Red Tide, стр. 75
The Macau seaplane base was the nicest such facility Wride had ever docked at. And that made sense because the city was a magnet for the richest of the rich. Not to mention the creatures that fed off their leavings.
So now, even as WWIII raged, Macau was awash in cash. And because the Chinese government shared in the profits, the city had been allowed to do business as usual.
The Americans weren’t coming any more. Nor were the British, the French and half a dozen other nationalities. But wealthy individuals from Axis countries were quite visible, as were people from neutral states, some of which had subtle ties with China.
Uniformed dock hands rushed to help Brody with the mooring lines, girls in short skirts arrived carrying trays of Champagne, and the dock master helped Brody complete the necessary paperwork.
Once the formalities were complete Kelsey led the team up an aluminum ramp to the street above. Two distinctly different vehicles were waiting at the curb with lights flashing.
One was a retro looking Hongqi L5 luxury sedan. The other was a Mercedes stretch limo. “This is where we part company,” Kelsey told them. “The Hongqi is for me. I’ll see you at breakfast.”
Chaney frowned. “I’ll come with you.”
“You can’t,” Kelsey answered. “But thanks. Keep everybody sober just in case.”
Then, afraid that she might cry, Kelsey turned to the Chinese car. A man in civilian clothes held a door open for her. An MSS agent? Of course.
They sat opposite each other on the nearly six-foot-wide back seat. Neither of them said a word as the car made its way through the city’s streets.
Rather than being blacked out as some European cities were, the lights were on. And at one point Kelsey caught a glimpse of the famous Grand Lisboa Hotel in the distance. It was shaped like an art deco lotus flower and, like the skyscrapers crowded around it, was lit to perfection.
There had been long range bombing attacks against Macau. But damage had been minimal. And, unless that changed, Chinese authorities wanted to keep the city open for business. The lights were part of that.
The hotel disappeared as the car turned and left the downtown area for a parish called Sao Lourenco. That’s where the Portuguese-era Macau Government building was located. And where, on previous occasions, Kelsey had been required to meet with an MSS “handler” named Wei Ching.
To protect her identity from prying eyes in orbit, the Hongqi L5 entered an underground parking garage, which was considerably newer than the building above it. From there Kelsey was led up two flights of stairs to a highly polished hallway and a small conference room.
A guard in plainclothes stood with his back to a wall. Ching was present. He stood and bowed. His English was perfect. “Good evening, Ms. Parker. Thank you for accepting our invitation. Please take a seat.”
It was more of a command, rather than an “invitation.” But in keeping with the Chinese cultural tradition of “face,” his approach was intentionally respectful.
“You’re welcome,” Kelsey said carefully. “What can I do for you?”
Ching was thirty something, had a receding hairline, and was wearing a pair of rimless glasses. He looked more like an accountant than an intelligence agent.
“We have seven suitcase-sized packages which need to be delivered to locations throughout southeast Asia,” Ching replied. “It’s our expectation that one of your ships will rendezvous with one of our ships—at which time your personnel will accept responsibility for the items in question—and make sure they are delivered.”
Kelsey felt nauseous. What would the packages contain? Communications gear? Suitcase sized nukes? The Russians had detonated one such device in the European theatre.
But if she could slow roll the delivery process, and the prison break was successful, maybe she could prevent the packages from reaching their destinations. She forced a smile. “We have a saying. ‘The devil is in the details.’ An assignment like that will involve some complicated logistics.”
The better part of half an hour was spent discussing security, the difficulties involved in the initial transfer, and how deliveries would be made. All of which had to be memorized.
It took all of Kelsey’s strength to focus, repeat the instructions Ching gave her, and maintain her composure.
Finally, when the ordeal was over Ching stood. And Kelsey was about to do the same, when he gestured for her to stay. “I have a surprise for you,” Ching said. “A reward for good behavior.” And with that he gestured to the guard. “Bring her in.”
The guard opened the door and Rong entered the room. Despite the lack of makeup, and her drab clothing, Rong was still beautiful. And the resemblance to her mother was striking. Rong’s eyes widened. “Kelsey … This is a surprise.”
Kelsey got up and went over to hug her sister. The embrace felt stiff. “How are you?” Kelsey inquired, as they broke contact.
“How the fuck do you think I am?” Rong demanded. “What’s the problem? When are you going to get me out of this shithole?”
“I don’t know,” Kelsey replied honestly. “At the moment I’m focused on keeping you alive.”
Kelsey thought she saw a subtle change of expression in her sister’s eyes. She was scared. As she should be. “How long will I be in prison?” Rong inquired anxiously.
“Until they turn you loose,” Kelsey said. Part of her wanted to hint at the possibility that Rong would be freed soon. But Kelsey knew that would be a mistake while Ching and the plainclothes guard were present.
“And meanwhile you’re going to parties and having a good time,” Rong said resentfully.
“That’s right,” Kelsey replied wearily. “That’s all I do.”
“Okay,” Ching said, as he turned to the guard. “Escort the prisoner out.”
“I hate you!” Rong yelled, as she was hustled out of the room.
Ching smiled apologetically. “I’m sure she didn’t mean that.”
Kelsey knew Rong did mean that. But she smiled agreeably. “Of course not.”
“Your escorts are waiting in the hall,” Ching said.