“We have a team inside the United States,” said Ming-húa, “a cell we could, theoretically, pull out, but it’s a couple; the woman is inside NSA, a subcontractor. They’ve been in the U.S. for a decade. We’d be foolish to risk the loss of this project.”

“What else?”

Ming-húa scanned the map, then pointed.

“We have a kill team in Caracas. They’re excellent.”

Bhang picked up a photo of Andreas. He stared at it for a few moments.

“I want the sniper on a plane immediately,” he ordered. “Use a charter out of Lima, and make sure he knows he’s responsible for bringing in any weaponry necessary for the operation. Also, get the Caracas team in the air.”

“Yes, sir.”

Bhang quickly rescanned the dossier on Dewey. “Castine, Maine. Find out if he still has any family.”

“And do what?”

“Send them flowers, you imbecile,” said Bhang, seething. “Find out if he has family! Period!”

11

SIMÓN BOLÍVAR INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT

MAIQUETÍA, VENEZUELA

Two men moved through the central terminal at Maiquetía. It was early morning and Maiquetía was packed.

“I’m going to duty-free,” said Chang, the younger of the two. He had an easy way about him, unlike Hu-Shao, who, while only two years older, looked and acted like he was from another generation.

“Why?” asked Hu-Shao.

“Cigarettes.”

“You should stop smoking.”

“And you should start,” said Chang.

Chang walked toward a line of retail shops in the central terminal. At duty-free, he spent a few minutes ogling the exotic European vodkas, vodkas he could have purchased any day of the week in Caracas but that somehow looked more tempting here at the airport. Finally, he went and bought a carton of Marlboro reds. On the way back to the gate, he stepped inside a sunglasses boutique and bought the first pair he tried on, a pair of white Guccis that made him look, at least he thought, like a movie star.

At the gate, Hu-Shao did a double take as Chang walked up with his sunglasses on.

“You look like a fool,” said Hu-Shao. “Please. Pretend you don’t know me.”

Chang ignored him. He was sick of his colleague. Any man would be sick of someone they spent day and night together with, months on end, living and working together. In truth, Hu-Shao had taught him much. He’d taught him to be an operative: surveillance, infiltration, weaponry, how to kill. But sometimes his partner’s cold demeanor grew old.

On the LAN Airbus A320, they sat in first class. Bhang believed agents should be comfortable during operations. Once airborne, they took turns studying the fifteen-page briefing sheet on the American, Dewey Andreas. The file contained everything the ministry had pieced together about the former Special Forces soldier they were now going to find and kill.

Had anyone somehow gotten hold of the papers, even if they could read Chinese, what they would have found was illegible. The briefing papers had been sent in one of the three encrypted alphabets every agent was trained to memorize, alphabets that were reconfigured every six months. It was one of the hardest parts of being an agent.

The two men spent several hours reading about Andreas’s background. The summaries of his operations were staccato, devoid of wordy descriptions, in many cases incomplete. Yet even without the sort of descriptive detail that would have made the reading more pleasurable, the document was formidable and sent a wave of anxiety through each man.

Chang read the mission summary four times in a row, each time feeling increasingly sick to his stomach:

PROJECT:

816G

TARGET:

ANDREAS, DEWEY

PRIORITY:

2

  1. Recent activities by Target resulted in the loss of key ministry assets. Target is an enemy of the State.

  2. Target is classified as a level 1 combatant. He should be considered extremely dangerous.

  3. Previous attempts by others to kill Target have failed, and the result has been, in virtually every known instance, the death of those attempting to harm him.

  4. Target has extensive combat experience. He is a gifted face-to-face combatant and received advanced training in various CQB systems, including KAPAP/LOTAR and Eskrima while in Delta.

  5. Target will be proficient with cold weapons, including knives and implements, and will be prepared to improvise with nonlethal objects.

  6. Target is expert in all aspects of firearms and explosives. If Target acquires arms, proximity to Target should be considered an active kill zone.

  7. Team should expect the mission to be highly treacherous and should take precautions, both in terms of settling up affairs at home as well as in-theater tactical design.

  8. Target is traveling with a woman who is a VIP in the United States government. Assume Target will be guarded and/or under surveillance.

  9. Team will rendezvous with Lima-based contractor in Córdoba. Contractor is a level 12 marksman and will have responsibility for the kill. Contractor will have all necessary weapons and materials for mission. The strike should take place at night.

10. Target is classified as a Priority 2 termination so directed by the minister. He should be terminated with prejudice.

11. Mission success will earn team members two level pay and one level rank promotion and two additional weeks of paid annual vacation.

After Chang and Hu-Shao finished reading, Hu-Shao removed a small object from his carry-on. It looked like a set of binoculars but in fact was a secure photo viewer. They took turns studying photos of Andreas as well as photos of some of his victims.

After they finished, Chang looked at Hu-Shao.

“What will the design be?” Chang whispered.

“Read the sheet,” said Hu-Shao. “A distance kill at night. The merc is a mark twelve.”

“Two level pay increase?” said Chang. “We must succeed.”

“Typical. You should be honored that, of all the agents in South America, you and I were selected for this mission.”

“I could live without the honor,” said Chang. “I could, however, live with two more weeks of vacation.”

12

VISTA TOWERS

1198 MALECÓN CISNEROS

MIRAFLORES DISTRICT

LIMA, PERU

Raul awoke to the sound of his cell phone. He reached to the bedside table and picked it up.

“What.”

“One hour. Be at the private terminal.”

“Where am I going?”

“Córdoba.”

Raul reached up with his left hand and rubbed his eyes. He reached behind him, to the wall above the bed, and flipped a switch on the wall. The curtains moved slowly away from the windows, which took up the entire wall. Sunlight exploded into the room, and he shut his eyes.

“Who?”

“China.”

“How long will I be gone?”

“Well, that depends now, doesn’t it?”

“What time is it?

“Five-thirty.”

Raul’s eyes opened again, as he became more alert.

“Who’s the target?”

“I don’t know. You’ll find out when you get there. You’re part of a team out of Caracas.”

“Who is it?”

“I told you, I don’t know.”

“You forget I know you, Pascal.”

“He’s American. That’s all he told me.”

Raul felt the naked backside of his girlfriend, Marisol, pressing under the sheets against his groin. He was thirty-one years old, still young, but compared to her, he was an old man. They’d had sex twice the night before. How can she still want more, he thought to himself as she continued to grind against him.

“Pascal, I’m back three days,” said Raul into the phone.

“I already wired a hundred thousand. You get another hundred on completion.”