The Case Officer (34 page)

He struggled to control his
breathing, taking deep breaths to bring himself down, but then completely lost
it when Lim replied quietly, “I want MacMurphy…”

“Get out! Out – out – out - out,”
Huang screamed, pointing at the door. Beads of sweat sprouted on his forehead
and among the sparse hairs of his receding hairline and ran down the side of
his face. His heart thundered. “You are under arrest. H-H-House arrest. Do not
attempt to l-l-leave this embassy. I am g-going to have you hanged. Get out of
my sight. Out out out....”

Lim cast a last killing glare at
his station chief, turned, and slowly walked out of the office, his chin thrust
up in the air, his step measured and sure, a bit of swagger in his gait. He
left Huang’s office door open behind him in a final petty display of defiance.

Huang collapsed back into his
chair and watched Lim’s arrogant retreat.

Chapter Ninety-Eight

O
nce out of Huang’s sight, Lim
headed down the main staircase to the lobby and straight out the main doors,
totally defiant of Huang’s orders. Lim hesitated only momentarily when he
reached the street, glancing up and down Avenue Georges V, and then
purposefully turned left up the hill and hurried toward the Champs Elysées
and
the metro station on the corner.

H
uang remained motionless in his
chair, struggling to control his breathing, staring at the empty doorway. His
rage slowly subsided as he concentrated on bringing his emotions down. Slowly
his composure began to return. His breathing more measured. The rain of sweat
from his forehead subsided. The veins at his temples stopped throbbing. He
could feel the tension ever so slowly ebbing.

He was sure Lim had disregarded
his orders and headed out the front door. He was equally sure he would never
see Lim again. He didn’t care. Still, the full realization of what had happened
left him stunned and drained and full of deep remorse for the victims of Lim’s
crazed brutality.

Yes, MacMurphy had been
responsible, at least in part, for his being recalled to China ten years
earlier, but he had to share equal blame. He should have listened to Mac and
not reported the pitch. Then things would have blown over and his career would
have been fine and he might not be in this position today.

And yes, MacMurphy had surely
engineered the theft of the Euros, which would undoubtedly finally bring an
abrupt end to his career in the MSS, and maybe a firing squad – if he were
lucky.

But one thing did not excuse the
other. Just as there is honor among thieves, there is honor among spies as
well. Some deaths, some harm might become necessary in the course of
accomplishing one’s objectives. But this—the mayhem Lim had wrought—was not.
Huang deeply regretted Lim’s most unfortunate actions. And, as well, he
remembered the days when he had considered MacMurphy a friend.

Then there were the consequences
he would personally face when—if—he returned to China. He imagined the
impending interrogations, imprisonment, personal disgrace, family dishonor,
worse...probably much worse....

He tossed his glasses across his
desk and massaged the acupressure points around the bridge of his nose and
temples and leaned back heavily in his chair. He stretched out his arms and brought
his hands back behind his head. He took a long, deep breath and then slowly
forced the air from his lungs in a relaxing, controlled exhale, which carried
with it much of the tension from his body.

After long seconds of just
sitting still and breathing to induce relaxation, he ran his hands back through
his thinning hair, wiping away beads of sweat. There was too much for his hands
alone to deal with, far too much.

Huang yanked a tissue out of a
dispenser and mopped at his balding pate. The mop-up job helped calm him
further down. Now, almost fully composed, he shook his head in disbelief and
total resignation. A wave of emotion coursed through his body, bringing him
close to tears. Drained and trapped, he shook his head sadly, took another deep
breath, and reached for the phone.

Seventeen minutes later, at
exactly 2:36 PM, he was met by Burton B. Berger at the Avenue Gabriel entrance
of the American Embassy and was quietly ushered inside. Nobody took undue
notice of the tall, tired-looking oriental man in the rumpled suit carrying the
large briefcase.

Chapter Ninety-Nine

L
ater that afternoon, MacMurphy
signaled SKITTISH, the Chinese waiter Willy Chan, by calling the restaurant and
reserving a table for a dinner party of eleven people under the name Roland
Petit. The signal indicated an emergency meeting at a prearranged spot in the
Bois de Bologne shortly after sunset.

 The two men met after running
their respective forty-five-minute surveillance detection routes to assure they
were clean of any hostile surveillance. Willy and Mac exchanged minimal
pleasantries before getting down to business. They spoke in low tones while
slowly walking along one of the many quiet paths deep within the heavily wooded
park. They blended into the evening park environment by carefully dressing in
jeans, tennis shoes, and tee-shirts, like many of the strollers searching for a
breath of air away from their muggy flats in the hot August evening.

The hookers were out in force. MacMurphy didn’t like this particular
aspect of Bois de Bologne meetings because shady activities like prostitution
often brought with them increased police surveillance. He didn’t want to get
caught up in a police net while “innocently” meeting with one of his assets.

He knew that everything in clandestine tradecraft was a trade-off,
though – like a seesaw with the high side being total security and the low side
being total production. Somewhere a balance had to be struck that would include
just enough tradecraft to protect the security of the operation while at the
same time maintaining an acceptable level of efficient production of
intelligence or operational information. On balance, MacMurphy had decided that
the park, with its easy accessibility to all types of people, many entrances
and exits, and the cloaking of the night, was close to ideal as a venue for
brief encounters of this sort.

The pair approached a
particularly garish looking
putain
attempting to look seductive on a
park bench. She displayed long net-stockinged legs that ended beneath a short
black miniskirt. Catching their glance, she called out, “
Vous voulez,
messieurs?
” punctuating the invitation by cupping enormous dark-tipped
breasts and pressing them up and out to overflow the tiny, transparent white
blouse she wore. The cleavage she created ran like a gash from her throat to
her belly. She smiled broadly, showing long, yellowing horse teeth and
repeated: “
Vous voulez
?”—knowing that they didn’t but, what the hell,
might as well give it a try—while grossly running a long, wet tongue over
heavily glossed red lips, clearly indicating her specialty.

The pair smiled in amusement and
continued walking slowly by.

“I do not know where they go.”
Willy Chan whispered excitedly. “All I know is they surely gone. No shit.
Ambassador has whole embassy running around looking for them. He pissed off for
sure. Him no like at all. Ambassador’s instructions are find them and bring
in.”

“What about the police? Has he
contacted them?”

“
Eyeah
, you must be joke!
This strictly internal affair. Only embassy know. They never tell local
authorities about something like this. It too much loss of face…”

“What do they think happened?”
MacMurphy emphasized the word “think.”

Willy Chan was momentarily
distracted by a middle-aged man in a business suit scampering out of the bushes
off to his right. The man looked furtively around him before joining the path a
few meters in front of them. Then he moved up the lane happily. Fifty Euros
poorer, but with a spring to his step.

Smiling, Willy came back to
earth. “
Eyeah
, I do not know. I only hear some things. Not everything.
At restaurant I overhear one guy say there very loud shouting in Mr. Huang’s
office. Mr. Huang give Lim hell. Then Lim run away—he really pissed—and nobody
hear from after that. Then he say Mr. Huang go out few minutes later but nobody
see him anymore either. They no return for dinner or call or anything. That is
very against rules, you know…everyone must to be back in embassy building by
six o’clock unless have special permission. They gotta keep Ambassador informed
where they go all times, and MSS guys not exception. That always been rule. No
exception never.”

“So what do they think at the
embassy?” He again emphasized the word “think.”

“All think they defect, that is
what everybody think...”

“And what do you think, Willy?”

Willy Chan smiled knowingly. “I
think you know about Mr. Huang.”

“Don’t worry about Huang. Forget
about him. I’m only interes

Willy Chan stopped walking and turned
to face MacMurphy. “So Mr. Huang he defect.” It was a statement and he did not
wait for a response. “Okay, so Mr. Huang safe. Good for him. He is good man. Everybody
like Mr. Huang. He deserve break. But that Lim is real bad prick.
Eyeah
,
you guys no want him, eh? He bad news. Very bad news…”

“We want him all right, Willy. That is, I want him... I want him very,
very much.” Mac’s eyes darkened from their usual chocolate brown to spitfire
black—and the hostility that was there frightened Willy Chan. Whatever it was
that he saw blazing in their depths, it boded ill for Lim and made even Willy
himself feel uncomfortable and just a little bit afraid.

Willy Chan avoided Mac’s
malevolent glare and thought carefully before he spoke. “He got some kind
girlfriend. Tall, black
putain
. Long legs go way, way up…” He rolled his
eyes. “She work Pigalle bar scene. Not bad looking except one front teeth
chipped almost in half. She fix that, she look not too bad. She real hard-core
hooker, though. Real
pute
. I no understand why Lim like her, but she
sure as hell all over him all times. I see them at Mai-Lin restaurant couple
times. They real lovey-lovey, kissy-kissy. You know what I mean.”

Mac reached out and grabbed
Willy’s lapel.
Where else could a Chinese diplomat on the run hole up in
this city?
“Where does she live? What bar does she work out of?”       “
Eyeah
,
hang on. Sure, I know where you find her. She most time work from dirty bar in
Pigalle
near Place Blanche. Bar call something like ‘Secret Place’ or
maybe ‘Secret Club.’ Something like that. I no go place like that—hate Pigalle
bar scene and too expensive—but I hear them talk about.”

“What about her name? Do you
remember her name?”

The waiter stopped walking, stood stock still, and searched his memory.
His eyes rolled around as he probed the depths of his recollections…but to no
avail. “
Eyeah
, I no remember.” Willy scratched his head and squinted his
eyes tightly in an effort to recall the woman’s name. “Oh yeah, but I remember
they talk about manageress of bar. She kicked Lim out of place once. Say he can
not just sit there without buy drinks. The Chinese people from embassy no have
much money, you know. They all time broke…poor bastards… Anyway, her name
Angel, Good name for hooker, eh? Angel…”

“Good. Anything else?” Mac waited
while Willy searched his brain.

Finally Willy shook his head.
“Naw, that all I remember. You gonna get him? I think you gonna get him, right?”

“You bet your ass I am, but you
keep quiet about it. Not a whisper to anyone. And keep your ear to the ground,
Willy. Signal me if you hear or remember anything else, otherwise I’ll signal
you for a meeting.”

Willy nodded his head vigorously
in assent. “Good luck. I hope you catch bastard…”

MacMurphy shook hands with Willy
Chan. “Thanks again, Willy.” When the handshake ended, five crisp new 100 Euro
notes had found their way into Willy Chan’s hand. “Thanks for staying on top of
this…” He turned and headed back up the path the way they had come, anger
evident in his footfall.

Willy Chan stood for a moment
watching him disappear into the night. He felt a chill, remembering the cold, hard
look in Mac’s black eyes.

Chapter One Hundred

M
acMurphy wanted to go immediately
to Pigalle. He was in pursuit of his prey, and he didn’t want to let the trail
get cold. But he needed to do some planning and preparation before setting off.

He didn’t intend this to be a
seat-of-the-pants operation. His training had taught him that probably the
single most important characteristic that elevates the really great case
officers above the rest is their ability to “wing it” when required. Yet, even
more important, the best case officers never go into a situation
planning
to wing it. They must first attempt to anticipate every possible eventuality
and carefully plan their responses. Then they only have to wing it if they are
thrown a really unexpected curve. All of this was second nature to MacMurphy. He
was not going to wing it…