Ridley Pearson - The Risk Agent

The Mongolians did not strike Knox as amateurs. Yang Cheng’s men perhaps.

“FYI: We followed up on Inspector Shen’s inquiries with Marquardt about the American documentary film crew.”

Knox said nothing, his mind back on the Sherpa and Danny’s severed finger.

“We’ve confirmed one of the film crew is missing,” Dulwich continued. “We got it from the head of housekeeping at the Tomorrow Square Marriott. He’s a cameraman. Neither he nor his camera has been in his hotel room for over ten days.”

“And this pertains to us how?”

“Listen, they’re filming The Berthold Group. Right? The tower construction? Now the Chinese are all over it. So that means we’re interested. It’s a missing person. We’ve got a couple of those ourselves.”

“Also kidnapped?”

“Who knows?”

“They sent a hand instead of a finger?”

“No one sent anything. That hand was fished out of the Yangtze.”

“Dead?”

“How would we know? Hotel security can track key-card usage. Only housekeeping has been in and out of that missing guy’s-this cameraman’s room-over the past ten days. Sounds like he’s toast.”

“Again: why do I care?”

“You’re a cold-hearted bastard. A man’s missing.” Said one of the coldest-hearted bastards Knox knew. “Inspector Shen pays Marquardt a visit a couple days after a kidnapping of a Berthold employee and is clearly investigating a different missing persons case. He’s letting Marquardt know they can share the wealth-that one investigation may inform the other.”

“Or he’s threatening him not to investigate anything himself. Which means me.”

“That would be you,” Dulwich agreed. “Another reason it’s worth discussing, don’t you think?”

“Would the People’s Armed Police, a guy like the inspector, ever employ Mongolians as muscle?” Knox asked.

“I’ll tell you something: the Ministry of State Security would employ goddamn Attila the Hun if it suited their purpose. Why?”

“I’ve dropped a pair of guys,” Knox said. “Both apparent Mongolians but holding legit National Residence Cards. They’re all over this like flies. They were in the incentive loop.”

“I’m interested because…?”

“I recovered Danny’s GPS. He left himself voice notes at each of Lu Hao’s drop points.”

Dulwich whistled.

“The latest addition to Lu Hao’s payments could be these Mongolians.”

He heard Dulwich’s labored breathing. That comment had gotten his adrenaline pumping. “I can have Primer ask Marquardt about any Mongolians, any blackmail or extortion that predated the kidnapping, but I’ve got to think he would have volunteered that. We’re working for him, after all.”

Knox said, “The Mongolians beat the shit out of the delivery guy who left the ransom.”

“You do work quickly.”

“Their whole focus appears to be finding Lu. I don’t see them behind this. More like ‘way behind,’ like we are.”

“If they’re proxies for the Chinese, you’re fucked. Those boys will take you behind the shed and put one between your eyes.”

“Thanks for that.”

“I need you to make a second copy of Danny’s hard drive,” Dulwich said. “I need my tech guys here to get a look at that.”

“Maybe the GPS and Danny’s voice notes get us around needing Lu Hao’s records.”

“You have names? Amounts?”

Knox didn’t answer.

Dulwich said, “Stay focused, Knox. Those books remain the brass ring.”

“I thought getting them out alive was the brass ring.”

“I’m just saying.”

“And I’m not liking what you’re saying.” The Berthold Group being more concerned with creating a cover-up than winning extraction made corporate sense. “Am I supposed to read between the lines, Sarge?”

“There are no lines. The priority is human life,” Dulwich confirmed. “That hasn’t changed.”

“If it does, I’m out. I’m solo.”

“No argument from me.”

“I wouldn’t suggest overnighting the hard drive.”

“No.”

“Or sending it electronically.”

“No. We’ll put a courier in place.”

“I thought you couldn’t put people in place over here.”

No immediate response. Then, “We need that drive today,” Dulwich said. “We need to move the ransom’s USD in-country. Marquardt doesn’t have access to that kind of U.S. cash. You take care of your shit, I’ll handle mine.”

“If I’m giving this drive to someone, make it someone I know by sight. Send me a picture or something.”

“Don’t go all Pierce Brosnan on me.”

“Daniel Craig. You gotta keep up.”

“Fuck you.” The line went dead.

Knox rode the scooter out onto Changle Lu and took as many precautions against tails as possible.

Twenty minutes later, he’d made the five-minute ride.

As he eased the guesthouse’s back door closed, he heard the steady murmur of voices, the fill of background music and the clinking of glasses and tableware. He decided to bring a beer to his room. He would dress, and drive the GPS’s bookmarked route as an intelligence gathering before doing so with Grace in a few hours.

He passed into the tiny dining and bar area. An off-the-shoulder raw silk blouse caught his attention. Amy Xue nursed a kir, her back to him. He approached and paused behind her.

“Join me,” she said, patting the stool beside her. They met eyes in the bar mirror.

Knox slid onto the stool and ordered a beer.

“You have words with accountant?” she said in Mandarin.

“A slight misunderstanding,” he said, also in Mandarin. So the ruse had fooled even Amy, he thought.

She switched to English. “I worry for you, John Knox. You snooping around.”

“Who said I’m snooping?”

“You have money problems, you should say something.”

“No money problems.”

“If you need extension of credit, why did you not ask your friend?”

“Am I missing something?” he said. “Why would I need an extension of credit?”

“I ask myself same thing.”

The Chinese could never face a request or a favor head-on. It always went around the block before arriving at the destination, or a middleman was used to save face for both sides.

“This has to do with my payment?”

“Yes, of course. I do not charge my friend interest,” she said, “no matter that it is within my rights.”

Interest? “Why would I owe you interest?” Knox asked, taking the more American route.

“You have spoken to your brother?” she asked.

What did Tommy have to do with this? Do not involve Tommy! “About?”

“John,” she said, “last payment not received. I do not charge interest for valued customer.”

It took Knox a moment. “Our last payment?”

“If you need more time, this can be negotiated.”

“That was months ago.”

“Two months, sixteen days,” she said.

“You didn’t get the wire? You should have said something.”

“I am saying something. Did not receive wire transfer of funds. Did not receive any funds.”

“You should have said something sooner. We issued payment, Amy. A wire transfer to your bank in Hong Kong, same as always. My brother…” Evelyn, their bookkeeper, never made such mistakes. Tommy, maybe. It wasn’t impossible, given his condition, but it wasn’t likely. “I’ll look into it immediately.”

“You are a good customer, John Knox. Favored customer.” Amy considered every customer her best customer, but there was something more that she wasn’t bringing up. Still, it hung between them. “You miss a payment, not a problem. But when you did not mention it tonight…well, this is not like you. Not like a most valued customer.”