Satisfied that he’d explained the problem, Yuan Bo said, “That’s why he has the data, and it’s why he’s become the best at what you want done.”
Aggravated, Han said, “You talk in riddles. Kiosks? Why does that matter?”
Yuan held up his hands and said, “Because the Link kiosks aren’t a public service. It’s designed to make money, and that money is through targeting everyone who walks by them with ads. Every single kiosk has a continuous Bluetooth connection to slave to the phones, which we don’t care about, but each also has a camera to provide security. That camera is recording twenty-four/seven. Collecting faces from the most diverse location on the planet. Every minute of every day each of those kiosks is taking pictures of the people passing by. That’s the data we used to decrease our false-positive rate on our own surveillance systems. And it’s the same data that’s made his manipulation algorithm the best in the world.”
“Can’t we just take his program? How hard is that to do?”
“We could, I suppose, but he’s really the best at it. If you want it to look real—to sound like something someone can’t crack as fake within twenty minutes, he’s the guy we need to use.”
“Can he be trusted?”
“Yes. Not because I trust him, but because he’s already corrupted. If he doesn’t work with us it will spell his doom. Like all of them we co-opt, we started small, dangling money for results. Now we own him. If the United States knew he was conducting a massive surveillance operation in New York City to benefit the facial recognition and surveillance programs of the People’s Republic of China, he’d be destroyed.”
Han looked back through the window and nodded, saying, “Okay, but he doesn’t leave here. No contact with anyone in the United States. Once he’s given the mission, he stays here until it’s done.”
Yuan looked like he’d swallowed sour milk. Han said, “What?”
“We can’t do that. BackRub isn’t huge, but it’s rich. He’s the CEO. He can’t just drop off the planet. He’s going to have to act like a CEO, talking to his people in the United States.”
Han nodded, saying, “Okay, but implant all his devices. I want to know what he says, and I mean whether that’s a text message through a computer or a voice call.”
Yuan nodded and said, “That’s already done. He’s under full-scope surveillance right now. So far, he has done nothing untoward.”
Han tapped his fingers on the sill, thinking. He said, “Okay. But if he’s as good as you say he is, he’s probably got a way to communicate we haven’t found. Be on the lookout for that.”
Yuan nodded and said, “What’s next?”
“I’ll get you the script. I want it done soon. A day at the latest. Other things are in motion. Ocelot is going to have to implant what Bobcat took from Australia. He can’t be burned until then, because we need his access.”
“Bobcat is okay? I thought there was trouble with that.”
“There is, but he’s clear. The Fifth Bureau is on it. He’s meeting a man to transfer the data as we speak.”
Not liking talking about the assassins of the Fifth Bureau, but overcome by curiosity, Yuan asked, “So they eliminated the Americans? The ones interfering with the Bobcat mission?”
Han went to the door without answering, saying, “Make sure the videos are perfect. Within a day.”
Yuan nodded, and Han opened the door. He turned back and said, “Don’t ask so many questions. Do your job and let the Fifth Bureau do theirs.”
Chapter 36
Chen Ju-Long watched Zhi Rou feed their captive with a spoon, her hands handcuffed to the arms of a wheelchair they’d decided to use as her restraint device. Zhi was surprisingly gentle, without a trace of the animosity or rage he’d seen the night before.
The woman—Nicole—was frightened out of her mind, constantly weeping and begging them to release her. Chen took no joy from her display of emotion, and made sure she was treated with dignity, but releasing her wasn’t going to happen. They’d failed to kill Clifford Delmonty, the man who suspected what Jake—Bobcat—was up to, but they had at least gained some leverage with the girl.
Nicole was the one connection they had to Clifford, and in his mind, the only way they could negate the potential leak he presented. They had been on the defensive since the initial contact because they hadn’t known the man had help. They’d made a mistake in attacking here in Sydney without a complete assessment, believing they were the hunters, but it hadn’t turned out that way. He had been arrogant in his blind supremacy, but he wouldn’t make that same mistake twice. Whoever they were, they didn’t have the technical capabilities he had, or the lethal team he owned, of that he was sure. The man had simply gotten lucky.
Clifford Delmonty wasn’t in bed with a U.S. government agency and had no contacts in the intelligence field they could find. They had his entire work history through nothing more than hacking his LinkedIn account, and short of a brief six-year stint in the U.S. Army as an infantryman, he’d worked solely in the private sector as a computer engineer.
In addition to LinkedIn, they’d cracked his personal Gmail account and discovered email exchanges with a man called Pike Logan—apparently an old Army buddy from years ago—wanting to visit for a vacation. He was the one who’d upset their plans. A coincidence they couldn’t have predicted, but one that was easy to deal with, once they knew what they were up against. Logan was a hard man, no doubt, but he was no match for the skill of Chen’s team.
Except for the woman. Chen couldn’t explain her. How did she manage to kill my man with a corkscrew?
Maybe the idiot reporting the incident was lying. Or maybe he’d missed what had actually happened. Either way, Chen had the upper hand now. He had the girl, Nicole.
Chen watched Zhi spill a little bit of orange juice on Nicole’s lips and grow embarrassed, almost like she was ashamed at her skill at feeding. Gently, as if she were wiping a child’s face, she cleaned up her mess, cooing soft nothings as she did so. Completely different from the way she’d acted last night, when they were attempting to remove Nicole from the bar.
Chen had seen her get bumped by the drunk in the hallway, which should have been an easy fix. The captive girl was between them, and the drunk was just trying to get to the bathroom. Everything was still in the box. And then Zhi had pulled off the plastic from her ceramic nail and slit the man’s throat from ear to ear, her face glowing in an ethereal light. Soaking up the spouting blood. Soaking up her power to create death. Reveling in her ability to kill like she was a child burning ants with a magnifying glass.
It had nearly led to disaster. They’d managed to get the girl out the back and away from the carnage, but the disturbance had led to the target escaping, not the least because he’d lucked into finding his friend again.
Zhi finished cleaning Nicole’s face, put away the utensils, and then wheeled her to the bedroom at the rear of the house.
She came back out and said, “She won’t tolerate much more of this. She’s breaking down from the strain.”
He picked up his phone, willing it to ring. Wanting his team to tell him they’d found the Americans. He said, “Nothing we can do about that. She’ll last as long as we need her to. A day. Maybe more. Then we’re done with her.”