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I heard him rummaging through things and looked at Zhang Daiyu who shrugged.
Hua emerged with a device covered in buttons.
“It’s a universal remote,” he revealed, and pointed it at the grille while pressing a button.
The metal barrier started to rise almost immediately. He steered us onto the drive and down into the garage.
The vast space was full of expensive imported sedans, sports models, and motorbikes. We parked in a delivery spot near the elevators and climbed out of the van.
“We’d better hurry,” Zhang Daiyu said. “They will have good security.”
“Better than average,” Hua noted, pointing at the alphanumeric keypad above the elevator call button.
“Can’t you use the universal remote?” I said light-heartedly, and he replied with a frown of disapproval.
I knew full well there was no way to access the elevators without physically inputting the correct access code, likely personalized to lead direct to your own floor.
“We’ll take the stairs,” Hua said, gesturing to a door a few feet away leading to a metal stairwell. Access was controlled by a key-card reader. He pulled a credit-card-sized device from his pocket as he approached the door and ran it over the reader. I saw some red and green lights flash on the device. After a few moments the door buzzed open.
“Come on,” Hua said with a smile.
Zhang Daiyu and I followed him into the stairwell and we started up the first flight. According to the information we had from Fen, Fang Wenyan lived in the penthouse on the twenty-fifth floor. It was a long and tiring climb, made worse by the humid, close conditions in the stairwell. By the time we reached the top, we were breathless and sweaty.
I took point and listened at the stairwell door. Nothing but silence, so I lowered the handle and pushed gently. The door swung slowly open and I stepped into a bright marble lobby. Zhang Daiyu and Hua followed me toward the solitary door that stood opposite the bank of three elevators. The door was black and double-width, set in a matching black wall. It looked ominous.
Zhang Daiyu produced a set of lock-picking tools from her pocket and went to work on the door.
A minute later, I heard the lock snap open and she pushed the door ajar. The sound of a television came from inside. Zhang Daiyu crept forward, widening the gap between door and frame.
My stomach lurched when I saw a hand grab her outstretched arm and pull her into the apartment.
CHAPTER 75
“YOU CAN COME in, Mr. Morgan,” a man’s voice called from inside the apartment. I couldn’t see anything beyond the black door.
I looked at Hua and gestured for him to return to the stairs.
“And your friend too. There will be no escape for Mr. Huang,” the voice went on. “Miss Zhang Daiyu is my guest now. You have until the count of five to come in and join her. One …”
I glanced around, wondering how they could see us. There were no obvious signs of cameras.
“Two …”
I looked at Hua, who shrugged.
We didn’t have much choice.
“Three.”
I walked into the apartment.
Like the rest of the building, black was the dominant color.The huge space had a polished obsidian floor, black couches, abstract monochrome photo prints, and sculptures that matched the bleak color scheme. Beyond the expansive windows, the lights of the city added the only touches of color.
Fang Wenyan was standing by the windows, two heavy-set men in dark suits flanking him. The one to Fang’s left was holding Zhang Daiyu and had a gun to her head.
“Did you really think you could break in here?” Fang reproved me. “I have security you can only dream of. You’re persistent though. I can understand why you made enemies in Moscow.”
“Who hired you to kill me?” I asked.
