Beyond all Limits (23 page)

The soldier who had asked for Cole’s passport handed it over to the commander of the guard team, explaining who Cole was in another burst of Cantonese. The man looked at the passport of Dietrich Hoffmeyer, looked at Cole, and nodded once. Immediately, two men moved in to search him again – as if he would have had a chance to obtain a weapon somewhere between the South Gate and here, ensconced between two armed soldiers. But Cole admired their professionalism – the fact was that he could have if he’d needed to, and it was good practice of the guards to check.

Deemed clean once again, Cole entered the Long Corridor with his two escorts, passing by the guards, the footsteps of his leather-soled shoes click-clacking across the ancient stone floor. They rounded a corner, the corridor descending downwards towards the northern shore, the steps worn smooth by the passage of millions of pairs of feet over hundreds of years.

But before they got as far as the shoreline, they reached a pair of guards who – at a signal from the man in front of Cole – opened a recessed door hidden within the latticework of the left-hand wall.

The man behind Cole ushered him through after the first soldier, and he found himself in a hidden stairwell which led to the second level. They emerged onto the upper corridor, another recessed door held open for them by another pair of guards.

They carried on walking, rounding another bend which led finally to the main length of the corridor, facing the northern side of the lake. As Cole marched down the open corridor, he looked out across the lake, seeing the thousands of people on the far side. Boats were already in the lake, the teams warming up for the big event. He could hear the cheering all the way across the lake.

He felt his heart rate start to rise as he subconsciously assimilated the fact that he was almost there, the time for his skills to once again be tested almost upon him. He didn’t reflect consciously on what was at stake – the lives of four thousand sailors and aircrew, the fate of China, of Taiwan, of who knew where else – but his heart understood entirely, and tried to speed up of its own accord, his hormonal system at the same time doing its best to dump its load of adrenalin into his system to supercharge his upcoming efforts.

But – again without conscious thought, his body so well-trained, so experienced after decades of operational engagements – it also knew that the entire organism needed to remain calm, and so at the same time it began to regulate his breathing, bringing his heart rate down, the effects of the adrenalin less and less obvious.

As Cole walked along the upper corridor towards his meeting with Wu De, he hardly recognized that this was happening; he was confident to let his body take care of itself, and let his mind concentrate on what really mattered – troop dispositions, escape routes, weather patterns.

He gazed out across the lake, looking up at the heavy, swollen skies above. The heat was stifling, humid and uncomfortable, especially in his business suit, and Cole knew that it wouldn’t be long before the heavens opened all over Beijing. A storm had been forecast for the morning, but had failed to materialize; now Cole could tell from the air itself that it was coming with a vengeance.

The corridor angled upwards slightly, and once again Cole was click-clacking up a set of old, worn stone stairs, towards a brightly colored doorway guarded by another six-man team. And beyond that, his final goal, his objective.

His target.

General Wu.

6

The telephone rang and Ellen Abrams stirred in her bed, arm searching the empty space next to her reflexively, as it always did. When – as always – it found nothing, her eyes opened sleepily, and she reached over for the phone.

‘Yes?’ she answered, checking the time as she did so –
2.30am
. She wondered what had happened, realizing it must be of great importance to disturb her so early; calls were routinely screened before they came through to her.

‘Good morning ma’am, sorry to disturb you.’ The voice at the other end of the line belonged to her National Security Adviser, John Eckhart. So he was awake too, making the importance of the call even clearer.

‘That’s okay, John,’ Abrams said, sitting up in bed, hand smoothing the sheets – a subconscious, calming measure that served to settle her nerves as she waited to hear the news. ‘Go ahead. What is it?’

‘I wouldn’t normally bother you with this, but you said to let you know if there was any further movement of Chinese forces, and – well . . . ’

‘Go on,’ Abrams urged.

‘An hour ago our intelligence sources on Taiwan advised us that the Chinese aircraft carrier
Liaoning
was missing. The information was passed through CIA channels, and James contacted me himself with this, let me decide whether to call you or not.’

Abrams understood; nobody liked to be the person to wake the president. But James Dorrell, Director of Central Intelligence, had seen fit to pass it on the line up to Eckhart, so there must be some confirmation of the news.

‘Missing?’ Abrams asked. ‘What do they mean by that?’

‘It means that embedded Taiwanese intelligence – those who haven’t been rounded up yet, agents who are still in touch with our CIA guys there, who have access to military information, radar, sonar, at least for now – cannot locate the
Liaoning
; it’s no longer off the coast of Taiwan. In fact, it doesn’t seem to be anywhere near Taiwan.’

‘What about our own surveillance?’

‘We don’t have any,’ Eckhart said. ‘We can’t do flyovers of the area because of the
Ford
, and we’ve got nothing on the satellites. I called Bud Shaw at NSA already, he thinks they know our satellite schedules and are hiding during those times when we photograph the area, so he’s contacted the NRO and asked them to re-task the satellites.’

‘How long will that take?’

‘Hard to say, but I’d like to think positive and say we’ll have some usable data in time for the NSC meeting.’

Abrams’ head sagged. What the hell was Wu doing now?

‘Do we have
any
idea where it’s headed?’ she asked.

‘We don’t even know for sure which direction it’s gone in,’ Eckhart said sadly. ‘Northwest to South Korea or Japan, south to the Philippines, southwest to Vietnam, we just don’t know. That whole area’s blocked off to us. It might just be going back to China for a refit.’

Damn that Wu, Abrams thought bitterly. If only he hadn’t damaged the USS
Ford
so completely, they might have a chance of locating the
Liaoning
.

‘Surface radar?’ she asked next, knowing that Eckhart would have already checked but needing to ask anyway.

‘Nothing so far,’ Eckhart said. ‘We’ve asked for feeds from all of our allies in the area, but remember that most systems can only see as far as the horizon, say fifty-five kilometers. Some have increased range, but we’re looking at nearly five
million
square miles of water between the East and South China Seas. Despite the size of the
Liaoning
, it’s like hunting for a needle in the proverbial haystack.’

A sudden thought occurred to Abrams. ‘Has the
Ford
picked up anything on its radar?’

‘No, we already asked Captain Meadows, but they’ve got nothing except the ships that’ve been guarding them all along.’

Abrams’ shoulders sagged again. It had been a good idea; in the middle of the ocean, the carrier might have had some chance of seeing something.

‘The Chinese navy know the location and the extent of all the radar systems in the area,’ Eckhart said, ‘including the one on the
Ford
. It wouldn’t be a big problem – wherever it is the Liaoning is headed – to plot a course that would evade them all. Without direct aircraft or satellite surveillance, we’ve got nothing.’

Abrams straightened. The situation was – potentially – bad, but it was what it was, and as leader of the free world, she was going to have to deal with it. The fact was that – as China’s sole aircraft carrier and a pivotal platform for any invasion – the disappearance of the
Liaoning
boded ill for at least one more country in that region.

It just remained to be seen which country it was.

‘Okay,’ she said to Eckhart, bringing the conversation to a close. ‘Thank you for getting in touch, it was the right thing to do. See you at the NSC meeting at eight.’

She put the phone down and immediately dialed another number. ‘Pete,’ she said to General Olsen when he picked up, ‘how are our plans for a counter-attack coming?’

‘The missing aircraft carrier?’ Olsen asked, voice remarkably free from the sounds of tiredness despite the hour.

‘You got it,’ Abrams confirmed. ‘We might have to make a move, depended where it’s headed. Make sure your people are ready to go.’

‘Yes ma’am,’ Olsen said with military confidence.

Abrams looked again at her clock –
2.42am.

She wondered how Cole and the others were getting on, and prayed for their success like she’d never prayed before.

Cole was waiting inside the pavilion, a grandiose room filled with colorful panels and silks, furnished like a Ming-era palace suite; vases and urns were placed everywhere, the tables, chairs and loungers all in bright, gilded wood.

Through the lattice doors, he could see Wu positioned among his generals on the balcony outside, seated on a gilded throne imported to Beihai Park for the occasion.

He was surrounded on all sides by armed guards, members of the Hong Kong SOU. Cole counted eight of them, two to each wall.

He had been allowed to sit while he waited, and did so, his iron will still controlling his breathing, which in turn controlled the often debilitating effects of adrenalin.

He had been waiting at least ten minutes when he saw the big general move, raising his massive bulk from the throne, waving to his people across the lake to roars of appreciation that Cole could hear all the way across from the mainland.

Wu turned to the lattice doors, another man – even bigger, if that was possible – accompanying him closely as a military aide snapped off a salute and opened the doors for them.

Cole got to his feet as Wu strolled into the pavilion, the second man right next to him, and as Cole saw the huge, scarred, savage face, he realized this must be Zhou Shihuang, Wu’s private bodyguard, the one Liu had informed him about. Liu had warned him to be careful of the man, and Cole would take the advice. Everything about Zhou made Cole want to be careful.

‘Mr. Hoffmeyer,’ General Wu said in perfectly accented English, performing a slight bow as he spoke, a wide smile underneath his oiled mustache.

Without offering to shake hands, Wu gestured for Cole to sit back down.

Cole hid his disappointment, bowed in return, and did as he was asked, watching closely as Wu sat down opposite him, his weight making the gilded chair groan underneath him. Zhou moved off to the side, but not by much; he was placed close enough to defend Wu if he should need to.

Cole’s disappoint stemmed from the lack of handshake; it was to be the opening move in the triple strike that would leave Wu dead without him even knowing it. But the opportunity for that was gone, and Cole quickly started to calculate options.

He would monitor the position of Wu’s body throughout the meeting, taking any chance he could to touch the man in the correct locations, his mastery of body language masking his intentions by making the movements seem as natural as possible.

If he didn’t manage during the meeting, he would be sure to offer his hand first, as soon as the meeting ended; surely Wu would not ignore it?

But if he did, there
was
another option; he could attack the Chinese leader conventionally, crush his windpipe by striking the throat with the edge of his hand, or else by grasping the head, wrenching and breaking the neck. There were many options, and Cole was capable of doing them all.

The only drawback to that strategy, of course, was that Cole would almost certainly be killed instantly as a result.

But Wu would be dead, and the mission would be accomplished.

Cole was prepared to go that route if he had no other options, but his mind started firing on all cylinders, determined to find some other way.

‘So Mr. Hoffmeyer,’ Wu said, after accepting a cup of green tea from an assistant, ‘first let me apologize for your being kept here in Beijing. But things are fraught, as you can well understand, and for safety reasons I have had to put this curfew into place.’

‘I understand completely,’ Cole said, knowing the real reason for Wu’s policy – to ensure a large foreign population in the city in order to avoid the possibility of reprisal attacks by other counties.

Wu smiled. ‘Coffee?’ he asked. Cole nodded, and almost immediately a cup was brought over, cream and sugar exactly as Hoffmeyer took it. The message was clear; he had been under surveillance.

Cole took a sip and smiled back. ‘Perfect,’ he said.

‘Good,’ Wu said, still smiling. ‘It might even be that your unexpectedly extended stay in our great city has actually worked out well, eh? With no other foreign companies coming in, you’re in quite a good position, aren’t you?’

‘Every cloud has a silver lining,’ Cole agreed.

‘Ah, yes,’ Wu said thoughtfully. ‘I like this expression. Now, let’s get down to business. The races will start soon, and I must be there to watch them, yes?’ He looked around the gilded room, as if to check for people listening in. Seemingly satisfied, he leaned closer to Cole and whispered to him conspiratorially. ‘So, I understand you have a proposal which might be of interest to me?’

Cole nodded, also leaning further forward. ‘Yes indeed,’ he said, and went on to outline the fictional deal being offered by TransNat Drilling, a proposal that would undercut Wu’s chosen partner by over twenty percent.

Wu listened thoughtfully, asking questions when he needed confirmation of the details. Cole found him to be articulate and intelligent and – somewhat surprisingly given his reputation – even rather charming.

Cole came to the end of his brief, and Wu rested his corpulent frame back in his chair, an assistant appearing to take his empty teacup. He steepled his fingers over his large belly, looking across at Cole thoughtfully.

‘It is a tempting offer,’ Wu said finally, ‘but I am afraid that our existing partners in the Diaoyu Islands have received my promises, and they are already involved in exploration as we speak. Their time would have to be compensated, and this would eat up a large share of the savings you are offering. And they are already en route to Taiwan to deal with the deposits there.’

Cole nodded. ‘I understand. But if you are unwilling to change companies, why did you agree to see me? The offer was never going to be better than the one we made.’

A wide smile covered Wu’s face, possibly the first genuine smile Cole had seen the man give. ‘That is a good question, Mr. Hoffmeyer,’ he said. ‘A very good question.’

Wu leaned forwards, once again in conspiratorial mood. ‘Let me tell you why you are here, Mr. Hoffmeyer. Perhaps I have an offer for
you
, if you can come back to me with terms like the ones you have offered for the Diaoyus.’

Cole looked puzzled. ‘I’m sorry, General Wu,’ he said, ‘I think it must be the heat, I’m not used to it. I don’t understand what it is you’re asking.’

Wu looked around, as if sniffing the air. ‘Perhaps it is the pressure,’ he agreed. He listened intently for a moment, then nodded. ‘Yes,’ he confirmed, ‘just listen.’ He paused to let Cole do so. ‘The rains have started.’

The general was right, although Cole had already picked up on it; the sound of the rain pitter-pattering on the roof above them was light, but starting to get louder and louder. It wouldn’t be long before there was a fully-fledged storm.

‘A perfect day for the racing,’ Cole said, eliciting yet another smile from the general.

‘It is indeed,’ Wu agreed. ‘Perhaps even auspicious. It is said that the rains fell on Qu Yuan’s dead body as it lay in the river.’

They both listened to the rain for a time, the faint drumming above them vaguely meditative. Cole wondered if Wu was thinking about the power and wealth of China’s imperial past, imagining himself as the leader of a renaissance of those former, glorious times.

Eventually, Wu’s attention returned to the man sat opposite him; for despite his sense of destiny and self-aggrandizement, the general was – like many dictators – a businessman first and foremost.