“I’m not surprised he jumped,” Fen said as she approached us. “His death protected the identities of the traitors he was working with. That’s all he cared about. It’s going to be much more difficult to identify them now, but we will try.”
“How much longer do you think you’ll need us?” I asked.
“You’re free to go,” she said. “I heard the name he gave you, so I imagine you have a plane to catch.”
I nodded.
Behind me, Zhang Daiyu relayed instructions to the charter firm.
“The People’s Republic cannot condone intervention in another sovereign country, but given what has happened here, I would like to wish you every success in your endeavors.”
I was surprised she was expressing support and it must have showed on my face
“Fang Wenyan and the fools working with him didn’t realize they were being made tools of Russia, importing ideology and methods that have no place in China,” Fen explained. “If they had been successful, they could have caused division and instability that threatened China’s security. We were aware of a power play by this cabal, but until you arrived had no idea how well developed it was or that it involved a foreign state. Your investigation exposed these things, and for that reason your agency will always be welcome in China. As will you.”
She offered me her hand and I shook it. She said something in Mandarin to Hua and Zhang Daiyu and they replied in grateful tones.
“Your flight leaves in ninety minutes,” Zhang Daiyu said to me. “Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?”
“You need to stay here and help Shang Li rebuild,” I responded. “Can you let Dinara Orlova know what time the plane will arrive in Moscow?”
She nodded.
“I would never have been able to do this without you, Zhang Daiyu. Thank you.” I turned to Huang Hua then. “And you, Hua. I appreciate everything you’ve done.”
He nodded. “Delun, Kang, and Jinhai were my friends too, Mr. Morgan. I had to help avenge their deaths.”
My phone rang and I saw Justine’s name flash on-screen.
“Hey, Jus,” I said when I answered.
“Jack?” I was on edge immediately. I sensed fear in her voice. “I’ve been trying to reach Dinara like you asked, but I can’t get hold of her. Or Feodor Arapov. I can’t reach anyone at Private Moscow. It’s as though they have all disappeared.”
Chapter 78
My heart sank. There could only be one explanation for this. I took a moment to digest the news and collect my thoughts.
“Jack?”
“It’s Alekseyev,” I responded. “He must know what’s happened here in Beijing and has taken them for leverage.”
“Oh, Jack, you can’t go there,” Justine protested. “Not after last time.”
Under any other circumstances I would have said she was right, but I owed my life to Dinara and Feo, and if Alekseyev had taken them, they needed me more than ever. None of us would ever be safe again with a man like him targeting us.
“I have to,” I replied. “I want you to call Erin Sebold. She is the Agency head of section at the embassy in Moscow. See what kind of help they can give us.”
“Jack...”
“I have to go, Justine. I can’t leave them.”
It sounded as though she was crying.
“I know, Jack. I know you can’t leave them, but you are taking a piece of my heart with you.”
“I love you, Jus.”
“Love you too,” she replied before hanging up.
“What’s up?” Zhang Daiyu asked as I slid my phone into my pocket.
“The entire staff at Private Moscow are missing,” I replied.
“Alekseyev?”
I nodded grimly.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Morgan,” said Fen.
“Can you see if your people have heard anything useful in Moscow?” I asked.
“We don’t have operatives in Moscow,” she said firmly. “But I’ll see what I can do,” she added with a conspiratorial smile.
“You ready?” I asked Hua. He nodded.
We said goodbye to Fen, who thanked us again before allowing us to take the van out of the underground parking garage and cross the police cordon.
Hua took us to the workers’ hostel where I collected my stuff before we headed for Beijing Nanyuan airport to the south of the city, a military base that also offered commercial facilities. I could see a fleet of executive aircraft on the stands surrounding the large terminal.
I don’t know whether it was Zhang Daiyu’s doing or if Fen had pulled some strings, but we were waved through the gate at the edge of the airfield and told to proceed directly to stand 47, where we found a Gulfstream G650 waiting. The pilot stood by the aircraft, not far from a customs officer behind a collapsible table. When we pulled up and stepped out of the van, the officer called me over, checked my passport, and performed a fingertip search of my holdall. When she was satisfied, she waved me on.
The pilot, a cheerful man in his late forties, had an air of easy confidence, the calm of someone who’d been flying for decades. He greeted me warmly before climbing the airstairs to complete his pre-flight checks. I turned to face Zhang Daiyu and Hua, who had waited a short distance away.
“You sure you don’t want me to come?” she asked.
“I’m sure. You’re needed here. I have friends in Moscow who will look after me.”
“Not as well as us,” Hua countered.
“Maybe not.” I smiled. “Thank you for everything you’ve done. Both of you. I’ll call you when I’ve found Alekseyev.”
“Say hello to him from me,” Zhang Daiyu said.
“And our three friends,” Hua added.
I nodded and headed for the jet. I climbed the airstairs as the pilot ran through his engine checks and found the co-pilot waiting for me in the cabin. She was a quiet woman in her early thirties, who like the pilot gave off an aura of competence.
“Mr. Morgan, welcome aboard,” she said. “We were told you didn’t require service tonight, so it’s just you, me, and Captain Tengfei for our flight to Moscow.”
Nervous acid flushed through my stomach as she named the city. My last trip to Moscow had almost killed me.
I stowed my bag and took my seat in a plush armchair halfway along the cabin. The co-pilot went into the cockpit, and the pilot broadcast a short welcome and safety announcement, but I wasn’t really listening. I was thinking about what I’d face in Moscow and rehearsing various scenarios.
Worry for my Russian friends and colleagues, compulsive visualization of how I’d handle each scenario, and unwanted flashbacks to the trials I’d previously faced there kept me on edge throughout take-off, but about an hour after leaving Beijing the adrenaline ebbed away and fatigue got the better of me.
With nothing but the low drone of the engines and the stars outside my window keeping me company, I finally drifted off to sleep.
Chapter 79
Justine felt angry and she couldn’t understand why. It was an internalized anger that clawed at her, a grim sense of frustration with no outlet. She knew from professional experience that such feelings were neither healthy nor productive, so tried to understand where they had come from.
Was it delayed anger and grief for fallen colleagues? Was she tired of being thrust into danger by malevolent people? Was she angry at Jack for the cavalier way he hurled himself into these perilous situations, regardless of the odds? All these issues came to mind, so Justine suspected they played a part in the fire that seemed to start in her chest and spread up her spine to the very top of her skull.
She sat back in the executive chair and stretched. She was alone in the small meeting room in the Private office overlooking Madison Square Park. Mo-bot and Sci had been elusive ever since Angel had been released. She had told them about her experiences with Tate Johnson and the team spying on the Consulate and related what Jack had said about helping the DoD contractor find a way to bring Angel to justice.