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I needed something familiar, someone who could ground me in a world I knew. I needed Justine. It would be lunchtime in New York. We hadn’t spoken since the call in the cab on the way to the Beijing office this morning so I dialed her number, but it went through to voicemail.
“It’s me. Just checking in. Love you.”
I hung up and caught the driver’s eye in the rear-view mirror. He smiled blankly and I nodded back.
Thirty minutes later we stopped near Dengshikou Station and I paid the driver and jumped out. I walked the short distance to the Private building. The reception area was lit up but deserted, so I used Zhang Daiyu’s key card to gain access through the side door. I took the elevator to the twenty-eighth floor and her key card got me into the office.
There was a cleaning cart in the lobby, which meant there was probably a janitor around, but other than that the place was empty. I typed the phrase “I work here. I’m visiting from America” into Google Translate so I’d have a calming explanation if I met a startled night worker.
I went to Zhang Daiyu’s office and started by searching her desk. I was looking for something, anything, that might pointto why she was targeted. Why would they try to kill her and not me? Was she mixed up in the deaths of her three associates and potentially Li’s? Or was there some other reason? I used the photo-translate function in Google to read documents I found, but there was nothing unusual.
Her office was full of exactly the sort of things I’d expect for a senior manager at Private: case reports, personnel files, financial statements, and key performance indicators. I felt something of a heel for investigating a member of staff like this, but I had a nagging feeling I had learnt not to ignore; the sense I was missing a huge piece of the puzzle.
I was about to attempt to access Zhang Daiyu’s computer when I heard a noise outside, followed by a curse. Probably the janitor. Then came a very clear electronic beep and, even though I couldn’t understand the language, what was unmistakably another curse word. I rose from Zhang Daiyu’s desk and crossed the room silently. I eased the door open a crack and felt my heart leap into my throat when I saw a face I recognized.
Standing in the corridor no more than thirty paces from me, dressed in blue overalls, was the gunman who had attacked us on our journey back from Qincheng Prison. He now had a dark bruise on the side of his face where I’d hit him with his motorcycle helmet. He rubbed his close-cut black hair and focused on the object in his hand. He was holding a slab of C-4 and a detonator. I watched in horror as he slid the explosive device under a filing cabinet.
CHAPTER 20
HE MUST HAVE sensed movement because I wasn’t even breathing. He turned and our eyes locked in one of those predator–prey moments, though I wouldn’t have been able to tell you who was which.
He was young, fit, and determined, with fire in his eyes, but he was clearly surprised to see me. He quickly turned away and sprinted back through the office toward the lobby. I chased after him but was unable to close the gap as we raced through the building. I was a few yards behind him when he reached the janitor’s cart near the elevators.
He thrust his hand into one of the boxes of supplies and I ran at him, suspecting he was reaching for a weapon. I collided with him as he pulled out a gun and we both toppled over.
I grabbed his arm and directed the weapon away from me as he squeezed the trigger. The shot went wide, but the crack ofclose fire set my head ringing. I rolled off the man and twisted his arm as I moved, forcing him to make a choice between dropping the weapon or suffering a fractured arm.
He chose to keep his arm intact and dropped the gun. As I reached for it, he hit me with something hard and sent me sprawling onto the weapon. My head was swimming but I managed to look round and see the collapsible baton in his hand. He raised his arm for another strike, but I fumbled under me and managed to get hold of the gun. I could hardly focus, but I pointed it in his general direction and fired twice. The shots missed their mark, but they prevented another assault. Instead, he turned tail and ran.
I tried to shake off my grogginess, but he had got me good. I staggered to my feet and set off in pursuit. With each step, my surroundings came into better focus and I raced into the elevator lobby and pressed the call button. I could see one of the other cars descending and guessed the gunman was in it.
As my car rose from one of the lower floors, I was struck by the thought there might be genuine night-shift workers in the building, so I ran to the fire alarm located beside the elevators and pulled it. A klaxon sounded and was swiftly followed by a continuous ringing and a pre-recorded announcement in Mandarin.
The door opened. I ran inside and hit the button for the lobby. I slid the pistol under my belt and checked my distorted reflection in the stainless-steel control panel as the elevator descended. There was something on the side of my face, and when I reached up to brush it away, I felt the warm cloying texture of clotting blood. I looked at my fingertips, which were coated red.
The moment the car reached the ground floor and the doors opened, I was out and running. There were a few cleaners and other service staff making their way to the main exit, and outside more were mustering at evacuation points.
I ran out of the main entrance onto the street and looked in all directions, trying to spot the fleeing gunman. To my surprise he wasn’t running anymore. He stood on the corner of Kaiyuan Street, beside a stationary black Mercedes E-Class. The same one that had spirited him away earlier. He smiled when he was sure I’d seen him and showed me something small and metallic in his hand.
There was no mistaking what it was.
“Bomb!” I yelled, urging the last stragglers forward to the nearest evacuation point.
I looked over their shoulders to see the gunman press the button on the detonator.
High above us, multiple explosive devices detonated. Huge fireballs tore through the building, bursting from its sides like dragon’s breath.
I looked round to see the Mercedes E-Class speed away as the first slivers of glass and debris rained down on the sidewalk yards away from us. The ground shook and rumbled and finally settled as high above us a firestorm raged in what had once been the Private office.
Someone had struck another blow at my organization. Someone who, for whatever reason, wanted me alive to witness the carnage. I would make sure that decision proved to be a huge mistake.
CHAPTER 21
JUSTINE WAS CARRYING the Cobb salad she’d bought from Upland, a bright diner a block away, when she took the elevator back to her office. She had spent the morning finalizing her profile of Lewis’s killer, and everything about him pointed to a highly motivated professional. Sci and Mo-bot were checking cameras for more footage of the man, but once he went through that gate he seemed to vanish into the ether.
Justine hadn’t spoken to Jack in a while, so as the elevator car rose, she pulled her phone from her purse and was surprised to see she had missed a call from him forty minutes before, a little after she’d set out to buy lunch. She must not have heard the phone above the Manhattan traffic.
She called Jack as she stepped out into the Private lobby. She could tell something was wrong the moment he answered.
