The American proved to be an athletic, if bumbling lover, using all the real estate the room provided. Along with the video equipment behind the glass, pinhole cameras in the base of the floor lamp, an overhead fire alarm, and the frame of the floral painting at the foot of the bed, they were assured a near-constant view of the American’s face, along with the more damning angles.
Wu flicked his hand when he could stand it no longer, sending Kang and the Indonesian policemen through the hidden door that entered the adjoining bathroom. Wu remained behind the mirror, letting the video roll as the scene continued to unfold.
No one, occupied as the American was occupied, was ever prepared to look up and find three strangers staring down at him. Noonan screamed, first throwing a hand over his face like a distressed woman in a movie, then grabbing Betti and attempting to pull her in front of him like a human shield. She clawed him in the face, having none of it.
“Bravo,” Wu whispered to the glass. One of the policemen grabbed her by the arm and dragged her off the mattress, leaving the naked American cowering and flushed in the middle of the tangled sheets, both hands over his groin.
Wu watched as Betti snatched up her clothes and stomped into the bathroom. A moment later she was in the closet with him, her body buzzing with indignation.
“Did you plan to leave me there with him forever?” Her English was flawless — and spoken through a clenched jaw as she reached behind her to touch the neckline of her red dress.
“Forgive me,” Wu whispered. “My superiors must be assured we have enough video.”
Betti slumped. “I know this,” she said. “But I wish you could have used someone else.”
“As do I, my dear,” Wu said. “But there was no time. I had to have someone I could trust.”
She cocked her head slightly, raising a beautifully sculpted brow. “Why did you really wait so long?”
“I was deciding whether or not to kill him,” Wu said honestly.
“You are not?” Betti gave a disappointed pout that sent a chill through Wu’s veins. “It pierces my heart to think you would let a man live after witnessing him do that to me.”
She was beautiful, and tender, but there was a streak of madness in her. He’d noticed it from the beginning. It was one of the principal traits that attracted him to her.
He gave a noncommittal shrug. “We must be certain the software is genuine.”
She leaned forward until the tip of her nose almost touched the glass. “He is a fool to carry such technology with him when he travels.”
Wu resisted the urge to touch her thigh, keeping his eyes glued to the image of the weeping man on the other side of the glass.
“We believe he intends to sell it,” Wu said.
Betti’s exquisite brows shot skyward again, as if she’d never considered such a thing. “What if he has done so already?”
Wu shared those same concerns. Earlier that day, his men had lost track of the American for a half-hour. But he’d been the same sad sack when they had finally located him again, wandering the streets a few blocks away. A man who had completed the sale of such a valuable item would surely celebrate. Wu nodded toward the sobbing lump on the other side of the glass and adjusted the volume so they could better hear what was being said. Noonan pointed upward, toward his room, and assured the two Indonesian policemen that what they wanted was locked away in his safe. He would be happy to take them to it if they could just leave his wife and father-in-law out of this mess.
“But you
“Yes,” Wu said. “Of course. His flight is not until tomorrow night. We have some time.”
She turned to face him, her lips pursed in a tremulous pout. “It saddens me that you would trade my virtue for a computer thumb drive.”
“I mean you no offense, my dear,” Wu said. “But your virtue was long since—”
She pressed a finger to his lips.
“You are supposed to say, ‘Yes, but this is no ordinary thumb drive.’”
Wu merely shrugged. Betti was correct. He doubted if the American even knew the value of what he had. This was no ordinary gaming software. Wu kept the rest to himself, though it didn’t matter what the girl knew. Kang would kill her before the night was over — someplace private, away from the hotel, and Noonan. His death would come later, also away from here, and after Wu was certain Calliope was in his hands.
Domingo “Ding” Chavez rested his plastic cup of bubble tea on the concrete ledge of the pedestrian path on the Manhattan Bridge, facing west over East Broadway. Intelligence work rarely involved shooting someone in the face — though sometimes it came to that. In truth, it was ninety-eight percent monotony and two percent trying not to get shot in your own face.
