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Udom looked at one of the non-Thais and smiled. “It looks like we’re in business, then, Tagaan.”
Tagaan, who must have been the leader of the other group, nodded and stepped forward holding a plastic tube. He removed a rolled-up canvas from it and unfurled it on the desk.
“Tell us how much this is worth,” he demanded.
Beth couldn’t keep her jaw from dropping at the sight of it. Tagaan had casually spread out a ten-by-thirteen-inch masterpiece called Chez Tortoni by the impressionist Édouard Manet.
“Yes, tell us,” Udom said, and, with a nod to his men, they all drew pistols and aimed them at the visitors. “You said you had a test to verify it’s real. Prove to me that we aren’t being cheated with a counterfeit.”
Beth looked to Raven, who seemed as calm as ever, but it was clear the mental gears were working furiously behind her eyes. She gave Beth a reassuring glance, which helped ease her back from the edge of panic to mere terror.
As Beth walked over to the Manet, she understood how much was riding on her appraisal. If the small painting lying on the drug dealer’s desk was a genuine Manet, it was valued at twenty million dollars. If it wasn’t, they were all dead.
12
VIETNAM
While Linc, MacD, and Eric kept their guns trained on the entrance from the dining car, Juan had his eyes on the Oregon.
“Where’s that drone, guys? We’re approaching the last tunnel before the river.”
“We see you, Chairman,” Hali said. “The NSA analysts finally got the data from the flash drive downloaded. Murph just launched it from the deck.”
“Eddie, what can you tell me?”
Eddie’s low whisper responded, “They bought my idea. We’re in place.”
Juan could see the drone flying in only because he was looking for it. Instead of heading for one of the windows, Gomez brought it in directly behind the train so that it wouldn’t be seen by the Chinese, who were no longer distracted by an ongoing firefight.
The drone flew in the open door and neatly settled on the seat nearest Juan. He opened it and removed the flash drive. The drone whirred to life again and disappeared the way it had come just as the train went into the tunnel.
Juan gathered with his team and got confirmation everything was ready. This would be the most dangerous part of the mission. If they didn’t play their parts exactly right, they wouldn’t live to see another day.
Juan opened the door to the dining car and peered in over the sight on his P90 submachine gun.
The MSS agents were gone. Only the dead bodies of the triad soldiers remained, some on the floor, others draped over the seats.
Juan crept in a few feet, scanning for agents who might be concealing themselves farther down the car. As he crabbed forward, he balanced himself by placing a hand on each seat cushion as he passed.
When he reached the place where he’d been sitting with Jimmy Su, he yelled, “Clear!” That was the signal.
Eddie, who was pretending to be one of the dead Ghost Dragons, leapt up and grabbed Juan around the neck, pressing a machine pistol against his temple. Juan dropped the P90, and Eddie kicked it backward.
Eddie shouted something in Chinese, and three MSS agents jumped up from their hiding places. Zhong was in front, and all three had assault rifles pointed at him and Eddie.
“Where’s the flash drive?” Zhong demanded in English.
“If you kill me, you’ll never find it,” Juan said.
“It’s obviously still in the dining car somewhere,” Eddie said, “or he wouldn’t have come back in here.”
“Can you be sure about that? How do you know I didn’t toss it out the window somewhere along the way?” Juan made it sound like a bluff.
“What if we don’t kill you?” Eddie said. “What if we just hurt you?”
Then, with lightning speed, he jerked the gun down and shot Juan in the foot.
• • •
