Later that afternoon, Ellen locked her door and ran down the front steps. Mitch stood in jeans and a black sweatshirt, leaning against the back of the car with the trunk lid up. She threw her backpack in next to his.
“Want me to drive?” she teased as he closed the trunk.
“Yeah, likely.” He slid behind the wheel as she entered the passenger seat.
She settled into the cream leather seat. “Can we eat soon? A burger and latte would be great,” she said.
“We haven’t even gotten to the end of your street yet.”
Ellen laughed. “I’m getting in early. You know you hate to stop when you’re on the road. I have to fake I need a bathroom stop most of the time.”
“Ah ha, no more bathroom breaks for you from now on. It’s just that you overtake every slow Joe and then they catch up with you again the moment you stop,” Mitch said.
“Not necessarily, because they have to stop at some point and time too,” she reasoned.
“Let’s get two hours under our belts then I’ll get you your coffee and burger, although a sandwich would be less messy. Can you lean out while you are eating it?” he joked.
Ellen rolled her eyes. “I’ll try and spill it on myself not your car.” She looked down at her own jeans and sweatshirt. She turned her attention to her watch. “Check, that will be seven p.m. then.”
Mitch smiled. “Yes ma’am, make sure you alert me.”
“Oh I will. How was Boston?”
“Lovely, and I got the diary,” Mitch confirmed. “I started reading it on the plane but nothing revolutionary yet.”
“I hope there’s some gem in there to make that effort worthwhile. Did you get the diving gear?” Ellen asked.
“Yep. Boat is booked and gear is on it already, supposedly.”
Mitch’s phone rang and Dylan Ting’s name came up.
“Hey Dylan,” Mitch answered. “We’re driving so you’re on speaker. Ellen’s with me.”
“Hey Mitch and Ellen, you said you wanted to chat, Mitch?”
“Yeah thanks. I just wanted to check you weren’t getting too freaked out. Given what you’ve told me, I’m expecting they might make you an offer to change sides,” Mitch said.
“Yeah, I’ve been wondering if they will test me with something,” Dylan said.
“If it happens, you can get us some significant intel,” Mitch said.
“It can’t be too hard, given I’m the same nationality as them, to convince them I’m disgruntled with my life, culture, whatever.”
“Maybe, but these guys aren’t amateurs. They’ve been together for some time, following the same party politics, and they trust each other. I need you to understand more about them. Do some research on a group called The New Red Guard,” Mitch instructed. “John Windsor can help you with what we’ve got so far and Amy Callaghan is our contact in the Criminal Justice Information Services Division. She can help you find more background info. Some of these guys, maybe all, have an affiliation to this group. Read up on what they stand for. I want you to subtly start dropping a few lines to show you might be sympathetic. Be clever how you do it—don’t be textbook. Try a look, a comment, have a quiet phone conversation that can be overhead by one of them, make a disgruntled remark about your work … anything that might make them think you are not only unhappy but could be turned. You’re getting into dangerous territory here, Dylan.”
“I’ll do the research,” Dylan said. “I’m keen to do it, Mitch, but I want it in writing that you want me to play for the other side and a copy given to John Windsor, so on my record there’s no question ever about my loyalty. Is that OK?”
“Yes,” Mitch said. “But why?”
“I’m American born, but an Asian by appearance. There’s still a lot of prejudice in the world. I really would feel better if I had the orders in writing,” Dylan said.
“I’ll talk with John. Dylan, this case is highly classified, you understand?”
“Of course,” Dylan said.
“There’s four cops missing, bear that in mind and be careful. These guys know how to get rid of someone,” Mitch said. “Stay in touch.” Mitch disconnected Dylan, put in a quick call to John Windsor and briefed him on what Dylan wanted. He hung up.
“I wonder where that paranoia comes from,” Mitch mused.
Ellen shrugged. “We haven’t had the multicultural upbringing he’s had and maybe he’s always had to take a side or he remembers his history lessons; you know, how American citizens born overseas but living here were interned during the war.”
“Don’t mention the war,” Mitch joked.
“I think it’s very clever that he has asked for that, to cover his ass,” Ellen said. “I’m going to do that from now on. Can you talk into this tape recorder and confirm we will stop for food at nineteen hundred hours?”
“If I talk into that recorder I won’t be saying anything about a food order,” Mitch warned her with a grin.
Mitch and Ellen arrived just after eleven p.m. in Cape Hatteras and while Ellen checked them into their two-bedroom suite next to Samantha and Nick, Mitch paced out the front of the hotel talking with John on his phone.
“Are you worried he’s not up to it?” Mitch asked.
“No, Dylan’s bright and keen. I’m worried he hasn’t had sufficient training,” John said.
“Well he’s only teaching in-class for a few hours each morning, can’t he do a crash course in the afternoon on covert operations and procedures?”
John sighed. “Sure Mitch, I’ll call the Covert ops-R-Us unit and get them onto it.”
Mitch chuckled. “Excellent, thanks John. Nick and Ellie are going out in the boat in the morning, and Sam and I will be trailing the three men. Have you got anything for me yet from the bugs Sam planted?”
“Getting translated as we speak. Marcus will email them to you when he gets them back,” John said. “Did you have an I.D. on the fourth person down there with them yet? The one Sam sent the pic of?”
“Not yet. Marcus and Justin are a little overworked,” Mitch said. “I want to talk VIP with you.”
“Just hang on,” John said, “I’ll move into the study.”
“Is Julieann still up?” Mitch looked at his watch.
“She’s reading in bed.”
Mitch heard John close the door. While he waited, he pulled his jacket tighter as the chill set in.
“All clear,” John said, “VIP. So we can assume this VIP is someone of some value to a group of men who are prepared to knock off four police officers to get here and get the VIP out of the country.”
“Precisely. What they are doing may have nothing to do with the G20, it may have just been that those four spots provided easy access to the US for four people,” Mitch said.
“Agreed. So looking at this from the other end, they finish the course, get the VIP out and head back to Beijing where it will be noted that four police officers returned, even if they were not the four that were supposed to leave,” John said.
“Yes, they will have returned in the names on their stolen passports. But if they wanted trouble with us, surely they would dump the four bodies here and made it look like we were responsible … but then how do they re-enter Beijing and as who?” Mitch said.
“We can’t rule out that they still might dump the bodies here,” John said.
“We know from the images we have now that the four policemen men didn’t go through customs here, but they must have in Beijing … unless they were eliminated somewhere between being dropped at the airport and boarding the plane. Or did they die somewhere on the flight between Beijing and landing in the US? Where are their bodies?” Mitch stroked his forehead. “Sorry, I’m thinking out loud.”
“That’s fine,” John said, “that’s what I’m here for.”
“Anyway, we’re digressing, I want to come back to the VIP,” Mitch said. “Why do they need the VIP? What is he or she giving them that they need to sneak the VIP out of the country and what value is that person to them?”
John continued. “What security secrets could be exposed or already have and how does William Ying fit in? And we know for sure now he’s connected to them.”
“Which brings me back to the missing and deceased people at the university,” Mitch said. “They must have seen something … there must be a connection with the university and the VIP.”
They both thought silently.
“Did you get the diary?” John asked.
“I did. I got through half of it on the flight back, nothing of any significance yet.”
“Hold on Mitch, incoming call from the office,” John said.
Mitch walked around the parking lot waiting. He looked up and saw Ellen unpacking in one of the rooms.
“Mitch,” John’s voice cut into his thoughts.
“I’m here,” Mitch said.
“I have some info for you. The translator has dialog from the bug … nothing worth noting, most of it just banter except for one line which is interesting.” John read it out. “’After the test this Sunday, we’ll know more.’ It was said to Danny Huang.”
“This Sunday! It’s a good thing we’re here then. Nothing else? No time or what the test is?” Mitch asked.
“No, but the full transcript is in your email inbox now.”
Mitch checked out his hotel room with the ocean view. Better than most, he thought. Across the hallway were Nick and Samantha. Ellen shared his lounge, kitchenette and bathroom, but the two bedrooms were adjoining. Mitch had two single beds, how appropriate. He didn’t look to see what Ellen had.
She knocked on the door.
“Come in,” Mitch said.
“I’m going to keep this locked on my side,” she said, “not that I don’t trust you or anything because I do, it’s just that I might be wearing a face mask or …”
Mitch held up his hand. “Enough said, really. That’s fine.”
A knock came on the other door. Mitch opened it and Samantha and Nick came in.
“Isn’t this nice, we’re all here,” Nick said.
Mitch grinned. “Yes, my ideal holiday, really.”
Samantha jumped on Mitch’s bed. “It’s the same as ours,” she reported to Nick.
“Hard as a rock,” Nick answered.
“Let’s plan. I want to get a few things done so I can go through my emails,” Mitch said as he stood by the window.
“It’s nearly midnight,” Ellen said.
Mitch looked at his watch. “So it is.” Mitch dropped beside Samantha on the bed. “Good work on getting the bugs in. I’ve already got the first translation and Sunday is the test day.”
“Do we know for what, where or what time?” Nick asked, sinking to the floor as Ellen sat on the other single bed.
“Nope, that’s all we have so far.” Mitch looked around the bedroom. “We could go into the living room.”
“We’re here now.” Samantha stretched out on his bed.
“So we’ll expect to see them on the beach doing lord knows what at whatever time,” Mitch said. “Nick, Ellie, you two need to be at sea tomorrow morning before sunrise, casually fishing or diving depending on the time of day just to see if there’s any preparations going on for Sunday. Sam, you and I will be on the beach or here and …”
“I was thinking,” Nick interrupted.
“Yeah?”
“There’s a scenic flight that goes around the islands to spot the wrecks from the air twice a day. We’ve seen it around ten a.m. and two p.m. daily. I was thinking I could take a ride with the pilot.”
“Yes, brilliant,” Mitch jumped in. “But it won’t work with the pilot and passengers, you won’t get a chance to do rounds if you need to. We’ll have to hire it for a bit of joyriding in the other times. Get John on to it first thing tomorrow… great idea.”
“So tomorrow, you and Sam will be on the beach from five a.m. onwards and Ellie and I will take the boat out around the same time?” Nick asked.
“Yep, that’s it.” Mitch grabbed his folder and pulled out some paperwork. “That’s where the boat is harbored and where to find the key.” He handed it to Nick. “Ellie’s dive gear should be on board. I’ve got to go through the translation report, so all of you get out of here, go to bed.”
The team filed out.
Twenty minutes later, Mitch heard a knock at his bedroom door and Nick entered with two beers. Nick opened the doors in Mitch’s room that led out onto a worn timber balcony. He handed a beer to Mitch and dropped onto the adjacent single bed. Mitch closed his laptop and sat back against the wall. The men sat in silence with their beers as the breeze moved through the doors, blowing the curtains and the ocean crashed on the beach out the front.