“Hutong?”
“They’re neighborhoods made up of narrow streets and alleys, formed by a maze of interconnecting siheyuan, the traditional Chinese courtyard homes. I’ve ordered our driver to get us as close as possible. Then we’ll have to continue on foot.”
Monk frowned. “Why would they be moving Kowalski and Maria through such a residential area, especially if Baako was still with them?”
“I don’t know. But it’s a concern.” She turned and eyed Monk up and down. “As is your appearance in such a neighborhood.”
He nodded. I won’t exactly blend in there.
“Hang on.” Kimberly shifted around and began pulling items from her backpack. She passed him a ball cap with Chinese characters embroidered on it, a pair of dark sunglasses, and a blue paper surgical mask. “Put these on.”
Monk fingered the mask. He had seen many locals wearing them as protection against the ubiquitous air pollution in Beijing. The cap, sunglasses, and mask would do a fair job of hiding his features, especially if he kept his head down.
As he tugged the ball cap over his bald scalp, Kimberly barked again to the driver and pointed to the next intersection.
Looks like this is where we get off.
Kimberly offered Monk one last bit of advice. “Let me do all the talking from here. These neighborhoods are notoriously insular and wary of strangers, especially foreigners.”
The taxi stopped at the curb. Kimberly paid the driver in cash, and they both climbed out. Monk took in his surroundings. Across the street spread a typical commercial area of Beijing, with tall hotels surrounding a large pedestrian shopping center.
Kimberly led Monk in the opposite direction, into an alley lined by brick walls. It was so narrow the two of them could barely walk shoulder to shoulder. Within steps, it felt like he had left the modern world behind and entered a sliver of Beijing’s past. The outermost layer seemed to be made up of tiny shops, selling tobacco goods, antiques, or brightly colored candy. The next layer felt more personal, as communal teahouses took over the storefronts and the scent of burning incense rose from a small neighborhood temple.
“A little farther,” Kimberly whispered under her breath after glancing surreptitiously at his phone’s map.
As they moved into the heart of the hutong, Monk caught occasional glimpses into the residences’ courtyards, spotting small gardens, overloaded clotheslines, and a number of pigeon coops.
Shadowing his phone with a palm, Monk noted that the signal had rounded a corner ahead and was now coming toward their position. He showed the screen to Kimberly.
She searched around and tugged him into a small art shop. It was barely large enough for the two of them. They had to squeeze between racks of calligraphy brushes, stacks of paper, inkwells, and stamping stones. The proprietor—a small wizened woman who could be anywhere from sixty to a hundred years old—smiled, showing only gums.
Kimberly spoke softly to the old woman, her tone deeply respectful. With his back slightly turned from them, Monk concentrated on his phone, watching both the screen and the open doorway.
Finally, the moving blue dot reached their position—and passed. At the same time, a tall figure wearing a PLA uniform strode across the storefront and continued down the alleyway.
Monk waited several breaths, watching for any other soldiers or some sign of an armed escort covertly leading Kowalski and Maria through this neighborhood. The only others who appeared were a chattering line of small kindergarten-aged children, likely heading to school.
Monk glanced back to Kimberly and motioned for her to follow him. He exited the shop, hearing Kimberly offer parting words to the proprietor in apologetic tones. Back in the narrow street, Monk nodded toward the soldier as the man turned the next corner.
“Signal’s coming from that guy,” Monk whispered as they trailed behind the children.
Kimberly searched behind her, then back to the next corner. “What do you think?”
He knew her concern.
This could be a trap.
Someone could have found that tracking device and was using the soldier as a decoy to lure anyone who might be monitoring its signal.
Like us.
Monk weighed the risks as he followed their target. The smart move would be to pull back and reassess the situation, but after nearly a day of wringing his hands and waiting, impatience trumped caution. He knew that the best chance of rescuing the others was during the first twenty-four hours. The dead student found in the meadow of the Yerkes Primate Center was testament to the ruthlessness of those running this operation.
For all I know, that soldier could be the one who shot the young man.
“Well?” Kimberly asked.
Monk increased his pace, knowing there was only one way of truly getting any answers.
“Let’s take him down.”
9:02 A.M.
Maria tensed as the double doors at the end of the hall banged open. She gained her feet, stepping between Baako and the cage door. A forklift appeared, carrying the same crate used to transport Baako yesterday.
“Looks like our time’s run out,” Kowalski mumbled, his face dark with anger.
A four-man team of soldiers accompanied the forklift. They all carried rifles, but one held an electric cattle prod.
Baako pushed against Maria’s side, cowering at her thigh, clearly remembering that crate and the pain of those fiery shocks. He reached an arm to Kowalski, silently asking for protection.
Kowalski took Baako’s hand and faced the group that came forward.
As the forklift drew abreast of their pen, another soldier hopped out of the cab. He called an order to the driver, who lowered the crate toward the ground. Maria recognized Chang Sun, dressed in a crisp uniform, his black hair slick and wet as if freshly showered. She was surprised to see the man instead of his younger brother, Gao. From the man’s scowl and stiff back, he was clearly irritated at being assigned the menial task of fetching Baako.
He waved a guard to unlock the cage and barked to the one holding the cattle prod. Both soldiers snapped to obey. The cage door was quickly opened, while rifles bristled toward them and sparks spat from the end of the electric prod.
By now Baako was quaking all over. Kowalski winced, glancing down to his hand, which was being crushed within Baako’s frightened grip. Still, the man didn’t let go. Instead, he stepped forward and confronted Chang.
“You’re not putting him in that crate again,” Kowalski said. “He stays with us.”
Chang’s scowl deepened.
Maria stepped forward and supported Kowalski’s position. “If Baako’s undergoing surgery this morning, getting him too stressed could have adverse consequences. I’m sure Major General Lau wouldn’t—”
Chang cut her off, yanking out a large pistol holstered at his waist. Maria immediately realized her mistake. She shouldn’t have mentioned Lau, remembering the friction she’d witnessed between the two officers. She also recognized the weapon in Chang’s grip. It was a tranquilizer gun.
Kowalski lifted his free hand, ready to press their case. But before he could speak, Chang aimed his pistol—and fired.
The feathered dart shot between her and Kowalski and struck Baako in the shoulder. He yelped and swatted at it, knocking the needle free. But it had already delivered its dose. Hooting in fear, Baako let go of Kowalski’s hand and retreated toward the back of the pen.
Maria went after him.
Kowalski followed at her heels, swearing sharply.
She dropped to her knees as Baako huddled in the corner. He balled up tightly, his dark eyes wide and shiny with panic. She scooped him to her chest, cradling him.
Kowalski joined her. “It’s okay, little guy.”
Baako turned to the man. With shaking limbs, Baako lifted his fists, tapping the knuckles and swirling them slightly.
[Together]
“I’m not leaving you,” Kowalski promised. “We’re a team.”
“That’s right,” M
aria said, not sure how much Baako understood, but infusing as much reassurance into her voice as possible.
Baako’s gaze swung between the two of them, his eyes already glazing over as the sedative began to take effect. From the rapid response, she imagined the dart had contained M99, a potent tranquilizer commonly used on zoo animals.
As Baako began to slump, he unfolded his fists and formed an OK sign with his fingers before he then swept his hands out into a new sign. His gaze wavered between her and Kowalski. Even weakly delivered, she recognized that faltering sign.
She caught Kowalski’s eye, seeing that he also understood.
Baako was correcting the man’s earlier words. Instead of We’re a team, Baako signed We’re a family.
“You got that right, little guy,” Kowalski said firmly.
As if knowing his message was understood, Baako’s head fell back, and his limbs dropped heavily to the cold concrete.
Footsteps approached behind them.
Maria glanced over her shoulder to find Chang standing there.
“He’s calm now,” he said with a slight sneer of disdain. “No stress.”
Kowalski lunged to his feet, about to tackle the officer. But Chang held his ground and swung the dart gun toward the big man’s chest. Maria grabbed Kowalski’s forearm, urging him to restrain himself. M99 was highly lethal to humans; even a couple drops could kill almost instantly.
Kowalski continued to glare, but he settled more heavily to his heels.
Chang’s gaze turned to Maria. “You will come with us.” The dart gun poked toward Kowalski. “He will stay here.”
“No way,” Kowalski warned darkly.
Maria took his wrist, knowing this was not a battle they could win. “It’s okay. I can look after Baako.”
Kowalski breathed hard through his nose, looking ready to argue, but even he must have realized the futility of it. With a huff, he mumbled, “Fine.”
With the matter settled, three of the soldiers pushed into the pen and manhandled Baako’s bulk over to the forklift. Maria followed, cradling Baako’s head, making sure he wasn’t banged up by the rough treatment. Though she knew he was in store for much worse this morning.
She pictured the brutalized chimp from yesterday. As much as that treatment had horrified her, she could not escape her own shame. Was her treatment of Baako any kinder? She had kept him caged, letting him out for the occasional romp in the woods and testing him at every turn.
She remembered his last sign.
[We are family]
Tears rose as guilt squeezed her heart. As he was rolled limply into the crate, Maria rested a palm atop his head, knowing how special he was.
You should be free.
A soldier forced her away from the crate, and the barred door was slammed shut with a rattle of steel. Chang marched her toward the exit as the forklift followed them.
She glanced back to Kowalski, who stood alone in the pen. His gaze was hard upon her, silently urging her to stay calm. As added measure, he lifted his hands and repeated Baako’s sign.
[Family]
She nodded to him, taking his message to heart. They were all in this together. Still, a fear followed her through those double doors, a premonition of doom. The feeling persisted as they headed toward the vivisection lab.
How can any of us survive this?
9:07 A.M.
From a block away, Monk watched their target cross the street. It looked like he was headed toward a five-story apartment complex on the edge of the hutong neighborhood.
Home sweet home.
Kimberly realized this, too, and they both increased their pace to close the distance. They didn’t want to lose the man within that sprawling complex. The signal of the GPS unit was only so precise. If they lost sight of their target, it could be difficult to discern his exact apartment.
They followed the soldier across the street, dodging the bustling flow of morning traffic. Ahead, the man stopped at the small courtyard entrance to the complex.
Monk hadn’t anticipated that. With no other choice, they continued on their path toward him. They couldn’t risk raising suspicions by suddenly stopping or turning around.
Kimberly pointed toward a bus stop bench in front of the complex.
Monk kept his head lowered and adjusted the surgical mask higher up his nose. They crossed within steps of their target and settled to the bench. Kimberly kept at Monk’s shoulder, taking his hand as if they were a couple heading to work.
In the reflection off a window of a parked car, Monk watched the man strike a match and light a cigarette. The soldier had purchased the fresh pack from one of the hutong shops. His attitude to the proprietor had been brusque, bordering on rude. The soldier was clearly agitated. He took several long drags on the cigarette, then pulled out a cell phone.
Kimberly’s fingers squeezed tighter on Monk’s hand. The soldier spoke loud enough to be easily overheard, his tone full of anger and frustration. Clearly something or someone had royally pissed the man off.
Monk pictured Kowalski. He knew from experience how exasperating the big guy could be at times—but also surprisingly clever, too. It must have been Kowalski who had planted that tracker on the soldier, using the man as a courier for the GPS unit to bring it aboveground.
Now to turn that to our advantage.
Kimberly leaned closer, resting her cheek on Monk’s shoulder as if she was exhausted. She whispered in his ear. “He’s talking to his brother. From the sounds of it, the guy here must’ve been kicked out of his workplace pending a military review. Said he was interrogated for hours by someone from the Ministry of State Security.”
She paused, listening further. In the reflection, Monk saw the man drop his cigarette and grind it under his heel. With a final angry burst, the man cut off the call and headed into the complex.
Monk waited until the soldier was out of direct sight before rising with Kimberly.
She kept close to his side. “Sounds like someone has it in for this guy. Maybe his brother, too. Someone named Lau. A woman who outranks them both.”
Monk took in this information, wondering if that friction could be used to their benefit.
“If I had time to check my intelligence sources,” Kimberly continued, “I could probably figure out who that woman was. Might give us a clue as to what’s going on here.”
“First things first,” Monk whispered.
They rounded the corner into the central courtyard. It was open to the sky above, with tiers of railed walkways lining the inside of the space.
Their target crossed to a set of stairs and headed up.
Monk kept to the corner. He dropped to a knee to retie a shoelace while watching the soldier. The man reached the second floor gallery and set off down the row of apartments, finally stopping at the seventh door. Standing there, he reached into a pocket and pulled out a set of keys. As he did so, something silvery flew out, glinting brightly in morning sunlight. It dropped to the man’s feet, drawing his eyes and raising a deep frown on his face.
Monk pulled back out of sight. He stared up at Kimberly, reading the same realization in her face.
It had to be the GPS unit.
We’ve been made.
9:10 A.M.
Maria watched helplessly as soldiers hauled Baako out of the crate and dropped him onto a wheeled gurney. They then rolled his limp form toward the towering doors of the vivisection lab. She kept alongside him, making sure he was still breathing. Fear drove her heart into her throat, along with a grim realization.
Maybe it would be better if he died on the operating table.
Such an end would be far kinder than the miserable existence that awaited him after the surgery. Tears again threatened, but she fought them back, refusing to give in to defeat.
Past the doors, the vivisection lab was far busier than before. Most of the activity surrounded one of the stainless steel tables. A team in blue scrubs prepped a pile of surgical packs. One tool, sterilized and sealed
inside a crinkled plastic bag, caught her eye.
A battery-powered bone saw.
Her knees weakened at the sight.
Two of the operating team came forward to relieve the soldiers of their burden. They rolled Baako to the station and slid the gurney next to the operating table.
Maria hurried to stay with him, fearing that they would drive her off. Instead, one of the nurses came forward and handed her a cap and surgical mask. The offer indicated she would be permitted to observe Baako’s procedure—his mutilation, she reminded herself. The nurse must have recognized her distress and gently touched her elbow in sympathy before returning to her duties.
Maria stood there with cap and mask in hand, suddenly wanting to flee, to turn her back on what was about to happen. But instead she lifted the elastic blue cap and snugged it over her head, tucking in loose strands of hair.
I won’t abandon you, Baako.
She stepped forward as he was dragged from the gurney to the table. His wrists and ankles were secured in padded restraints, an act that she found odd. She shifted forward until she could grip his hand. She felt the thick leather pads of his fingers, ran her thumb over the line of fur at the edge of his palm. It was baby soft, a reminder that he was really just a child. She remembered holding this hand in the past, gently bending those fingers, teaching Baako his first words.
One of those was Mama.
Tears rolled down her cheek now. She couldn’t stop them. She couldn’t even wipe them away, refusing to let go of Baako’s hand with both of her own.
Oh, my sweet boy, what have I done?
A commotion drew her attention back to the tall doors of the lab. The familiar figure of Jiaying Lau appeared. Dayne Arnaud accompanied her. The French paleontologist looked haggard with bags under his eyes. He nodded his head at something Jiaying was saying.
Maria kept hold of Baako as she faced Jiaying.
The major general looked well rested, a small smile of satisfaction fixed on her face. As she arrived, she spoke to a tall man in surgical scrubs, likely the head surgeon. They exchanged a few words, then Jiaying nodded and dismissed the man back to his preparations.
She continued over to Maria. “It appears we’re right on schedule this morning. I appreciate your cooperation.”