Shadow of the Dragon

55

Lisanne Robertson felt the presence of someone behind her when she was two blocks from the police station. Her original intention had been to return to the hotel and then catch a taxi back to Kanas Lake from there. Per her training with Clark, she’d decided instead to do a surveillance-detection run on the way. The bad guys she’d hunted as a cop would have called it a “heat check.” No matter how gorgeous the green mountains and pristine lakes, she didn’t forget that she was operating in hostile territory — uncharted waters. Like the ancient mariners’ maps said, there were dragons here.

Jiadengyu was little more than a large concession for the park — hotels, tour companies, shops, and parking lots in the middle of the woods. The gateway to the park, it provided a jumping-off point for tourists who wanted to access the wilderness around Kanas Lake. Bus tours would pick up in a month, but for now, most of the park visitors on the street with Lisanne appeared to be of the hard-core adventurer type. Hikers, ski buffs, and mountain climbers, most of them young, fit, and wearing lived-in clothing, huddled in small knots in front of hotel restaurants and specialty shops that sold souvenirs and outdoor equipment.

Low clouds and a gentle snow brought warmer temperatures than earlier in the day — but warm was relative in the mountains, and the air still bit her cheeks and made her fingers numb. Adrenaline from being followed warmed her some — or at least made her forget about the chill. The weight of the Beretta in her jacket offered some comfort, but with it being a semiauto, she risked a malfunction if she attempted get more than one shot off from inside the pocket. A revolver would have been better, but you took what you could get. She told herself she was much more likely to go mano a mano than use a firearm, and warmed her hands as she had on uniform patrol, two fingers at a time, refraining from stuffing her entire fist down inside her pocket. She’d have access to the Beretta, while allowing her to bring both hands quickly into play — if she needed to, as her dad used to say, “go to town on somebody.”

She took a deep breath as she hustled down the sidewalk, letting the chilly air invigorate and settle her. She could do this. Her dad would be proud — and so would John Clark.

The stout little guy in the leather jacket ducked in and out of the crowd, turning when she turned, stopping when she stopped. At one point, she turned suddenly, backtracking a few feet to go back into a pastry shop — as if she’d changed her mind. She bought a cookie to nibble on while she walked, and resumed the circuitous route to the hotel. Leather Jacket was still there, thirty yards back, leaning against a wall, conspicuously ignoring her.

She knew he wouldn’t be alone, and began to scan the people across the street who were moving in the same direction. She saw the second man at the next intersection, approaching on her left from halfway down the block. Wool watch cap, dark glasses, and a gray ski jacket. She waited a beat before crossing the street. He slowed his pace, almost imperceptibly, so he didn’t catch up to her.

As Lisanne suspected, Gray Coat fell in behind her, taking the eye from Leather Jacket, who turned to the right, surely trotting to make the block and parallel his teammate to catch up a few blocks ahead. If there was a third, he was better than these two, because she couldn’t spot him.

It was time to call in reinforcements.

Ryan picked up on the first ring. “Hey! We’ve—”

“Flash, flash!” Lisanne said, indicating she didn’t have time for formalities. She gave her location first, using hotels, landmarks, and then street names. Chavez and the others had the ability to run a common operating picture on their phones, displaying icons that depicted team members’ positions on a moving map. Reception could be spotty in the mountains and buildings. “I’ve picked up a tail,” she said, giving a thumbnail description of the men she’d identified. “Team of two so far. Nothing hostile yet, but I don’t want to lead them back to your position.”

“No trouble at the police station?” Ryan asked.

“None. If they’d wanted to hold me, they could have done it then. Pretty sure they’re hoping they can follow me back to you.”

“Copy that,” Ryan said. “Things heating up here. Can you—”

Lisanne cut him off, bonking the radio for a split second by talking over him. “… The one behind me is picking up his pace,” she said. “They’re definitely crowding me. I expect they’ll make contact soon. Wouldn’t mind a little help here…”

Fu Bohai was less than two kilometers from the lake when Qiu called. Headlights through falling snow looked like a video-game spaceship jumping to light speed. Fu’s driver, a young fellow named Gao, hunched over the wheel, concentrating to negotiate sweeping mountain roads.

“She knows we are following,” Qiu said.

Fu, seated in front, stared out the passenger window at the darkness. “Then detain her,” he said. “She will only lead you in circles.”

“Yes, Boss,” Qiu said. Fu could envision him bracing at the other end of the call.

“Find out what she is doing here—”

“Boss,” Qiu said, his voice as sharp as the snap of his leather jacket. “I don’t speak Finnish.”

Fu groaned, rubbing his eyes with a thumb and forefinger. “I doubt very much that will be a problem. Find out if she is involved with the search for Medina Tohti. See how much she knows. Get the location of her friends… and then sink her body in the lake.”

“And if she is not involved?”

“Her fate remains the same,” Fu said, shrugging, though the man on the other end of the line could not see it. “The questions you ask will, by necessity, reveal the nature of our mission. If she is a professional, as I suspect she is, since she was alert for surveillance, then your interrogation may be messy. There will not be much left of her for you to release. As I said, sink her.”

Ryan and Adara briefed Chavez over the net as they drove.

“Got it,” Chavez said. “We’ll hold it down here. Watch your speed on the road. The weather’s turned to shit where we are. You won’t do her any good if you get yourself smeared over the Chinese countryside.”

“Roger that,” Ryan said, chattering the van’s tires against the pavement as he took a sweeping curve.

Adara grabbed a handful of seatbelt as he made the turn.

“Sorry about that,” Ryan said.

“I’m not,” Adara said. “Let’s see some of that fancy Jack Ryan, Jr., driving your Secret Service detail taught you. We won’t do Lisanne any good if we’re late, either.”

Approaching headlights glowed through the darts of driving snow. Ryan let off the gas momentarily in case it happened to be a police car. A white Toyota sedan passed them, going toward the docks. Adara turned in her seat and looked out the rear window, watching the taillights fade away in the distance.

“Time to haul ass,” she said. “You know what they say, faint heart never won fair maiden.”

Hands at nine and three o’clock, Ryan took his eyes off the road long enough to shoot a quizzical glance at Adara.

“Fair maiden?”

“I’m not one to judge,” Adara said. “Just saying, it’s obvious.”

“Whatever,” Ryan said, slowing just enough to keep control as he approached a turn and then accelerating through the sweep, using up the entire road, cutting corners when he could, shaving every second possible from the drive.

Service was spotty at best, and nonexistent in most places. They were still unable to reach Lisanne.

“Get me a location on the COP as soon as you get a signal,” Ryan said. The COP, or Common Operating Picture, gave the team the ability to see one another’s location — as long as they had cell or, with the right equipment, satellite service.

“Working on it,” Adara said. The dash lights bathed her face in a green glow. “She knows what she’s doing, Jack. Clark never would have brought her on board if she didn’t.”

“I know,” Ryan said. “But we shouldn’t have let her go alone. She’s too new.”

“She’s a decorated Marine,” Adara said. “And an experienced cop.”

“You’re right,” Ryan said. “It’s just…”

“I know,” Adara said. “Me, too.” She gave a little fist pump and then held up her phone to display a pulsing blue dot. “Got her. We’re eight minutes out.”

Ryan attempted to raise Lisanne on the net. No answer. “Try calling her through cell service instead of the radio,” he said.

Adara tapped her cheek over the Molar Mic and then held up the phone again. “Trying now…” At length, she turned to Ryan. “No joy. She’s not picking up.”

Ryan raised Chavez on the net, quickly bringing him up to speed. “I don’t know how you plan to convince Medina to come with us, but you’d better do it now. I’ve got a feeling we’re going to be coming your way at a run.”