The Widow's Strike (18 page)

M
alik entered the
dingy elevator,
jostling between two middle-aged Indian men and an Australian backpacker with a braided beard. Assaulted by the stale odor of cigarettes, he felt his feet sticking to the floor like it was coated in flypaper.

A small price to pay.

Unaware of the depth of the penetration or knowledge the enemy now held, he’d had Sanjar locate a cheap hostel that took cash. One that wasn’t a stickler for recording passports.

Sanjar had found exactly that inside an indoor flea market, a maze that wound around not unlike the souks of his home. Just off Nathan Road on the Kowloon side of the harbor, it was actually six or seven different hostels, each one taking up a floor. All housed what he would charitably call frugal travelers, from touring college students to men such as the Indians in the elevator with him. Malik decided they’d stay here until he could obtain new identification, which was what he was doing now.

Leaving the elevator, he slipped through the flow of people in the narrow hallway of the market, hearing at least four different languages and passing stalls that sold everything from T-shirts to Internet time.

He turned north on Nathan Road, and the world became much more homogenous, a river of people, all Asian. He walked up a few blocks, keeping pace with the foot traffic around him. He passed a subway station spilling people onto the street, a seemingly endless stream adding to the current of the human river. Had he not been preoccupied with the upcoming meeting, he might have studied the people flowing south on the opposite side of the street. Might have cataloged them as a precaution. Might have saved himself some trouble later.

* * *

Retro and I
exited the subway station and took a moment to get our bearings. Hong Kong was about as crowded a city as I had ever been in, but luckily it was fairly compact, unlike the urban sprawl you see in the United States.

Retro saw a sign pointing the way to the ferries at the harbor only a few blocks away, and we began walking south, toward our target.

We’d gotten the go-ahead to transition to Hong Kong and had squeezed the only lead we had: the two names we believed were associated with the Iranian we had caught. Unfortunately, neither had panned out. Once they left the aircraft, they simply disappeared, like I figured would happen. There was no known registration at any hotel we could find. We’d flown anyway, waiting on the forensics of the cell phone we’d captured with the Iranian.

By the time we had arrived, the forensics had been completed, and the phone had little to offer, having only spoken with three other handsets: the doctor’s, the general’s phone we found in the cab, and an unknown number, presumably belonging to the countersurveillance that had saved the general at the park. We tried to track it, but it was off the grid, more than likely thrown away because of the compromise.

Digging further, building the spiderweb, we had scrubbed the connections from the unknown phone and hit a potential lead.

Outside of cab companies and the other phones we already knew, it had called a number of low-grade hostels on the Kowloon peninsula, with five located in one building and two in another on the eastern edge of the peninsula. It wasn’t much, but it was all we had.

The two on the eastern edge were a tick above slum land and had databases we could hack. Our target names weren’t registered, which meant little in the greater scheme of things, but I decided to concentrate on the other five. They appeared to be cash-and-carry-type affairs, with nothing on the Web.

I could have split up the team, focusing on both targets, but that would have left me without the ability to react immediately to what we found. On the other hand, while focusing on one would allow me to start immediate surveillance, it would get me nothing if we were on the wrong target.

Ordinarily, this type of mission would have been old hat, and we would have had the luxury of a slow, deliberate process. Here, I felt the press of time—and the threat of a global pandemic. At times like this I wondered if I wouldn’t have made a good shoe salesman.

Jennifer and Decoy had conducted a reconnaissance and found that the five hostels were serviced by the same elevator; each hostel was on a separate floor deep inside a claustrophobic market catering to foreigners. Retro and I were going to emplace a wireless covert camera in view of the doors, then we were going to pull old-fashioned stakeout work, keeping eyes on the door 24/7 in the hopes of spotting our quarry.

* * *

Malik saw a
sign for Kowloon Park and crossed the street, still headed north. He passed two men speaking Urdu and wearing
taqiyah
skullcaps and knew he was close. He crossed Haiphong Road and saw his destination: the Kowloon Mosque and Islamic Centre. He studied it as he approached, looking for anything that didn’t seem to fit. He saw nothing alarming.

He passed through the wrought iron gate and marched up the stairs as if he had been there a hundred times before, not wanting to encourage anyone to be helpful because he appeared to be new. Not wanting anyone but his contact to remember him at all.

Using his memorized instructions, he moved through the building until he reached a small sitting room in the back. Pushing through the curtain, he recognized the man inside. A cleric who worked for the mullahs themselves. And he didn’t look particularly happy.

“General. Come in. Sit down.”

Malik did as he asked, saying, “I’m surprised to see you. I hope my request in Singapore wasn’t mistaken as something needing the attentions of someone as important as yourself.”

“From what you told us, it was no mistake.”

“The plan is proceeding perfectly. I couldn’t very well fly the vials in my carry-on bag.”

“Perfectly? Do you know what happened to Roshan?”

“Yes. He was arrested. Don’t worry, he won’t talk. Even if he does, he has no knowledge of the overall plan.”

“He wasn’t arrested. He disappeared. Just like your men in Thailand. Someone is tracking you.”

Malik absorbed the information, slowly nodding his head. He had begun to suspect the same thing. At least as far as the Thailand team was concerned. “If what you say is true, we need to counterattack. I’m due to meet my
shahid
tomorrow. I can send her immediately, but I would like to set a trap for those who took Roshan. They will surely follow me here.”

“There are others who think we shouldn’t execute at all. That there are too many fingerprints pointing to the republic as it is. Rumor has it you’re using a Chechen. Is this true?”

Irritated that his Chechen contacts had leaked the information, Malik said, “Yes. Why is that an issue?”

“The Russian Federation is our ally. A relationship we don’t want to upset. Using one of her citizens could prove problematic.”

“Problematic for the Chechens, yes. Not for Russia. Think about it: The
shahid
will give them free rein to do whatever they want in Chechnya. The world will be appalled at the carnage, all done at the hands of a Black Widow. We’re handing them a gift.”

The man considered for a moment, then reached underneath his chair and retrieved a satchel, passing it over.

“Your new documents are there, along with a cell phone.”

“Thank you, but I have Sanjar getting phones as we speak.”

“That is well and good, but this phone will remain with you always. So we can contact you should we need to. Be sure and answer it.”

So, tightening the noose, are we?

Malik opened the satchel and saw the small dry-ice box containing both the virus and the vaccine. He said, “Of course. I am always at the ayatollah’s mercy.”

“There is also the matter of the vaccine. Where is it?”

Malik feigned surprise. “It’s here. Right here. You were only supposed to leave me three doses for my team, then take the rest for development.”

“What? Those weren’t the instructions given at the embassy in Singapore. You gave them the vials, telling them they both held the virus.”

Which was absolutely true, but Malik had known this question was coming and had decided to play stupid, giving them the faulty vaccine to provide breathing space for the mission. They would never let him continue if they knew a successful vaccine didn’t exist. All he needed was one dose for the Black Widow.

Malik said, “There is some mistake. Those were not my instructions. Look, I can’t open the vaccine here, and I need it for the mission. I will bring it to my contact in the United States after setting loose the Widow.”

The cleric regarded him with a scowl, Malik knowing the entire operation now hung in the balance.

Eventually, he said, “Okay. Because of your past service and judgment, I’m going to let you continue, but keep that phone on you at all times. Malik, I believe in you, unlike others. Don’t prove me wrong.”

“What about the men searching for me?”

“I’ll get another Quds Force here. Come up with a plan.”

Malik nodded and said, “Thank you. Insha’Allah, this strike will cause the Great Satan unimaginable pain.”

The cleric stood to leave, his parting words sending a chill through Malik.

“There will be pain, no doubt. If you fail, if the West learns the source of the attack, the pain will be yours to bear.”

S
itting in a
booth, Jennifer
scanned the menu of bar food and said, “You really have a knack for finding western bars. It’s starting to amaze me.”

We needed a place that had free Wi-Fi, and as fate would have it, there was a pub called Murphy’s on Nathan Road just blocks from our cameras. An Irish oasis in a world full of foreign cafés serving fried grasshoppers. We’d gone inside, and I’d found it just my kind of place. The only downside was I had to drink iced tea with lunch.

The signal strength booming on my tablet, I dialed in the IP address of the cameras and said, “It’s the other way around. They find me.”

She closed the menu. “Just once, could we get something besides hamburgers? We go to the most exotic places, and you refuse to eat any of the food.”

“But this place has the Wi-Fi we need.”

“No, we don’t. We’re on our lunch break.”

I said, “Surveillance chief doesn’t get a break.”

She gave me her disapproving-teacher look and motioned over the waitress. I hid the tablet page and was in the middle of ordering when my earpiece chirped.

“Pike, Pike, you seeing what I’m seeing?”

Son of a bitch.

Jennifer stiffened slightly but showed no other outward sign she’d heard. I keyed my headset and continued to order, letting them know I was engaged. I heard, “Got it. Glad to see someone’s eating. Ernie just left the building.”

We had a picture of the countersurveillance operative from Singapore, and Decoy had remarked on how much he looked like the Muppet Ernie from
Sesame Street
, thus, that’s what he was now called.

I ignored the earpiece, keeping my attention on the waitress and waiting on Jennifer. She interrupted my order by looking at her watch and exclaiming, “Whoa! Pike, we lost track of time. We gotta go!”

I snapped my watch up and pretended surprise. “Shit! You’re right. Sorry about this.”

I threw some bills on the table, and we exited to Nathan Road.

“We’re out. Which way did he go?”

“Our way. Setting up trigger now. Stand by.”

I’d split the team into pairs on both sides of the market, which gave us the ability to pick up a follow no matter which way he exited and allowed the flexibility to rotate the teams in for chow and bathroom breaks. I really hadn’t expected anything to happen this quickly, but I was happy it had. Ernie wasn’t the general, but he would lead us to him. Of that I was sure.

“Pike, this is Decoy. I got eyes on. He’s headed north, paralleling Nathan Road.”

About a block away.

I motioned to Jennifer and we began moving north on Nathan, closing the distance.

“Decoy, who’s your backup?”

“Pike, Knuckles here. I got eyes on Decoy. I can relieve him.”

“Roger that. Retro, Blood, jump ahead to the north. Get in front of him.”

“Already moving.”

I was trying to build a bubble around Ernie so that no matter which way he went, he’d bump into someone. Given the manpower, I’d done about as much as I could.

We continued through the mass of people, not moving fast enough to spike anyone, when I heard, “He just went left. West. He’s headed to Nathan Road. I’m off.”

Perfect. Coming right to me
.

Jennifer and I began scanning the crowds, knowing he was within seconds of running into us. It was the hardest part of surveillance: acting like you had a destination while trying to find your target. You always had to keep in mind the third man—the cameras and people around you who would trigger law enforcement if you did anything awkward.

Retro said, “I’ve got him. He’s moving to the subway. He just went down.”

The subway station we’d used to get here was right in front of us, and we went down as well, letting Retro handle the eye.

We reached the platform, and I said, “Which train? We’re here.”

“North. He’s headed north.”

Jennifer tapped my elbow and said, “I see Retro.”

Which was good enough. We got on the same subway as Retro, a car behind him.

Ernie got off three stops north, at Mong Kok, and went east on Argyle Street before entering a shopping mall. Retro pulled off, and Blood took the lead.

I called Retro. “What is this place? Get a data dump.”

He came back in minutes. “It’s called Sin Tat Plaza. It’s an electronics mall known for selling gray hardware.”

“What’s that mean? ‘Gray hardware’?”

“Counterfeit or resold electronics. Mostly mobile phones. Stuff that isn’t strictly black market but also isn’t authorized by the manufacturer.”

Shit. He’s buying untraceable phones.

“Blood, give me a lock-on. Jennifer and I are coming in.”

He directed us to the second floor, and I got eyes on Ernie. I waved Blood off and took the eye, window-shopping with Jennifer.

Ernie wandered around for a little bit, then went back outside, traveling north on Tung Choi Street, continuing his shopping. Eventually he reached a small four-story office complex with a number of shops on the ground floor linked together in a little indoor cul-de-sac. In the center was a guard desk housing a single man, who was apparently bored beyond belief, not even stopping anyone from reaching the elevators.

Ernie looked at a piece of paper in his hands, then glanced around the circle of stores, finally settling on one. He entered, and I held back. It was small enough that I didn’t want to go in with him for fear of getting burned. He exited about eight minutes later carrying a bag.

“Blood, I’m still on him. Go in the store and buy a phone. See what the procedure is.”

We needed to find out the numbers he had purchased, and I wasn’t sure how we would do that, since we were now in the land of Communist China and calling in a liaison favor was out of the question.

Ernie went straight back to the subway, riding it underneath Victoria Harbor to Hong Kong Island. He passed through the admiralty station and exited at Central, now walking north and entering the International Finance Centre mall, a high-end shopping plaza as different from Sin Tat as a filet mignon was from a hot dog.

What’s he getting here?

It didn’t make any sense. Knuckles now had the eye, with Retro as backup. I said, “Get ready, people. Something’s about to happen. Remember, he was pulling countersurveillance in Singapore, so look sharp. Keep him in sight no matter what, but don’t let him burn you.”

I positioned in a café with view of the entrance he had used and waited, the tension mounting, my subconscious telling me to get in the hunt. Get eyes on. I ignored the urge and played the tourist with Jennifer.

I waited for the call that he was meeting the general or conducting reconnaissance for a strike or something equally nefarious, but all I got was simple shopping updates. He went into the two-story flagship Apple store and bought a couple of iPads, then found a SmarTone booth and purchased a plethora of stored-value SIM cards. Nothing more. It was almost like he was truly a tourist from the Middle East using his time in Hong Kong to outfit himself with the latest electronics.

He didn’t conduct anything remotely like a surveillance detection route and didn’t seem to care if he was being followed. I began to wonder if he was a decoy. If his mission was precisely to pull us out and away from the real action. I was considering breaking off when I got the call that he was headed back my way, and I waited to pick up the eye.

Jennifer saw him first, and we let him pass. He reached the door, and we got our initial sign that he wasn’t a tourist. He sat on a bench at the exit and did a half-assed job of acting like he was reading the iPad box, flicking his eyes all around and studying everyone who passed him.

Unfortunately for him, he’d made the amateur mistake of starting his detection while he was already in a box. He’d walked into us, so we were now out of suspicion. After all, how could
we
be following
him
if we were already here when he arrived? Not only that, but his actions gave me plenty of time to leapfrog people in front of him again. Clearly not that well trained.

I made the call to the team and formed a loose bubble around him outside, going so far as to position a team inside the subway station, letting them know his awareness level was now up.

Continuing his amateurish actions, he waited until the lobby was relatively clear, then leapt up and began speed-walking out the door. Right into my first position.

Eventually, after continuing his junior-varsity surveillance detection, including jumping on then off the subway, he ended up at the Island Shangri-La hotel, a five-star resort adjacent to Hong Kong Park.

Amateurish as it was, his antics forced us to really hang back, and we lost him inside the hotel, but the location, coupled with his actions, told me all I needed to know.

Something special is inside this place.