Titov revved the engine, threw the car into first gear and pulled away a little quicker than he had intended.
“And if you could try not to get us killed or arrested, that would help too,” Francis said.
Titov smiled. “Any particular reason you settled on such a discreet model?”
“It was all they had,” Francis said. “And in case you haven’t noticed, this is what passes for subtle around here.”
Francis spotted the car just as it pulled on to the highway and headed east. They were almost out of the city when the Mercedes shot down the off-ramp and entered the maze of roads leading through the industrial district toward the Jebel Ali shipping port.
“So much for the Hilton,” Francis said. “At least we can rule out the job interview.”
“Where do you think they’re going?” Titov said.
“I think our friend is about to be kidnapped.”
“What makes you think that?” Titov said.
“Call it a premonition.”
The Mercedes turned left down a narrow road between two parking lots full of newly imported cars. The next intersection led to the road running along the perimeter fence of the dock. When the car didn’t turn but drove straight to the gate, Francis cursed. They watched as the guard spoke briefly to the driver, then waved them in.
“How’s your Arabic?” Francis said.
“Not very good. How’s yours?”
“I knew a few words back in the day,” Francis said. “But I don’t think they’re going to get us inside.”
“What are we going to do?” Titov said.
Francis considered the question and said, “Take a left at the end of the road. We’ll see if we can follow them from this side of the fence.”
Titov did.
“There, next to the crane,” Francis said.
The Mercedes had stopped at the foot of a large container crane that appeared to be out of commission. Both the driver and the man who had met Jasper at the airport got out. When the driver opened the back door the other man reached in and pulled Jasper to his feet.
“Looks like you’re right,” Titov said. “We going in for the rescue?”
Francis shook his head. “We’d never get out of here alive. Especially with him slowing us down.”
The two men each grabbed one of Jasper’s arms and led him toward the ship moored directly ahead. When they reached the gangway the driver pushed Jasper toward the steps. He seemed to hesitate for a moment, looking around as if the cavalry might be arriving any minute, then began to climb.
Francis reached for the door handle, “Follow them when they leave. I’m gonna find somewhere to lay low until you get back.”
“You sure that’s a good idea?” Titov said.
“No. But it’s the only one I have. You got a better one?”
Titov didn’t.
Pyongyang, North Korea
Saturday 9 June 2007
2000 KST
General Rhee straightened his uniform jacket and took a moment to steady his nerves. It seemed no matter how many times he found himself waiting in the vast tomb-like entrance to the supreme leader’s apartments, the experience refused to grow any less harrowing. He could hear heated voices coming from beyond the door, no doubt the fate of another wayward henchman being sealed by a man whose concept of loyalty was as infantile as his sense of humor.
“The supreme leader will see you now.”
Rhee turned, silently cursing the woman for startling him. She moved away as quietly as she had approached. Rhee followed her to the door.
The supreme leader had changed into one of his many uniforms for the occasion. Short, fat and round-faced, Rhee thought he looked more like a stage prop in a bad satire than a ruthless autocrat. On the polished granite table between them sat a poorly crafted polystyrene model of what appeared to be either a sports stadium or a concert hall. The young man standing beside it was the supreme leader’s personal architect. Rumor had it he had graduated from the Glasgow School of Art with honors. Looking at the model, Rhee strongly suspected the qualification was more a representation of the grading professor’s aversion to confrontation than an honest assessment of his pupil’s abilities.
The supreme leader dismissed the architect with an irritated swipe of the hand, then ordered the guards at the door to leave and turned to Rhee. “General, what news from Beijing?”
Rhee saluted smartly and said, “It is done, dear leader.”
“Then we have everything we need, yes?”
“We do,” Rhee said.
“And the Chinese have paid?”
“Yes, dear leader. All the transactions have been settled as promised.”
“Then I suppose I should be grateful to them.”
No fool, Rhee deftly avoided this subtle trap by saying, “They honor you, dear leader. As is only right.
They
are the ones who should be grateful.”
“Indeed, they honor me. And with every dollar they spend I sink deeper into their debt. I dread to think what my father would have made of this arrangement.”
Rhee could think of nothing to say to this. The supreme leader walked to the window and stood looking out at the garden for a moment. Without turning to look at Rhee he said, “The whole thing is madness. That’s what he would have said. I am no more prepared to abandon the future of this great nation to the whims of the Chinese than I would give it up to the capitalist pigs in the South. It’s a trap, nothing more. I’ve gone along with it this far because I have surrounded myself with incompetent idiots who care about nothing but the promise of wealth.”
When the supreme leader turned to look at Rhee his face was red. “This country suffers because we have abandoned the principles of my father’s philosophy and allowed foreigners to dictate our policies. This plan is nothing but a scheme to depose me and turn the party into a slave of the traitors in Beijing. I won’t let them do it. If we have to go on without their help, so be it. I would rather my people starve than suffer the humiliation of seeing their great nation turned into a puppet. You do see that I am right, don’t you?”
“Dear leader, I…”
“Never mind,” the supreme leader said. “I’m calling it off. You are to shut down Project 38 immediately.”
“Yes, dear leader,” Rhee said. “I’ll see to it right away.”
“No one is to speak to the Chinese. Is that clear?”
“Yes, dear leader.”
The supreme leader appeared to go into a trance for a moment. When he came back around his eyes lit up. “Tell me General, what do you think of my design for the people’s sports arena?”
For a moment Rhee had no idea what he was talking about, then he turned to the model, made as if to inspect it carefully and said, “It’s a work of true inspiration, dear leader.”
“I’m going to have a statue of my father erected in the center of the field. The biggest ever seen. Bigger even than the Statue of Liberty. What do you think of that?”
Rhee thought it was the most idiotic, not to mention impractical, thing he had ever heard, but politely nodded his agreement. “It’s a fine plan, dear leader.”
“I knew you would like it.”
The supreme leader did another disappearing act. Rhee looked at his face and saw his eyes flutter for a moment. When they cleared he seemed troubled again. “General, what I have told you must not leave this room until I am ready to announce my decision to the council. I plan to replace several of the members. You are one of the few people I can trust with this information. The Chinese are not our allies, but few of my advisors are able to see that as clearly as you or I.”
In that moment Rhee would have liked nothing more than to point out to the old fool that the Chinese were the only reason the People’s Republic was a country instead of a relic of Asian history. Instead he said, “You are truly wise beyond your years, dear leader. We owe a great debt to your father for giving us such a capable man to lead our great nation.”
Rhee watched the effect of his words and marveled as he always did at his own ability to maintain his composure in the face of so much absurdity.
“Speak to no one of this,” the supreme leader repeated. “I am counting on you to gather up all evidence of the project and bring it to me. If the Chinese prove problematic we can always threaten to reveal their complicity to the media. But for now we need to keep silent.”
“You can count on me, dear leader.”
“Good.”
Rhee didn’t move. It took the despot a moment to understand why. “You may go, General.”
“Thank you, dear leader,” Rhee said, then saluted again and quickly left the room.
Rhee’s driver was waiting for him by the car. He opened the door as soon as he saw the general, but Rhee passed him and kept walking. When he reached the guardhouse at the entrance to the estate he shouted at the soldier on duty to get him an outside line.
“This is General Seo-jun Rhee. I wish to speak to the minister right away.”
A moment later the raspy voice of a much older man said, “General, what can I do for you?”
“Actually,” Rhee said, “I was hoping we might speak in person.”
There was a long pause. “Is that really necessary?”
“There is something I would like you to see.”
“Then perhaps you’ll join me for a drink this evening?”
“I would be honored,” Rhee said.
Dubai
Saturday 9 June 2007
1600 GST
Francis looked up at the cloudless sky and cursed the heat. Even at this late hour of the afternoon the sun appeared to have no intention of relinquishing its dominion over the desert kingdom.
He had managed to make his way up to the roof of the building using the fire escape, although his first attempt had very nearly become his last when a security patrol came close to spotting him. Now, lying flat on his stomach to avoid being seen, he listened as the patrol car made yet another round. When it was gone he raised himself up again and peered over the edge.
The only good thing he could say about the ship was that it was still there. In every other way it presented only problems. For one, it was too big to easily board at sea. Being a dry bulk carrier, it also provided very little cover for such an attempt, assuming there was any way they could even try. To make matters worse, Francis had already counted three armed men patrolling the deck.
Francis spotted the patrol car returning and ducked just as his phone began to ring. “Where the hell are you? I’m literally baking up here.”
“Actually,” Titov said, “I’m outside the Chinese consulate. Looks like you were right again.”
“Then get back here as fast as you can. And be careful, there’s a security patrol covering the perimeter road. Call me back when you leave the highway.”
By the time Titov called Francis was beginning to feel the onset of sunstroke. He had considered getting off the roof and finding some shade, but every time he made up his mind to get going the damn patrol car was there again.
Francis crawled to the fire escape. He spotted the Porsche and began to climb down. Titov was less than ten yards away when the security patrol pulled out behind him. When Francis peered around the corner both cars had stopped and the guards were already getting out. One of them was talking on his phone.
Francis stepped into the road, raised his arms and began waving them frantically. “No, no, no, we don’t have time for this.”
The guard walking toward Titov stopped and lowered his hand to the holster on his belt.
“I have a meeting to get to,” Francis shouted. “This is my driver. We need to leave right away.”
The guard clearly didn’t understand. He turned to his colleague and said something in Arabic. The other guard ended his call and came over. “What is going on here?”
“This is my driver,” Francis said. “He’s here to pick me up.”
“And you are?” the guard said.
“Mathew Landen.” Francis handed over his passport. “I’m an insurance broker.”
The guard studied the passport, then handed it to his colleague. “And may I ask what business you have in Dubai?”
“I’m here to conduct insurance assessments,” Francis said. “Now I have a meeting in twenty minutes, so if you don’t mind we need to get going.”
“A meeting with who, sir?” the guard said.
“A client,” Francis said. “A very wealthy client who I’m sure would be most grateful to you for letting us get on our way.”
“And where is this meeting?” the guard said.
Francis considered telling him it was none of his damn business, but thought better of it. “The Burj Al Arab.”
“Let me get this straight,” the guard said. “You have a meeting in twenty minutes at the Burj Al Arab with a very wealthy client. Correct?”
“Yes. I’m pretty sure that’s what I just said.”
“Well, I hate to disappoint you, sir,” the guard said, “but the Burj Al Arab has been closed for over a week. Perhaps you want to try another answer?”
Before Francis could reply the guard sent his colleague back to the patrol car.
“I’ll need you to wait here,” the guard said.
“Listen,” Francis said. “I may have gotten the hotel wrong. The truth is I go to so many meetings it all just kind of—you know.”
“You can explain it to the police when they get here,” the guard said. “Perhaps they can help you find the correct hotel.”
“Is it a question of money?” Francis said. “I know your time is valuable, sir. And we’re wasting it.”
“Now he offers me a bribe,” the guard said. “My friend, perhaps you should stop speaking. For your own sake.”
Francis, his mind now racing, surveyed the scene. Titov, who had remained silent throughout this exchange, was looking at him with wide eyes.
“Start the car,” Francis said, mouthing the words rather than saying them. Titov nodded and reached for the ignition.
“Now,” Francis said.
The guard jumped as Titov revved the engine into the red. Francis tackled him to the ground and kept running. The guard who had returned to the patrol car was on the phone. When he saw Francis he dropped it and reached for his gun, but he was too late. Francis knocked him into the driver’s seat and slammed the door on his protruding leg, then ran back and kneed his colleague in the ribs as he tried to get to his feet. He picked his passport off the ground and jumped into the Porsche just as Titov popped the clutch. The rear tires screeched, sending up a cloud of white smoke.