Deception

TWENTY-EIGHT

In the Park Hotel in Bremen, Deakin and Turpowicz were ushered into a luxurious suite on the second floor. It was exquisitely furnished, with moulded ceilings and gold brocade at the windows, large armchairs and sofas, and a tented canopy over the king-size bed. It had the air of a sheikh’s tent and declared unashamedly that this was the temporary lodging of a very wealthy and influential man. The security guard who had followed them up from the foyer stayed long enough to check both men with a security wand, then withdrew without a word.

‘You don’t trust us?’ said Deakin. He looked slightly ruffled at the electronic body search.

‘I don’t trust anyone, Mr Deakin,’ Wien Lu Chi replied softly. ‘It is how I have survived so long in my business.’ He was portly and sleek, with black hair and a purple port-wine stain on one cheek, and immaculately dressed in a dark grey suit and silk tie. A pair of black English brogues sat by the desk where he had been working on a laptop. He gestured at the shoes with an apologetic smile. ‘Please excuse me — I prefer to relax whenever I can. Feel free to do likewise.’

‘We’re good, thanks,’ said Deakin, and put down his laptop bag. Turpowicz, on the other hand, nodded with a touch of graciousness and kicked off his shoes, squishing his toes into the thick pile carpet.

‘So what is your business, Mr Chi?’ Deakin asked.

If Wien Lu Chi was offended by the careless misuse of his name, he gave no sign. He gestured instead for the two men to sit. ‘I am a facilitator, Mr Deakin — what you might call a middleman. You have a product to sell, I have clients who wish to buy but also to remain at arm’s length. I bring the two entities together in an amicable fashion, and we do business. It is a system as old as time.’

‘May we ask,’ said Turpowicz, ‘how you heard of us?’

‘I have many contacts in all walks of life, Mr Turpowicz. It is my job to know who is trading in what, and where certain products can be found.’ He eyed Turpowicz with a degree more warmth than he had Deakin. ‘I have been hearing of your organization for some time now. You are a unique undertaking.’ He paused for a moment, searching for the right words. ‘Not precisely replicated elsewhere, but your business model is understood by my clients. Thus, it seems we may have interests in common. Would you like a drink? I always have a whisky at this time. It helps my digestion. Mr Turpowicz, a bourbon for you, I think?’ Without waiting for a reply, he leaned over and picked up the telephone and ordered drinks from room service, then sat back and chatted politely about the weather.

The drinks arrived very quickly, an indication that they had been pre-ordered. Wien Lu Chi picked up his glass and took a sip with evident pleasure. Turpowicz exchanged a look with Deakin and did the same. The preliminaries were being observed.

After a few moments, their host put down his glass. ‘Gentlemen, I think we all know why we are here. I had my. . associates call you because I have need of certain information which I believe you have access to.’ He was referring to a phone call Deakin had received two weeks ago after making tentative forays through a middleman in Hong Kong. It had been their first open venture towards that area of the world, instigated by Deakin and a move against which Colin Nicholls had been forcefully vocal. It clearly had one market in mind: the People’s Republic of China. It had come as a surprise to them all when a response had followed so quickly; among many things, the Chinese were noted for taking the long view, especially over any action involving deals with foreigners. Deakin had immediately agreed to a meeting to discuss details, and lay out what the Protectory could do for them.

Neither Deakin nor Turpowicz was in any doubt that one of Wien Lu Chi’s main functions was to act as an agent for the Ministry of State Security (MSS or Guoanbu), responsible for the dual role of intelligence gathering and internal security. With a standing army of over two million soldiers and vast military spending, and a growing strike capability extending far beyond its borders, China was considered by some to have no need of foreign secrets; but that was far from the truth. Part of the MSS remit was the acquisition of technology from whatever source they could find, whether friendly or not, and via personal contacts, middlemen or, as was increasingly the case, through electronic hacking.

‘You name it,’ said Deakin warily, ‘and we’ll try to meet your requirements.’

‘Really?’ Wien Lu Chi looked sceptical. ‘That is a very broad claim, Mr Deakin. My clients have very. . specialized interests.’ He folded his hands together. ‘Since you clearly believe in getting to the point, perhaps you would give me an idea of what you can currently supply from your. . portfolio?’ His face creased and he giggled gently. ‘I love the English language; you have a way of dressing up a meaning so delicately.’

Deakin looked at Turpowicz in puzzlement, then said, ‘Very well. As I explained to your contact in Hong Kong, we currently have access to specialists in the latest generation of battlefield communications, network structures and high-level firewall systems. You need details of counterintelligence strategies and penetration systems, we can provide those. Current battlefield armaments, light and heavy, are continually changing but we keep abreast of those and future plans. One of our latest contacts has been working on electronic warfare and electronic countermeasures — ECMs. Another brings the latest data on British and NATO armoured capabilities for battle tanks and reconnaissance units, and another has been extensively trained in the area of biological and chemical warfare delivery and detection.’ He stopped and waited, and silence dropped on the room like a blanket.

Wien Lu Chi said nothing for a moment, eyes blank. Then he stirred and picked up his whisky glass, emptying it in one gulp.

‘Let me ask you a question, Mr Deakin,’ he said softly. ‘Much of what you talk about is already “out there”, as Mr Turpowicz’s countrymen might say. My clients are constantly watching developments in these matters, as I’m sure you are aware. That being so, why would I come on a shopping trip for weapons technology which is already a generation behind some of the best available elsewhere? IT countermeasures, too, are something my clients are developing all the time, with applications for battlefields and. . other areas. In short, they already have access to many of these things.’

Deakin looked momentarily nonplussed, but recovered quickly. ‘I was laying out our stall, Mr Chi, that was all. You tell me what you need and we’ll see how we can accommodate you.’

Wien Lu Chi smiled briefly and put down his glass. He straightened his already immaculate tie and stood up. ‘Admirably blunt and to the point, Mr Deakin. I like that. In which case, let me reciprocate. It has come to my attention that one of the “specialists” currently available — and one which you have not mentioned — is someone with information of a far more. . shall we say, non-combatant nature.’

‘I don’t follow.’ Deakin was surprised. He had come here expecting a shopping list of hardware data, but he’d been sidestepped. ‘What non-combatant nature?’

Wien Lu Chi glanced at Turpowicz, who seemed much less puzzled. ‘I think your colleague understands,’ he said. ‘But to save us all time, I will be more direct. I am talking about a young woman who has recently gone absent without leave — another delightful dressing up of words — from a position of considerable. . shall we say, delicacy. . in the high command structure in Kabul?’ He looked from one to the other as their faces slowly showed their understanding. To help them, he added, ‘A Miss Tan, gentlemen? An aide to the British Deputy Commander ISAF?’ He walked over to the door and knocked twice, and the security guard appeared. He was carrying a small aluminium briefcase. ‘Bring her specialized knowledge to me, gentlemen, and I think we will do business.’ He gave a signal for the guard to hand the briefcase to Deakin. ‘As a sign of good faith, we are making a down-payment of fifty thousand dollars, non-refundable. For the correct quality of this particular item, delivered in prime condition, I am authorized by my clients to go up to one million dollars.’

Deakin stood up, his face flushed, and took the briefcase. Behind him, Turpowicz slipped his shoes back on. ‘I think we can accommodate you,’ Deakin said calmly. ‘Just give us a week or so to come up with-’

But Wien Lu Chi held up a hand to stop him. ‘No. For a down-payment such as this, Mr Deakin, it is my clients who make the conditions. And this one is non-negotiable. You have five days. Five days from today and you must have the item in question ready to ship.’

‘But that’s very short notice.’ Deakin looked stunned, but was reining himself in. ‘Why only five days?’

Wien Lu Chi remained unperturbed. ‘Beyond that time, her value reduces day by day as her superiors amend or block any useful information she may have taken with her.’ He gave a humourless smile. ‘It is like a supermarket, no? She has a sell-by date, beyond which, she is — ’ he flicked a careless hand — ‘disposable. You understand?’

‘We get it,’ said Turpowicz. ‘But what happens to Miss Tan afterwards?’

Wien Lu Chi looked faintly puzzled. ‘Come now, Mr Turpowicz; surely you realize that this is what the one million dollars is for: you do not need to know, and should not ask.’ He stood up and clapped his hands. ‘Thank you for coming, gentlemen. My colleague will show you out.’

Less than three minutes later they were outside the hotel. Turpowicz turned to Deakin and muttered, ‘Christ, Deak, what did you just sign us up to? You promised Charlie Chan back there that we’d bring him Tan within five days? We don’t even know where she is!’

Deakin looked unconcerned as he walked back to their car. ‘Then we’d better find her, hadn’t we? You heard him: they’re interested and they’ll pay big bucks. That’s good enough for me. This would be the biggest sale we’ll ever make.’

‘That’s if we get her to the church on time. But how? She’s out there in the frigging wind! So far there’s been no sign of her, none of the usual flags going up when someone cuts and runs. All your guy in London can give us is her service details and some useless crap about home, but there’s no substance.’ He shook his head and got in the passenger seat. ‘If we don’t deliver on time, that guy back there will cut our balls off. Nobody gives away a case full of money that easily, especially the Chinese.’

Deakin shrugged and switched on his mobile, checking for messages. There were two texts. The first was news from Ganic, and made him curse aloud. They had lost another one. While the Bosnians were busy dealing with Barrow, another target had had a change of heart. He’d slipped away from the hotel outside Brussels where they had installed him and was heading for the UK. They had missed him by minutes but had picked up his trail and were asking for instructions.

‘What’s up?’ said Turpowicz.

Deakin ignored him, and was already composing a reply. There was no point in trying to persuade the target to come back; it was too late for that. But he’d met Deakin and could identify Turpowicz and the Bosnians. To prevent him talking, there could only be one outcome. He sent a terse text back to Zubac. Cancel the contract. The Bosnians would know what to do. He finally looked at Turpowicz. ‘Another one down. McCreath’s done a runner from the hotel. They think he’s heading for London.’

‘I thought we’d him won over to the idea.’

‘Me, too. He must have had a change of heart.’ He gave an almost buoyant smile. ‘Never mind, there’s plenty more where he came from. Get hold of Nicholls and Paulton and get them to focus harder on Tan’s trail. She could make up for all of the losses so far. Someone must have an idea of where she is.’

The American took out his phone ready to make the call, then said, ‘What about the guy who found Barrow? If he’s so hot he might lead us right to her.’

Deakin nodded. ‘Maybe he will. I don’t care what we have to do, but this one’s not getting away from us, you hear?’ Deakin checked the second text message and grinned. ‘Well, speak of the devil. Our man’s name is Tate. . and he’s a bloody warrant officer in the British army. How about that?’ He switched off the phone and dropped it in his pocket, then turned the ignition, suddenly energized by the news. ‘You were right, Turp; all we have to do is find Tate and see where he goes next. And when he leads us to Tan, we’ll have her and we can get him out of our hair. Permanently.’