Covert Assassin Page 4

  Justin glanced at Carrie sitting at the other desk next to his and said, “I think we’ve got something.”

  “What is it?”

  He showed her his findings. “Mary, formerly known as Chen. She was, well, technically still is, Thames’s girlfriend.”

  “Chinese born.”

  “And raised.”

  “No coincidence.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Do we have an address?”

  “We have a couple. She lives in Islington, and she works at Lloyds Banking Group HQ at 25 Gresham Street.”

  “How about I pay a visit to our dear friend Mary?”

  Justin smiled. “Remember what Elliott said?”

  Carrie pursed her lips. “What? I’m not allowed to tour London and enjoy its beauty?”

  “Of course you are. And you just happened to be in Mary’s neighborhood and ran into her.”

  “Exactly.”

  Carrie wrote down the addresses and Mary’s phone numbers, then stood up. “If everything goes well, I should be back before lunch.”

  “All right. I’ll give our Five contact a call. See if he has found anything.”

  “Perfect. We’ll keep in touch.”

  “Be safe, Carrie.”

  “I will.”

  She smiled at Justin and stepped out of the office.

  Justin glanced at Mary’s picture. She did not have any of the typical Asian features: small face, large eyes, the fair skin and thin lips. Instead, Mary’s face was the color of mocha, and she had a somewhat large nose for her square-shaped face. The only giveaway would be the almond-shaped eyes, but they were a deep blue color. Justin had not been looking for anything Asian or Chinese when he had first reviewed the file. I hope Carrie finds something useful.

  He nodded, then reached for the phone to call the MI5 contact.

  Chapter Seven

  Canadian Embassy, Trafalgar Square

  London, England

  Justin’s MI5 contact had no update. After the Dublin shooting, it had become even more difficult and dangerous to gather good, valuable intelligence. Most confidential informants had disappeared, afraid of reprisals from either the new IRA or the Gardai, which had already started a crackdown. The MI5 agent promised to keep looking, but warned Justin that this might be a dead end.

  Justin wondered whether he should approach Mandy and inform her about Dunbar. That admission would require some finagling, which Justin could manage without any trouble. But he was not sure how much he could trust Mandy. She could take that information to Elliott or someone else and cause problems. Mandy had yet to produce a shred of helpful evidence. Yes, she had made the offer of cooperation, but had yet to deliver. Justin shook his head. It’s better to wait and see what she brings us first, if anything.

  He called Flavio with an update about Thames’s Chinese-born girlfriend and to seek Flavio’s opinion about Mandy. Justin’s boss agreed with the assessment that she would have to prove herself trustworthy. Even then, Justin was to tread lightly and maneuver carefully. She was not yet an ally, and it would take more than a few bits of intelligence to turn her into one.

  Hitting the proverbial brick wall, Justin decided it was time to get some fresh air. It was cool when he stepped outside the embassy, and sharp wind gusts toyed with his hair. A few gray clouds hovered in the horizon, but the threat of rain was not immediate. Justin waved at the heavily-armed police officers manning the embassy’s main entrance, then waited for one of the big red-and-white tour busses to pass before he dashed across the A4, the two-lane street separating the embassy building from Trafalgar Square. It was around ten-thirty, and he wondered how Carrie was faring. If she can find Thames’s girlfriend, that might give us something.

  Justin walked along the sidewalk and looked at the giant hand with a thumbs-up on a plinth at the northwest corner of the square. He wondered how much money was wasted for this public “artwork,” whose thumb was disproportionally long compared to the rest of the hand. Justin shook his head. Maybe I just don’t understand art.

  As he reached the end of the sidewalk, a sleek silver Mercedes-Benz sedan drove slowly from its illegally-parked position on the sidewalk. The car stopped when it came next to Justin. Instinctively, he turned slightly to the side, and his hand went over the Sig Sauer in his waistband holster.

  The tinted rear window began to slide down.

  Justin stepped further away from the car. His hand gripped the pistol as he got ready to pull it out if he noticed a threat.

  A smiling young woman popped her head out of the window. “Mr. Hall, may I have a moment of your time?” she said in a warm tone with barely a hint of an accent.

  Justin peered deep into her almond-shaped brown eyes. It was clear she was Asian, maybe Chinese. The woman had a light skin and a small nose, long, straight, black hair that fell down her slender neck and to her shoulders. She had high cheekbones and a birthmark near the left corner of her lips.

  He wanted to ask how she knew him and whether she had followed him, but doubted he would get truthful answers. “What is this about?” He neared the car, but still stood at a safe distance. His hand hovered over the pistol.

  “You can relax, Mr. Hall.” The woman pointed at Justin’s weapon. “You won’t need that. This is a friendly meeting; we can have coffee, perhaps? And talk about my cousin who’s visiting London next week.” The woman smiled and glanced at a couple of young men who were walking by. One of them turned his head and admired the Mercedes-Benz.

  Justin frowned. “Cousin?”

  “Yes.” The woman gestured to the young men, who were now beyond earshot. “He’s coming with somewhat evil intentions.”

  “Why would you talk to me about him?”

  The woman kept the bright smile on her face. “How about I let my boss explain that to you? He’s not far from here. Just five minutes.” She gestured with her hand beyond Trafalgar Square.

  “Who else is in the Merc?”

  “Just me and the driver.” She said something in what sounded like Chinese to the driver, and he rolled down his window.

  Justin looked at the middle-aged man. He was of Asian descent as well, with a small thin beard and black-framed eyeglasses. He nodded at Justin, then said, “Please join us, Mr. Hall.” His voice was warm, and he had a thicker accent.

  Justin glanced around and thought about the woman’s words. He had received stranger offers, and some of them had led to deep trouble. If this was not a trap, the Chinese agents might provide valuable intelligence about the plot. But if the man coming to London is a Chinese operative, why are they talking to me? Do they have a loose cannon?

  “Mr. Hall?” the woman said.

  “Yes. This will be in a public place, right?”

  “Of course, a café in Victoria Gardens. Very quiet, relaxing. You’ll like it.”

  “And the coffee is very good,” the driver said in his deep voice.

  Justin nodded. “All right.”

  “Good. You made the right choice.”

  He walked around the car, then slipped in next to the woman, who offered him her hand. “My name is Ying Ng. I’m an MSS intelligence officer.”

  Justin shook her soft hand. “MSS—you’re a field operative?”

  Ying shook her head. “I work in data collection, analysis, and profiling. I have a psychology degree, and I help in retrieval operations.”

  Justin nodded toward the driver, who had put the Mercedes-Benz in gear, but Ying ignored Justin’s gesture. So he returned his gaze to her and said, “Retrieval? Why, you’ve lost something?”

  Ying nodded slowly. “You could say that,” she replied in a low, timid voice.

  “The Chinese operative who’s plotting an attack on London?”

  Ying gave Justin a pained look. “Please do not ask anymore, Mr. Hall—”

  “Call me Justin.”

  “Okay, Justin. My boss will explain everything, okay?”

  “All right. Can you tell me your boss’s name?”


  “Oh, sure, I can do that. It’s Hai Suen.”

  Justin racked his brain, but could not remember any MSS operative by that name. “Is he a director?”

  Ying shook her head. “Commander ... well, you’d call him special operative or ... supervisor. He’s my supervisor.”

  “Good.”

  Justin wanted to ask more about Commander Suen, but doubted Ying would give him additional useful details. Moreover, Justin did not want to ruin the surprise. Mr. Suen will tell me everything I need to know. I hope ... He tried to keep a positive attitude, but an eerie feeling began to form deep in his stomach. If the Chinese are inviting you to their party, it’s not because you’re a guest of honor. So, keep your eyes open, Justin.

  Chapter Eight

  Embankment Café, Victoria Embankment Garden

  London, England

  The gray-haired Asian man was sitting near the entrance to the outdoor patio. He was nursing a cup of coffee, and a gray tweed hat was set on the table. The hat matched the old man’s coat. He was wearing a gray jacket and a crisp white shirt, but no tie. When he saw Justin, Ying, and the driver approaching, the man’s thin lips formed a small smile.

  He stood up. “Mr. Hall, I’m glad you agreed to meet with me.” The man had a strong, firm voice with a slight British accent.

  Justin shook the man’s hand. “I assume you’re Mr. Suen?”

  “Yes, Hai Suen, but please call me Hai.”

  “And you can call me Justin.”

  “Sure, sure, I will do that.” Hai tipped his head toward the driver, who gave a slight bow and turned around. “Take a seat, please,” Hai said to Ying, then gestured to Justin.

  Ying sat to Hai’s left, then Justin took the other seat across the round plastic table.

  “Would you like some coffee, Justin?” Hai said and pointed at his mug. “It’s very good, and with the cold...” He waved his hand in the air.

  Justin nodded. “Sure. I’ll have a cup.”

  “And how do you take it?”

  “Black. No sugar.”

  Ying stood up. “I’ll get it. Do you need anything?” she asked Hai.

  “No, I’m okay.”

  “I’ll be right back.”

  When Ying had left, Hai leaned back on his seat. “So, Justin, how are you enjoying London?”

  Justin shrugged. “I haven’t seen much. I haven’t come for the sights.”

  “Of course, of course, we all have to work.” Hai nodded slowly. “But we need some excitement in our lives, don’t we?”

  “We do. And I get plenty from my work, so much that sometimes I can do with just plain, dull, boring days.”

  “Wouldn’t we all like such days?” Hai’s voice had a slight tinge of regret. “But the world we live in is fast, and dirty, and cruel. And it’s up to us, men like you and me, to slow it down and clean it up.”

  Justin placed his elbows on the table and moved his chair closer. “You’re talking about your Chinese operative?”

  Hai’s face drew back in a frown. “I’m talking in general, Justin. But since you mentioned it, yes, I’m also talking about the attack about to take place in London.” He waved his hand, pointing toward the park.

  Justin looked in that direction. A few people were out this cool, gloomy day. A couple were sitting on a bench, sipping drinks and chatting. Further away, a group of tourists were taking pictures near the statue of a man riding a camel, the Imperial Camel Corps Memorial, dedicated to the soldiers who had fallen during the First World War in the Gallipoli campaign in what was then the Ottoman Empire. 346 men had died during the campaign, which was the only major victory for the Ottomans. Justin nodded slowly, then said, “Okay, tell me everything about the attack.”

  Hai said, “Let’s give Ying a minute. Oh, here she comes.”

  Ying was carrying a spoon with a number on it. “The waiter will be here shortly.”

  Hai said, “Justin was asking about Lim, so I’ll tell him what we know.”

  A small frown creased Ying’s face, but she nodded and leaned closer to Hai.

  He said, “Huang Lim was one of our best covert operatives. That changed when he decided to become a traitor.” Hai’s voice was barely above a whisper, but the irritation was clear in his tone.

  Justin raised his hand. “Wait, wait, back up. Who is Lim?”

  Hai nodded. “Yes, I’m getting ahead of myself. Lim used to work for the MSS. He was involved in counter-terrorism operations, hostage rescue, and terminations. He’s an excellent long-distance marksman, and one of the best agents we’ve ever had.” Hai’s voice took on a tinge of disappointment. “We’ll get you a complete file of his assignments.”

  “What happened that caused him to go rogue?”

  “Rogue is a soft, forgiving term. Lim has betrayed his country. While the exact motives are unclear, what we know is that he became resentful about his job and his recent assignments.”

  “I’m assuming you were his boss?”

  “That’s correct. Lim began to have problems with authority, refused to execute orders, became a threat to himself and to the ministry. Then he disappeared.”

  “When?”

  “A month ago. He was operating in northern Africa—I can’t tell you exactly where, as it is classified, but also irrelevant to this conversation—when he suddenly stopped answering his phone and ignored all scheduled communications. He just dropped off the face of the earth.”

  Justin opened his mouth to ask his next question, but out of the corner of his eye he saw the waiter walking toward their table. So he sat back and waited for a few seconds while the waiter set out their order. Then he picked up his cup and took a small sip of his coffee. “Yes, this is good,” he said, enjoying the hot drink.

  Ying sipped her cup and nodded. “It is.”

  Hai glanced at the waiter, who was walking toward the café’s entrance, then at the nearest patrons, two tables away. A moment later, he said, “Back to Lim, he vanished into thin air. Of course, we began to look for him.” Hai cocked his head toward Ying. “She has been heading the location and retrieval operation. Ying, why don’t you fill in Justin about the rest, from the moment you tracked his signal?”

  “Sure.” Ying smiled, eager to be an active part of the conversation. “We had been searching for that traitor all over northern Africa and the Middle East, as well as in a couple of countries where we suspected he might be hiding, because of his extensive network. But nothing. Until two weeks ago. One of our analysts intercepted a phone signal in northern Spain. It was in Bilbao, Basque Country.”

  “Did Lim have contacts there?”

  “We’re not sure, but he must have. Unless he was trying to throw off our surveillance.”

  “You dispatched a surveillance team?”

  Ying nodded. “Yes, but you sound surprised. Why?”

  Justin shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe because Lim is still out there. Did you try to grab him in Spain?”

  Ying nodded. “No, we weren’t sure of his motives for deserting, or his plans. We kept him under close surveillance.”

  “But you made no attempt to detain Lim?”

  Hai said, “No, we didn’t. A regrettable decision, in hindsight. But that wasn’t Ying’s decision or mine.” He shrugged. “It was a top ministry official.”

  Justin nodded. “All right, so Lim was in Spain. Then?”

  Ying said, “The surveillance team followed him to southern France. Lim made his way to Bordeaux, then to Paris. That’s where we lost him.”

  “Lost him? How?”

  “At Gare du Nord, the North Train Station. The team following Lim could not determine which train he boarded.”

  “So, then, how do you know he’s in London?”

  “We don’t, and that’s why we need your help.”

  “My help in catching Lim?”

  Hai said, “Yes, and stopping the attack.”

  Justin gave Ying, then Hai, a curious look. “I’m confused. You lost Lim in Paris, but you
know about his involvement in a London attack. How?”

  Ying said, “The surveillance team lost Lim, but they were able to locate one of his collaborators. After a bit of persuasion, the man gave us everything he knew about Lim and his plans.”

  “Torture?” Justin frowned. “You’ve tortured that man, and you’re going ahead based on his confession?”

  Hai frowned and shook his head. “You call it ‘torture,’ I call it ‘persuasion tactics.’ Different name, same results.” Hai sounded insulted and frustrated. “And we double-checked the man’s admissions with other sources. We know he told us the truth.”

  “Okay. And what is that truth?”

  “Lim is planning to assassinate the Russian president during his upcoming visit to London next week.”

  “What? He must be crazy to make such a foolish attempt.”

  “Lim may be crazy, but he’s also very good,” Ying said. “And assassinating the Russian president is not all he’s plotting.”

  Justin sighed. “What else? Another world leader?”

  Ying shook her head. “No, but Lim’s going to make the assassination appear as if it were carried out by the Americans.”

  Chapter Nine

  Embankment Café, Victoria Embankment Garden

  London, England

  “What?” Justin could not help but blurt out. “Your agent will kill the Russian president and blame the Americans.”

  Hai shook his head. “He’s no longer working for MSS. He’s not our agent.”

  “Technically, he still is,” Justin said. “You recruited him, trained him, created him. Then, he slipped through your hands. But you still own him.”