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“Hold on,” she says.
Liam looks around some more. His first time in South Africa, and there’s a desolate beauty here, if one has the time to appreciate it.
Which he doesn’t.
Lin says, “Stay on the N14. About four hours from now you’ll enter a town called Olifantshoek. Look for a large truck stop called Engen Fuel A Lot. I’ll see you there.”
“Alone, I hope.”
She laughs. “Of course. Don’t you trust me?”
“No,” Liam says, disconnecting the call.
Four hours later, as promised, Liam spots the signs for the Engen Fuel A Lot Convenience Center and pulls in and parks. He’s tired, worn, and, above all, he needs to refuel the Polo before he goes any farther.
But he steps out instead and goes into the one-story building divided into a little store and a Steers fast-food restaurant. He goes into the cool interior and smells fried food and grease, and sees a Chinese woman sitting alone in a rear booth.
Other booths are filled with truckers and one Black family—Mom, Dad, two girls—apparently on some sort of family trip.
Liam goes up to her. “Sorry to be so blatantly racist, but are you Chin Lin?”
“I am,” she says. “Please join me.”
Liam sits down and she pushes over a cardboard drink carton with a straw poking out. “A cold Coke,” she says. “Hope you like it. I’ve already had two servings of fries so I could keep my place.”
He takes the Coke, then pushes it back. Did she really think he was going to accept a drink from her?
“First things first, you know where Benjamin Lucas is located?” he asks.
“I do,” she says, her long black hair tied in back with a simple ponytail. She’s wearing a red turtleneck and short leather jacket.
A very attractive woman indeed,Liam thinks.No wonder Benjamin fell for her back in college.He swivels in his seat so he can keep an eye on people entering and leaving the restaurant. His 10mm Glock—originally belonging to the director’s bodyguard Bruce—is at his waist. He wonders how Bruce is doing. Liam’s also glad he’s armed, because there won’t be a second CIA officer captured by the Chinese this week in South Africa, not if he can help it.
“And you also know how to treat the vice president’s coma?”
A nod.
“And you’ve got a plan to free Benjamin?”
“I do,” she says. “An old friend named Bo-Bo is going to help.”
Liam turns so he’s looking at her. “Who the hell is Bo-Bo?”
A delicate but chilly smile. “Did you know the Romans knew of the Chinese empire, even back then, nearly two thousand years ago? Yet even though we are centuries old, the West never wanted to understand us, or more importantly, respect us.”
Liam stays quiet. It’s like the Chinese intelligence agent across from him is retelling an old story.
She says, “In the nineteenth century an English writer named Charles Lamb explained the origins of barbecued pig. It seemed hundreds of years earlier, a dull farm boy in China named Bo-Bo burned down his father’s house, along with their herd of pigs. While clearing it out, Bo-Bo discovered how delicious roasted pig tasted. His father agreed, and that’s how barbecued pig came to be. But the ignorant Chinese thought the only way they could correctly cook a pig was to burn their houses down. It supposedly took years before they realized house burning was a waste. Hah-hah-hah.”
Liam says, “Point taken. Admiration and respect. You got it from me. Now, how are we getting Liam out?”
Chin smiles. “We’re going to have a barbecue tonight, featuring you.”
CHAPTER 93
HANNAH ABRAMS WALKS into her office and Jean Swantish joins her from the door leading in from her own office, Jean’s clothes wrinkled and slightly stained from late-night and early-morning meals, and her hair is a mess.
But Jean’s eyes are bright and smart, and she sits down in front of her just as Hannah sits down as well. There’s a turkey club sandwich on Hannah’s desk and Hannah takes a healthy bite.
