Gunmetal Gray

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Court climbed out of the communal bathroom in the predawn darkness, stood on the windowsill, and reached out to grab on to the eave of the four-story building’s roof. Raindrops pelted his hand, and the surface felt damp. He hadn’t planned on the rain continuing into the morning, but he was more than accustomed to things not going his way, so it didn’t slow him down at all.

Pulling himself part of the way up on the eave, he used his feet to walk up the wall, then kicked away, swung out, and hoisted himself up onto the roof. He lay flat on his stomach to slip off his pack and then he rolled onto his back, taking a second to enjoy the cool rainfall on his face.

But only a second. Soon he began moving south on the roof to the corner of the building, and he crawled under the steel-sheeting tent he’d erected against the parapet here.

He settled into position and lay there, wet but out of the rain, curled up flat on a roof in a dark little hole. He felt like a rat, but again, he was accustomed to it, and he didn’t find it unpleasant. On the contrary, the conditions weren’t on his mind at all.

It was the clock that had him scared.

After using his binoculars to check the two sides of the building in view, he checked his phone to view the three cameras he’d positioned around the target the previous evening. He saw no activity at all, other than a couple of bored-looking guys in generic security uniforms sitting in the guardhouse in the front, and one in the back.

He checked the time on the phone and saw it was almost seven a.m., and he wondered what time the workday started around here for the local mob.

He decided to call Dai to ease the desperate Chinese colonel’s mind, to give him some calm, soothing words about how the Gray Man had everything under control. The truth was something different, of course, but Court felt like he needed to sell confidence to keep the Chinese from taking active measures themselves.

Court put his wired headset in his ear, accessed his encrypted voice-calling app, then dialed Colonel Dai’s number. The international connection took a moment to go through and initiate, but when it finally did Dai answered abruptly.

“My men have just notified me that they went to collect you at your hotel. They say you are not there.”

“Got an early start.”

Dai said, “You will tell me where you are and what you are doing.”

Court replied, “I’m already in position watching the Wild Tigers building here in the city.”

“What do you see?”

“So far, nothing, but I have the ability to get eyes on vehicles coming and going and into some of the windows, and I am developing an understanding of the security setup.”

“What do the security protocols look like?”

Court said, “Nothing much, to tell you the truth. It’s surprising.”

“What do you mean?”

“I know there aren’t a lot of all-out gang wars here in Vietnam, but this building doesn’t even look well protected from local law enforcement.”

Dai said, “That does not come as a great surprise. The local Saigon administration takes a cut of their operation. Beware of any patrolling police. They are probably on the payroll of the Wild Tigers.”

“That wasn’t in the material I read.”

Dai just said, “Vietnam doesn’t possess the purity of political thought we enjoy in the People’s Republic of China. They have a large underworld, and some of their politicians benefit from it. It’s disgusting, really. Hanoi is trying to rein it in, but quietly. They can’t admit there is a problem.”

Court had been around the block enough to know China bowed to no one when it came to top-down corruption and official cover-ups, but he wasn’t going to get into a discussion of government malfeasance with Dai.

The colonel asked, “What is your plan?”

“Continued surveillance until I either see Fan himself or see security measures that make me believe he is here.”

“We don’t have time for that! I have sixteen well-armed and well-trained men in the city, and men from our consulate there are available to me, as well. We already know this location is where the Wild Tigers operate. We can raid the building today. If we don’t find Fan Jiang there, we will find someone who knows where he is. Remember, whoever raided that ship two nights ago in Hong Kong has affected our operation. The Wild Tigers have to suspect that someone on their ship talked, so they will assume those attackers will go to Saigon next. We need to act before they arrive, or before the Wild Tigers move Fan. They might decide he is not worth the trouble, and they may wash their hands of him. If he gets away from them, we will lose our opportunity.”

Court said, “The Wild Tigers have already paid a high price for Fan. They will get valuable information from him; I don’t see them giving him up. Trust me, Colonel. When this place opens for business today, I will be able to tell if a well-protected person arrives.”

“And how will you do that?”

“I assume there will be multiple vehicles, running in a motorcade. If not, the security setup will indicate this isn’t the right location. We’ll find him if he’s here, but there is no reason to hit a four-story building if we don’t know our target is inside.”

Dai said, “You are not in command; I am! You are assisting my operation. If you are worried about our agreement regarding Fitzroy, I assure you it will be honored, even if my men terminate Fan Jiang.”

Court watched the rainfall on the roof around him. The sky above was lightening as the morning broke. “That’s not why I’m trying to keep your men back. I’m only thinking of the operation. Look, you brought me into this for a reason. We need a measured approach. I’ve been doing this sort of thing for a long time. I know when it’s time to move on a target, and when it’s time to pull back and assess.”

Dai pressed, as Court thought he might. “Every minute we wait is another minute our target can get farther away!”

Court put his forehead down on the gravel roof. He could feel Dai’s urgency through the phone. This guy wasn’t going to wait around for Court to find Fan on his own. Still, Court pressed. “We have a tactical advantage now. We know where the Wild Tigers are. Let me watch them to get more intelligence.”

Dai was silent for several seconds. Finally he said, “I will give you more time. But not much. And I want results!”

“So do I,” Court said, and he was about to hang up on Dai, but he heard the phone go dead before he got the chance.

By early afternoon, Court’s sense of foreboding grew, because although he had seen a significant number of HCMC police cars rolling by the Wild Tigers HQ, he didn’t get any sense that there was a high-risk protectee anywhere inside the quiet building down the street.

At three p.m. he was still keeping one eye on his phone as he ducked into a garden restaurant and coffee shop a few blocks south of his target. He ordered from the counter and then found a table near a long line of scooters owned by the young patrons of the café who had rolled them past the vine-covered fences to keep them away from scooter thieves while they sat around the garden enjoying the food, the coffee, and the Wi-Fi.

Court’s big bowl of noodles and bottle of water were brought to his table by a young girl, then delivered with a polite bow. Court made no eye contact, staying half hidden under a beige baseball cap and shades, and he dug into the hot bowl of noodles in pork broth with abandon while gulping the cool water.

The café was relatively busy, with most of the tables full and a decent line at the counter, but it was large enough that Court didn’t feel like anyone would look at his phone if he checked his cameras. Though he was giving himself a little time for lunch, not much about his work here changed. He kept looking down to the feed every few seconds, swiping back and forth to get different angles of his target.

Court divided his time between his lunch, the views on his phone, and his immediate surroundings. He was supposed to call Dai again to report his progress, but he was worried his lack thereof would spur the Chinese colonel to do something stupid. In truth, at this point Court was starting to think Dai’s idea about launching some sort of a raid on the facility was tactically sound, if only just to grab a senior officer in the group. Court had seen nothing from the outside to give him any indication the Vietnamese would put up much of a coordinated fight, and if the Chinese operators were careful, they could probably pull it off without the cops rolling in their vehicles up and down Nguyen Van Dau having any idea what was going on right next to them.

Yes, for the Chinese, this was the right play to make, Court had little doubt.

The only problem with this play was, of course, that Court wasn’t here to help the Chinese. He was here to help the United States, and the Chinese having more intelligence about Fan’s whereabouts than Court did would result in the failure of his real operation.

Just as he shook his worry off and dug his chopsticks back into his noodles, a young couple, both Western in appearance, entered the little eatery while holding hands. They surveyed the menu over the counter for a long time, then ordered, totally unaware that Court was checking them out from thirty feet away.

Court could hear bits of their conversation with the woman behind the counter. They were American.

The couple picked a table near the entrance, and they made soft small talk with occasional smiles. When their food came they chatted in halting Vietnamese with the young girl who delivered it, then ate their lunch, both of them occasionally looking to their phones while doing so.

The man said something and the woman chuckled, and then the man leaned over and kissed her before they both returned to their food and their phones.

While he was looking at them, Court kept his eyes flickering towards the street out front. Amid the scooters and pedestrians a man in a black hooded raincoat and sunglasses walked by. He was Asian, Han Chinese from the looks of it. He was taller than those around him, and his mannerisms told Court he wasn’t just a foreign tourist or businessman passing by.

His head swiveled as he walked; his pace was a little slower than those around him.

He was one of Dai’s men; Court even thought he recognized him from the mansion in the Peak neighborhood of Hong Kong.

Court finished his noodles, gulped the rest of his water, and wiped off the plastic table with a napkin. He got up, took his paper bowl and his empty water bottle and threw them in the garbage, then exited right next to the American couple and began walking up the street. As he did so he pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed Suzanne Brewer.

It was nearly four a.m. in Virginia. She answered quickly, but with a voice that told Court he’d woken her.

“Brewer.”

Court said, “You need to pull Ken and Barbie. They are about two minutes away from getting made.”

There was a delay, followed by a dry cough, then, “Identity challenge, Hermit.”

“Dammit,” Court muttered under his breath. “Response, Heathen. Did you hear what I just said?”

Brewer seemed to wake quickly. “Identity confirmed, and I did hear you, but I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“Two case officers, late twenties, doing the boyfriend-girlfriend thing a little too cutesy. I am pretty sure the woman thinks the guy is gross, and it’s obvious the dude would rather have his tongue in her mouth than his eyes on his target.”

“I… uh… Where is this?”

“You really don’t know who I am talking about?”

“I hate to break it to you, but I’m not running all of Southeast Asia. I am running you.”

“But these case officers are near the Wild Tigers HQ. They only know these guys have Fan because of my intel.”

“So?”

“So, are you telling me that all Agency assets in Asia know about the product I generated?”

“Of course not. This went out codeword-classified. Only the necessary people know.”

“And by ‘the necessary people,’ you mean a mismatched duo of B-team case officers right off the Farm?”

“I don’t know what you thought you saw, but—”

Court was horrified at the prospect that this couple, and any other CIA surveillance in the area, might be noticed by the Chinese. If that happened Dai would start to worry even more, and perhaps he’d even make the reasonable association between the one American on his team and American intelligence. He said, “Trust me. I’ve been dodging people like those two for the last five years. They wouldn’t see me if I walked up and slapped them in the face, but I can feel them under my skin.”

Brewer did not press. “I’ll talk to Matt. He’ll know who they are.”

“He needs to pull them off this target. I see them again, and I will burn them.”

“You will do nothing of the sort!”

“Look, I’ve got a job to do. Things that are in my way, I will push out of my way. I swear to you, if they don’t disappear now, I’m calling Dai and warning him American spooks are lurking the streets. It’s the only way I can save my op.”

Brewer said, “I’ll call Hanley and get them out of there.”

Court ended the call and kept walking. He had no idea how many American assets were here in the area, but he immediately doubled his efforts to ID those who did not belong.

Just then, an HCMC police cruiser drove by; the two men in the front seat looked especially vigilant for wandering local patrol cops.

Shit, he thought. It was getting crowded around here.

As he turned the corner to return to his hotel, he saw a pair of young Asian men in a small white four-door, and instantly he knew they did not belong here any more than the American couple or Dai’s operative walking the neighborhood. Court thought these guys looked like Han Chinese, as well; they were taller than the average Vietnamese and had a slightly lighter complexion.

And from their body language, their roaming eyes, and the alert head tilts, they were operational, just like the man on foot.

Court realized in seconds these guys were also Chinese intelligence officers, but he got the impression they were not Dai’s men. They didn’t have the edge of hardened killers. Court assumed they were from the local Chinese consulate or even the embassy in Hanoi.

Court wondered if the entire nation of Vietnam had been flooded by mainland Chinese government surveillance experts and hit men, all trying to find Fan Jiang.

By the time Court got back to the guesthouse, the clouds had rolled back over the city, and a warm rain had begun to fall. He knew if it got too dark and stormy his view from the roof would be severely limited.

He started to head for the bathroom to take a leak before climbing back out the window to retake his position, but the rumble of thunder made him rethink his plan. Instead, he used the bathroom, then went back to his room and sat on his little bed.

He plugged his phone in to charge it further, though he had two backup phone chargers in his backpack and one in his front pocket. He turned on his camera app and scrolled through the three views on the 4.7-inch screen.

The first view showed the southern side of the building; it was the same as ever, and there was nothing to see at the front gate, captured on the far left of the camera’s view. The camera showing the east side of the building revealed the same picture as it had all day long other than the rain and a blue minivan pulling up to the rear gate. Court eyed it for just a moment and determined it was the work truck of an Internet service provider, and unlikely to be carrying one of the most wanted men in Southeast Asia.

He checked the front of the building on camera three and immediately cocked his head. This view showed a better angle on the front gatehouse than the cam on the southern side, and where there had been no vehicle at the gate seconds before, now there was a blue minivan, identical to the one in back, just rolling to a stop.

It didn’t take him long to determine what was going on. “No,” he muttered softly. “No.”

Zooming in tight with the camera, he saw both guards in the gatehouse facing the driver’s window of the minivan, standing perfectly still. Then, one after the other, they lifted their hands into the air.

He couldn’t see inside of the van from the angle of his camera, but when one of the guards spun to the ground and a splatter of red covered the glass behind him, there was no doubt as to what was going on.

The other guard dropped right on top of the first.

“Shit!” Court stood, unplugged his phone, grabbed his motorcycle helmet, and slung his pack onto his back. He took just seconds to sanitize his little room, and then he shot out the door.