Qubit, page 38
Tan Xui took the bag and slipped his hand beneath his apron, stuffing the packet into the pocket of his blue jeans. He wondered if they were going to ask him to sell drugs. But that didn’t make any sense. That couldn’t be the big job they were referring to.
Bo pulled a piece of folded paper from a pocket and unfolded it, revealing a grainy photograph. “You see this guy?”
Tan Xui leaned forward. “Yeah.”
“Memorize that face.”
“Okay.”
“You got it?”
“I think so.”
Bo shook his head. “That’s not good enough.”
Tan Xui stared hard at the photograph. It was a profile view of a young man in a white dress shirt with a high, stiff collar. It looked as though it might originally have been part of a larger photograph and then blown up. Tan Xui stared until he began to see individual black and white dots instead of a man’s face.
“Okay.”
Bo folded the paper up and shoved it into his back pocket. “That guy is going to come here to have tea this morning. At eight. You look for him. When you see him, keep an eye out for his order. Mix the stuff in that little bag I gave you into his drink.” Bo looked into Tan Xui’s eyes. “Got it?”
“Mix the stuff in the bag into the—is it poison?”
“What do you think?”
Tan Xui realized it was more a statement than a question. He felt the blood draining from his face. His palms grew cold and damp. “Will it…?”
Bo cackled at him. “Will it kill him? Yes, that’s the point.”
“This is a very big fish, cousin,” added Jun. “You’ll be a real gangster, for sure.”
Bo patted his shoulder. “Just don’t fuck it up.”
37
* * *
Sentosa Cove, Singapore • The Li Home
Wednesday, May 16th
7:00 a.m. SGT (Singapore Time)
Li Shan had gone back to bed, leaving Katya with two quiet and immobile keepers. She tried to lay down on the couch but was unable to sleep. Eventually, the darkness outside gave way to a gray fog of light and then to ambitious shafts of sunlight. She got a text from Haruo, letting her know he was nearby, along with the special ops detachment, and nodded slightly to herself. She looked up at the bodyguards and texted him to stand by. Then she typed a second message, but didn’t send it.
She smelled bacon and coffee coming from some unseen kitchen. A bit later, she caught a glimpse of Li Shan gliding past, wearing her black kimono, a towel wrapped around her neck, her hair damp and stringy. No one offered Katya breakfast or even a glass of a water, and her stomach complained furiously.
The shafts of sunlight grew and blended into one another. Li Shan swept past again, retreating into the recesses of the house. Katya caught herself biting her lip. Was it past eight yet? Had Vipul decided not to show? She felt the cell phone in her pocket. All she had to do was hit the send button and Haruo would come for her. She looked again at the bodyguards. They’d probably kill her before Haruo and his team could get in. There were at least a half-dozen men guarding this place.
But Li Shan wouldn’t have her killed. Not right away. She’d want information. Who did Katya work for? Katya could stall, buy some time. Maybe even tell Li Shan that she was CIA. Maybe that would scare her. That could be good or bad. Katya tried to put herself in Li Shan’s place, but the reality was there were too many unknowns. It was an unforeseen situation and consequently unpredictable. It was exactly the kind of situation, in fact, that she’d been trained to avoid. She’d abandoned her training and relied on instinct, so she’d ended up here. She deserved whatever fate had in store for her.
Of course, that didn’t mean she didn’t have a say in it. She kept working the problem. She eyed the sliding-glass door across the living room. She could grab a cushion from the sofa to shield her from the breaking glass. But she’d never make it across the back lawn before she was shot down by one of the hulking monoliths standing guard, who she assumed, erring on the side of caution, were armed with semiautomatics.
Okay, next plan. She could attack one of the guards directly, hoping to take him by surprise and disarm him…
Queenstown, Singapore • The Regiment Tea House
Wednesday, May 16th
7:45 a.m. SGT (Singapore Time)
“It’s all clear, boss,” said Sameer, leaning into the half-opened rear window of the black SUV that had pulled up in front of The Regiment.
Vipul could see eight of his men ranged along the sidewalk and on the steps. There were four others inside the teahouse and four more in the alley behind the building.
“And you’ve checked the kitchen staff?”
“Yes, yes.”
Vipul found his response to Anand’s death curious. He had yet to experience anything emotionally. But practically speaking, he missed Anand a great deal. He’d had such faith in Anand’s abilities that he’d pushed them too far. Meanwhile, he had no such faith in Sameer. He felt he had to double check everything, which in turn was obviously annoying Sameer. Annoying the man who was charged with protecting you was obviously bad policy, but Vipul couldn’t help himself.
“I haven’t seen Cairnes,” observed Vipul.
“He’s not here,” confirmed Sameer.
“At this point, I suppose I’m probably more vulnerable out here than I am in there.”
“Should we bring our team back out?”
Vipul shook his head. Anand would have understood what he meant. “I’m coming in,” he explained.
Sameer turned and signaled to the men on the sidewalk and steps. These signals were relayed all the way out to the men in the back alley and then back to Sameer. Sameer nodded and open Vipul’s door.
“All clear.”
Vipul wore a black silk suit chosen specifically to impress Lock—to demonstrate how unconcerned he was by the warrant. He walked nonchalantly up the steps and into the teahouse. He was escorted by one of his men to a table in the back, where he saw another one of his men posted at the rear exit. The teahouse had the feel of a greenhouse once you were inside, with lots of plants, black and white tile flooring, and large windows. There was a good crowd: small groups of old ladies, young mothers comparing notes, a couple of business meetings that were already underway, and a couple of old loners who probably came every morning as part of their routine.
Vipul sat down, and a smartly dressed and very smug-looking middle-aged man with an oily comb-over came to take his order. Vipul looked to his bodyguard, who nodded, letting him know that they’d already searched the waiter for weapons. Vipul ordered an oolong tea, very strong, no cream or sugar. He checked his phone—it was almost eight—and took a deep breath. If Cairnes didn’t show, he’d enjoy his tea and hit the kill switch.
It was a moot point. Cairnes was going to show. Vipul was sure of it. The same impulse that had led him to accept Kirin’s initial proposal in Detroit would lead him back to Vipul. A decade, or more, of jail time was even worse than working in a bookstore. Wasn’t it? And not only that, Vipul was offering to make Detroit rich beyond imagining. He’d be able to provide his daughter with the best of everything. He had to at least be thinking about it. And he hadn’t sent any instructions to his brokers. Vipul had called a few of them to make sure.
He looked around nervously. He reminded himself that he was well protected. Outside of someone firing a missile at the teahouse, he was untouchable. Even the SPF would know better than to try and arrest him with his body guard. He had a dozen dead-eyed killers watching his back everywhere he went. And they were the only ones—besides, of course, Lock—who knew his itinerary.
Vipul checked his phone again. It wasn’t even eight o’clock yet. He was fretting over nothing. Take a deep breath. Given the stakes, it was certainly worth giving Detroit a few more minutes before calling the match.
Jurong East, Singapore • Katya's Apartment
Wednesday, May 16th
8:00 a.m. SGT (Singapore Time)
Lock had shifted ends of the couch several times and was now back where he’d first started, the laptop propped up on his knees. As dawn broke, he’d begun checking either the clock on the computer or the message indicator of his phone nearly on the minute. He’d done all the research he could retain, consumed an entire pot of coffee, and drafted the email.
He switched to another window. It was some sort of confidential report on the Li Triad. Katya had zoomed into the address of the Li Estate. Lock selected the address information and captured it as an image file, which he then opened and printed. When the printer finished, he took the page, then folded it in half twice. He walked back to the desk and pulled his duffel from beneath it, stuffing the folded paper into the bottom of the bag.
Queenstown, Singapore • The Regiment Tea House
Wednesday, May 16th
8:00 a.m. SGT (Singapore Time)
Tan Xui fought the urge to simply run. He could go home, pack a bag, and take the bus out of Singapore, never to be seen again. He peered out of the kitchen, staring at the young clean-cut face. Was he sure that was the right guy? He wished he had the photo with him. But all the bodyguards had arrived first, right? One of them had even escorted him in. That had to be him, right? And that would explain why they needed Tan Xui to get to him.
He withdrew back into the kitchen and saw the customer’s tea sitting on the counter, an order ticket sitting next to it on the tray. In a moment, Lucha would remove the tea bag from the cup, place a mint cookie on the tray, and place the tray on the counter where Johnny would pick it up and take it to the young man. Tan Xui had to act now, otherwise it would be too late. He walked quickly, digging the plastic bag from his pocket. Someone bumped him as he attempted to position himself in front of the tray. Someone else was calling for more cups, which was part of his job. He didn’t have much reason to be out near the counter like this.
He stared down at the tray. Was he sure this was the right one? He looked at the cryptic scribbles on the ticket. Oolong tea. Strong. Table 42. Johnny had called it out, and Lucha had called it back, and there was the ticket. The man he was supposed to poison was sitting at table forty-two. Tan Xui fought the urge to double check. There’s no time, he reminded himself. He held the plastic bag with trembling fingers. He either needed to do this or—
“What are you doing?” Tan Xui turned and saw Lucha staring at him with those wide-set eyes. She brushed a lock of hair from her forehead, which was lightly beaded with sweat.
“Johnny said to add cinnamon,” he stuttered. He discretely grabbed a pinch of the gray poison from the bag and started sprinkling it into the cup.
Lucha crinkled her flat nose. “Not like that, you idiot. Use the sprinkler.” She turned away to grab the cinnamon sprinkler.
Tan Xui quickly dumped in the rest of the gray powder. By the time Lucha was ready with the sprinkler, Tan Xui was removing the tea bag and stirring the tea with the spoon. He raised his hand up. “Don’t,” he said to Lucha. “It will be too much then.”
“But you shouldn’t use your fingers like that,” complained Lucha. “We should just make him another cup.”
“Forty-two!” yelled Johnny behind them. Tan Xui turned and saw Johnny waiting impatiently at the counter, his hands reflexively checking his comb-over.
Lucha frowned at Tan Xui. “Next time, use the sprinkler,” she scolded.
Sentosa Cove, Singapore • The Li Home
Wednesday, May 16th
8:00 a.m. SGT (Singapore Time)
Li Shan emerged, adorned in a cream-colored dress, her hair dry and held back with a gold barrette. Katya was suddenly desperate for a shower. She sat up, placed the balls of her feet evenly on the floor, and casually fingered the keypad of the phone in her pocket.
Li Shan smiled at Katya as she approached. Katya smiled back, trying to appear relaxed. Her host wound her away around the far end of the enormous couch and sat down next to her. She placed her hand on Katya’s shoulder.
“Thank you,” she said. “Please accept my apology.” She stared at Katya with large, unblinking eyes.
“It’s fine,” stammered Katya, trying not to exhale all at once.
“I had to be sure.”
“I understand.” She tried to swallow, but her throat was dry.
“Can I offer you some breakfast?”
Katya shook her head. “No, thank you. I should…go.”
“Certainly.” Li Shan turned and motioned to one of the bodyguards. “Please escort—” She turned back to Katya, her cheeks flushing red. “I’m sorry. I don’t recall your name.”
“I never gave it to you.”
“Ah.” She waited for a moment, as though expecting Katya to say something, then smiled primly and turned back to the bodyguard. “Please see that our friend here gets to her car.”
Katya stood up to leave, and Li Shan mirrored her movements. “I think you will find that my family is very grateful for your…assistance. Please call on me any time.”
Katya nodded and began to make her way around the couch and toward the foyer. She turned abruptly and saw that Li Shan was talking to one of the bodyguards.
“One question,” she said. “Did you…get him?”
Li Shan flashed another prim smile. “I have no doubt that we will.”
Queenstown, Singapore • The Regiment Tea House
Wednesday, May 16th
8:00 a.m. SGT (Singapore Time)
Vipul took the cup and inhaled the rich scent of the tea. “Imagine,” he said, loud enough for the nearest bodyguard to hear him, “having nothing else to do but curate tea leaves.”
“Sir?” said his bodyguard.
Taking a tentative sip, he continued: “Such a person has no worries in life. Except, of course, to make sure he selects the right leaves.” He took another sip. “This one, for example…it’s a bold choice. After a while, your palette changes. What is bold to me…” He took another sip, his eyes shifting furtively as he tried to identify the flavors in the tea.
He waved the nearest bodyguard over. “Did Sameer make arrangements to…?” He set the cup of tea down in front of him, staring at it wide-eyed.
“Sir?”
Vipul suddenly couldn’t catch his breath. He inhaled deeply, but it felt as though he had a leak in his lungs. “Did Sameer…?” he rasped. He began to feel dizzy.
“Sir, are you all right?”
Vipul shut his eyes and forced air out of his lungs so he could speak. “Did Sameer arrange…for the…of the…” Vipul felt himself falling, felt his body hit the floor. Everything was sideways. He heard voices around him but couldn’t make sense of the sounds.
ψ
Tan Xui watched from the door as the young man fell off his chair, as though in slow motion. He felt his knees buckle and thought he might fall over, too, but he placed his hand on the doorway and regained his balance. Someone was calling for him to warm more cups.
He realized with a start that he was acting very strangely and that this might come up later when the police were questioning people. He fought the urge to vomit and then quickly walked back into the kitchen against the general tide of people coming out to catch a glimpse of what was happening on the floor.
The kitchen had emptied, except for him. He knew he should go out to the dining area and act as though he didn’t know what had happened. But another instinct told him that it was time for him to leave. Before he’d taken another breath, that same instinct told him that he should already have left. He straightened and tore off his apron. He walked quickly toward the rear exit of the kitchen, which was propped open by someone who had been in the middle of restocking the pantry. A large trailer truck was in the alley. A man in dark, dirty coveralls asked him a question. He turned one way, saw several large, dangerous-looking characters patrolling the alley in that direction, and decided to go the opposite way.
He heard yelling. Run, he told himself. When he looked behind him, two of the men were running after him. He reached the end of the alley and pitched out onto a sidewalk. Why hadn’t someone told him how to get out of there? Shouldn’t there have been a getaway car or something? He wondered if Bo and Jun had expected him he to be killed. They wouldn’t do that to him? Would they?
He realized his mistake had been running. He’d panicked. His lungs were burning as he turned right again at the next corner. There was too much traffic to cross the street. He looked behind him and saw that he was momentarily out of sight of his pursuers. Ducking into a parking garage, he ran up to the second floor and then hid behind a green sedan. He snuck a peek over at the stairway to see if anyone had followed him, then dialed a number on his phone.
“Mom? Hi. No, I’m okay. I was just…running up some stairs. Hey, can you give me a ride?”
Sentosa Cove, Singapore
Wednesday, May 16th
8:05 a.m. SGT (Singapore Time)
Haruo Quartan sat in his sky-blue Mercedes convertible with the white leather interior, wearing sunglasses, a large map unfolded in front of him, looking for all the world like a lost tourist. Half a block away was a cul-de-sac encircled by large, architecturally confused homes, one of which had until recently belonged to the late Li Mun.
He stared between two houses at the marina and the blue sun-dappled sea. When his cell phone beeped on the seat next to him, he started and brought it quickly to his ear. “Katya?”
“Yes.”
“Are you okay?” He could see her leaving the Li home, flanked by two large men.
“Yes. How quickly can you get to The Regiment Teahouse?”
“I don’t know…ten, fifteen minutes. Why?”
“I believe the Li Triad has attempted another hit on Vipul. I don’t want to go there myself. I’m afraid Vipul or one of his thugs will recognize me.”
