Mason wasn’t trying to prove anything to Georgia.  She was a counter-intelligence maestro and he liked the music.  He didn’t try to display his talent by operating alone in the cold.  He pulled Georgia in to pick her brain and increase the operation’s success.  With no ego, it was a no-brainer. 

Xiaoyu saw the wisdom in his own recruitment.  Xiaoyu was a Triad.  He was raised in a black business.  The business itself was the scandal so it couldn’t tolerate excess, no room for error.  It was the reason Deni Tam killed Xiaoyu’s uncle, to decrease a margin of error.  Black market businesses operated more efficiently than their open market counterparts.  The CIA didn’t implant Xiaoyu with such knowledge, the Triads had.  Xiaoyu knew if Filip were suspicious he would cancel the deal in real terms.  The Triads would have done the same.  Filip would put himself at risk introducing a spy to the actual buyer.  If Filip himself were a double agent the risk would be times two.  The Triads operated in exactly the same way.  If Filip remained unconvinced by Xiaoyu’s performance, Filip would order room service for Xiaoyu.  Xiaoyu had walked casually back to the hotel because he knew he was safe on the street.  Filip would have someone waiting at the hotel for Xiaoyu.  If Filip felt Xiaoyu wasn’t right, he would give the order after Xiaoyu left the café table.  It was the reason Filip brought secret company to the café, to ask their opinion.  It was an important decision.  Xiaoyu’s life and a bit of business were at stake.  If Filip was satisfied, he would whistle for his dog to go home.  A dog Xiaoyu was sure he passed on his way back to the hotel.  The Triads played the same game of fetch.  The only difference—being a larger organization—the Triads would have sent two dogs.

• • •

Standing in the darkness of his hotel room, Xiaoyu felt the emptiness.  He took one step further into the room without feeling for the light switch.  The light wasn’t welcomed yet.  He closed his eyes and listened for any sound the room would make.  He waited almost two minutes before he knelt down and crept to the wall.  From a squatting position he flicked the light switch.  The light started big, flying high in the air before it settled.  The light confirmed what he already knew, there was no one else in the room.  He went to sit on the queen bed and take his shoes off.  Reaching for his duffle he began to remove his blazer and starched white shirt.  Fishing through the duffle he grabbed a spray can with silver top.  He sprayed his arms and neck.  His neck bubbled along with his arms like his skin was breaking out.  The feeling was like applying menthol camphor to the skin, a touch of cold and hot.  The sound of milk over cereal came too.  Once it stopped, Xiaoyu began to rub off the paint on his skin.  He turned the lamp on and the light off and laid his head down on the pillow.  He closed his eyes but didn’t sleep.  He only needed his ears to hear the phone ring.  It wasn’t loud.  He answered before the first ring rang out.

“Metayer,” said Xiaoyu.

“Hello, this is Filip,” said Filip.

“Anything new?” asked Xiaoyu.

“The buyer would like to meet with you,” said Filip.

“When?” asked Xiaoyu.

“Tomorrow, eleven o’clock” said Filip.

“Where?” asked Xiaoyu.

“His office,” said Filip.

“Let me get a pen,” said Xiaoyu.  Xiaoyu wrote the address on the front of his hand and read it back for confirmation.

“Ciao,” said Filip.  Xiaoyu hung up the phone.  He looked at the wall for several minutes.  Reaching for his duffle he pulled out a new model black cell phone.  In the same pocket was a small titanium case.  Xiaoyu opened the case and stared at a charcoal-colored antenna four centimeters long.  The antenna plugged into the side of the cell phone.  Turning the cell phone on, Xiaoyu dialed a non-standard sequence and hit call.  The word
Linking
appeared asking for Xiaoyu’s patience. 
Linking
was followed by
Link Active
and Xiaoyu hit the call button to continue. 
Access ID
was the next prompt.  Xiaoyu said his codename for the first time—Rainman.  He spoke his codename as if bored.  He gave a much more convincing performance with his cover name, Alain Metayer.  A moment of static was interrupted by Mason’s voice.

“What have you got for me, Ray?” said Mason.

“Why Ray?” asked Xiaoyu.

“Short for Reagan,” said Mason, “One syllable is easier to work with.”

“Ok,” said Xiaoyu, “I have an address for you and I’ve got an appointment with the buyer.”  Xiaoyu read the address to Mason for cross-reference.

“That’s the office for S
ejad Mehmedovic Construction
,” said Mason, “That was in your file.”

“I know,” said Xiaoyu.

“Why tell me?” asked Mason.

“You told me to keep you informed if I move,” said Xiaoyu, “I’m going there to meet the buyer at eleven.” 

“Then they bought your cover,” said Mason.

“Or they want to get me some where private,” said Xiaoyu.

“Or that,” said Mason, “Remember I told you that your brain has been optimized to do a lot of work?”

“I remember,” said Xiaoyu.

“You can memorize all kinds of details,” said Mason, “I want you to study the buyer’s face and anyone else in the office.  Call me tomorrow and read back the details.  Wrinkles, scars, eye color, anything.  We can do a composite and run that to see if we know who he is.”

“Ok,” said Xiaoyu.

“Is there anything else?” asked Mason.

“Is Filip Grebo his real name?” asked Xiaoyu.

“Yes,” said Mason, “As far as we know.  What did you think of him?”

“Nothing,” said Xiaoyu, “He was making a first impression.  What is there to think?” 

“What impression did you get?” asked Mason.

“He was distracted,” said Xiaoyu.

“By what?” asked Mason.

“Me,” said Xiaoyu.

“How’s that?” asked Mason.

“Have you been here before?” asked Xiaoyu.

“No, I haven’t,” said Mason.

“I’m underrepresented,” said Xiaoyu.

“That’s why I picked you,” said Mason.

“For here?” asked Xiaoyu.

“For
Caprice
,” said Mason, “You’re a no-guess.  You’re half-black, half-Chinese.  There are no spies like you.  They don’t have the capacity to second guess you.”

“Let’s hope they don’t develop the capacity,” said Xiaoyu.

“By that time you’ll be gone,” said Mason.

“He brought two with him, a man and a woman,” said Xiaoyu.

“Probably his brother and cousin,” said Mason, “Blood’s thicker than water.  Did you recognize them from the file?”

“No,” said Xiaoyu, “They were groomed differently and I didn’t focus on them.  It would have been a giveaway.  Georgia said I’m here for the money.  That’s what we talked about.”

“That’s good,” said Mason, “The train with the goods will be there day after tomorrow.  All details you should remember.”

“I do,” said Xiaoyu.

“Good,” said Mason, “Call tomorrow. Let me know.”

Mason hung up his phone but the link was active until Xiaoyu hit the red button on his phone.  Xiaoyu disattached the antenna from the phone and put it back in the titanium case.  Xiaoyu took a shower to wash off the flakes of skin paint.  With his bath towel on and his tattoo in full display, he rolled over on the bed and stared at the ceiling.  He turned the lamp off but continued to stare up at the ceiling until he taught himself to sleep in Sarajevo.

He woke up early the next morning.  His towel had slipped off in the night.  Waking up naked, gave him ample opportunity to spray his tattooed skin with the polymer paint.  He didn’t bring much clothing making it easy to decide on dress—white shirt, black jacket and jeans.  Not wanting to meet the buyer on an empty stomach, he went to the neat eight-table breakfast area and served himself.  Breakfast was mainly bread, light and dark.  There was butter and two types of jam.  A pot of black coffee and hot water were available.  The tea selection was limited.  Xiaoyu filled himself with bread and butter.  He drank tea, no sugar.  The hands on the clock in the dining area pointed to twenty-seven minutes passed nine o’clock.  He didn’t know exactly where he was going and he wanted to wait on the buyer, instead of the buyer waiting on him.  He went back to his room and collected his wallet and passport before returning to the front desk.  He asked the receptionist to call a taxi for him.  Seven minutes later a gray taxi pulled in front of the hotel.  The drive was twelve minutes door-to-door. 

Sejad Mehmedovic AEC
was situated on the eighth floor of a newly built twelve-story building in the Novo Sarajevo section of the city.  The building still had the smell of its materials with a 40% occupancy rate.  Xiaoyu entered the lobby noticing the same setup as in Hong Kong.  Unlike the buildings in Hong Kong, the new structure lacked character.  Xiaoyu told the front desk secretary he had an appointment and she called to verify before sending him on his way.  The elevator matched the youth of the rest of the building, it was young and hyper.  It ran up eight floors faster than most Hong Kong elevators.  The eighth floor was dominated by two large office suites. 
Sejad Mehmedovic AEC
was in the north office suite.  The south side suite sat empty.  One of the double glass doors to the north side suite was open with a tall thin man waiting in a dark suit.

“Mr. Metayer,” said the man.  Xiaoyu nodded.

“Please, this way,” said the man.  Xiaoyu walked through the door to see a waiting lounge of generous size.  Two tan leather couches stared at each other from opposite sides of a mahogany coffee table.  Architectural magazines were stacked neatly on the table.  The walls were a yellow color found in a timber yard.  The walls were adorned with pictures of man-made structures.  Prints of the Latin Bridge and Sarajevo landmarks were prominent, as well as photographs of new developments at different stages.  The man in the dark suit offered Xiaoyu the stale choice of coffee or tea.  By ten minutes to eleven, Xiaoyu had finished his tea.  A middle-aged, middle-height man came around a corner into the waiting room.