88° North

Chapter Three

They gave Jin Fe a key to their suite and some taxi money, and sent her back to the hotel, with her passport and a slip of paper with a telephone number on it. Nadia said they’d be gone for a few hours, and if they weren’t back by morning, to call the number using the hotel phone.

Jin Fe frowned, but there was a gleam in her eye, perhaps at the prospect of staying in a western hotel without a client, where she could call room service. Nadia wondered how much of a bill the girl could rack up in a matter of hours. It didn’t matter – Nadia still had forty thousand dollars left in her Swiss account, money she was never going to spend, and there was no one else to leave it to. There was nothing of personal value in the room the girl could steal; Nadia and Jake travelled light. Even so, he questioned her judgement.

‘You sure about this? We don’t know her from Adam – well, Eve, I suppose.’

‘I need to do this, Jake.’

‘She could be long gone when we get back.’

‘Good. The whole point is to set her free.’

‘Being free after being in a cage so long might be tough for her. I wondered if you’d want to watch over her a bit.’

‘She is tough. Besides,’ she patted her own gun inside her jacket, ‘I’m not exactly the nurturing mother poster-girl. And we have more pressing business.’

Jake held his hands up in mock-surrender. He reached for the bill while pulling out his wallet. I hope it works out for her.’

‘Thanks,’ she said.

He chucked a few twenties on the table. ‘For what?’

And in that moment, suddenly the Maldives sounded like the only place to be, with him, until the bitter end. She flushed the thought away, this time for good, and laid a ridiculously large tip on top of his bills.

‘For being here,’ she said.

For being you.

They took a cab to Hanbury’s apartment, halfway down the Peak. The slaloming road was hemmed in by trees, but she glimpsed Stanley Harbour on the other side of the island, as the road snaked its way down Victoria Peak’s spine, then crossed back towards Central. The drive was hypnotic, and she nearly drifted off. Whether that was due to jet lag or her illness, she didn’t care to speculate. When they arrived, the driver left them standing outside the barred electric gates, which didn’t open until the taxi had departed.

A woman in a traditional housemaid’s uniform arrived and escorted them along a gravel path. There was no other access unless you happened to be a squirrel, the trees and bushes were so dense. The location was remarkably quiet, save for the distant hum of traffic down below. It meant Hanbury would hear anyone approaching.

Like a squat crab, the apartment perched on four sturdy concrete pillars, the two front legs far longer due to the sharp slope of the terrain. The front, overlooking Hong Kong Bay, was mainly glass. Bullet-proof? Maybe not. Still it was higher than the skyscrapers. A sniper would have to fire a bullet from Kowloon, three miles away. One or two marksmen she’d worked with in Russia could pull it off.

She glanced at her watch. She’d be much happier once the Chef joined them.

A trim, forty-something, black-suited, white-gloved butler, backed by two hyper-looking Dobermans, barred the solid oak entrance. He held out a small lacquered tray.

‘You need to relinquish your firearms if you wish to enter.’

‘Mr Hanbury is expecting us,’ Jake said. The butler did a statue impression, exuding the notion that he was prepared to stand there all night. The dogs didn’t look so patient.

Nadia shrugged. She surrendered her Beretta Cougar. Jake pulled out his M9 and thumped its black polycarbonate body onto the tray. The butler made a short bow and moved aside, his free arm indicating the entrance hall. But as soon as Nadia crossed the threshold, there was a penetrating whine. The dogs growled, baring their teeth, one of them drooling. She froze. The tray appeared next to her. She dug out her knife, and dropped it next to the pistols. Jake fished out his.

The butler said something in Chinese, and the dogs sat down. As Nadia passed, she let them sniff her hand, and crouched down to stroke them behind the ears, her head within biting range. They let her pet them, but remained alert, watching her. She was impressed. Even the dogs were smart.

Hanbury, in tan trousers and a red striped shirt open at the collar, stood in the dimly-lit vast lounge. He gazed dreamily to the city below, one hand smudging the window glass, a whisky tumbler in the other. Classical music blared from four Bang and Olufsen speakers as tall as her. Shostakovich’s 5th. For her benefit, perhaps. Jake approached and began to speak, but Hanbury shushed him by raising the whisky glass, spilling a drop onto the plush carpet, while the crescendo built.

This piece had been her father’s favourite. He used to sit her on his lap and tell her Cossack stories while she listened. She envisioned soldiers marching, then running into battle on the front line, most to their doom, a few to glory, cannons belching smoke and thunder all around. The cadence arrived, an ashtray vibrating noisily on the glass coffee table. Hanbury pushed off from the window and activated a button on a remote he had in his pocket, and the music diminished to a whisper. His rusty-grey hair was brushed to one side, masking the beginnings of a bald patch, making him look like an ageing hippy-turned-diplomat. He had the look of someone who had been a bit of a rebel in his youth, probably a hit with the girls, back in the day. He had that been-there-done-it-all air about him. Not in a boasting way, more like he’d seen enough, thank you very much.

He turned to them. ‘What on earth were you doing on Tonnochy Road?’

So, he’d had them followed.

‘Personal,’ she replied. He probably knew what had happened, and might think she and Jake wanted a threesome with the girl. She didn’t care too much about what he thought. But then she realised she did. Somehow, he made her care. He was an unusual man. The type who led from behind. Someone who didn’t judge you, because he didn’t have to. He made you judge yourself.

‘There are two ways to change the world,’ he said. ‘People will tell you that you need to see the bigger picture.’ He stared down at his whisky, then at her. ‘In my not-so-humble opinion, they are wrong. I’ve watched such people – politicians and so-called leaders – come and go, getting others killed or thrown in prison, while practically every revolution or victory leaves society more or less as it was before, or worse off. You see, the world turns, and, well, history recycles us.’ He smiled, a benevolent – if a little preachy – uncle.

‘The small picture, that’s what you need to see. That’s how to change the world.’ He walked forwards and raised his glass. ‘My dear Nadia, you changed a small picture this evening, and though in the larger scheme of things it doesn’t matter one jot, I salute you.’

Nadia felt her cheeks flush. ‘Spasiba,’ she said quietly.

Hanbury swirled the whisky around in its chunky tumbler, rattling the melting ice cubes against the glass, and took a swig. His smile faded. ‘Salamander’s here,’ he said. ‘In Hong Kong.’

Nadia’s insides tensed, and all her sleepiness vanished. She wanted her Beretta back. Now. ‘Where?’

Hanbury plumped himself into a leather armchair, depositing the tumbler on the table. The butler appeared out of nowhere and placed a coaster underneath, wiping up a drop of the alcohol.

‘He was seen disembarking from a junk in Port Stanley early this morning. Difficult for a man that size to hide. One of ours tried to tail him, but …’ His eyes glazed over, and he picked up the tumbler.

Nadia understood. The tail had disappeared. Dead, if he was lucky, still alive and begging for it by now if not. A thought struck her. ‘The tail, did he know about us?’

Hanbury suddenly looked sheepish, like an overgrown schoolboy caught out. ‘We’re safe here. It’s a fortress. The glass is bulletproof, in case you were wondering. Besides, he’s been here on and off for decades. He’s never interfered with the embassy or its staff.’

Nadia’s gut begged to differ. She suddenly thought about Jin Fe back at the hotel. What if Salamander or Blue Fan turned up there? ‘Jake, we should leave.’

‘Just a minute,’ Jake said, glancing down and then frowning at his mobile phone. ‘Hanbury, can you make a call?’

‘To whom?’

‘It doesn’t matter. My phone shows no signal. It was fine when we arrived.’

Hanbury put the glass down, spilling a few more drops onto the table. He’d clearly had a few. He picked up the cordless phone, went to dial, and then stopped.

Nadia guessed why. No tone. She dug out her mobile. No signal.

‘Our guns, Hanbury,’ Jake said. ‘Now!’

Hanbury looked momentarily confused, but then he grabbed the armrests and heaved himself up.

‘James!’ he yelled.

Then he shouted two names Nadia couldn’t untangle, and the Dobermans beat the butler into the lounge, skidding on the parquet.

‘Lock everything down, James. Give them their guns and break out ours.’ The maid trotted in, then disappeared into another room. James ran back out and returned with their weapons, the maid with two assault rifles.

Nadia spotted it – a faraway light hovering between the two nearest skyscrapers.

‘Get down!’ she shouted.

But at that same moment there was a loud rat-a-tat-tat, as a series of bullets peppered the exact same spot on the glass, and then one broke through. The maid was punched off her feet by a round that took the top of her skull off.

Nadia dropped to the floor on her back and shot out the two lights in the room, leaving just the gloom from the entrance hall. Hanbury crawled towards the maid, while Jake rolled and snatched up one of the assault rifles. But they couldn’t fire outwards, due to the glass. James made it to the other assault rifle while the dogs barked at the window, then ran to their master.

‘Hanbury, we have to get out of here,’ Jake said. ‘The sniper probably has a night-sight. The garage. It’s underground, right?’

Hanbury was on all fours, crouched over the maid. He seemed to only half-hear. Maybe the maid meant more to him than hired help. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘We have two bullet-proof Range Rovers.’

‘Lead the way.’

Nadia heard the chopper, the one carrying the sniper. It was moving in, now it had played its advantage of surprise.

James spoke to Hanbury in Cantonese. Hanbury nodded, then crawled flat along the floor, beneath the shelter of the furniture. Like snakes evacuating a sinking ship, the four of them and the two dogs made it to the corridor, where the chopper had no line of sight. Nadia stood up.

James checked a panel of video screens, showing the garage empty except for the two cars, and entered a code into a keypad next to a door. The screen for the stairwell was blank. James’ brow creased, his forefinger hovering over the keypad, then he entered the final digit. ‘Stand back. I will go first,’ he said.

As soon as the door mechanism buzzed, James yanked it open. The sound of a shotgun at close range blasted into the hallway. James was thrown upwards and backwards, his chest-cage ripped open.

Nadia fired at the half-open steel door, her bullets ricocheting down the stairs to the garage. Jake slid across the floor and unloaded a complete magazine from the semi-auto, the noise deafening. Nadia poked her head around the corner. Two men on their backs, too many bullet holes to be alive. The ringing in her ears eased off, replaced by the sound of three people breathing heavily, and the panting dogs standing faithfully by their master.

Jake snatched up James’ semi-auto. ‘We have to go. Hanbury, send the dogs downstairs.

Hanbury was bereft, breathing heavier than the dogs. Nadia didn’t really know anything about him, perhaps he’d just seen the closest thing to his family gunned down in the space of a minute. And now Jake was asking him to send his dogs into a potential kill zone.

Hanbury held out his upturned palms and the two Dobermans approached. He stroked each of them. One of them licked his hand. He said something soft in Chinese, as if he was talking to his children.

Obediently they broke away from him and bounded down the stairs. Jake followed close behind. Nadia grabbed Hanbury by the arm, and they descended.

The garage appeared to be clear. Jake stalked to the nearest Range Rover, turning three-sixty, rifle at eye level, ready to fire. The dogs ran and sniffed around the basement garage, not sensing anyone. Jake checked under the cars, then Hanbury bleeped the closest one unlocked. They stole inside, Nadia and Jake in the front, Hanbury behind. The dogs leapt into the back with their master.

Jake started and gunned the engine. ‘How do we open the garage door?’

Hanbury held up a remote. ‘They’re probably waiting just outside.’

‘This thing’s bullet-proof, right?’

‘Yes. Like the glass upstairs,’ he replied, his voice weak.

Jake passed Nadia the semi-auto. ‘But this time we can return fire.’ Again, he made eye contact with her. ‘Ready?’

A drop of sweat trickled down the nape of her neck. Something nagged at her, something wasn’t quite right, but there was no time to delay.

‘Go,’ she said, opening the side window just enough to shove the barrel through the gap.

The metal doors rolled apart, floodlights revealing an empty ramp. Jake floored the pedal. The tyres shrieked and the car sped off and hit the ramp hard, banking up the curved driveway as if on rails. A searchlight shone down from the chopper, bushes and trees whipping as if in the grip of a hurricane, the sound of the rotors drowning out everything else, making it hard to think let alone speak. But it didn’t open fire. Why? An idea began to form. First the maid. Then James. Statistically speaking …

Jake crashed through the entrance gate, and they skidded onto the dark road. Nadia fired off a few rounds at the chopper to let them know this wasn’t going to be a turkey-shoot. It backed off. Why? It could easily pick them off, fire at the tyres or through the roof of the Range Rover. Later. Just as she thought they might get away, they hit a straight piece of road, and the headlamps lit up a large man standing in the middle of it.

Salamander.

‘Take him!’ she screamed. ‘Kill him now!’ But it was too easy, and she suddenly understood what was going on. ‘Wait!’ she shouted.

Jake was accelerating, and for one tantalising moment she thought she might achieve her goal ahead of schedule. But a Humvee burst out of the bushes and blocked the way. Jake slammed on the brakes but the distance was too short, and Nadia barely had time to bring her arms up in front of her face. She was catapulted forward, her head cannoning into the windscreen, as the Range Rover slammed into the tank-like vehicle, bounced upwards and then came to a stop, its engine dying.

Before she could recover, the car was swarmed by men. She felt something prick her neck, and was hauled through the open window of the car. Her limbs began to turn to jelly, though not before she’d kneed one of her captors where it hurt most. She struggled to get free, but felt herself slipping away, and the last thing she saw was Hanbury on his knees, and Jake unconscious and bleeding from cuts on his face. The dogs attacked, barked, bit, and ripped skin from two of the attackers, but there were too many, and she heard Hanbury screaming, begging ‘No!’ as the Dobermans had their throats slit.