Covert Assassin Page 7

Ying nodded. “We know that, yes. And we’re checking some names.”

  Justin said, “We’d like a copy of that list, so we can help.”

  Ying hesitated for a moment. “Eh, I’ll have to check with Commander Suen. I’m not sure he—”

  “I thought he expected us to share intelligence.” Justin frowned. “Or does he expect us to give intel and not receive anything in return?”

  “That’s unfair, Justin,” Ying said in a firm tone, perhaps louder than necessary even in the noisy restaurant. “We’ve already handed you Lim’s file, and I’m answering all your questions.”

  “You’ve given us only what you’ve decided is helpful,” Carrie said.

  Justin nodded. “And a lot of your answers require follow-up, and no assurance we’ll get the intel.”

  Ying shrugged. “Nature of our job, Justin. You should understand that.”

  Justin returned a shrug. “Yes, I should do many things.” He sipped his coffee, which had grown cold.

  Carrie said, “Does the name Zheng ring a bell?”

  Ying smiled. “I know many people by that name. You need to be more specific.”

  “Sure, the full name is Fu Sung Zheng.” Carrie slid her tablet toward Ying. “His picture and SAS application. What do you think?”

  “I’m not sure ... I’ll have to check with—”

  “Yes, Commander Suen,” Justin said in a clearly annoyed tone.

  “Justin, don’t be like that. I’m sure there are many things that you can’t decide on your own but need your boss’s approval.”

  “True, but this is basic.”

  “To you, perhaps. MSS doesn’t operate that way. Things are more ... well, centralized.”

  Justin shrugged. If that’s the case, why are you here and not Suen? He bit his tongue and glanced away at the youngsters’ group. One of them, the tallest of the group that was sitting to the right, made eye contact with Justin and gave him a nod. The young man’s eyes carried a slight menacing threat. Justin ignored it and looked at Ying. “We suspect there’s a link between Lim and Zheng.”

  “How so?”

  “That’s where you might help. If Zheng’s name is on Lim’s list of contacts or assets, then—”

  Justin’s words were cut off by the sound of breaking glass. A woman at the table to their right had dropped her wine glass, which shattered all over the floor. As he glanced at her face, the woman did not seem troubled by the accident. A look of contempt was lingering on her face as if she had done this on purpose.

  But why?

  Justin turned his head to the left as a young man came charging toward them with a large knife.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Mr. Chu’s Dragon Den, two blocks off Lisle Street

  Chinatown, London, England

  “Down, get down!” Justin shouted.

  He pushed Ying to the floor as the knife sliced the air inches above her head.

  The young man swung his hand back toward Justin. The agent took a step back and blocked the attacker’s hand with a raised forearm. Justin then punched the man on the side of the head.

  He dropped to one knee, but his fingers were still clenched around the large knife.

  Patrons scattered in chaos, overturning tables and chairs.

  Justin glanced at the youngsters’ table. The other two men were on their feet, coming toward Justin and Carrie. He looked at Carrie, who was standing with her fists up and a slightly hunched back, like a boxer. A grin was on her face. “I got this,” she said.

  The attacker thrust his knife upwards.

  Justin kicked the arm away, then brought his left fist down hard on the man’s head. He fell face first onto the tiled floor, and the knife slid out of his hands.

  One of the youngsters picked it up. He waved it Ninja-style in front of his face, then pointed it at Justin. “I’m gonna cut up your pretty face.”

  “Come and do it,” Justin replied.

  Before they jumped at him, the woman who had shattered the glass charged at Carrie. She had ignored the woman, focusing all her attention on the young men. The woman speared Carrie, throwing her against the table. They fell onto the floor and began to exchange blows.

  Justin looked at the man swinging the knife. He was lurching forward and jabbing with his knife in a sideways arc. Justin slid backwards as the sharp edge of the knife narrowly missed his chest. Before the attacker could bring back his arm, Justin grabbed the man’s wrist with both hands. Justin head-butted the man, then kicked him in the stomach.

  The third attacker punched Justin in the side. He was forced to let go of the wrist of the knife-wielding man, but not before he had retrieved the knife. The attacker threw another couple of hard blows that sucked the air out of Justin’s lungs. He turned with a swift uppercut that connected with the man’s jaw. He wavered on his legs, so Justin punched him with a heavy right cross, which sent the man to the floor.

  Justin glanced at Carrie, who just delivered a finishing blow to the woman who had straddled her. The woman fell to the side and Carrie pushed her away. “Where did her man go?”

  “I’m not sure. Ying, you all right?”

  “Yes, yes.” She nodded, then held the back of her neck. “I’m okay.”

  “Good.” He glanced at the men stretched on the floor.

  The first attacker was trying to get to his feet.

  Justin said, “Let’s get out of—”

  His words were cut off by a gunshot that shattered the window’s glass. Another bullet whizzed over their heads.

  Justin hit the floor and pulled out his pistol. He reached for Ying and pulled her toward him and behind the toppled-over table. Next to them, Carrie had already aimed her Sig Sauer pistol toward the window, searching for the shooter.

  Justin turned his weapon at the youngsters. “Don’t try anything,” he shouted.

  One of them nodded, the others began to raise their arms.

  A quick burst rang out from the other side of the restaurant.

  Justin peered and noticed one shooter kneeling near the entrance. He was partially hidden behind a large vase and a flowerpot. Justin pointed his pistol, but he did not have a clear shot.

  Ying did, since she was a couple of feet from him.

  Justin said, “Take this,” and handed Ying the pistol.

  “What ... what for?”

  “Fire at the gunman, what else?”

  Ying hesitated for a moment, then picked up the pistol. She held it awkwardly, as if it would burn her hand. Then she aimed it in the right direction. Her hand trembled, and she closed her eyes while pulling the trigger. The pistol bounced wildly from the recoil. The bullet, of course, missed the target and hit a large red porcelain dragon about four feet away from the man. The dragon exploded into a thousand pieces.

  “Just ... just give me that,” Justin said.

  “Sorry, I’m not good with guns.”

  “This way.” He pulled Ying closer toward the wall and away from the shooter’s line of sight.

  Carrie double-tapped her pistol, then shouted, “Back door exit.”

  “Got it,” Justin said. “Take Ying. I’ll cover.”

  “All right.”

  “Go with Carrie.”

  “Okay, good.”

  “This way, through the kitchen,” Carrie said and led the way.

  Justin slid back close to the next table that offered some cover. A couple of bullets thumped against the kitchen wall to his left. They were a couple of feet away from him. Justin tried to determine the shooter’s location. He was somewhere outside the restaurant, but because of the wall and the dimly lit street, Justin could not be certain. A few minutes ago, when he had looked through the window, the street had been full of pedestrians. Most of them would have scattered, because of the gunfire; still, he was not going to fire blindly.

  He waited for a visible target, when a quick burst came from the entrance. No bullets struck around Justin. He crawled backwards through the slippery kitchen floor. In the panic, food ha
d been spilled all over the place. Justin avoided a big pool of oil, then his eyes went to the waitress who had been serving them. She was crouched underneath a table and next to a metal cupboard. She was holding a large chef’s knife in front of her.

  Justin placed a finger over his lips. “Shhhh,” he whispered. “Quiet.”

  The waitress nodded.

  Justin said, “Come with me.”

  The waitress shook her head.

  “Come, I won’t hurt you. But they will.” He gestured back with a hunched thumb.

  A long volley rang out from outside the restaurant.

  The waitress needed no more convincing. She slid out but still held on to the knife.

  Justin gestured toward the exit door, now about ten yards away.

  Bent at the waist, the waitress bolted toward it.

  Justin took a knee and glanced over the table. No shooter had entered the kitchen, but that might change at any moment. He dashed toward the door, opened it, and stepped into the small parking lot. He squinted as he looked for the waitress. He spotted her bright red jacket near a small white hatchback of a make Justin did not recognize. The driver was backing up the car toward the restaurant.

  The waitress called at him, “Come, come,” and got inside the car through the rear door behind the driver.

  Justin ran at the now-stopped car. He could not see the driver, but assumed it was probably Carrie. When he drew closer, Carrie’s head and half of her body popped through the front passenger window. “Down, down, Justin.”

  He dove to his right and away from Carrie’s pointed pistol. As he rolled onto the parking lot asphalt, Carrie squeezed off a few rounds. He could not see who she was firing at, but assumed it was the shooter who had reached the exit.

  A moment later, Carrie shouted, “Clear.”

  Justin jumped onto his feet and sprang toward the car. The rear door was open, and Justin threw his body inside. “Go, go, go,” he said.

  “Hit it, Ying,” Carrie said.

  “Ying?” Justin arched his brow. “You’re letting her drive?”

  “I can’t do both, Justin.” She fired a couple more rounds, then shifted in her seat.

  “Buckle up, Justin,” Ying said. “I’ll show you how I drive.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Behind Mr. Chu’s Dragon Den

  Chinatown, London, England

  The hatchback fishtailed as it rocketed out of the parking lot. It almost crashed into a van coming from the other direction. Ying twisted the steering wheel and drove out of the way of the honking van, which zoomed through so close it tore off the car’s side mirror.

  Justin was not prepared for Ying’s maneuvering. He was thrown against the door, and his head hit the glass. He clenched his fingers around the door’s handle and leaned back on the seat.

  Ying stepped on the gas and drew very near to the truck in front of her. Then she turned the wheel to the right and overtook the truck, cutting into the oncoming lane to do so.

  “Watch the taxi,” Carrie said.

  “Got it,” Ying replied in a calm voice.

  She flattened the gas pedal. The car slid in front of the truck—whose driver had slowed down—then Ying yanked at the wheel, bringing their car back onto the lane. The black taxi zipped through the lane, barely missing the hatchback’s side.

  Justin looked over his shoulder, then said, “You can slow down. No one’s behind us.”

  “Yet,” Ying said. “But they’ll chase us down and kill us.”

  “If we don’t kill ourselves first.”

  Justin turned to the waitress, who was shivering and sobbing in her corner. “You’ll be okay; you’ll be alright.” Then he said to Ying, “Let’s drop her off. There, around that corner.” He pointed to his right.

  Ying nodded. “Sure.” She switched to Chinese and spoke rapidly to the waitress.

  At first, she shook her head, but, as Ying continued hammering out her words, the waitress started to nod and seemed to relax.

  As they reached the corner, Justin placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Hide for a couple of days, if you can.”

  “Yes, yes, okay,” she replied in a weak, wavering voice.

  The waitress got out of the car and disappeared into a narrow alley.

  Ying stepped on the gas again. The hatchback drifted as it rounded another corner, then she turned the steering wheel to avoid crashing into a red double-decker city bus.

  Justin shook his head. “Ying, you can calm down now. We’ve lost them.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure,” Ying said in a worried tone. “They’re still behind us. I feel it.”

  Justin frowned. “How ... do you know the attackers?”

  Ying hesitated for a moment, then said, “Yes. I recognized the man at the entrance.”

  “And he’s MSS?” Carrie said.

  “Used to be until two years ago, when he was thrown out for suspicion of wrongdoing.”

  “Can you be more specific?”

  “Sure. Weapons smuggling.”

  “And let me guess: He has ties to Lim?”

  Ying nodded. “Unfortunately, it is so.”

  “Then the attack makes sense,” Carrie said. “They know we’re looking for Lim, so they came looking for us.”

  “They must have followed me.” Ying’s voice rang with true disappointment. “I ... I’m so stupid.”

  “No, that happens to everyone,” Justin said.

  “Don’t be too hard on yourself,” Carrie said.

  Ying nodded, then turned the wheel. They were now driving on Shaftesbury Avenue and heading south. She glanced up at the rearview mirror, adjusted it for a moment, then cursed out loud. “There they are.”

  “Who?” Justin asked and turned around.

  “The shooters. The silver Audi.”

  “Really? I didn’t notice them earlier.”

  “Perhaps you didn’t look hard enough.”

  Justin ignored Ying’s scolding tone. He peered at the Audi approaching fast. His hand went to his pistol.

  Ying turned onto Great Windmill Street. She honked to clear the street of a couple of pedestrians, then drove around a white utility van.

  Justin looked over his shoulder as the Audi also turned behind them. That’s not a coincidence. “You’re right,” he said and pulled out his Sig. “They’re getting close.”

  “I’ll lose them.” Ying stepped on the gas.

  The car rocketed through the street. When she came to the intersection, Ying tapped on the brakes, then swung the steering wheel. The maneuver was just enough to avoid side-swiping a red double-decker. “These buses; they’re everywhere,” Ying shouted.

  She slammed her fist on the horn, but the silver SUV in front of them did not pick up speed. Ying tried to go around it, but the SUV’s driver had the same idea. “Oh, come on,” Ying said and cursed the driver.

  Justin shifted in his seat just as the Audi came crashing into the back of the hatchback. The trunk’s cover popped up as the glass shattered. Justin held his pistol close to his face but did not fire. He did not have a clear shot. Moreover, the pursuers were not a real threat yet.

  Ying pulled at the steering wheel and drove on the sidewalk. She kept one hand on the horn, while she steered with the other. The right corner of the hood scraped against two red phone booths, shattering their glass. She swerved to the left to avoid plowing into patrons enjoying their evening meal on the patio of Caffé Concerto. They scampered in panic as the hatchback cut through a number of bikes locked into a rack at the edge of the sidewalk. Then the hatchback dropped back onto the road.

  Ying slammed on the brakes as a car zoomed in from the right. Then she edged forward and merged into the traffic on the wide Haymarket Street.

  The Audi was still behind them.

  Ying turned to the right and passed a couple of slow-moving taxis. Then she reached a small Smart car. “Sorry,” Ying muttered as she jerked the wheel.

  The front of the hatchback crashed into the side of th
e Smart car. It pushed it forward and to the left, and into a black van. The Smart car driver fought with the controls as the small vehicle spun around. Ying forced her way forward by climbing partially onto the sidewalk.

  The Audi collided with the still-spinning Smart car.

  Ying returned to their lane. She had increased the distance, but the Audi was still behind them.

  She shook her head and stepped on the gas. Ying glanced to the left at another red double-decker nearing the next intersection. “If we time it right...”

  “What?” Justin said.

  “Hold on tight.”

  Ying flattened the accelerator. The car tore through the empty stretch of road and shot through the intersection. It zipped a few feet away from the bus, then Ying wrenched the wheel, turning the car to the left. It slid into a small gap in the traffic and crossed to the next street.

  The Audi’s driver was not that good or that lucky. The bus blocked Justin’s view for a long moment. Then, when it drove away, he saw the front of the Audi smashed in. The windshield was gone, and gray smoke spiraled from the wreck. The Audi was not going anywhere.

  Ying had taken note of the situation. “They crashed,” she said triumphantly and eased off the gas.

  Justin heaved a sigh of relief and holstered his pistol. “You did very well,” he said with a genuine tone of admiration.

  “Thanks. I ... I never liked guns, but I love fast driving.”

  “Unusual for a data analyst,” Carrie said.

  “You’re right. I wanted to be an operative, like you and Justin, but...” Her voice trailed off. Ying shook her head and looked away. “I guess I just wasn’t cut out for it.”

  She made a right turn, then a left, followed by another right. They were drawing near the next intersection. “Where to now?” Ying cocked her head toward the right. “Pall Mall East or Cockspur Street?”

  Justin said, “Well, the police and Five will be all over the restaurant shooting and the car chase. I’m afraid we’ve overstayed our welcome in London.”

  “We can stay at our embassy or one of our safehouses,” Ying said.

  Justin shook his head. “Let’s not tempt fate. Do you have false IDs?”