His tail hook caught the three-wire, and the arrester cable yanked him to a stop with the effect of bringing a loaded semi-trailer traveling at a hundred fifty miles an hour to a complete halt in under three seconds.
Trash jerked to a violent but welcome stop on the deck of the Ronald Reagan.
An instant later the air boss came over his headset. “Well, if you can’t come to the Reagan, the Reagan will come to you.”
Trash gave an exhausted chuckle. His landing would be scored; all carrier landings are scored. It would be judged fair, which was fine with him, but the air boss made it clear he knew that the only reason he’d not boltered again was that the boat had reached up and snatched him out of the sky.
But he was glad to be on the deck. “Yes, sir,” he said.
“Welcome aboard, Marine.”
“Semper Fi, sir,” Trash said with a bit of false bravado. He took his gloved hands off the stick and throttle and held them up in front of his face. They shook a little, which did not surprise him in the slightest.
“I hate boats,” he said to himself.
THIRTY-FIVE
The office of SinoShield Business Investigative Services Ltd. was located on the thirty-third floor of IFC2, Two International Finance Centre, which, at eighty-eight stories, was the second-tallest building in Hong Kong, and the eighth-tallest office building in the world.
Gavin, Jack, and Domingo were dressed in high-dollar business suits, and they carried briefcases and leather folios; they fit in perfectly with the thousands of office workers and clients moving through the hallways of IFC2.
The three Americans checked in with the receptionist for the floor, and she called Mr. Yao and spoke to him briefly in Cantonese.
She then said, “He will be here right away. Won’t you sit down?”
They got the impression that several small companies shared the check-in desk, the receptionist, and all of the common areas here on the thirty-third floor.
After a few minutes a young handsome Asian man walked up the carpeted hallway into the common space. Unlike most Chinese businessmen, he was not wearing his suit coat. Instead his lavender dress shirt was somewhat wrinkled and his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. As he closed on the three men in the waiting area, he ran his hands over his shirt and straightened his tie.
“Good morning, gentlemen,” the man said with a tired smile and an extended hand. He possessed no hint of any accent, save perhaps a touch of southern California. “Adam Yao, at your service.”
Chavez shook his hand. “Domingo Chavez, director of corporate security.”
“Mr. Chavez,” Yao replied politely.
Both Jack and Ding recognized immediately that this kid was probably a great intelligence officer, and likely a hell of a poker player. Every last member of CIA’s Clandestine Service would know the name Domingo Chavez in a heartbeat, and they would also know the man would be in his middle to late forties. The fact that Yao did not bat an eyelash and let on that he recognized a CIA legend was a testament to his good tradecraft skills.
“Jack Ryan, associate financial analyst,” Jack said as the two men shook hands.
This time, Adam Yao did show genuine surprise.
“Whoa,” he said with a bright smile. “Jack Junior. All I knew about Hendley Associates was that Senator Hendley was running the show. I didn’t know you were—”
Jack interrupted, “Yeah, I try to stay pretty low-key. I’m just one of the grunts working a keyboard and a mouse.”
Yao gave a look like he found Jack’s comment to be just modesty.
After Yao was introduced to Gavin Biery, he led all three back toward his office.
Chavez said, “I’m sorry about springing this meeting on you like this out of the blue, but we were in town with a problem and needed somebody who knew the lay of the land.”
Yao said, “My secretary said representatives from your company were in town and asked for a brief consult. I honestly wish I could offer you more than twenty minutes, but I am slammed. As I bet you can imagine, intellectual property investigations in HK and China keep a guy in my profession busy. I’m not complaining, even if I am reduced to catching catnaps on the love seat in my office instead of going home and having a life.” He waved a hand over his slightly wrinkled shirt, making an excuse for his worn look.
As they entered his small and spartan office, Jack said, “We appreciate any time you have to talk to us at all, we really do.”
Yao’s secretary brought coffee service for the four men and placed it in a small sitting area in front of Adam’s messy desk.
Jack wondered what was going on in Yao’s head. Having the son of the President of the United States in his office must have been somewhat cool, as laid-back as Jack was about his family name, he recognized at least that much. But meeting and chatting with Domingo Chavez would be, Ryan had no doubt, one of the seminal events in this CIA officer’s life.
“So,” Yao asked, “how did you guys find out about me?”
Jack said, “There was an article that named your firm along with a couple others a few months ago in Investor’s Business Daily. When our own problems brought us over here to Hong Kong, we dug it out and gave your office a call.”
“Ah, yes. A case we worked on last year involving some high-tech patents being counterfeited in Shenzhen. Happens all the time, but it was nice to get the free advertising.”
“What sorts of projects are you taking on these days?” Jack asked.
“Could be anything, really. I have clients in the computer industry, in the pharmaceutical industry, in retail, publishing, even in the restaurant business.”
“Restaurants?”
Adam nodded. “Yep. There’s a prominent chain in southern California, over sixty locations. Turns out they have eleven more locations over here that they didn’t know about.”
“You’re kidding,” said Biery.
“Nope. Same name, same signs, same menu, same little hats on their heads. Except the owners of the chain don’t see a dime of the profits.”
“Incredible.”
“It’s happening more and more. They just busted a ring of fake Apple stores over here selling Mac knockoffs. Even the employees thought they worked for Apple.”
“Must be tough shutting them down,” Ryan said.
Yao smiled pleasantly. “It is tough. I enjoy the investigation part, but dealing with Chinese bureaucracy is… What’s the word I’m looking for?”
“Bullshit?” Jack said.
Yao smiled. “I was going to say ‘tedious,’ although ‘bullshit’ is a better description.” He regarded Ryan with a smile. “So, Jack. Why don’t I see a couple of square-jawed security guys in black suits and earpieces standing behind you?”
“I rejected my Secret Service detail. I like my privacy.”
Chavez added with a smile, “I watch his back, when necessary.”
Yao chuckled, took a sip of his coffee, and shuffled in his chair. Jack caught him looking at Chavez for a moment. “Well, gentlemen, what sort of mischief has China made for your financial management firm?”
Gavin Biery said, “It’s cybercrime, essentially. My network has been getting hit with a series of very well thought-out and organized hacking attempts. They managed to get in and to steal our client lists. Obviously this is extremely sensitive data. I was able to trace the source of the intrusion back to a command server in the U.S., and I hacked into that server.”
Adam said, “Good for you. I like a company that’s willing to fight back. If everybody did that, we’d sure as hell be in a better place as far as commercial theft. What did you find on the server?”
“I found the culprit. There was data on there that told me who was behind the attack on it. Not a real name but his online handle. We also were able to establish that the attack originated here in Hong Kong.”