Court knew he couldn’t hold on much longer. “I have to start swinging.”
“Go.”
Slowly at first, he rocked the deadweight in, then out, straining his left shoulder. After three full cycles, Zoya was moving enough for Court to feel significant pull against the three fingers holding him against the wall.
“Court.”
“Yes?”
“Do you pray?”
“I’m praying now.”
“Then pray for me,” she said.
“Okay. Two more swings and then we go. You’ve got this.”
From below he heard her say, “You are a good man. You will rescue Fan and save your Agency friends tonight.”
Court said, “Not without your help, spider monkey,” and then he swung in with all his might, let go of her fingers, and felt Zoya’s hand slip away.
CHAPTER
FIFTY-FOUR
Court hefted his numb and nearly useless left arm, and somehow he managed to find a handhold for his left hand. He started pulling himself up, using all his might, even pressing his bloody face into the wet cool rock as he did so. And as he did this he shouted, “Zoya?”
He’d heard her hit the wall, but it sounded way too hard, and then he clearly heard something fall, knocking against the wall as it went down. He didn’t know if it was a piece of a rock itself, or if it had been an unconscious woman.
There was no answer. “Zoya!”
For five more seconds he heard nothing. Then her voice, muted by the rock between them. “I’m here.”
“Are you hurt?”
“I’ll live, but I dropped my gun.”
Court closed his eyes, thanked God as relief washed over him, and said, “I’ll lend you mine.”
After a few more seconds Zoya said, “Good news. I’m feeling the ceiling of this underhang. There are good handholds and footholds. When you get some strength back, you can climb down here and I can reach out and help you position your feet.”
“Okay,” he said, blinking away misting tears of joy because he was unable to wipe his face with the back of his arm. “I’ll need just a second.”
The rest of the descent went much faster as the angle of the cliff decreased, and they made it the final twenty feet down to the shoreline by scooting along on their backsides. On the rocky shore they embraced, and both of them wanted to fall over onto the rocks and just lie there, but there was no time. If there were boats here there must have been other ways down to the sand, and while neither Court nor Zoya saw any of Xi’s men, the glow of flashlights higher on the hills told them the Chinese guards were out in force and actively searching for them.
“How do you feel?” he asked.
“Pretty beat-up,” she admitted. “But I’ll make it.”
Court felt the same. His right shoulder hurt, his left hand hurt, his lip was fat and sore where he’d smacked it on the cliff, and his right shin was swollen and aching.
The two boats at the dock fifty yards from the cliff were wooden-hulled stern-drive twelve-footers. They clearly belonged to one of the private homes around, and quite possibly the Chinese safe house itself. Court ripped the wiring out of the engine of one boat then hot-wired the simple ignition system on the other in just a couple of minutes, while Zoya held the pistol and watched for trouble.
Finally the engine started, Zoya jumped off the little dock and into the vessel with the line in her hand, and Court went full throttle, fighting his way through both the darkness and the incoming waves.
As they raced off Court could barely hear the snaps of gunfire over the sound of the engine and the crashing waves, but Xi and his men had been armed with pistols, and they were a couple hundred yards away. It would take a hell of a good shot in this bad light to hit a bouncing and swaying target on the move at that distance.
Zoya and Court raced safely around a rocky point and back to the west, away from the Chamroon estate and back in the direction of their hotel.
Just ten minutes later they came ashore at the Trisara Phuket, docking quietly at the lighted pier and then jogging towards the buildings. It was still ten minutes to midnight, so there were quite a few couples at the bar, and still a few at the beachside restaurant.
Court said, “We need a phone and some diving gear.” Both of them had dropped by the dive shop at the resort the day before, and though it would be locked up now, Zoya insisted she could find a way in.
Court raced back to the suite, approached from the patio, and looked inside, making certain Xi hadn’t left anyone there. It was exactly as he’d left it, and he used the butt of the SIG pistol to break the window next to the back door so he could slip inside.
Here he changed into black cotton pants and a black T-shirt, then searched through his gear and discovered that one of Xi’s men had taken the Glock pistol. The .38 revolver was still in his backpack, however, so he dropped that into his pocket and put the SIG in his waistband.
He returned to the lounge and walked through, then out onto the bar area by the pool. He walked between several tables full of guests, eyeing them carefully. A woman took pictures of her group; one of her friends asked her to dance, and then she covered her phone with her napkin and followed him to the dance floor on the other side of the pool. Several others from the big table also went up to dance, so it was no great feat for Court to merely pass by and slide the napkin and the phone off the table.
Seconds later he stepped into darkness outside the lights of the sedate outdoor nightlife here at the resort, and he dialed Brewer’s number. There would be no encryption on his end of this call, which meant he’d have to be careful with what he said.
She answered on the first ring. “Brewer.”
“It’s me.”
“Is this Mr. Cavalcade?”
“No. It’s Carlsbad here.”
“I’m glad you called early. The time for the party has been moved up an hour.”
Court almost choked on his response. “No!”
“Yes. My friends found a ride that would get them there faster, so they—”
Court interrupted. “Bad idea! They need to skip this party, that’s why I’m calling.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, they’ve been looking forward to it.”
Court said, “Listen carefully. My old friend from Hong Kong is here with a huge group of his friends, and right now they’re walking through the front door of the same party your friends are heading to. Not sure there will be enough booze to go around.”
There was a long pause. “You’re sure?”
“You need to call your friends right now!”
“It’s too late.”
“Do it! It’s a surprise party.”
Brewer hesitated, then said, “I don’t follow you.”
“My friend from Hong Kong will be the surprise guest, and there will be a huge reception waiting for him.”
“Where… where is the man my friends were hoping to meet?”
“I’m pretty sure he’s nearby at another party, on a yacht. You could help me check on that.”
“Right. Name and registry?”
“No! Make the call first!”
Brewer put Court on hold. Many times in his career as a CIA paramilitary he’d been one of the guys in the helicopter racing into a target only to get the word to turn around and go home. More than once he was in sight of his objective when the order came. It sucked when it happened, but sometimes it sucked more when it didn’t happen. When he wasn’t recalled even after intelligence pointed to a problem at the objective.