Death Minus Zero Read online

  Kaplan noticed the calloused edges of his palms, suggestive of someone trained in one of the martial arts. The buildup was the result of many hours of repetitious practice strikes against resistant surfaces. Kaplan didn’t have in-depth knowledge of the how and why, but it was enough seeing those hands to advise him not to antagonize the man.

  When he responded slowly, Bolo took hold of Kaplan’s arm and ushered him through the house and out a rear door to where a large SUV stood in a cluttered yard. It had tinted windows. Bolo placed a hand on Kaplan’s shoulder and directed him to the vehicle, opening one of the rear doors and pushing Kaplan inside.

  The big Chinese followed Kaplan in, slamming the door as they settled on the seat. There was already a driver behind the wheel. Cheng himself climbed in beside the driver and gave him instructions in Chinese. The SUV moved smoothly away from the house, along a narrow alley that ended where the vehicle turned left and cruised along a busy street. The image through the tinted glass was restricted, but Kaplan was able to make out what were plainly Chinese stores; he could see colored signs, waving banners and even hear the ever-present shrill of music. He recalled the sounds he had heard earlier.

  Chinatown?

  But where?

  There was no telling how far he had been moved while he’d been unconscious, or to where. Another mystery to add to the confusion crowding his thoughts.

  Kaplan was also left wondering about where he was being taken now. He supposed that question would be answered in time.

  They had only been driving a short while when the administered drugs began to fully take effect. Kaplan would have slipped off the rear seat if Bolo had not pushed him upright. The interior of the vehicle began to blur. Kaplan felt nauseous and then became aware of the leaden feel to his limbs. His vision wavered as the drugs hit him full-on, and he slipped away into a drifting world, his senses closing down once again...

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Able Team arrived back at Stony Man just as Erika Dukas was about to deliver the transcribed data to the War Room via sat link. In her late twenties, Dukas had a natural affinity with languages and was currently fully skilled in more than seven, including Cantonese and Mandarin. She was also learning Russian and Greek. It was an ability inherited from her father, a language professor, and the support of her mother, Helena, had encouraged her. Dukas had been with the NSA when Price had first recommended her to Hal Brognola. The Farm had since relied on her linguistic abilities on a number of occasions.

  Able Team joined the others around the table. Brognola and Price were there, as well as Kurtzman. Price had activated the video–conference call link so that Phoenix Force could also participate from Valens’s office at Zero Command.

  Brognola opened the session. “Agent Valens is sitting in with our team,” he said for everyone’s benefit. “She has past experience with Zero, as most of you know, and is heading the base security team.”

  “At the moment I’m eating humble pie,” Valens said. “An extremely large one. Saul Kaplan was under my watch and I make no excuses over what happened.”

  “I think this caught all of us on the back foot,” Brognola said. “What we need to do is to get a handle on it and move forward.

  “Now that we’re all together, in a manner of speaking, we’ll recap the gathered intel so everyone has the same. If you’ve heard some of this already, bear with us and take it in again.”

  He addressed Dukas. “Go ahead, Erika.”

  “The data we downloaded from the two cells was in Cantonese. It was not in any kind of code. I’ve extracted a page of cell phone numbers and these are being checked out as we speak. There were also a few names to go with the numbers and here we struck a couple of lucky breaks. I’m sure these should not have been on the phones but they’re to our advantage.

  “Our earlier identification of Chan tells us he has a reputation as a powerful man and is held in high regard by Beijing. From what we’ve been able to extract from our probes, he’s the successor to General Tung, the guy who led the original attempt to hijack Zero. Zhou is security, reputedly a nasty piece of work. Hard as they come and not someone you would enjoy being in a locked room with.

  “We have a few more names being checked out through sources,” Dukas continued. “Oddly enough the name of Kam Ho, our Realtor, cropped up a few times on text messages.”

  “Any locations for us to work on?” Valens said.

  “Okay,” Kurtzman interjected. “We have some leads coming up. And not least of all is where Kaplan was being held...”

  “Hold on a minute,” McCarter said over the conference line. “Did I hear you say was being held?”

  “Yes. We believe he’s been moved.”

  “From where—to where?”

  The big screen on the War Room wall flashed up a satellite image. Kurtzman used a laser pointer to indicate positions, which were also visible to McCarter and the others via their video link.

  “This has come via Zero,” he said. “Doug Buchanan managed to pick up a faint trace from Kaplan’s embedded tracker—not the best signal and it had been offline for some time. Akira came up with a possible reason for that. When Kaplan was snatched, it is possible that a strong electrical charge from something like a Taser was used to subdue him. The charge could have interfered with the tracking device, which is why we couldn’t pick up the signal after the abduction. Buchanan monitored the source and kept trying to reestablish contact. He finally did get an intermittent signal and was able to follow Kaplan’s movements until the tracker went out of range.”

  “We know Kaplan designed and built the tracking device himself, so it’s considered top of the line,” Brognola said. “Even so, it has a pre-determined range. As soon as it goes over the limit the signal is lost.”

  “So we’re not much better off,” Manning muttered.

  “That’s not strictly true,” Kurtzman said. “Before the signal faded Buchanan followed it to here.” He paused the pointer on a location. “This is a private airfield located outside the city. Buchanan lost the signal but Zero was able to lock on an aircraft that took off within minutes of Kaplan’s signal showing up. It faded just after that.”

  “They took him on a plane?” Hawkins said.

  McCarter studied the image. “Was Buchanan able to track it?”

  “Once Zero hits a target there’s no wriggle room. It can follow it anywhere,” Kurtzman said.

  “And where did it follow this plane to?” Encizo asked.

  “Across the Atlantic.” Kurtzman’s pointer moved again. “It landed here. In Switzerland.”

  “Then we’ve got him,” James said.

  McCarter looked across at Price. She gave him her best I’m-way-ahead-of-you smile.

  “Colonel Chan left China a while ago. He flew in a Gulfstream jet and our asset has confirmed his destination,” Price advised the group. “It appears Chan is going to Switzerland.”

  “And not for the skiing, I’m sure,” Valens said via the link.

  “The last contact we had with Jui Kai indicates Chan has his security man, Yang Zhou, with him. He has a reputation for being well capable of using violent methods of persuasion on anyone he gets his hands on.”

  “Physically harming Kaplan wouldn’t be in Chan’s best interests,” Blancanales noted. “They need him to be able to function if they want to extract information.”

  Over the conference link, James said, “Data forced out of someone isn’t always to be trusted. If Kaplan gave false information, it wouldn’t give Chan what he needs to take control of Zero.”

  “Which is where this man’s name cropped up,” Kurtzman said. “Dr. Luc Melier. He resides in France. Home is in Paris. Guy had a Chinese father, French mother. He’s known—we pulled this from other agency files. This guy is suspected of having worked with the Chinese before, but it’s n
ever been absolutely proven. And he’s been used by other agencies in the past. Admittedly the man seems to have a charmed existence. He remains untouched. I won’t go into why, because it could prove embarrassing in certain known quarters.”

  “You’re saying he might have worked for agencies close to home?” James asked.

  “I think we all understand what it means,” Brognola said. “This guy hawks his expertise around, and these days he’ll always find a client. From what we know he has no problems working his business.”

  “What we do know for certain,” Kurtzman said, “is that he is a skilled chemical interrogator. His persuasion techniques come from a needle.”

  Kurtzman flashed another image up on the wall screen. “Melier,” he said. The man’s head-and-shoulder shot had obviously been taken from a long distance: a surveillance photo on a street. “Taken in Paris, near Meiler’s apartment building. He lives in the city when he’s not on one of his assignments. Likes his lifestyle.”

  Melier was a lean-faced man with his hair brushed well back from his forehead. He looked relaxed. Comfortable. One hand could be seen in the photo, with a cigarette held between long, slender fingers.

  “Here’s one for the files. We ran a trace on Melier’s credit cards. Checked his movements recently and picked up information he took a flight to Switzerland,” Kurtzman said. “Guy is on the move.”

  “Why am I not surprised at that?” McCarter said. “Do we assume the good doctor is making a house call?”

  “It all seems to be coming together,” Brognola said. “Chan on his way to Switzerland. Now our errant medical man is going to the same location. Got to mean something.”

  “If we have all this correct,” McCarter noted, “it isn’t going to be a vacation for Kaplan when Melier gets his grubby paws on him.”

  “Nearer to home...we found this.” Kurtzman carried on. “Two weeks ago our Realtor rented out a location in Washington. It’s an apartment in Chinatown. Our check into the background shows Kam Ho rented it through Star holdings, which we know is a cover for the Chinese.”

  “Worth having a look at,” Lyons said. “Could be a stopgap to hold Kaplan before moving him on.”

  “If that’s so,” Brognola said, “it might not leave us with much time.”

  “We need to move now,” Lyons said. “Time to saddle up and go.”

  “Coordinates are downloading,” Kurtzman said.

  “Send them to our guy in the sky,” Brognola directed. “Zero might be able to take a peek at the place while Phoenix is on the way. Agent Valens, you liaise with Able on this.”

  “A set of wheels will be at the rear exit in ten minutes,” Price told Lyons as he led his team out of the room. “Valens will meet you near the location. Good luck, guys.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Fully equipped, Able Team piled into the waiting SUV, Blancanales taking the wheel. He was rolling around the main building as Lyons tapped in the coordinates from his phone and watched the route come to life on the vehicle’s GPS.

  “Should take us about an hour,” Blancanales said. He punched up the speed as the SUV rolled past the main gate and onto the road.

  Ten minutes later Lyons’s phone rang. It was Price.

  “Open your laptop,” she directed.

  Schwarz took the equipment out of his backpack and powered it up, tapping in the connection to Stony Man. He followed Price’s instructions and a projected view from Zero filled the screen.

  “We’re focusing in on the location now,” Buchanan said over the link. “This is in real time.”

  “Close view coming on in five seconds,” Zero added.

  The view over the city zoomed in on a specific building in the Chinatown area. The image, through Zero’s powerful cameras, was sharp and detailed. The shot moved in to hover over the location.

  “That’s your building,” Buchanan said. “From the data we were given, you should be looking at ground floor—the three windows we’re focusing on.”

  The display changed to three-dimensional, the angled frontage giving Schwarz an unobstructed view of the suspect apartment.

  “Hey, can you show us inside the room?” Schwarz said.

  “Nice try,” Buchanan said. “We haven’t perfected that yet.”

  Zero said, “Not as yet. Give us time.”

  Schwarz grinned. “I believe you.”

  “Let’s hope our targets are still at home,” Lyons grumbled.

  * * *

  BY THE TIME Able Team reached the location, Valens and Brandon were parked along the street some way down from the address, waiting patiently. Blancanales spotted an empty space and pulled in. Able Team climbed out and walked back to join them. Lyons was easily able to recognize Valens from the file photo shown to them at Stony Man.

  Lyons introduced his team, using their cover names.

  “Your picture does not do you credit,” Blancanales said smoothly.

  “I like you, Agent Comer,” Valens said.

  “It’s working already,” Schwarz said. “Mr. Charm is out of his box.”

  Lyons sighed but said nothing.

  “What about me?” Brandon quipped lightly.

  “You’ll be fine when you grow up,” Blancanales said.

  “Enough,” Lyons said. “I can feel my stomach starting to churn.”

  From where they stood, they could look back along the street and examine the building frontage.

  “Pretty innocuous place,” Valens said. “They could come and go pretty easily here. Busy area, lots going on. Who’s going to take any notice?”

  Schwarz said, “More than likely took Kaplan inside through a back entrance.”

  “Then just waited until they got their orders to move him.”

  “Okay,” Lyons said. “Let’s go see if all this guessing pans out.”

  “How do you want to do this?” Valens asked.

  “You pair go round the rear,” Lyons said to Blancanales and Schwarz. “I’ll take the front with Valens and Brandon.”

  Blancanales and Schwarz immediately moved along the sidewalk to the end of the building and vanished from sight.

  “Shouldn’t I have a cover name, as well?” Valens said.

  Lyons stared at her and then realized she was joking.

  “Good looking and funny,” he muttered. “You’ll fit in with the others just fine.”

  They made their way across the street and Lyons led the way inside the building.

  “Ever get the feeling you’re in the right place, but not necessarily at the right time?” Lyons said.

  Valens drew her Glock. “Explain that to me later.”

  Lyons had his Python in his fist as they neared the door. He paused and leaned forward as he picked up sound from the other side of the apartment door. Someone moving around the interior. Voices were added to the mix; Lyons could hear Chinese and English being spoken.

  “Go in low and fast. You break left. I’ll move right. Brandon, you watch our backs.”

  “You got it,” Brandon said.

  Valens simply nodded, positioning herself for a fast entry.

  Lyons felt his sat phone vibrate three times. It was the ready signal from his partners.

  “It’s that time again,” he said.

  Lyons reached for the door handle, turned it gently. He felt the latch slip free—indicating the door was not locked. Beside him Valens took a steady, deep breath. The Able Team leader pushed the door open and followed its inward swing.

  The large, open-plan room showed basic furniture and decor. On the wall opposite Lyons were two doors and an archway that led into a kitchen-dining area.

  A pair of Chinese, dressed in work clothes, were busy cleaning the main room with dusters and spray polish. Lyons wasn’t intereste
d in them. His attention was grabbed by four men around the table in the dining area. Three were Chinese, one Caucasian. The added attraction was in the weapons the four had on the table: autopistols and SMGs.

  As Lyons and Valens swung left and right, the men at the table, alerted by their sudden appearance, went for the weapons.

  One, faster than his partners, snatched up an SMG and brought it into play, jerking back the trigger. A spray of 9 mm slugs went over Lyons’s head and plowed into the wall behind him.

  Lyons stayed low as he lined up his Python, but Valens was faster. Still moving, she snapped up the Glock and triggered a triple burst that took off the Chinese guy’s jaw and spun him around, leaving a mist of blood in his wake. It was accurate, well-placed shooting that found its target and put the man down.

  Lyons gripped his Python in both hands and faced down the second man. He was no slouch with his own pistol, and his first shot slammed into the guy’s chest, followed by a second shot that ripped into his throat and sent him back across the table, the pistol he had snatched up flying from his loose fingers.

  At the far end of the kitchen area the door leading to the outside crashed open and Schwarz and Blancanales came through, weapons up and firing. The room crackled with gunfire, shots flying and finding their marks. The Able Team duo were sound shots, way ahead of their opponents. The would-be shooters tumbled, bodies taking multiple shots. Discarded weapons fell to the floor, followed by their owners.

  The pair of cleaners stood in a silent pose, staring at the bodies.

  “You speak English?” Valens said.

  She stood facing the pair.

  “I do,” one said.

  Valens showed her shield.

  “You understand that?” she asked. The Chinese nodded. “Then go and sit over there on that couch and do not move.” The severity of her tone worked and the cleaners went over to the big couch and sat. Valens stood in front of them. “Are you armed?”

  The English speaker shook his head. “Only have cloth and wax spray.”

  “Remain still. Do anything stupid and you might be shot.”