“Exceedingly well put, lad.”
Fitzroy drank silently, then held his glass out towards the balcony behind him, towards the big jungle in the distance visible to the east of the ocean. “A cynical plan, to be sure, and a plan that is failing before our eyes. And the final nail in the coffin will take place when the Chinese enter that estate and kill Fan, and then the CIA enter that estate and shoot it out with Chinese intelligence. We are hours away from a nasty incident that could lead to nastier incidents, up to and possibly including war.”
Court whispered to himself. “Christ almighty.”
Both men sat in silence for a moment. Then Fitzroy said, “There is something you can do.”
Court lifted his head quickly. “What?”
“Won’t be easy.”
Court stared Fitzroy down.
Fitz said, “We arrived by boat from the airport this morning, so I saw the layout of the back of this property. I had a nice look around. It’s not for me; I’m old, weak, and slow… but you could do it. Don’t know about the girl, but I’d wager you could do it.”
“Do what?”
“This balcony here. It overhangs a sheer cliff, easily fifty meters of jagged rock down to the sea. It will be no picnic, but it could be done. There are boats there, tied to a dock. You could get in a boat, motor away, and get back to shore where there’s a phone. You won’t save Fan, but you will save the Agency men on the way.”
Court said, “And it won’t save you.”
Fitzroy shook his head, then held up the glass of whiskey in a toast. “I’m a fuckin’ dead man any way you slice it.”
Court thought a moment. “If the girl and I can get the guns off the men on the balcony, then maybe we can—”
“Forget it,” Fitzroy said. “You might recall I used to be in the game, not as a grumpy old man behind a desk, but as a grumpy young man behind a pistol. Trust me that I’ve seen the setup. Major Xi will have a dozen men with him here, even while the attack is going on, and the lines of assault to get to them around this house are no good. To get me out of here you’d have to go through the front of the house, which means taking on each and every man on the premises, and they’ll all know you are coming once you start shooting.
“No, lad. Making your way down the rock wall in the pitch-black night is your only bloody chance. You’d do well to take that chance and leave me to my fate.”
Court knew Fitz was right. He said, “Let me go talk to her.”
“I’ll warn you again. I’ve seen you in action, so I feel confident you can make the climb. But I don’t know about the woman. It was a straight drop down.”
“Trust me, she’ll pull it off better than I will.”
Fitzroy held his glass up. “Well then, go and live to fight another day.”
Court looked at the French doors to the bedroom. “She’s pissed at me right now, so if I don’t come out in five minutes, send help.”
Fitz faked a little smile. “You’re on your own there, lad. You have more training against buildings full of armed opposition than you do having a talk with an angry woman. Can’t say I’d wager much on you now.”
Court looked at the whiskey, then poured himself a healthy shot. “It’s not utter shit, you say?”
“Better a mouse in the pot than no meat at all.”
Court looked at the glass of booze, then at the Englishman. “What?”
“Beggars can’t be choosers, lad.”
“Oh.” Court downed the shot, stood, and headed for the bedroom.
As soon as he entered the bedroom Court closed the French doors behind him, then found Zoya seated on the bed. She was working on something, which surprised Court, but when he saw she had taken the bedsheets and wound them tightly, then tied them together at one end, he realized he should not have been surprised. She added another sheet, making sure the knot was strong enough to hold her weight.
She said, “While you were in there drinking and whispering with the fat guy, I was in here preparing my escape.”
“Off the balcony?”
“You have a better plan?”
Court sat on a chair facing the bed. “No. In fact, I had that plan exactly.”
Zoya kept working. “Maybe I’ll run into you on the cliff.”
After a few seconds Court said, “Will you look at me?”
Zoya did turn, though she didn’t stop tying off pieces of the sheet. “So… the PRC? You are an assassin for the People’s Republic of China?”
“Of course not.”
“Right.”
“It’s cover, Zoya. The Agency needed intel on Fan, and they knew I was the one who could get it. I was contracted for this op in the first place because I had a relationship with Donald Fitzroy. He is—”
“I know who Donald Fitzroy is. When I saw him I realized you were not an Agency man, as you said; you were, exactly as you told Colonel Dai, a private operator.”
“I’ve had a long relationship with Fitzroy.”
“A relationship?”
“Look, I wasn’t lying before, but I wasn’t exactly letting you in on the whole truth. The truth is, I worked for the Agency for fourteen years. And then one day, I didn’t work for them anymore.”
She stopped tying the sheets, then slid them under the blanket to hide them in case one of Xi’s men came in. Looking at him, she asked, “Does that mean you quit, or does that mean you were let go?”
“Well… I didn’t exactly get a pink slip. They sent guys to kill me.”
Court could see Zoya looking hard at his face, searching for microexpressions that might give away honesty or deception. “Go on.”
“Kind of a long story, actually, but in those years when I wasn’t with Langley, I took odd jobs, working for different handlers in the private sector. Fitzroy was one of those employers.”
“Doing what, exactly?”
Court did not answer, so Zoya said, “Extrajudicial assassination?”
“Sometimes,” he said. And then he amended it with, “Well… yes, pretty much exclusively.”
There was no judgment from Zoya. No real expression of surprise, for that matter. After several seconds, she said, “I am going to ask you another question. It may be a difficult one for you to answer, but I need to know. Do you promise you will tell me the truth?”
Court leaned forward. “I swear it.”
Her eyes remained locked on his. “Are you the Gray Man?”
CHAPTER
FIFTY-TWO
When Court just sat there looking at her, Zoya said, “The complete list of possible responses includes ‘yes’ and ‘no.’”
Court struggled for the words. “Well… from what I understand, ‘the Gray Man’ is a term coined by Interpol several years ago. The Gray Man was the guy they blamed when something happened and nobody knew who did it.”
“No… the Gray Man is a former CIA operations officer who went into the private sector as an assassin after he was targeted by the Agency. The SVR knew that much.”
Court continued equivocating. “Right, I’m saying that just because there is an allegation that an assassination was conducted by the Gray Man, that doesn’t necessarily—”
“Yes or no?”
Court hesitated. Then he said, “Yes.”
Zoya’s mouth opened slightly, and it hung there a moment. Softly she said, “Wow.”
Court added, “But when I told you I could connect you with Agency people who will take care of you, I meant it. I talked with someone who would be very interested in speaking with you about coming to the U.S. for asylum. On your terms, of course.”
“How is it you are here chasing Fan for the CIA?”