Private Beijing

Chapter 83

The last time I had come to Moscow, I had almost been killed by people determined to ensure Russian global supremacy. I looked down at the glittering city beneath the jet with a sense of foreboding. Most people would have run. They would have gone home and hoped the authorities fixed the problem, but I knew no authority could touch someone like Valery Alekseyev. He was far too powerful, and political systems are designed to protect those with power.

He had come up with an intricate plot to make me suffer in revenge for what I’d done in Moscow and Afghanistan, but his ultimate intention was to kill me. He’d come after Justine again, or Sci or Mo-bot. Angel had already tried and failed to kill them with the bombs in New York. Alekseyev would simply send another Angel at me and my friends, and another, and another, until one of them achieved his objective. The only way to truly end this was to neutralize the general giving the orders.

Our descent into Sheremetyevo International Airport was bumpy, with gale-force gusts of wind swirling in the night air. A shudder ran through the plane when we hit the runway. As I looked out the window, the lights of the hangars, emergency-response buildings, and terminals emerged from a moving blur when the aircraft came to a stop.

“Sorry about that,” the captain said, emerging from the cockpit.

“No problem,” I replied. “I used to fly Sea Knights. Those crosswinds were nasty, would have tested any pilot.”

He nodded, opened the door and lowered the airstairs.

I grabbed my bag and headed for the exit. Warm air and the sweet smell of a new city hit me. I saw two guys in short-sleeve shirts and black pants standing beside a black Toyota Landcruiser.

“Mr. Morgan,” the taller of the two said, “I’m Mark Espiner. This is William Powell. Erin Sebold sent us to pick you up.”

“Good to meet you,” I said, shaking their hands.

“Let me help you with that,” Mark said. He took my bag and put it in the trunk.

I climbed onto the tan leather back seat and Mark got behind the wheel. William took the front passenger seat.

“Erin said you’d run into trouble in Beijing,” William said, glancing over his shoulder. “Is that why you’re here?”

Something about the question bothered me. Would Justine have been so careless? Would Erin? I really doubted it. Neither of them would have divulged the reason for my visit, and genuine embassy or CIA staff would have known better than to quiz a subject they’d been sent to collect.

“You guys give me a minute?” I said, producing my phone. “I promised my girlfriend I’d call her as soon as I landed.”

I dialed a number, but it wasn’t Justine’s. I called Erin Sebold, who answered after a couple of rings.

“Hello?” she said groggily.

“Hey, honey. I’m down safely,” I replied. “Yeah, Erin sent two guys to meet the plane.”

“I didn’t send two guys,” she said, suddenly alert. “They’re not mine, Jack.”

My stomach lurched.

“Thanks, honey, that’s good to know.”

I heard her try to tell me something else, but I wasn’t listening and hung up. I was reeling. I had to get out of this vehicle before it left the airport, and we were almost at the gate.

“Everything okay?” the man who’d introduced himself as Mark asked.

I nodded. “You know how it is on these long business trips.” I paused. “You know what, guys? I think I forgot my laptop on the plane. You mind if we go back and check?”

The look they exchanged was unmistakable. They were both wondering whether they’d been made.

“You wanna check when we get through the gate?” “Mark” asked. “Take a look in your bag. I can pull over just up ahead.”

He gestured to a layby beyond the gate.

If they were Russians, their American accents were extremely convincing, but his suggestion told me everything. They knew as well as I did that with its enhanced security my best chance was to stay in the airport. They needed to get me into Moscow proper.

“Just pull over and I’ll have a look now,” I suggested.

The guard was outside the gatehouse and had activated the mechanism that opened the barrier. I could see the gates swinging toward me, exposing the road, which felt like a dark and ominous place.

“Just pull over here, by the gatehouse,” I said.

“That isn’t going to happen,” “William” said, producing a pistol and training it on me.

I kicked out immediately and the gun went off, shooting a hole in the Landcruiser’s roof.

“Mark” accelerated rapidly. I launched myself forward and beat the man calling himself William, lashing out with my fists and catching him repeatedly around the head. I glimpsed the gate guard, who looked shocked to see the mayhem in the vehicle as we raced past him.

“William” tried to get the gun on me, but I grabbed his arm and twisted it round. We were locked in a struggle, each trying to make the other the target, but I was stronger and the barrel of the gun was inching toward his face.

“Mark” swung the wheel and we bounced onto the airport access road. We raced toward an intersection as “William” and I fought, but I could feel the vehicle slowing. If we stopped, the other man could get involved in the fight, and then I’d be facing two adversaries instead of one.

I put everything into defeating “William,” watched him grimace as the airport perimeter fence flashed by in a blur.

Then, from the other side of the road, I heard a roaring engine as we went through the intersection, and a huge black pick-up truck bore down on us and hit the driver’s door at speed.

There was the crashing, crunching, grinding sound of a serious collision, and we were flung about violently. The airbags deployed and I was hurled against the one that shielded the passenger-side rear door. The Landcruiser spun wildly out of control and finally came to a halt when it hit the perimeter fence.

Groggy and disoriented, I awaited certain death.