The Italian Divide (41 page)

“I’ll be real careful.”

“Oh, and there are five uniforms in the back for EMS personnel.”

“I’ll tell my men to keep them clean.”

“Don’t worry about that. I’ll launder them in Italy and send them back.”

“Thanks for everything. The keys are in the rental car.”

“I’ll drive it to the dock in Locarno and park it there. I have a boat waiting to take me to Stresa. See you there in a few hours.”

Giuseppe looked nervous. “Be careful, Craig.”

“I will. Believe me.”

Giuseppe gave Craig a hug. He started toward the rental car, then turned and said, “I got a call from Marcello, who rented the boat.”

Craig was concerned. “Is Elizabeth okay?”

“Yeah. She got the boat okay. The Matterhorn. Marcello called to tell me that girl I sent has balls the size of melons.”

“Marcello has that right.”

Then Giuseppe said, “You sure you don’t want me to come with you tonight.”

“You can’t possibly. In your position.”

“Good luck then.”

“Everything is on schedule. A little while ago, I heard from my people in North Carolina running the air surveillance. Zhou returned to the house about half an hour ago, apparently for the night. He has eight men with him. Also Qing. Some of them have left for periods of time the last couple of days, but all are back now. They look like tough military types. We have to assume they’re armed to the teeth. One is standing guard at the front gate. Another behind the house. Hopefully, the others will be sleeping. I guess I’ll find out.”

Craig drove about fifty yards down the road and pulled into a clump of trees. He had a view of the road. For the next two hours, he didn’t see another vehicle.

“Show time,” he said aloud. He started the engine of the ambulance.

As he drove thirty minutes to the rendezvous point outside of the village of Arcegno, in the hills above Ascona, he thought about what lay ahead.

Zhou would have crack troops with him. Even with the element of surprise, Craig and his four men would be in for a ferocious battle. He remembered his unsuccessful effort to kidnap Zhou’s brother in Bali. All of the troops with him had been killed. He had barely escaped with his life. This would be as risky. If he failed, he had told Elizabeth that he wanted to be buried next to Francesca and her mother. But regardless of what happened tonight, this would mark the end of his long running battle with Zhou and his brother. If he succeeded, at long last he would finally be avenging the murder of his daughter Francesca.

What would he do with his life after that? Race cars? Return to the espionage game? In the US? In Europe? He didn’t know, and he didn’t want to think about it. All he cared about right now was getting Zhou.

At the rendezvous point, a dark blue BMW minivan was parked alongside the road. Craig stopped the ambulance in front of it.

Immediately, Darrell, Glen, Doug, and Tony scrambled out of the BMW and climbed into the back of the ambulance. They were all in full battle gear with bulky back packs.

Once Craig heard the rear door slam, he slid open the glass partition that sealed off the back.

“Ready?”

“Go,” Darrell replied.

Craig pulled the ambulance onto the road. He drove for ten minutes. Then he stopped in an observation area that was separated from the road by a clump of trees.

“Do you have everything?” Craig asked.

“We’re good to go,” Darrell said.

“Okay. Put on the EMS uniforms and toss me one.”

*     *     *

Craig drove to via Delta along back roads which fortunately were deserted. The last thing he needed now was to be stopped by a policeman or anyone else.

As Craig turned on to via Delta, he pulled over and called Dempsey in North Carolina.

“No change at the target house,” Dempsey confirmed.

Craig glanced quickly in the rear view mirror at Darrell, Glen, Doug, and Tony in the back. Two on each side of the gurney.

All were in pale green EMS uniforms. Underneath they had Kevlar vests, as did Craig. They were wearing helmets and gas masks, outfitted with night vision goggles. Each man was gripping an automatic weapon with a suppressor. They had grenades in a belt at their waists. No one was talking.

Craig’s gas mask was on the front seat of the ambulance along with a Beretta. The needle and syringe were in a small case hooked to his belt.

We’ll have the element of surprise, Craig thought. Hopefully, Zhou, Qing and the security people will be sleeping. Time was critical. They had twenty minutes to get Zhou. Any more and the police might come.

Craig drove along via Delta, past the Park Hotel, which looked dark. Two hundred yards ahead, he saw Zhou’s house. Standing just inside the wrought iron metal gate was a lone sentry. He didn’t have a gun in his hand. Craig stopped the ambulance.

“Go,” he shouted.

While Craig remained behind the wheel of the ambulance, his four men scrambled out of the back and ran toward the gate. Darrell was in front. He got off a single suppressed shot that took down the sentry. Glen blew the gate open with a muffled explosion. They were inside the grounds, racing toward the house, Craig behind them in the ambulance.

So far, so good, Craig thought. He parked in front of the house. Then he put on his gas mask and helmet and grabbed his gun.

Glen ran toward the back of the house to take out the other sentry. Darrell, Doug, and Tony were scrambling toward the front door.

Craig was right behind them.

The front door was locked. Without hesitating, Darrell fired a suppressed round blasting off the lock. He kicked the door open.

The house, which smelled from garlic, was quiet. The first floor deserted. Darrell cut off the phone line and then took a position near the front door.

Tony and Doug were heading up the heavily polished wooden staircase, running up from the center of the reception area. Craig was following them.

Craig was convinced that after everything they had done, the Chinese troops would know they were coming and had plenty of time to grab their weapons. Once they reached the second floor, Tony stopped and tossed one tear gas grenade to the left and another to the right. Craig and Doug kept climbing to the third floor.

Behind him, Craig heard firing of Tony’s suppressed gun and other non-suppressed weapons that had to be the Chinese.

On the third floor, Doug tossed tear gas grenades in both directions, then stood gun in hand ready to fire. Craig ran to the right to the master suite at the end of the hall. He heard Doug firing suppressed rounds behind him.

There was only one door between Craig and Zhou’s room. Suddenly, it opened. A man stumbled out gun in hand. In the tear gas haze, Craig recognized Qing. Craig dropped him with a single shot to the chest.

The door to Zhou’s room opened. In blue silk pajamas, Zhou staggered out into the corridor. He was gagging and choking.

Craig forced Zhou back into his room and slammed him to the floor. He straddled Zhou and removed the case with the syringe from his belt. Quickly, he injected Zhou with the drug that would render him unconscious.

In the instant in which Craig was inserting the needle into Zhou’s arm, he saw terror on Zhou’s face. “Fuck you, Craig Page,” he blurted out. Then he was unconscious.

Craig picked up Zhou like a sack of potatoes and tossed him over his shoulder. Heading back to the staircase, he watched Doug shoot one more gagging Chinese security man. The third floor was quiet. Craig followed Doug down the stairs. On the second floor, Tony, with blood dripping from his leg, was firing at an enemy combatant at the end of the hall. He hit the man who stopped firing.

Midway down the stairs leading to the first floor, Craig had to step around a Chinese soldier who was stretched out not moving. Tony was covering Craig from the back, Doug from the front. The house was quiet.

Out in front of the house, Craig saw Darrell with his gun raised looking around.

“Where’s Glen?” Craig asked Darrell.

“In the ambulance. He killed the sentry in the back, but he took a bullet in the arm.”

“I’ll go tape him up,” Doug said.

“You better do Tony’s leg also,” Craig told him. We have plenty of supplies in the back.”

After Doug opened the rear door of the ambulance, Darrell helped Craig toss Zhou onto the gurney. As Darrell was covering Zhou with a blanket, Craig ran around to the driver’s door.

He heard the rear door slam. Once he started the engine, he glanced at the clock on the dash. Eighteen minutes. Pretty damn good.

He decided not to turn on the siren and flashing lights unless he saw a police car. That would give them legitimacy, but no need drawing extra attention.

Craig drove toward the dock along back roads to avoid the center of town and promenade as much as he could. He approached the dock on via Borgo without seeing another vehicle. Craig drove along the cobblestone road that led to the dock.

Only one more step to go, Craig thought. Just have to get Zhou into the boat.

The instant the ambulance stopped moving, Darrell and Doug opened the back doors. By the time Craig ran around the ambulance, they were wheeling Zhou out of the vehicle on the gurney heading toward the Matterhorn.

Glen and Tony were taped up. They looked okay. “You two get on the boat.” Craig told them. The two of them ran ahead of the moving gurney.

Craig was walking alongside the gurney that Darrell and Doug were wheeling. Craig looked ahead to the end of the dock and the Matterhorn. Nothing suspicious. Elizabeth was at the wheel, ready to go.

Craig couldn’t believe it. At long last, he would be gaining his revenge for Francesca’s death.

Right before hoisting the gurney on the boat, Darrell and Doug stopped it.

“Wait a second,” Craig said. He wanted to do one more final I.D. He pulled the blanket away from the still body. It was definitely Zhou Yun. Looking at Zhou’s face, Craig found it hard to believe that this man was such a monster.

Craig’s eyes were on Zhou when he heard a gun fire. Zhou’s body jerked as a bullet hit him in the center of his chest. Then another.

“No,” Craig cried out. “No!”

A third struck Zhou in the head. Zhou’s body shook in the throes of death.

Craig immediately looked in the direction from which the bullets had come, to the rooftop of a yellow four-story apartment building.

Darrell checked Zhou for a pulse. “He’s dead.”

“Leave him here,” Craig shouted to Darrell. “You and Doug get in the boat with Glen and Tony. Tell Elizabeth to get all of you to Stresa. Giuseppe will take care of you from there.”

Craig was racing away from the dock toward the yellow building. Behind him, he heard the Matterhorn pull out into the lake.

At breakneck speed, he ran up a cobblestone road toward the back of the yellow building, guessing the sniper would exit there.

Craig saw the sniper from ten yards away, on the path behind the yellow building. The man didn’t have a gun. He must have left it on the roof, Craig decided, hoping to get away without arousing suspicion.

The sniper ran up the steep cobblestone road away from the lake. Craig was giving chase. The sniper must have realized that because he increased his speed and wove around parked cars to get away. But Craig was closing the gap.

They were coming into a grassy square. With a burst of speed, Craig caught up to the sniper. He dove, catching the man around his ankles and pulling him down.

As Craig raised his head, he saw the sniper preparing to put a pill into his mouth. Cyanide, Craig guessed. With a swat of his hand, he knocked it away. The man was on his back. Craig straddled him and wrapped his hands around the man’s throat. “Who sent you?” Craig shouted.

The sniper didn’t respond. “If you tell me, I’ll let you go. I promise. If you don’t, you’ll spend the rest of your life in a Swiss jail.”

The sniper still didn’t respond, but stared at Craig.

“The police will be here in a minute,” Craig said. “It’s now or never. Tell me and I’ll let you go.”

“Mei Ling,” the sniper blurted out.

Craig released his grip. He helped the man to his feet. “Go. Run for it,” he said.

Washington

P
resident Worth’s secretary led Craig through the French doors to the rose garden. Then she retreated into the White House.

He saw that President Worth was alone, sitting on a rocker. He seemed to be deep in thought. The garden was bathed in an eerie silence. Craig thought of a line he had once read in a book about Washington. “It’s lonely at the top.”

Craig coughed and cleared his throat, letting Worth know he was there. The president immediately stood up.

“I hope I’m not disturbing you, Mr. President,” Craig said. “Kathy told me to come out here.”

“No. Not at all. I like to grab a few quiet moments when I can. It helps with the pressure of the job. Glad you could come. I wanted to talk to you. To thank you for the outstanding and heroic job you did in Ascona. There wasn’t a single civilian casualty and only two slightly wounded among our troops.”

“I feel as if I failed, letting Zhou be killed before I could get him to Italy where he would stand trial.”

“Amazing how things sometimes seem different then they are.”

It was a peculiar statement. Craig waited for the president to explain. When he didn’t, Craig said, “We had a mess with the Swiss authorities. I appreciate your smoothing it over.”

“Oh, I called in a few chits which you don’t have to know about. They were willing to sweep it under the rug and blame unidentified terrorists for Zhou’s death.”

“Mei Ling sent the sniper who killed Zhou,” Craig said. “I wanted you to know that.”

Craig expected the president to be surprised. Instead, he said, “She had good reasons for wanting Zhou dead. On a personal level, he was responsible for the death of her husband and her son—her only child. On a national level, she believed that Zhou was not only undermining her presidency, but the integrity of China and its prosperity in the world. She and I have developed a very close relationship. We talk often on a dedicated secure line.”