‘Yes?’
‘Tell the other driver to fall back. I need room to manoeuvre.’
‘Okay. And Adam, Bianca’s just gone into Zykov’s suite. You need to get back to the casino.’
Vanwall’s sarcasm permeated his voice. ‘There’s no place I’d rather be.’
There were any number of places Bianca would rather have been than the penthouse of an explosively tempered arms dealer with a history of violence. But she kept that to herself, instead deciding to appear impressed as Zykov led her past the concierge at a desk facing the private elevator and into the suite itself.
As it turned out, she didn’t need to fake it. The lounge was expansive and opulent; a bit overdone and showy for her tastes, though far more restrained than the VIP room in the casino. But it was the view that caught her attention. One entire wall was glass, opening on to a balcony that overlooked the former colony. The islands were ablaze with light, shining against the backdrop of the dark sea.
‘That’s an amazing view,’ she said, genuinely awed by the sight.
Zykov spoke in Russian to one of his bodyguards, who nodded and headed for another room, then opened the door to the balcony. ‘Take a better look.’
A brief pang of fear struck her – what if Zykov had realised she was working with Adam, and intended to throw her off the roof? But there was no overt menace in his attitude, and whatever services the concierge provided for penthouse clientele, she doubted that they stretched to covering up murders.
Still, she followed him outside with apprehension. ‘What do you think of it now?’ Zykov asked, sweeping an arm across the vista as if it belonged to him.
Without the reflections on the glass, it was even more stunning, a pulsating jewel box of neon. ‘I can see why you paid extra for a balcony,’ she said. A moment of vertigo caught her as she looked over the edge. ‘Ooh. That’s a long way down.’
‘I am good with heights,’ said Zykov, unconcerned. ‘I was a paratrooper.’
‘Really? How . . . fascinating.’
‘I have many stories. I will tell you some – the ones suitable for a woman to hear, anyway!’ He laughed. ‘But first, a drink.’ The bodyguard came on to the balcony, bearing two glasses and a silver ice bucket containing a bottle of champagne. The other man, Bianca noticed, had left the lounge – but she doubted he had gone far, ready to respond to the whims of his boss.
Zykov took the glasses as the bodyguard uncorked the bottle. The pop! made Bianca flinch; the anticipation of sudden noises put her on edge at the best of times, and this sounded uncomfortably like a gunshot. The Russian filled the glasses, then handed one to her. ‘Here.’
‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘Although I’m not sure if being cheated out of a quarter of a million dollars is really something we should be celebrating.’
‘Then we shall celebrate something else. The future, perhaps?’
‘That sounds good to me.’ They clinked their glasses. ‘To the future.’
‘The future!’ Zykov echoed, draining his champagne in a single swig. He eyed her. ‘I think it will be good. For both of us.’
‘I’m sure it will be,’ she replied, concealing her growing nervousness.
Adam looked over his shoulder. The second cab was about a hundred yards behind. It had fallen further back for a while, but the bodyguards had obviously demanded that their driver pick up the pace.
Fa’s taxi approached an intersection. On the right, a half-built casino rose skeletally into the night sky, tall barriers cutting the construction site off from the sidewalk. There were very few people about; the area was still under development. ‘Go right here,’ Adam ordered, sliding over to that side. ‘Keep going once you’re round the corner – don’t slow down. Get them to follow you for as long as you can.’
The driver made the turn. Adam half pulled the door handle until he felt the latch release, then held it in place. As the other cab slowed to follow, it was briefly blocked from sight by the barriers on the corner—
He pulled the lever and dived out of the car.
Even with his arms crossed tightly across his chest and his head bowed to shield it as much as possible, Adam still hit the pavement hard. Pain flared in his left shoulder. He rolled, tumbling diagonally across the sidewalk and hitting the wooden barrier with a bang.
He flattened himself along the foot of the fence, burying his face in his arms. Fa’s cab pulled away, and he heard the second taxi take the corner. He had to hope that the bodyguards’ attention was on the vehicle ahead and not the shadows at the roadside . . .
It drove past. Adam lifted his head. His pursuers’ cab was following the first. No brake lights, no sudden turns. They hadn’t seen him.
Wincing at the ache in his shoulder, he stood. ‘Holly Jo, I’m out. Where’s the van?’
‘Almost there,’ she replied. ‘We’ll pick you up at the corner.’
Checking again that the second cab was still heading away from him, he trotted back down the street to the intersection, seeing an anonymous white van approach. It pulled over, and he hurried to the back. The rear door opened. ‘You okay?’ Tony asked as he helped Adam inside.
‘Yeah.’ The back of the van had been turned into a mobile operations centre, albeit a very cramped one. Kyle and Holly Jo sat in staggered positions, the various components of their portable workstations secured to racks on the cabin walls. Tony had a similar arrangement for his own system. ‘What about Bianca?’
‘She’s fine, so far,’ Holly Jo reported.
‘Good. Kyle, where’s the drone?’
Kyle indicated one of his monitors. It showed an aerial view of the intersection, the van stationary at the roadside. ‘Right overhead.’
‘Get it back to the casino. We need eyes on Zykov’s penthouse.’
‘On it.’ The intersection swept off the screen as the UAV turned and ascended.
The van set off. ‘How are you going to get in there?’ Holly Jo asked.
Adam gave her one of Vanwall’s sardonic smiles. ‘That’s a good question.’
Tony spoke into his headset. ‘Levon, we need those hotel floor plans. The routes we considered to reach the penthouse – bring them back up.’
Levon’s voice came through the comm system. ‘You do remember that all those routes looked incredibly dangerous, right?’
‘It’d crossed my mind,’ said Adam.
‘Juuuust checking.’
Adam regarded the cases containing the PERSONA equipment. ‘There’s no way I’ll be able to get across the roof carrying those. I need a backpack – something that leaves my hands free.’
Holly Jo peered under her console. ‘There’s a laptop bag here that should be big enough. It’s only got a shoulder strap, though.’
‘Nothing better?’ Tony asked, getting head shakes in response. ‘Okay, it’ll have to do. Pass it down.’
Adam opened the cases. It was not so much the dimensions of the PERSONA device and its recorder unit that would be a problem as their weight – and fragility. The large, solid cases had plenty of high-impact foam padding inside them. A laptop bag, however big, would have almost nothing. ‘It’d make things easier if I didn’t take the recorder.’
‘Martin’s orders,’ said Tony. ‘We need a backup of Zykov’s persona in case anything goes wrong.’
‘That would mean imprinting it into Adam twice,’ Holly Jo objected.
Adam chuckled sarcastically. ‘If anything goes wrong fifty floors up, the only thing I’ll be imprinting will be the sidewalk.’ He took the bag from Tony and opened it. It was big enough to hold both parts of the PERSONA system . . . just. The smaller medical case was another matter. ‘Kyle, that strap holding your laptop in place. Toss it over.’
Kyle unhooked the black nylon band and threw it down the cabin. ‘Hope we don’t hit any bumps, brah,’ he said, awkwardly wedging the laptop in position with his knees.
Adam looped the strap through the medical case’s handle and secured it with a tight knot. He slung it
over his shoulder to check the length. ‘Not very stylish,’ said Holly Jo.
‘It’ll have to do. How long till we reach the casino?’
Tony checked a screen displaying a map of Macau. ‘Three minutes.’
‘Okay. What’s Bianca doing?’
Despite the night’s warmth, the blustery wind fifty storeys up had forced Bianca and Zykov back inside the penthouse. ‘Sit, sit,’ said the Russian, gesturing at a plush sofa. She did so, only to be taken aback as he plopped down right beside her, one arm along the back of the sofa behind her.
It took every ounce of willpower to prevent her sudden rabbit-in-headlights feeling from showing. Instead, she took a sip of champagne, switching her glass to the hand closest to him so her arm would act as a subtle psychological barrier. ‘Mmm, this is lovely,’ she said, holding the elegant flute up to the light. ‘What label is it?’
Zykov shrugged. ‘French. I don’t know. But yes, it is nice.’ His hand dropped down to touch her shoulder.
‘So, ah,’ she said hurriedly, ‘you were a paratrooper, then? That sounds very exciting. You know, I’m genuinely interested in what it must be like to be a soldier. My father was one, so I suppose that accounts for my fascination!’ He was actually a teacher, and would be horrified at the prospect, but she offered him a brief mental apology before pressing on. ‘I’ve heard that Russian military training is very tough. Is that true?’
Zykov seemed torn between annoyance at the conversational diversion and flattered by her interest. He finally smiled, accepting the latter – for now. ‘It is, yes. We are tough in Russia – toughest in the world. We have to be, it is a very tough country! We hear stories about what hard men the British and the Americans are with their SAS and their Delta Force. Ha! Even an ordinary private in the Russian army is stronger!’
‘Bianca,’ Holly Jo said quietly through the almost forgotten earwig while Zykov spoke. ‘Adam is coming into the casino now. Keep Zykov occupied for as long as you can.’
‘You’re doing great,’ Tony added. ‘Oh, and what he just said about Delta? Totally not true.’
Bianca smiled at his remark, realising too late that the Russian had taken it as directed at him. ‘I will show you how strong I am, if you like,’ he said, leering.
She felt panic rising, again struggling to keep her true feelings hidden. ‘I’m sure you’re very strong,’ she said. ‘You look as if you work out a lot.’
Zykov’s conflict between lust and ego was harder-fought this time, but again came out in favour of the latter – just. ‘Yes,’ he said, his wandering hand now taking a firmer hold on her shoulder, ‘I do. I lift weights, I run . . .’
‘I think Bianca really wants you to get up there as fast as you can,’ Holly Jo told Adam as he approached the elevators. The laptop bag, stuffed to bursting point with the PERSONA hardware, thumped against his hip with every step, and the makeshift strap on the medical case was uncomfortably short. His discomfort was made worse by the numerous items now inside his jacket.
‘Is she in trouble?’ he replied, pretending to talk into his phone.
‘Not yet, but Zykov’s making moves on her. And I don’t think he’ll take no for an answer much longer.’
‘I’m at the elevators now.’ To one side, two lifts stood apart from the others, a uniformed Imperial employee standing in attendance – or rather, on guard. Access to the private elevators to the fiftieth floor was strictly controlled.
That wasn’t where he was going – yet. He waited for a regular elevator to arrive, then entered, pushing the button for the forty-ninth floor. ‘Levon, what have you got?’
‘I found you a way up to the roof,’ came the reply from STS. ‘The central section of the penthouse level is mostly machinery – air-con, elevator winches, things like that. There’s a maintenance access on forty-nine that leads up there, and from there you can reach a service area with a hatch to the roof.’
The elevator began its ascent. ‘How far to Zykov’s penthouse?’
‘Well, that’s the thing.’ Levon sounded less than happy. ‘You know that sign on the roof that says “Imperial” in big neon letters?’
‘Yes?’
‘And you know how that’s in the middle of the roof, and the penthouses are on the corners?’
‘Levon . . .’
‘The hatch opens right behind the centre of the sign, okay?’ Levon explained. ‘You’ve got to go halfway along the top of the damn building. And when you get to the penthouse, you’ve still got to climb down from the overhang. It’s nearly twenty feet to the balcony – and over eight hundred straight down!’
Tony was marginally more reassuring. ‘Kyle’s got the UAV in position. It looks like there’s a beam on the underside of the roof you’ll be able to use.’
‘Looks like?’ said Adam dubiously.
‘The plans say it’s a structural support. Let’s hope they didn’t change anything.’
‘Yeah, let’s hope!’ The elevator continued to climb. ‘Okay, I’m almost there. Which way to this maintenance room?’
‘Turn left,’ Holly Jo told him as the ascent slowed, then stopped. Adam stepped out. The corridor was a creamy white with a deep scarlet carpet, woven with the repeating pattern of a Chinese dragon. A security camera was mounted high on the wall directly opposite the elevator doors. He went left. ‘Take the next corner,’ she said as he approached a junction. Another camera watched the intersection. He rounded the turn. ‘Okay, the door is just on your left.’
He gave it a quick glance as he passed. A sign saying ‘No Entry’ in several languages; a keycard lock. He had a computerised keycard in his pocket that could hack it, but it would take at least twenty seconds to find the right code, during which time he would be in full view of the security camera. He kept walking. ‘Levon, can you do anything about the cameras?’
‘From DC?’ came the distinctly sarcastic reply. ‘They’re on a local system – you know, a closed circuit? They’re not hooked up to the Internet, man.’
‘No need to twist your panties, I was just asking.’ At the corridor’s far end was another camera – but, he realised, its offset position relative to the one behind him meant there was a blind spot in the security coverage. Only small, a narrow triangle against one wall . . .
It was enough.
A fire extinguisher was clipped to the wall. He yanked it free as he passed and pulled out the safety tab before squeezing the handle to set it off. Water gushed out. He sprayed the wall and carpet for several strides, then dropped the canister just before the end of the blind spot. ‘Holly Jo, can you patch my phone through to the front desk?’
‘Sure I can, but why—’
‘Put me through.’ He tapped her number into his phone and waited. Seconds passed, subtle changes in the background hiss telling him that the call was being rerouted – then it rang.
A brief wait, then: ‘Imperial Casino and Hotel, how may I help you?’
‘Uh, hi,’ said Adam, exaggerating Vanwall’s accent to make himself sound like a clueless tourist, ‘I’m staying here, I’m on the forty-ninth floor? Uh, someone’s set off a fire extinguisher. There’s water everywhere, it’s a real mess.’
‘Can you tell me the number of the nearest room, please?’
He had memorised it with a quick glance. ‘Yeah, sure. It’s outside room forty-nine fifteen.’
‘Thank you, sir. We’ll send someone to clean it up right away. We’re sorry for any inconvenience.’
‘No problem. Bye.’ He disconnected. ‘Okay, let’s see how quick their maids are.’
He stopped near the end of the corridor, pretending to be involved in a phone conversation for the benefit of the camera. It didn’t take long before someone arrived to assess the problem. It wasn’t a maid, but a man in grey overalls. He rounded the far end of the hallway, shook his head in disapproval on seeing the fallen extinguisher, then plodded over to pick it up.
Adam started towards him. The maintenance worker’s keycard was hanging from a re
el on his tool belt. Keeping the card on a short, self-retracting cord was supposed to make it impossible to lose or steal, but there were ways around the latter. He put a hand in one pocket, feeling cold metal.
The man lifted the extinguisher and turned to return it to its place. Adam walked up behind him and with a swift, precise motion swept his hand at his belt. A moment’s hard pressure on the multitool’s clippers and snick, the cord was cut, the flat sound covered by an ‘Excuse me.’ He caught the card before it had time to fall more than an inch and strode past without looking back. If the man had realised what had happened, a shout would come at any moment . . .
The only sound that reached him was the clunk of the extinguisher being pushed back into its clips. Adam approached the door to the maintenance room, the card ready. Now he glanced back. The man was still occupied with his task.
Adam angled towards the door, sliding the card into the slot with a marksman’s precision. Green light and a clack from the lock. He quickly opened the door and went through, the laptop bag scuffing against the frame. Unless someone had been looking directly at the camera feed at that exact moment, his illicit entrance would have been too fast to be noticed. He paused as the door swung shut, listening for a response from the hotel worker . . .
Nothing. He hadn’t been seen.
‘Levon, I’m inside the maintenance area,’ he said. The room was utilitarian, unpainted cinderblock and drywall. Cabinets and shelves contained cleaning products and racks of replacement fittings: light bulbs, lamps, faucets, even televisions.
‘Okay, the way to the roof is straight ahead,’ Levon told him, but he was already moving; there was nowhere else to go. He passed more cabinets and stacked boxes, reaching a narrow metal staircase that zigzagged upwards. He ascended, footsteps echoing.
The room above was only dimly lit. Large pieces of machinery lurked in the shadows, a loud electrical hum coming from somewhere nearby. ‘Where’s the hatch?’