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CHAPTER 106
LIAM GREY IS finding it hard to breathe in the trunk of the Mercedes-Benz, wearing some of the gear Chin Lin has provided, but he’s thankful the drive will be a short one.
His hand touches the shape of his Glock.
It’d better be a short one.
He feels the car stop, barely hears a rattling noise—the gate moving aside—and the car surges forward.
Moves a few seconds, then halts.
He hears footsteps outside.
His pistol in his hand.
The trunk lid opens and there’s Lin.
Alone.
Good.
He stiffly clambers out of the trunk, wearing heavy boots, thick pants, and a black firefighter’s jacket with Chinese characters on the front and back. Firefighters’ bunker gear, identical to those used by the fire brigade at the consulate. Earlier Lin had said, “We don’t trust the Joburg firefighters, so we use our own. But you’ll have to be quick.”
Reaching back in the trunk, he pulls out an air pack, shrugs it on his shoulders, pulls the straps tight, and applies the face mask,tightening that as well around his face. A helmet with rear flaps goes on, the helmet also bearing Chinese characters. Liam twists the valve and starts breathing the air, puts on heavy gloves, and picks up a heavy folded length of firehose, which he puts on his shoulder.
Lin leans into him. “Hurry up, now, the barbecue’s just started. And remember what to say. Now go get my Benjamin!”
He walks quickly around the Mercedes, parked and hidden near a small garage, hears an alarm ringing from the building, and sees two nervous-looking young Chinese women moving quickly out of the front door. His hearing and vision are obscured, but that should work in his favor.
Just bull through,he thinks,just go.
Inside the glassed-in lobby. The door is open. He goes through, smelling now the heavy smoke that’s coming up through the elevator banks. Two more young women and a man emerge from a stairwell, and Grey calls out, his voice muffled,“Shusàn jiànzhú wù, shusàn jiànzhú wù!”
Which Lin says, means, “Evacuate the building!”
He hopes she’s right.
He goes into the stairwell, starts descending, his boots heavy on the steel and concrete steps. Another door opens and four or five men in suits look up at him, and, just for a moment, he feels trapped—these guys are intelligence officers, just like him, smart and probably tougher—and he keeps on keeping on.
He waves his hand up the stairs and repeats,“Shusàn jiànzhú wù!”
They go by him, racing up the stairs.
Basement floor, two levels down now, where Benjamin’s cell is located.
Close.
Getting real close.
And then the lights go out, plunging everything into absolute darkness.
CHAPTER 107
HANNAH ABRAMS WALKS down the cobblestoned driveway of her home this morning, her lead, Ralph, matching her stride for stride. There are at least four other security officers in the yard, all with radio earpieces, wrist microphones, and weapons under their jackets. Hannah has a brief, funny thought of the local historical commission filing a complaint that her security force isn’t fitting in with the nature and style of the neighborhood, and that they should have to dress in period clothing, circa 1850 or something like that.
Earlier she got off the phone with Jean Swantish, who is now en route to her home. When that call was complete, she was notified that someone was at the gate, demanding to see her.
Two more security officers are at the closed gate and a big-boned man—even larger than Ralph—nods at her and says, “Sorry to disturb you, Madam Director, but I didn’t know where else to go.”
