“What a mess,” Salazar remarked. Justine nodded. “We’re still figuring out what to charge him with because he was under duress. The DA will make a recommendation.”
Justine was deeply conflicted. Rafael had been put in an awful position by a man who was a proven killer. He’d made some bad choices but wasn’t an inherently bad man, nor a willing accomplice. She didn’t envy the people who had to unpick the legal points here and felt nothing but sympathy for Alison. She was another of Angel’s victims and would have to live with the consequences of his evil actions for the rest of her life.
Justine simply hoped Secretary Carver’s people would break him and then decide on the best way for him to be punished.
Chapter 59
I woke up to find Huang Hua standing over me.
“You really need better security,” he said.
He was holding a laptop, which he took to the desk where Zhang Daiyu and I had our makeshift operation center. She was stirring now and sat up in the loose T-shirt and leggings she’d bought to wear as pajamas.
“Good, you’re awake. I have something you need to see,” Hua said.
He set up his laptop in front of the others he’d given us.
Zhang Daiyu said something sharp in Mandarin and he smiled.
“In English, Zhang Daiyu. Don’t be so antisocial.” He turned to me. “She wants to know how I found you and how I got in.” He powered up his machine. “Getting in was easy. I just told the receptionist I was going to visit some friends, and I found you because I put a tracking device on my machines in case they were stolen.” He gestured at the computers he’d given us. “I didn’t mean to disturb you. I can come back later if you’re busy.”
His insinuation wasn’t lost on either of us.
“They don’t have any other rooms,” Zhang Daiyu explained.
He held up his hands. “No need to explain. I’m not here to talk about you, I’m here to tell you about Gavin Hudson.”
“Gavin who?” I asked.
Hua opened a file on his laptop and showed us a photograph of Liu Bao and the blond man with the Stars and Stripes lapel pin we’d observed at the reception the previous night.
“This is Gavin Hudson,” Hua revealed. “He’s a junior staffer at the US Embassy.”
Hua opened another file and scrolled through Gavin’s personnel records and official photographs.
“How did you access his State Department records?” I asked.
Hua made a face that reminded me of Mo-bot’s expression when I doubted her abilities to fix a problem. It was as though I was suggesting his skills weren’t up to the simple challenge of circumventing US Government security.
“The American State Department has rules and guidelines about in-country relationships,” Hua went on. “Thankfully, Gavin met his sweetheart during his last rotation in Washington.”
He showed us another photo, this one of an athletic brunette in a dark pant suit, posing for an official photo.
“This is Daisy Wells, a freelance technology reporter with by-lines in Wired, the Atlantic, and other well-established publications. She passed State Department vetting without any problems.” Hua paused. “But there is a problem.”
He brought up a photo taken from one of the surveillance cameras planted in Liu Bao’s penthouse. It showed three women, and I recognized one of them as Wells.
“We thought she was a call girl. It is the perfect cover, with the number of women Liu has coming and going from his apartment. I think she’s feeding him information on Hudson, or else taking instructions on how to manipulate him. Whatever she’s doing, I’ll bet Gavin Hudson has no idea she knows Liu Bao.”
“Then I think we should tell him,” I said, and Hua smiled and nodded his agreement.
Chapter 60
Gavin Hudson lived in Beijing’s diplomatic quarter, not far from Liu Bao’s penthouse apartment. It was one of the most heavily monitored places on the planet. The Chinese authorities wanted to know what the rest of the world was doing, and the various diplomatic missions kept tabs on each other, keen to understand which countries were trying to gain an advantage with Asia’s superpower.
Hua drove Zhang Daiyu and me in the LDV surveillance van. It was early, but life in this part of the city was already in full swing. Embassy staffers were out jogging, hawkers were setting up their food stalls, and noisy trucks were making deliveries to local shops and restaurants. We arrived in Xiayuan Park, the complex where Hudson lived, and Hua found a space in the parking lot opposite the apartment building.
We left the vehicle and headed across the street toward the block. There was an American guard on the gate. Civilian dress of dark trousers and a short-sleeve white shirt, but his ramrod posture, crewcut, and piercing stare screamed Marine Corps to me.
“Can I help you, sirs? Ma’am?” he asked, as we approached the open gate set in a green mesh fence. Behind it lay manicured gardens and a modern apartment block twenty floors high.
“We’re here to see Gavin Hudson,” I replied.
“Is he expecting you?” the guard asked.
“You with the Corps?” I gambled. “I was a pilot. Flew Sea Knights in Afghanistan.”
“Good for you, but that don’t make us brothers.”
He obviously took his job very seriously, so I tried another tack.
“Mr. Hudson has got himself into some trouble with a local gang boss. It’s compromised him and he’s going to want to know about it.”
“That’s an embassy security issue, sir.”
I began to wonder if the guy was a former Marine or a failed one. He lacked the imagination and initiative typically found in the Corps.
“We’ll inform the embassy once we’ve spoken to Mr. Hudson,” I replied. “Just call up and ask if he’ll see us. Tell him it’s about his finance friend.”
The guard studied me for a moment and then nodded. He pulled a wireless intercom from his pocket and dialed a number. He stepped away to talk and returned a few moments later.
“You can go up. Fifteenth floor. Apartment fifteen-zero-eight.”
“Thanks,” I replied.
Zhang Daiyu, Hua, and I walked up the short path leading to the main entrance. The building was painted dark gray with wooden trim on the balconies and windows and there were matching panels artfully positioned on its fascia.
We went inside the air-conditioned lobby and saw another guy in dark trousers and short-sleeve white shirt standing beside a desk. He eyed us as we walked toward the elevator but said nothing.
“Friendly,” Hua remarked.
We took an elevator up to the fifteenth floor and emerged to find Gavin Hudson waiting for us in a small lobby. There was a display of tropical flowers on the table behind him that filled the air with a sweet scent.
“Who are you people?” he asked.
Hudson was dressed in running shoes, sweatpants, and a T-shirt. We were obviously keeping him from his morning exercise.
“My name is Jack Morgan,” I replied. “I run a detective agency called Private. These are my colleagues Zhang Daiyu and Huang Hua. We’d like to ask you some questions about your relationship with Liu Bao.”
“Questions? Are you serious? I don’t have time for questions,” he responded.
“Okay,” I said slowly. “Then we’ll take it to the CIA section chief at the embassy.”
“Take what?” Hudson asked, suddenly concerned.
“The fact that your girlfriend is an associate of Liu Bao. She’s visited his apartment in the company of other women we believe are call girls. Do you have any idea why she might do that?”
It was as though I’d hit him. He staggered a little and the color drained from his face.