Interception, p.13
Interception, page 13
Javin shrugged and glanced at his wristwatch. Thirty minutes until the meeting time. He took another sip of coffee, which was not as bad as he had expected, considering the shabby-looking trailer, then began to climb the stairs.
They were cracked and were missing chunks in a few places, with plenty of landings and benches if one needed a break. When he reached the top, Javin took in the impressive view of the ring-shaped monument. About twenty or thirty people were taking pictures and chatting with a few vendors selling paintings, postcards, and other tourist trinkets. Which one is Turbat? Javin could not help but think that the hacker was already there.
Javin took a few pictures of the gigantic statue of the flag-holding soldier, so that he wouldn’t look out of place in the tourist attraction. Sharp wind gusts toyed with his hair as he turned around and took in the magnificent vistas of Ulaanbaatar. He snapped a few photos, then walked around the circular area. A couple of young men were sitting on the concrete bench near the back. Javin wondered if one of them was Turbat. But wouldn’t he come alone?
Javin glanced in their direction and one of the young men sporting a thick bushy beard gave him a nod. Javin nodded back but did not approach them. He thought the young man was going to talk to him or at least wave him closer. Instead, the young man returned his attention to an unfolded map on his lap.
Javin looked over the young men’s shoulders at a rocky area at the back of the monument. A small red-and-black motorbike and a group of tourists were standing near the metal railing. He walked toward them and looked over the railing. A narrow rocky trail led down the steep hill. That’s how they rode up the bike. Javin turned around as one of the tourists pointed a camera toward him. Almost instinctively, he turned to the side and covered the camera’s angle with his hand.
The middle-aged man behind the camera said, “You don’t like memories, Pierce?”
Javin glanced at the Asian-looking man who spoke with a tinge of an accent. He was clean-shaven, with small beady eyes that gave Javin a curious glance behind silver-framed oval-shaped glasses, and was wearing a blue NY Giants hat.
Javin said, “I don’t like surprises.”
“Well, you’re early. That’s a surprise.”
Javin shrugged and nodded at the man to step closer to the metal rail and away from the rest of the tourists. “Are you Turbat?”
“Of course I am. Why else—”
“Prove it.”
“How?”
“How do you think?”
Turbat grinned and reached for his wallet.
“Slowly,” Javin said and turned slightly toward the man.
“Relax. I’m unarmed.”
Turbat handed Javin a Mongolian passport. The Canadian agent ran his hand over Turbat’s picture affixed to the document. It showed him a couple of years younger, matching the passport’s date of issue. “Looks authentic.” He returned the passport to Turbat.
“It is authentic, but I’m not Mongolian, as you already know,” Turbat whispered.
Javin nodded. “Do you have what I need?”
“It’s right here.” Turbat tapped the front pocket of his jacket.
“Tell me what it is.”
“It’s a flash drive. It has everything you’ve been looking for.”
“Who ordered the highway hit?”
“You’ll see.”
“How about you tell me, now...” Javin gazed deep into Turbat’s eyes.
“Okay, okay. It’s a senior Communist Party leader. Very close to the top. He’s in the pocket of a Chinese millionaire who loves ancient artifacts.”
“Why did the hit take place?”
“I’ve told you enough. The rest is on the drive. Now, how about your promise?”
“That’s why I’m here, to keep you safe. We’ll stay in Mongolia until I’ve verified the contents of the drive.”
“Then what?”
“If everything is in order, we’ll make our way out.”
“How? To where?”
“You’ll see. Hand me the drive.”
Turbat hesitated for a moment. “You know once I give this to you, I have nothing else...”
“You don’t need anything else. And you trust me, right?”
Turbat did not respond right away. He seemed to be thinking about what to do next. He inhaled deeply, then pulled out slowly a hand-sized black drive.
Javin picked it up and placed it inside his black windbreaker. He zipped the pocket to ensure the drive was safe. “What’s the password?”
“No password.”
“All right. Let’s go.” He began to walk toward the memorial.
“No, this way.” Turbat pointed in the other direction, down the trail.
“You feel adventurous?”
“No, that’s how I came up.” He cocked his head toward the motorbike.
“That’s yours?”
“Why, hackers drive bikes only in videogames?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You don’t have to. Your look says it all.”
“I wasn’t expecting it.”
Turbat shrugged. He turned the key and started the engine, which thundered louder than Javin had expected.
“Italian?” Javin pointed at the Benelli logo on the right side of the body.
Turbat grinned. “Owned by QianJiang, designed in China, made in China. Benelli just sounds better. 500cc engine.”
“Let me try.”
“Are you sure?”
“I know how to drive—”
“Downhill?”
Javin scoffed. “Yes, downhill and—”
His words were cut off by loud shouts and screams coming from behind them. He looked over his shoulder and saw the man and the woman who had been chasing him at the warehouse only minutes ago. How did they find us? Did someone follow Turbat? The pair were shoving and pushing people out of their way as they dashed through toward the back of the memorial.
Turbat said, “Who are they?”
“Get on and hold tight.” Javin jumped onto the seat.
“What? Are they here for us?”
“Yes.”
He gripped the handlebar and kicked the main stand. He twisted the throttle at the same time that he eased up on the clutch lever. The bike shot forward, barely making it through the narrow gate. It bounced over the broken terrain, then flew over the rocky path.
Turbat shouted in pure panic as he clenched his arms tight around Javin.
The bike landed hard on the narrow trail. It slid and veered to the right. Javin struggled with the controls and tapped the brake on the right handlebar, trying as hard as he could to keep them upright.
It worked.
He revved up the throttle, and the bike began to gain speed. It barrelled down the hill, and Javin turned left as they went past a heap of rocks and trash. The trail became wider and flatter.
Then a bullet thumped against the bike.
Javin ducked but couldn’t do much more than that. He gunned the engine and veered to the right. Then he turned the handlebar and leaned to the left, attempting to make the motorbike and them a smaller target.
It didn’t work.
Turbat shouted in pain. “I’m hit.”
He began to loosen his grip around Javin.
“No, hold on.” Javin reached with his left hand and grabbed Turbat’s arm, while steering the bike with the other hand.
“I ... I can’t.”
“Yes, you can. Hold onto me.”
He slowed down as they came to a turn, then felt Turbat’s arm slip away. “No, no, stay with me.”
Turbat slid off the bike’s seat.
Javin stopped and looked over his shoulder.
Turbat was lying on his stomach. A large bloodstain was visible on his back and blood was pooling around his right armpit.
Javin’s eyes went up the hill.
The man was running down the trail toward them, while the woman was standing on the memorial’s back landing, with her gun aimed at them.
Javin turned the bike around.
A bullet struck the headlight, which erupted into pieces.
Javin raised his arms to protect his face. He cursed the fact he was unarmed, unable to get to Turbat, who was crawling on the grass a few feet away from him.
Another bullet screamed by his head.
The man was drawing nearer. He stopped, dropped to one knee, and pointed his pistol at Javin.
“Save me, please,” Turbat shouted.
Javin bit his lip and shook his head. “I’ll come back for you…”
“Don’t leave me. Nooooooo,” Turbat cried.
Javin swung the motorbike and twisted the throttle. Now that he was the only rider, the bike tore downhill. He lowered his head and threw his body left and right, following the meandering trail.
No more bullets hit him or the bike. Of course, he couldn’t be sure if the Chinese assassins had ceased their gunfire, or if their rounds missed. A few more seconds and he would be beyond the maximum effective range of their pistols. And the descending terrain assisted him in his escape.
His mind went back to Turbat. If he doesn’t die because of the wound, or the assassins don’t kill him, maybe there’s hope. He doubted it, but he couldn’t give up on Turbat. He shook his head and kept his hand on the throttle.
Chapter Twenty-two
Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia
Javin reached the bottom of the hill unscathed and stopped when he reached Zaisan Toiruu Street. One of his phones had been ringing non-stop, but he couldn’t pick up during the treacherous getaway. Even now, he could only spare a few minutes, knowing the Chinese team was not too far away. They’d be looking for him, and wouldn’t stop until they found him.
Unless he found them first.
When he checked the phone, Javin found a short, cryptic message from Zahir, the Iranian asset: Call me. Good news. Javin’s face formed a restrained smile. Good news was in short supply and would be more than welcomed at the moment. However, previous dealings with Zahir had taught Javin to curb his enthusiasm.
He dialed Zahir’s number, and, this time, the Iranian picked up right after the first ring. “Javin, my old friend. I’ve been calling you for hours.” He spoke in his deep, heavy-accented voice.
It had been only a matter of minutes, but there went Zahir with his exaggerations.
“Good to hear from you. What’s the good news?”
“Oh, you’re going straight to business?”
“Yes, I’m in a hurry. But we’ll go for tea next time I’m in Tehran.”
“You’re never in Tehran.”
That you know of. Javin grinned. “What do you have?”
“Is the money ready for the transfer?”
“Zahir, have I ever tricked you?”
“No, you haven’t.”
“Double-crossed you?”
“No, but we’ve never worked on such a deal. This information … If I’m discovered … The Guards will hang me and my whole family.” Zahir’s voice had turned low and cold. “The money … I will take my family and my sick mother and move to Europe.”
Javin nodded. The Iranian Revolutionary Guard Corps were the most powerful and ruthless military force in the country. The mere fact that Zahir was discussing passing this intelligence to a foreign agent would be sufficient to condemn him to death. Javin drew in a deep breath and said, “The money is there and will be yours. Soon.”
A tense pause, then Zahir said, “My contact, the scientist, he swears the Kazakh connection is real. He confirms seeing a team of six nuclear physicists from Kazakhstan and Russia visiting the Qom facility.”
“That’s it?” Javin did not hide the disappointment in his voice.
“No, of course not. This information wouldn’t be worth a fraction of what you’re offering, Javin.”
“All right, just checking.”
“One of these Kazakhs, he just came from Greece. His arrival improved the mood at the site and prompted visits by high military and religious leaders. My contact was present in a meeting when the Kazakh admitted to receiving some nuclear components, blueprints, and other sensitive material from Greece. He brought them to the facility, and the isotope production now has stabilized. The existing centrifuges are working at full speed. New centrifuges and the IR-1 cascades are being installed in a newly-built wing.” Zahir seemed to be reading off a script.
Javin nodded. “Do you have written reports for all of this?”
“Even better. My contact has audio. He recorded parts of the meeting once he realized how important it was. He also taped a couple of conversations he had with the fellow in question.”
“The Kazakh scientist?”
“Yes, Doctor someone … can’t remember his long, complicated name.”
“All right, that’s really good news, Zahir.”
“Worth the money?”
“Eh, we’ll have to see, after we—”
“No, there’s no after, Javin. I’m not getting anything until I hand over the cash…”
“Zahir, that’s not how we do business.”
“This is different. I don’t set the terms. I’m just the fixer.”
Javin thought about his answer. “Look, I need a sample. Something real, otherwise all I have is what you’ve heard.”
“A part of the recording?”
“Yes, and I’m willing to pay for it.”
“How much?”
“Ten grand.”
“What’s that?”
“Ten thousand dollars.”
It was Zahir’s turn to think about his answer. “I’m not sure it’s going to work.”
“Give it a try. I’ll wire the money right away. You’ll have it in an hour. Hand it over to your contact, then send me the audio clip.”
“I don’t know.”
“Make it happen, Zahir. For your family.”
A brief silence, then Zahir said, “Yes, I’ll try, Javin.”
“No, trying is for losers. You’re going to make this happen.”
“I … I will.”
“That’s better. Keep your phone close. And can I use one of your Swiss bank accounts?”
“Yes, sure, that will work. Talk to you soon, Javin.”He inhaled and smiled. He felt confident Zahir was not conning him with false intelligence.
He rode the bike down Zaisan Toiruu Street and away from the memorial. He noticed a couple of police cars zipping in that direction. He doubted they would be able to catch the Chinese team. Maybe they’ll slow them down.
Javin passed by several restaurants, grocery and convenience stores, but had yet to see an electronics store, when his other phone rang. This one was the number he had given to Claudia. “Go for Javin,” he said while holding the handlebar with his right hand. He slowed down and pulled to the side, turning into an alley between a couple of apartment complexes.
“Javin, how’s everything?”
“Eh, I’ve had better days, when it didn’t rain bullets…”
“Tell me what happened.”
Javin turned off the engine and briefed her on the events of the day, starting with his escape from the industrial park complex. When he repeated the explosive revelation that a senior Chinese government official was involved in the assassination of two MSS agents, Claudia interrupted him with a gasp. “Javin, how certain are you about these claims?”
“Turbat was confident this is the truth. I still haven’t accessed the files on the drive. I don’t trust Internet cafés, so I’ll have to buy a cheap laptop. I haven’t gotten around to it because of Zahir’s call.”
He retold the account of the Iranian asset and asked Claudia to check their agency’s and international databases for details about the Kazakh angle and Iran’s uranium enrichment plans. Then he described the faces of the Chinese team members that had been chasing him since the time he arrived at the airport.
Claudia said, “On the topic of Chinese agents trying to kill you, we got a hit on the blond guy. There seems to be this fad of guys dying their hair white blond, so there were at least a dozen or so that fit the profile. But we know we have our man, because of the way he held his pistol.”
Javin snorted. “Yes, he thought it made him look cool or tough, aiming it at me sideways, as if he were a gangster…”
“Well, he’s no ordinary gangster for sure. According to Interpol’s database, the man’s name is Guo Bai. He’s a former member of the Snow Leopards, a special force to handle situations of hijacking and terrorism.”
“Former member … What happened?”
“The files aren’t clear on that part of Guo’s life. But he turned mercenary, working for the highest bidder. There’s a ‘red notice,’ an Interpol warrant for Guo, as he’s wanted for suspected murder, kidnapping, and extortion.”
“Who is he working for in Beijing?”
“That’s what we’re trying to figure out. Should we bring in Zhang?”
Javin thought about it for a moment. He still hadn’t tested Zhang’s loyalty, especially in a firefight. On the other hand, the Chinese operative hadn’t given Javin any concrete reason for suspicion. Is my paranoia clouding my judgment, and I’m seeing enemies everywhere? I’m being hunted on all sides, so perhaps having an ally wouldn’t hurt. “I’m not sure, Claudia. What do you think?”
“Well, Zhang could have told Guo about our arrival at the airport, but there are other options. We drove the BMW, an MSS-registered vehicle, so someone with that agency knew about our location.”
“So, whether it is Zhang or another person, it is clear there’s an MSS connection?”
“Beyond any doubt.”
Javin looked around as police sirens echoed in the distance. He waited for a moment, but they faded away. “Let’s assume it’s someone else. Let’s brief Zhang, and see if he can help us smoke out whoever is talking to Mr. Guo.”
“Sure. I think that’s the right decision, Javin.”
“I hope so.”
“So, let’s try to put the pieces together: Guo is most likely the man with the initial ‘G’ that we’ve seen in Turbat’s email. If Turbat’s intel is accurate, Guo works for Liu, the millionaire who loves artifacts.”
Javin nodded and said, “Yes, the reason that brought us to China in the first place.”
