Point of Contact

61

Jack and Paul dashed for the front door of the guesthouse, shielding their faces from the stinging rain and flying debris.

Once inside, Jack heard the sound of someone in the living room. He signaled for Paul to wait, then pulled the Makarov out of his waistband, holding it temple index.

He turned the corner, gun forward.

And found himself staring into the barrel of a SIG P229.

“What are you doing here?” Jack said.

“Drop your weapon,” Lian said. Their pistol barrels were inches apart.

“Drop yours.”

Tree branches knocked and scraped against the living room windows, rattled by the high winds.

“Where’s Paul Brown?”

“I don’t know,” Jack said.

“Jack? You okay?” Paul’s voice whispered behind the wall.

Lian grinned. She kept her eyes sighted down the barrel at Jack. “Are you okay, Mr. Brown?”

Paul stepped out from around the corner. “Yes, thank you.”

“Can I trust Mr. Ryan?”

“He’s a friend.”

“But can I trust you?”

“Me? Of course.”

Jack saw a flash in her eyes. She was calculating. She lifted her left hand from her pistol and raised the palm, then turned the pistol barrel toward the ceiling, signaling a stand-down.

Jack lowered his weapon and shoved it back into his waistband. “What are you doing here?”

“I was worried about the two of you,” Lian said, holstering her weapon. “The storm is surging north. I tried calling both of you, but the cell towers must be down, so I drove over here.” She gestured at the broken furniture. “And found all of this.”

Jack had seen a silver Range Rover parked across the street but didn’t think anything of it. The Dalfan company vehicles were all black. He turned to Paul. “You never did explain what happened here.”

Paul shrugged. “When I figured out that I’d been played, I got mad.” He shrugged. “Got drunk. Starting smashing things. Kind of lost my mind.”

“There goes the rental deposit,” Jack said.

Paul toed a piece of broken pottery. “Stupid, I know. And then I called a taxi to find a place to hide.”

“Why did you need to hide?” Lian asked.

Jack told her about the software on the USB drive and what it was apparently designed to do. She was stunned. He added, “Weston Rhodes is playing a dangerous game.”

“My laptop,” Paul said. “It’s upstairs.”

“Grab it,” Jack said.

Paul headed for the staircase. The wind howled outside, amplified in the shaking tree branches.

“What dangerous game?” Lian asked.

“Don’t know all the details, but there were some bad dudes coming after Paul, and they’re tied to Rhodes somehow.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“I’d also like to talk to your brother.”

“He and his girlfriend caught the last flight to Beijing before Changi closed.”

“Let me guess. A business trip.”

Lian’s eyes narrowed. “What else would it be?”

“I’ll deal with him later.”

The glass in the living room window broke. They both turned to look. A tree branch must have—

Oh, God.

Two cylindrical grenades bounced on the floor. Jack and Lian turned and dove for the ground.

Too late.

The grenades exploded before their bodies hit the floor.