Battlefield 4: Countdown to War Read online

  57

  ‘You don’t think you’re burning your boats here?’

  Kovic shoved one of the dead guards out of the door and climbed out.

  ‘Not at all. It was a simple matter of self defence in the face of insubordination.’

  She threw the sub-machine gun on to the passenger seat of the Benz. The burst of fire had almost sliced the roof off the bus. The remains of the guards were scattered about the interior. She was utterly calm.

  ‘First time I killed a man I threw up over him, couldn’t stop myself.’

  She eyed him coldly.

  ‘Who said it was my first time?’

  She didn’t let on how shocked she was by the state of him, caked in dried blood and grime. He looked and smelled like something primeval.

  ‘You need to get yourself smartened up.’

  He put out his hand. It seemed strangely impersonal but he couldn’t think of a more appropriate gesture.

  ‘Thank you – you just saved my life.’

  She didn’t shake it. Instead she took his hands in hers and looked at them briefly. Her touch was cool yet somehow comforting.

  ‘What about these guys?’

  ‘They’ll think you did it.’

  Suddenly she grabbed her gun and shoved him aside. His ears were still ringing from all the rounds she’d fired so he didn’t hear what had distracted her. Another vehicle approaching from inside the forest. Hannah raised her weapon.

  ‘Wait.’

  Lurching over the rough ground towards them was the Great Wall Wingle, with Wu at the wheel, and Qi and Zhou sitting alongside.

  58

  G25 Expressway, Outskirts of Shanghai

  The rain hammered on the roof of Hannah’s SUV as they slowed for the toll. On the outbound side, cars and minibuses jammed all the lanes, many of them weighed down with luggage. The exodus from Shanghai had begun.

  The inner city streets were eerily quiet. Only the police were out in force, swishing hurriedly through the rain on bikes and in vans. Kovic considered his options. Officially he was still dead. He could check in with the CIA, brief Cutler on all he knew and face any consequences of his insubordination. Or he could disappear, re invent himself and start over. He had the means and the cash to keep himself afloat for a good while, and boy, did he need a break. Hunting Tsu down and sending him to his death had brought him some grim satisfaction, but he was just the means, not the end. Chang was calling the shots and the thought of him out there threatening to blow up the world felt like unfinished business. If he didn’t stop him, who would?

  He had given Hannah a detailed account of his experience on the mountain, majoring on his encounter with the esteemed Admiral. She had listened without comment.

  ‘You’re not getting it, are you?’

  ‘Admiral Chang is a great patriot. He has also fought against corruption in the political elite. The people love him for that.’

  ‘Yeah, and it’s all great cover for his plans for world domination. He’s the reason for all that’s going on – all this.’

  Kovic gestured at a convoy they passed of minibuses laden with fleeing citizens.

  ‘Lady, I just don’t get you. One minute you’re the gun-toting freedom fighter, all for changing the world, next thing, you’re the blind patriot toeing the party line.’

  ‘We’re just not as simplistic as you Americans with your good guys and bad guys. I thought you of all people would have learned by now that China has many layers. There’s far more to it than you Americans will ever understand.’

  ‘Then I’ll be very clear,’ he said, unable to mask his rising irritation. ‘Chang has your boy Jin Jié in his sights. He’s the next target, I guarantee it.’

  ‘He’s not “my boy”.’

  ‘Whatever. Look, it’s fine if you want to believe his schtick. He’s young, he’s cute and he’s got a way with words. But to Chang, Jin Jié’s an American puppet, spreading the twin evils of democracy and materialism. Your great patriotic Admiral’s too smart just to take him out. My bet is he’ll use him in some other way.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘That’s what you and I need to figure out, while Jin Jié goes underground.’

  ‘He won’t do that; it would be an admission of defeat. He’ll stay visible no matter what.’

  Four military helicopters swooped over them, headed for the centre.

  ‘Good luck to that.’

  She pulled up at a traffic light and looked over at him.

  ‘You really are a mess.’

  59

  Hotel Majesty Plaza, Shanghai

  It had been some time since Kovic had looked in a mirror, and what he saw looked like something that had risen from the dead. In a way it was perfectly appropriate, because that was exactly what he was going to do next. He was going to go and see Cutler and relay the news about Chang. He wanted to watch his face as he listened.

  He attempted to shave but it was a challenge inserting the razor between the swollen cuts, bruises and fresh scabs. When he was done he wasn’t sure there was any improvement, but at least he was clean and had made full use of Hannah’s medicine cabinet.

  Her apartment was small and austerely furnished, the kitchen evidently little used. This was the home of someone who didn’t do much with her spare time other than sleep. What exactly was there between her and Jin Jié? Had they been involved at Harvard? Why should he care? When she bade him goodnight he thought he detected a different look in her eyes. She had let her gaze remain on his tattered face for a second longer than necessary, as if to imply – were he to ask, she might not refuse. But maybe he was flattering himself. And besides, the timing was all wrong. Louise still haunted his thoughts.

  When he woke in the morning she was gone and there was no message. So maybe that was it, their brief partnership was over.

  He put on a grey shirt and lightweight blue suit that she’d left out for him. She’d got the right size; maybe she had looked at him pretty closely – if only to take mental measurements. She had even found him some shoes that were well padded to house his flayed feet. He felt smarter than he had in a long time – almost human again – and renewed, ready to step back out into the world and rejoin the living.

  The security presence around the US Consulate complex was heavier than usual. There were local police outside the gates, armed with sub-machine guns, and inside was a detachment of Marines in fatigues who looked extremely nervous. You should be, he thought to himself. The eye scanner and hand print reader confirmed his ID and he was waved through.

  Mrs Chan was emptying a filing cabinet into aluminium boxes. She let out a piercing scream when she saw him, leapt from her seat and cowered in the corner of the room as if he was the Grim Reaper himself come to announce that her time was up.

  ‘Good morning! Hope I’m not interrupting anything.’

  He smiled in what he hoped was a reassuring way and made for the doors of Cutler’s office.

  ‘Th-the Chief is in conference,’ she squeaked from her refuge. ‘He said to let nobody disturb him.’

  ‘Well that’s okay then, because that’s exactly what I am: no-body.’ He let out an exaggerated Dracula-style laugh and opened the door.

  Cutler looked up, and the colour drained out of his face. He swiftly glanced at the other person in the room, closed the file in front of him and got to his feet, by which time he had recovered his composure and spread his arms.

  ‘Kovic! Thank God—’

  Kovic glanced at his visitor who was leaning back in his chair. He looked vaguely familiar.

  Cutler grasped Kovic’s hand before he could offer it and clapped him hard on the shoulder right on one of Tsu’s blows. He winced.

  ‘Senator, this is Agent Kovic. Kovic, Senator Hiram Metzger.’

  ‘Jeez, what’ve the Commies done to you, boy?’

  Kovic glanced at Cutler.

  ‘Got a little lost in the woods but I’m all right now, thank you, Senator.’

  He rifled thro
ugh his mental files trying to recall what he knew about Metzger. All he came up with was that he was a hawk and that he represented some Midwestern state, one of those in deep financial shit with a lot of shuttered factories that built the tanks and planes that won World War Two. Not someone he would expect to see in China, even on a good day. In fact as far as he could recall, Metzger was an outspoken critic of Chinese imports, who had publicly warned about the consequences of their being allowed to continue undercutting American products. He was a big man in his mid-sixties; one of those classic American males who was once military-grade fit but never stopped eating soldiers’ portions. His shirt buttons strained over the mound of his gut and his neck rolled over his collar, but the eyes that peered out from under fleshy brows were still blue and sharp. What was he doing here?

  ‘Well, I guess that wraps it up for now,’ the Senator growled. He looked faintly irritated by the intrusion. He struggled to his feet. ‘You know where to find me, Ned. But don’t turn up unannounced – I may be sampling some local delicacy.’

  Cutler forced out a laugh.

  ‘Sorry if I interrupted something,’ said Kovic.

  Cutler was still in bonhomie mode.

  ‘No, no, we’re done. Take a seat while I show the Senator out.’

  They were gone about thirty seconds. Kovic looked round the room. There were none of Cutler’s workaholic stacks of paper on the desk, not even his camo laptop. More aluminium boxes were stacked in a corner, and parked behind his chair was a large American Tourister trolley suitcase. Cutler reappeared, closed the door, came back to the desk. His mood had changed.

  ‘So, this is unexpected.’

  Kovic smiled.

  ‘I’m glad to know you’re so relieved I’m still alive.’

  ‘Well, of course we are; the authorities told us you’d died in a fire.’

  Kovic studied Cutler’s face closely as he replied.

  ‘Yeah, it looked that way, but the body in the bed was my girlfriend. They got the wrong person.’

  Cutler frowned.

  ‘Who’s they?’

  Kovic helped himself to the chair Metzger had just vacated.

  ‘I need to bring you up to speed.’

  He outlined the highlights of his encounter with Tsu and Chang and what he had learned about the border incident.

  As he listened, Cutler went pale. He put his hands together in his habitual way, as if hoping for divine inspiration, and pressed his fingertips against his lips. When Kovic had finished speaking, he was silent for several seconds. Eventually he spoke.

  ‘You realise the incendiary nature of what you’re saying.’

  ‘Damn right.’

  ‘This will have to go right to the top – the very top. You know what I’m talking about, don’t you, Kovic?’

  ‘Sure I do. That’s why I came back. But where does this leave you, Chief?’

  Cutler looked suddenly indignant.

  ‘I’m not sure what you mean by that.’

  ‘Highbeam being your pet project and—’

  He shook his head and swatted the idea away.

  ‘Kovic, this is the business we’re in. I shouldn’t need to tell you this. We have to take things on the chin.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  Kovic wondered if the murder of the Marines and Louise was something he needed to take “on the chin”.

  ‘I’ll send this up the line right away. There are sure to be further questions and for your own safety stay in the compound from here on. Get some rest.’

  Cutler got up quickly and marched towards the door and opened it. Then he put out his hand and arranged his face into a smile.

  ‘Good to have you back, soldier.’

  60

  Pudong District, Shanghai

  Hannah rode the elevator up to her apartment. Her life was spinning out of control, her future in jeopardy. Disposing of her boss, the exchange with her father, the efficient dispatch of Tsu’s men – she barely recognised herself. And yet she had never felt so alive. Though she hadn’t admitted it to him, Kovic’s claims about the Admiral’s treachery added credence to her own suspicions, that the texts emanating from the Navy Ministry were not some rogue act, but part of a well orchestrated conspiracy.

  She reached her door and turned the key. There was a strong smell of cigarettes. Was Kovic back? She hoped so.

  There were at least six of them waiting for her, slouched over her furniture. Three more dressed in forensic suits were sifting through the contents of her bathroom. Instinctively she turned back towards the door, but another of them slammed it shut before she could reach it.

  ‘Who are you?’

  Their suits were too good for MSS. Could they be Tsu’s men? One who was wearing tinted glasses held up a smartphone.

  ‘Watch.’

  She looked at the small screen. Frozen on it was a picture of her father, trussed up in a chair, a wide piece of tape over his mouth. The screen came alive. A hand ripped off the tape. His eyelids fluttered and then he focused.

  ‘Hannah, dearest. Please help . . . please do what they say . . .’

  There was a pause while he took several breaths as if just those few words had exhausted him. He looked anxiously to his left as if someone out of shot was directing him. ‘Give them the American or they will kill me.’

  The screen went blank. Hannah lunged at the man with the phone but two others grabbed her from behind and held her.

  ‘Do you get the message?’

  She didn’t move.

  ‘We know about him and you.’ He glanced at the two in the white suits. ‘His DNA is all over this place. You are not only a traitor but a whore. Do it. Summon the American, or the old man will suffer – and so will you.’

  61

  Hotel Majesty Plaza, Shanghai

  Kovic gazed at the text: somehow it wasn’t what he had expected.

  I want you – now. Come to me.

  Well this was an interesting turn, he thought. His mind had been elsewhere, digesting the events of the last few days, the first time he had actually stopped. He was beginning to wonder if his work was done, that there was nothing more he could do. He had dealt with Tsu, discovered who was behind him, convinced Hannah of the danger to Jin Jié, communicated with Garrison—

  No, he wasn’t finished at all. He went over his meeting with Cutler and the encounter with Metzger. What had brought the Senator to his office? He paid Mrs Chan another visit. She had recovered herself. Nevertheless he brought flowers, made profuse apologies for upsetting her, asked after her family and even made her blush with a reference to how lonely he would be having to stick around the compound. By the end of this he had established which downtown hotel Metzger was staying in, and had the personal numbers of his chief of staff and PA as well as the Senator’s cellphone.

  He spent some time online, studying Metzger’s history. Over the last couple of weeks he had been globetrotting in his capacity as a member of the Senate National Security Committee. Kovic also YouTubed a couple of his more recent speeches back in his home state, strident denunciations of the Chinese for sucking business out of America’s heartland, causing the loss of factories, and blaming them for the devastation of communities with their cheap crappy goods. The man was definitely no friend of China.

  He hadn’t decided how to reply to Hannah’s text. Ten minutes passed and there it was again, with the additional message: I know what you want and I want it too. Don’t let me down.

  62

  Huangpu District, Shanghai

  Qi took his time counting the money. Kovic had seen him do this a hundred times, and each time it irritated him more.

  ‘Come on. Surely you trust me after all this time.’

  Qi frowned at him and continued to count.

  ‘I trusted you to bring me back alive.’

  ‘Well I did, didn’t I?’

  He held up his bandaged, blistered hands from the rope descent.

  ‘After this, we call it quits, okay?’


  ‘Okay, sure, whatever you want.’

  Qi finished counting and put the money in his safe – insisting, as he always did, that Kovic look away while it was opened.

  ‘Okay, let’s get to work.’

  He plugged Kovic’s cellphone into his system, put on the headphones and stared intently at a screen full of digits and characters that made no sense to Kovic. But that was what he was paid for, his ability to read and interpret intel that even other IT geeks couldn’t understand. Worryingly, he was now looking confused. Confused was not good.

  ‘I don’t like this. I don’t like this at all.’ Qi shook his head. ‘It’s completely dead, like the whole building’s been jammed. This is something new, okay? I may need some time.’

  Kovic got up.

  ‘Time is what I don’t have.’

  63

  Pudong District, Shanghai

  Kovic rang the bell and waited. When she opened the door he was lost for words.

  She was dressed in a long strapless dress that stretched to the floor, in silver, with a hypnotic pattern that resembled fish scales. Her face was made-up so she was almost unrecognisable, her mouth painted a lustrous deep red that shone almost as much as the dress. She put up her arms as she came towards him and pulled him to her, burying her face in his neck.

  ‘They have my father,’ she whispered.

  He held her, because it was all he could think to do.

  He looked at the men in the room. They looked very like the ones who had chased him and Wu through Shanghai, their tattoos visible. You had to hand it to Tsu; he had organised his private army so well it continued to march on without him. They pulled them apart and frisked him roughly. There was no point in offering any resistance. If he went quietly, perhaps they would leave her alone, though he knew that was unlikely. They pushed them toward the door and frogmarched them both out of the apartment into the elevator. At this stage, his priority was to do what he could to protect her. What guarantee was there that they would release her father anyhow?