The Risk Agent

2

11:00 A.M.

HONG KONG

SPECIAL ADMINISTRATIVE REGION, CHINA

The twenty-fourth-floor corner office overlooking the bustling Hong Kong harbor and, on the opposite shore, Kowloon, was spacious, its appointments comfortable. Three flat-panel screens surrounded a sitting area, one displaying a black-and-blue logo of mirror image Rs beneath which was written RUTHERFORD RISK, SECURITY MATTERS.

Brian Primer ran Rutherford Risk’s Asian division. He wore a golf tan beneath a full head of hair, his face punctuated by gray, flinty eyes. Turning to his left, he addressed David Dulwich, one of his six key field operatives, picking up on Dulwich’s reference to a take-away food container in a photograph.

It was but one of many photographs on the coffee table between them, along with a brown paper take-out food container with a wire handle.

“Jesus,” said Allan Marquardt, the boyishly handsome forty-five-year-old CEO of construction industry giant The Berthold Group. Marquardt sported a tailored suit with a blue pocket square and matching tie. The corner of a China Air ticket envelope peeked out from his breast pocket. He was reacting not to the photo, but to the memory of opening the food container less than ten hours earlier and discovering its contents: a photograph of two men-a Chinese holding a newspaper and an American holding his broken arm-taken against the backdrop of a hung bedsheet; a carefully folded ransom note; two plastic bags, each containing a single Q-tip.

Dulwich said, “The one on the right. He’s ours. Cletus Danner. He was keeping tabs on Mr. Lu. Must have walked into this. Both alive at the time of the photo. Confirmed POL.”

“‘Proof of life,’ he means,” Primer informed Marquardt. “You’ll get up to speed on the acronyms quickly. Anything you don’t understand, just ask.”

“Like why somebody would do this?” Marquardt asked.

“It’s a business. Don’t personalize it. U.S. concerns paid out four hundred million dollars last year in ransom in Mexico alone.”

“Come on.”

At thirty-nine, Dulwich had a face lined with worry and consternation. A fleshy scar that looked like melted wax climbed out from beneath the T-shirt he wore under his open-necked Oxford button-down.

“The Q-tips are assumed to be DNA swabs,” Dulwich said. “We’re running them now. Another two days, minimum. But they’ll come back Lu Hao and Cletus Danner. Used to be, you sent a severed finger for the sake of the print. We haven’t seen swabs used before: our takers are young, educated and enterprising. Seems a stretch for a Triad-an organized gang-though not out of the question. Whatever the case, it’s very clever and tells us these are not people to mess with. We want to get this handled and get both hostages home ASAP.”

Brian Primer passed Dulwich the plastic evidence bag holding the ransom note.

“The brown paper’s common enough in China,” Dulwich explained, having already studied it. “Easily purchased. Simplified Chinese characters written in pencil-nothing terribly interesting about that. The lack of a political manifesto suggests it’s all business. That’s good for all of us.”

“Our insurance will pay our half of the ransom,” Marquardt said, “as I assume yours will as well.”

Primer nodded.

Just like a CEO, thought Dulwich, thinking about cash before lives.

“They’ll kill them once they’re paid,” said Dulwich.

“You can’t know that,” Marquardt said.

“Our man’s dead for sure at that point,” Dulwich said calmly, “if they don’t do him before. Our one hope is that as an American he’s worth more to them alive.”

“Why kill him at all?” Marquardt asked.

“Because at some point he’s too great a liability. A Chinese kidnapping a waiguoren. An American, at that? You don’t want to get caught. Better to bury him.”

“Jesus.”

Mission accomplished. Dulwich had gotten the human cost to sink in. Marquardt had turned ghostly pale.

“The ransom demand names the first of the month, so we’re already short on time,” Dulwich continued.

“Our clients typically are given weeks or even months until the drop. This shortened schedule is disturbing,” Primer said.

“The first is the start of the National Day holiday,” Dulwich said, “which coincides with the Autumn Festival this year. It’s an interesting choice.” He set the ransom note on the coffee table.

“You make it all sound so…ordinary,” Marquardt said.

“If only,” Primer said. “The DNA samples. The hurried schedule. By no means ‘ordinary.’”

Dulwich screwed up his courage and asked the question Primer wouldn’t.

“What’s more important to The Berthold Group, Mr. Marquardt? The recovery of Lu Hao’s recordkeeping, or Lu himself?”

“That’s a hell of a thing to ask,” Marquardt said.

“That’s not an answer,” Dulwich said, to his boss’s obvious discomfort.

“What Mr. Dulwich means is: it’s important to clarify and prioritize your goals,” Primer said.

“I won’t lie to you,” said Marquardt. “Lu Hao’s records of the incentives could be extremely damaging to the company and to me personally.”

“You’re referring to the two Australians who just got twelve years in Chinese prison for similar ‘incentivizing,’” Dulwich said.

“The case won our attention,” Marquardt admitted.

It had stunned the entire expatriate community. Bribery, overpayment, “incentives,” were part and parcel of Chinese deal-making. For nearly a decade the Chinese government had been working to ferret out corruption among its officials. But reaching into the private sector and imprisoning foreign businessmen had never seemed remotely possible.

“Remember, Allan,” Primer said, “we’re your representatives in this. We’re not here to judge you. Only to get the job done. The job you want done. And that means prioritizing. If the documents are more important, then so be it. We lost one of our men in this. He’s our priority, so don’t think for a minute we’re going to abandon extraction. But how we approach recovering Mr. Lu for The Berthold Group will be adjusted depending on your priorities and needs.”

“We’re talking about human lives,” Marquardt said. “I never thought there’d be any question of priorities. We pay the ransom. We get them back.”

“Like I said,” Dulwich told him, “it isn’t that simple. We wish. But if these people are professionals-and we have no reason to believe otherwise-then they’ll have a half-dozen separate groups in play: the person overseeing the entire operation is called the intellectual; then there’s the hostage-takers; the hostage-keepers; one or more surveillance teams; ransom retrieval, delivery and processing; hostage return.”

“Jesus!”

“It’s big business,” Dulwich said. “Only the intellectual has the full picture, sees all the parts. And he’s removed from the others. We never get to him. None of the groups knows of the others, which is what keeps it safe for the intellectual and makes it nearly impossible for us. So, yes, we work to help you stay calm and to negotiate the release of, or extract, the hostages. As you know, we have a rate of success in the mid-nineties. We know what we’re doing. If this was Colombia, Bolivia or any of the ‘stans,’ it’d be simpler. But this is China. And our guy’s an American, even if yours isn’t. They kidnapped an American. That gives them two things: a rationale to make a high money demand; and a reason to kill the hostages.”

Marquardt looked even paler, Dulwich noted. He seemed to miss the fact that four hundred thousand dollars was a paltry demand. That point had not escaped him and Primer. Ten million would have been a typical starting point. So why not?

“When a Chinese is kidnapped and safely returned, that’s the end of it. An American? The kidnappers will be hunted down by police, caught and executed. Period. They know that. We know that. Whether they meant to take our man or not, it’s too late now. That’s why they’ve set a relatively short timetable for the ransom-to get this over quickly. Get out of Dodge. But make no mistake: once it’s paid, they’ll kill and bury at least our guy, maybe both hostages. It’s the safest move.”

“Mother of God,” Marquardt whispered.

“But remember,” Primer said, “they still want the ransom. To win it, they need to offer us at least one more proof-of-life. Maybe two. We have a week to locate and extract the hostages, maybe push back the demand, certainly negotiate the amount down because they’ll expect that. It’s doable. All right?”

Marquardt nodded.

“Back to the accounts,” Dulwich said. “There’s another aspect to it. Lu Hao’s records of the bribes could be extremely important for us, as well as to you. You want to keep the incentives secret. Fine. We might be able to use the list of people receiving the bribes to find our men. Any one of the recipients of those incentives could be directly or indirectly responsible for the kidnappings. With so little to go on and so little time, that’s one area we intend to explore.”

“There are many other avenues we’ll pursue,” Primer hastened to add. “But Lu Hao’s records are our best lead. Equally important, everything Rutherford Risk does in Shanghai has to be done virtually invisibly. So while we’re searching for Mr. Lu’s records, it can’t look like we’re involved. For one thing, it would put the hostages at added risk. The kidnappers’ demand is for no police, and that includes us. For another, we can’t legally operate in China. The Chinese authorities have not been notified of the kidnapping, as you know.”

Marquardt nodded. “I understand and agree.”

“What we need,” said Primer, “is someone level-headed and preferably Chinese to act as our Berthold Group contact and lead this search.” He paused.

“We have someone in mind,” Dulwich said.

Marquardt looked anxiously between the two.

“This person,” Primer said, “happens to be the one who recommended Mr. Lu Hao’s services to your company in the first place. Which means she has a personal connection to Mr. Lu. You need to know that, to approve that, going in. It’s not SOP for us, but China presents us with…unusual difficulties and restrictions.”

“You’re forbidden from doing business there. Yes. I’m well aware of that,” Marquardt said.

“Of having any professional presence whatsoever within the PRC,” Dulwich said. People’s Republic of China.

“David will put together a freelance team-people not on any security company payrolls, including our own-to try to find Mr. Lu’s accounts, and to perform the ransom drop and/or extraction. You need not know, and should not know, the details. It’s imperative that you trust us and, more than anything, that you cooperate fully with us.”

“Of course.”

“With the help of your HR division, David is prepared to put our person in position today. You may communicate with her as you wish, but only where and when she determines it appropriate.”

“I understand. Who is she?”

“Grace Chu. She’s a Chinese national. Convenient for our purposes. She took her undergraduate in Shanghai, a master’s in economics at Berkeley and another in criminology at UC Irvine. She works here in Hong Kong as a forensic accountant. Technically, as far as the Chinese are concerned, she is a private contractor, not our employee, and untraceable to us. But she’s one of the best forensic accountants we’ve worked with. You will meet her in a moment.”

Primer gestured to Dulwich, who left the room. Little was done by telephone inside Rutherford Risk-interoffice communication was accomplished through runners.

“We have never officially signed an employment agreement with Ms. Chu,” Primer continued, “nor has she ever been on our payroll. Ms. Chu can enter China as a recent hire of The Berthold Group with no one the wiser. She can lead the search for Mr. Lu’s records, as well as aid your accounting department as necessary. She can also make adjustments to correct ‘discrepancies’ in your public accounts. She’ll know what to do with Mr. Lu’s books as well, when they’re found.”

“You sound so…confident,” Marquardt said.

“David should have a second person on the ground in Shanghai by tomorrow. Ms. Chu will be in place by this evening. Noon tomorrow, at the latest.”

“The sooner, the better,” said Marquardt. “After all, we only have until-”

“The first of the month,” came a woman’s melodic voice.

Grace Chu entered the room with Dulwich, who closed the door. Her gray, tailored business suit complimented a figure that for most Westerners needed some help up top. Marquardt rose and the two shook hands. She took a chair immediately to Primer’s left.

“Honestly,” she said, “I would have thought the eighth. We Chinese believe in the power of numerology. Eight is good yunqi-good luck.”

She had a wide face, peaceful and serene. Her shoulders were broad, the muscle tone in her arms taut and impressive. Her skin looked airbrushed. But it was her nearly unflinching eyes that unnerved Marquardt.

“You will forgive me, Mr. Marquardt,” she said. “I have made a cursory examination of your company’s general accounts for the past quarter. Lu Hao’s contract-the incentive money-is paid from your GA, your general accounts ledger. It averages one hundred seventy-two thousand U.S. dollars per month. I will need to see the rest of your accounts, the end-of-year, to know how to better conceal these expenditures, because right now you’re open to questions. Questions your people may have difficulty answering. I have drafted some recommendations, at the request of Mr. Primer.” She handed Marquardt a clear plastic file folder.

“Thank you, Grace,” Primer said.

She took this as a dismissal and stood from her chair.

“Please…” Marquardt said, motioning for her to stay seated. “You knew Mr. Lu?”

“I know Mr. Lu,” she corrected.

Grace checked with Primer, who nodded. She leaned forward.

“He is the younger brother of a close friend of mine. I helped in the selection process when you requested a person to pay out the incentives for you.”

“Do you have any idea where we might find his recordkeeping? As I understand it, that’s possibly key to his and Mr. Danner’s survival,” Marquardt said.

“Ideas? I follow money. Money that wants to be followed; money that doesn’t want to be followed. I will start with the obvious, proceed to the likely and continue to the possible. It’s a process of elimination.”

Dulwich said, “You two will likely need to discuss this more thoroughly once you’re back to Shanghai. We need to work out how to do that in a believable way. Grace? Ideas?”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but a Chinese employee such as an accountant,” Grace said, “would rarely if ever be in direct contact with the CEO. So we must find a believable way for us to come together without arousing suspicion. Pardon my impertinence, but do you take a mistress?”

“What?” Marquardt blushed.

“If your secretary or assistant is aware of such a companion, then it would make things easier for us. I could assume that role-platonic, of course.”

“No. I’m married. Happily married.” Marquardt rolled his wedding band. “As to our Chinese employees…”

“Below the level of vice president,” Grace specified.

Marquardt stammered.

Dulwich said, “Face it: your Chinese employees are invisible, right? Grace’s U.S. education helps us a little, but there’s still no good excuse for the two of you being seen together. Unless you’re jumping her, that is.”

Nonplussed, Marquardt said, “It can’t be this hard.”

“More difficult than you can imagine,” Dulwich said. “You are already likely being monitored by a variety of competing interests-the police, the kidnappers, your competitors, possibly even the press. There are eyes and ears within your company-we can count on that. This kidnapping is on the street.”

“Good God, you can’t be serious.”

“Your every movement will be under constant surveillance for the next week. We have little doubt you were likely tracked to this building.”

Marquardt looked clearly out of his depth as he glanced from face to face around him.

“Might I suggest,” Grace said, awaiting a faint nod from Primer, “that I file a complaint with HR within hours of my taking my position? Nothing sexual, not harassment. But something of a financial origin. Breach of contract, perhaps? Dissatisfaction with whatever lodging has been arranged? Mr. Marquardt, anxious to keep me, could request an audience with me to settle the complaint. Following this initial meeting, he will then upgrade my housing, and we might have reason to follow up on occasion.”

Primer checked with Dulwich, then Marquardt.

“I like a woman who can think on her feet,” Marquardt said.

“Better on my feet than the alternative,” Grace said.

For a moment it appeared Primer might reprimand her. Instead, he laughed.

“Grace did service with the PRC’s army for two years. Was assigned to Intelligence for her final eleven months. She’s trained in surveillance, hand-to-hand combat, small munitions and communications.” He smiled at her. “In the workplace, you’ll find her passive and demure. One-on-one, well, let’s just say she’s no shrinking violet.”

“You’re a welcome addition, Ms. Chu,” Marquardt said.

“When next we meet,” Grace said, “remember, it is for the first time. You may or may not be taken with my appearance, as you wish, but you will be in no mood to accommodate my accusations of breach of contract. It’s best if I have to fight you at least somewhat for that victory.”

“Understood.”

She stood and they shook hands again. He held on to hers a little too long, but she made no attempt to separate. Instead, she hung her head slightly, suddenly a different woman. “Pleasure’s mine.”

She backed up a step, pivoted smartly-a hint of sandalwood and cinnamon-and waited for Dulwich to open the door for her before leaving.