Private Beijing

Chapter 81

They had parked a blue Nissan Rogue Private staff vehicle in a garage on Leonard Street, a block from the FBI building, and Justine hurried to keep up as Sci and Mo-bot headed there.

“How are we going to find them?” she asked.

“I slipped a tracker in Tate’s body armor,” Mo-bot replied. “And I put a camera and mic in the operation center.”

Justine was impressed but not surprised. Mo-bot was known as the detective agency’s mom partly because, like all good mothers, she made sure things got done.

Justine was sweating by the time they picked their way through the crowded city and reached Leonard Street. They hurried into the parking garage, found the Nissan Rogue, and Justine got behind the wheel. Sci rode shotgun and Mo-bot sat in the back.

“Where to?” Justine asked, starting the engine.

“Newark,” Mo-bot suggested, firing up her laptop. “Tate said they wouldn’t take him in the city. Too many opportunities to escape. They’ll get him close to the airport.”

They headed through Manhattan and took the Holland Tunnel west, following a stream of late-afternoon traffic that clogged the confined space with pungent fumes. When they emerged from the tunnel, they continued for a while before turning south through the Ironbound, a suburban neighborhood that lay north of the airport.

“Tate is about three hundred yards ahead,” Mo-bot said, checking the signal being displayed on her laptop.

Justine peered over the tops of the vehicles in front of her and saw three black SUVs going south. She recognized one of them as the vehicle that had been used to collect her from the hotel. She stepped on the accelerator, pulled into the outside lane, and closed the gap. When she got to within fifty yards, she caught sight of the silver Escalade they’d seen from the operations room.

“There’s Angel,” Justine said, and Sci and Mo-bot craned forward to catch a glimpse of the vehicle through the heavy traffic.

Justine kept her distance and followed the three SUVs as they tailed their target.

They took the next turn-off, leaving the Expressway for Port Road, a quiet service route that offered access to the freight and private terminals.

When the Escalade was two hundred yards from the Port Road perimeter security gate, and there was nowhere for it to go other than into the airport, the convoy of black SUVs accelerated and caught up with the Chinese Embassy vehicle.

Two of the SUVs got in front of it and blocked the road, forcing the Escalade to a halt. The third of Tate’s vehicles moved to within inches of the Escalade’s rear bumper, thwarting any escape. The squad of heavily armed field operators emerged from the trio of SUVs, guns trained on the windows of Angel’s vehicle.

“Get out of the vehicle!” Tate yelled, raising an AR-15. “Step out now!”

Justine pulled over and she, Mo-bot, and Sci watched the tense scene unfold.

“Get out,” Tate yelled as his team surrounded the car.

The front doors opened and the driver and passenger, both in black suits, emerged nervously. They were the men Justine had seen on-screen in the operations room, escorting Angel into the vehicle.

“Diplomats!” the driver yelled. He pointed at the plates clearly displayed on the Escalade. “We’re diplomats.”

“You in the back,” Tate said, moving forward, “get out!”

Two of his operatives grabbed the driver and passenger, forced them onto their bellies, and cuffed them.

“We’re diplomats,” the driver protested. “You can’t do this.”

Both men yelled angrily and struggled against their restraints. There was still no sign of Angel.

Justine watched Tate creep toward the back door on the driver’s side, his gun high, reaching for the handle.

He grabbed it and pulled the door open.

“It’s empty,” he said, stepping back. “Empty. He’s not here.”

“Impossible,” Mo-bot muttered from the back seat. “We saw him get in the vehicle.”

The sound of sirens made Justine jump. The road rapidly filled with airport police. A convoy of eight vehicles, engines roaring, sped toward the Escalade. Tires screeched as they shuddered to a halt.

“Drop your weapons,” the officer in charge yelled as he leapt from his car.

He was soon joined by his colleagues, who drew their pistols and targeted Tate and his team.

“We’re diplomats,” the prostrate driver yelled. “These men are terrorists who have illegally detained us.”

“Brilliant,” Sci remarked. “They probably knew we were watching them. Led Tate and his people into a trap. They’ve made sure Angel gets away and created a diplomatic incident China can exploit.”

“So he’s gone?” Justine asked, as she watched Tate place his weapon on the ground and raise his hands.

His team followed suit.

“Looks that way,” Sci replied, as the cops moved in to cuff Tate and his team. “I don’t know how they did it, but Angel is in the wind.”