Before he could complete the move, something silver flicked from left to right across his field of vision, a polished coin that bounced down the beige carpeting.
Long couldn’t stop the instinctive turn of his head to follow the flash of movement. But then he froze entirely, feeling the circular coolness of a gun barrel pressing against the back of his neck.
“Continue turning, please,” a masculine voice said in flawless Straits Chinese. “All the way to your right. Raise your hands, then step forward, just three paces. Do not look back over your shoulder. It would not be wise.”
Karate-trained, Long tensed, readying to try for a spin, block, and strike. Before he could act, however, the gun barrel was withdrawn as his ambusher stepped back, denying Long his positioning mark. Whoever this man was, he was not an amateur.
Long completed his turn to the right and lifted his hands, taking the three steps down the corridor as ordered. The pistol was not removed from his shoulder holster; both Long and the man standing behind him knew it was an irrelevance at the moment.
The guard strained his ears, catching the hint of another footfall, a suggestion someone had just passed into the security office. Who else was here? What did they want and might it include his life?
“How is your family in China faring, Long?”
Those words snatched up the guard’s attention. What could this man know of his family? And how?
“Your elder brother in Singapore is working hard to get your mother out of China,” the voice continued evenly. “Your mother, your cousin and his wife, their children. Things are hard after a civil war has ravaged a nation. There is little work in Guangxi Zhuangzu region, where they live. Food is scarce, medicine is hard to come by…. Your grandmother is ailing, is she not, Long? I know both you and your brother have been trying to bring them to safety to Singapore. But getting the immigration permits is difficult… so difficult.”
Long felt a slight tug at the side of his coat.
“There is a card in your pocket, Long. It has a name on it, an official in the Ministry of Immigration. This official could be of great use to you in your quest to bring your family to safety and prosperity. There is also a date and a time for an appointment with this official. He has your brother’s name and will be expecting him. Truly, this may be your best chance for obtaining the permits you require. It would be such a pity if an… untoward incident should lead to the cancellation of this appointment and the loss of this opportunity….”
Inside the security office Christine Rendino, skintight rubber gloves drawn on over her hands, slipped into the still-warm chair behind the systems console.
This was the last line of defense to overcome: the cybernetic guards overwatching the Makara Limited internal computer network. Here, too, no expense had been spared. Christine had greased copies of Makara Limited’s purchasing orders from a junior clerk in the office of their corporate software provider. Specifically the ones involving computer security.
Even she was impressed. There would be no easy way to batter past the firewalls and virus screens erected around Makara Limited’s secrets. Nor, once inside, would there be any way to quickly and easily find a way through the maze of in-company encryption barricades that had been deployed.
Even the physical use of a Makara network terminal required both a company key card and a personal access code recognized by the system… unless, of course, one could get access to an already active terminal, such as this one in the security office.
Leaning in over the keyboard, Christine made no effort to penetrate deeper into the network. There was no time and far too many chances of tripping an internal watchdog program. Instead, she called up the Internet provider used by Makara Limited, typing in the Web address of Sony Business Security Systems Division.
From the main menu, she windowed up the USER TROUBLESHOOTING Web page. She went to the STATE PROBLEM window and typed in a memorized eight-digit code.
A FILE READY TO DOWNLOAD prompt appeared on her screen and she moused over and double-tapped, initiating it.
That was the interesting thing about computer firewalls: They were one-dimensional, keeping intruders out. However, as with a vampire, if something was invited in, all bets were off.
The programmers at Sony Security would not have recognized the link Christine had just keyed off of their Web site. They had not incorporated it into their system. It had not even existed twenty minutes before, and after this single use, it would disappear as rapidly as it had materialized, leaving no trace of its brief presence. All involved security and provider logs would register only a routine information request to a reputable host within proper business-use parameters.
Likewise, the Makara antivirus screens would not recognize the sophisticated espionage program caging itself over their operating systems. Until further notice, the combat hackers at NAVSPECFORCE’s computer warfare center in San Diego would have an open back door into the Makara business net.
Minutes crept past, a small eternity of them. Chiang Long heard nothing more from behind him; no more words, no more traces of sound. His jaw knotted, the tension within building. Long didn’t consciously plan and trigger the move; his muscles simply exploded, hurling him to the far side of the corridor, spinning him around, snapping his hand to the butt of his pistol.
There was no one. The half-lit hallway was empty, the door to the security office gaping open.
With gun in hand, Long peered around the doorframe. An almost eerie sense of normalcy reigned in the security office. The motion-sensor board had reset and now glowed an unperturbed green. The television monitors cycled placidly through their interior views of an empty building. The set monitor covering the entry hallway showed the blonde of Long’s prior lustful focus emerging from the ladies’ lounge to take the arm of her escort.
It was if nothing had happened. Long might pass it all off as some freak of imagination… if he wished.
His hand dipped into his jacket pocket. A business card with the name of a Singapore Ministry of Immigration official, one higher up the ladder than his brother had ever been able to reach, with a date and time written on its back. This at least was real… if he wanted it to be.
Long closed the security office door, carefully securing the dead bolt.
Back in their shadowy corner of the courtyard, Christine palmed her cellular phone. Flipping it open, she verified that the unit was accessing service, a verification that the electronic barrage from the Cunningham was over. Over the sound of the dance music the distant metallic hee-haw of police sirens could be heard, a polisi patrol unit futilely responding to tripped burglar alarms elsewhere along the cape.
Tran chuckled softly. “I fear we’ve created a lot of paperwork for the local law enforcement.”
“Fa’ sure.” Christine returned the phone to her bag. Exchanging it for Kleenex, she reached up and lightly dabbed a smudge of lipstick from Tran’s mouth. “Excuse my familiarity, Inspector,” she said, grinning, “but I thought we should put on a decent show for our friend Mr. Camera back there.”
“Indeed, Commander.” Tran’s words were sober, but his grin matched the intel’s, his hands coming up to rest on her slim shoulders. “A good police officer must be prepared to make sacrifices for the cause.”
“Oh, very true, Inspector. Since nobody’s shooting at us or sounding a hue and cry, I’d guess everything went pretty well, including our buy off of Harconan’s security man. Do you think your little gift will hold him?”
“It is difficult to say. The Nung Chinese have a centuries-old tradition of serving as loyal retainers and bodyguards. Your own military used them as such in my former homeland. But there is one thing a Nung or any other Chinese values even over a word given to an employer.”