‘You need to eat,’ said Zhen, urging him to join them for breakfast.
Connor stopped his anxious pacing of the courtyard and sat down. Dour as ever, Lăolao dumped a large bowl of congee in front of him. He had no appetite; nonetheless he forced a spoonful of the thick rice porridge into his mouth. With the possibility of capture hanging over their heads, this could well be his last full meal for a long while.
‘Perhaps the boy didn’t tell anyone,’ said Amir, half an eye on the decryption program he’d finished late the previous night and was now running on the tablet as he tucked into his own bowl. ‘It’s been twelve hours and we’ve seen nothing suspicious. He might not have even made the connection between you and the Shanghai attack.’
Connor desperately wanted to believe that. But the way the boy had fled across the bridge told another story.
‘How old was the boy?’ asked Zhen, pouring herself a cup of black tea and taking a sip.
Connor shrugged. ‘Six, maybe seven.’
‘Then, even if he did tell someone, they might not believe him. Anyway, Zhouzhuang gets lots of tourists. It’s not unusual to see a foreign boy around here.’
Connor rubbed the weariness from his eyes. ‘I honestly hope you’re right. For all our sakes.’
Putting aside her teacup, Zhen offered a reassuring smile. ‘You both just need to keep your heads down for another twenty-four hours. We’re due to meet my cousin at five tomorrow morning at the highway junction. He’ll stop the truck just long enough for you to climb into the back of the trailer. Inside he’s loaded an empty crate along with the other containers. You’re to hide in there. The trip should take no more than a day. Since you won’t be able to come out again until you’re in Hong Kong, he’s left food and water in the crate.’
Amir cleared his throat. ‘What about going to the toilet?’
Zhen grimaced. ‘I’m guessing … there’ll be a bucket for you.’
Wrinkling his nose at the prospect, Amir returned to his decryption program.
‘We’ll cope,’ said Connor, now thinking twice about eating all his rice porridge. ‘I’ll put up with anything to get out of this country alive.’
Zhen lowered her gaze, her attention suddenly absorbed by the tea leaves in her cup. She seemed both sad and troubled. She spoke softly. ‘My cousin can’t guarantee you safe passage. Customs officers may search the truck. If you’re discovered, he’ll deny everything. You have to understand this plan is very risky.’
‘But it’s our only option,’ said Connor, setting down his spoon. ‘You’re not to worry. We understand the risks. We just appreciate all you’ve done for us. I don’t know how we’d have survived this long without your h–’
‘Zhè shì shéi zuò de?’ Lăolao interrupted sharply.
Connor looked up, startled, convinced the police were about to break in. But Lăolao was inspecting the wooden post of her muk yan jong, running her gnarled fingers over the indentations in the wood.
‘Sorry, that was me,’ he replied with a sheepish grin.
When Zhen told her grandmother this, the old woman snatched up the wooden broom handle and gesticulated for Connor to stand.
Connor raised his hands defensively. ‘I said … I was sorry.’
Zhen laughed. ‘She doesn’t want to punish you – she wants to test you.’
‘What? Iron Shirt … now?’ said Connor. They could be arrested at any moment and the old woman wanted to practise martial arts! ‘But I’ve only just finished my breakfast.’
‘Lăolao says the qìgōng porridge will help,’ Zhen insisted. ‘If you’re leaving tomorrow, she wants to know you’re ready for anything.’
Lăolao tapped the ground impatiently. Seeing that the old woman wasn’t going to take no for an answer, Connor reluctantly rose from the breakfast table – leaving Amir engrossed in his decryption – and stood in the centre of the courtyard as directed. He breathed deep and harnessed his qi, channelling the inner energy to his stomach. Well practised by now, he soon forged a fiery warmth in his belly and readied himself for another pointless beating.
Lăolao wound up to hit him, her narrow eyes glinting fiendishly. At the exact moment that she swung the broom handle at his midriff, Amir cried, ‘I’ve cracked it!’
The wooden handle struck Connor and snapped in half on impact, one end clattering across the courtyard, the other piece still in Lăolao’s bony hand.
Connor grimaced. ‘Good work, Amir … but I think she’s cracked my ribs!’ However, when he pulled up his shirt, his skin was unmarked – not a bruise or a blemish in sight.
Lăolao applauded, her wrinkled face breaking into a toothless grin. She patted Connor on the shoulder. ‘Iron does not bend or break or bleed,’ she said carefully in English. ‘You strong like iron now.’
Connor could scarcely believe it. Only now was he aware that he hadn’t felt a thing or even flinched at the blow. It was as if Lăolao had hit him with a piece of balsa wood, not a one-inch-thick length of hardened oak.
‘Connor, you have to look at this,’ said Amir, urgently waving him over.
Hurrying to his friend’s side, Connor saw a long index of folders and files filling the tablet’s screen. ‘What exactly am I looking at?’ he asked.
‘This is everything Bugsy hacked from Equilibrium’s mainframe,’ explained Amir, running his finger down the screen as he scanned the contents of the drive. ‘Their organization’s structure. Their agents. Their informants. Their finances. Their operations. This is sensational stuff. A complete record of all their activities. No wonder Equilibrium doesn’t want this being released.’
Amir opened a folder marked Operations.
A seemingly never-ending stream of documents appeared, labelled by name, location and date. Some were chillingly familiar: aircraft hijackings in America … shopping mall attacks in Kenya … London bombings … hostage-takings in France … political killings in Russia …
Amir gasped. ‘Are they responsible for all this?’
The list went on and on. Connor’s eyes were caught by a file labelled Antonio Mendez – a name he recognized. ‘Can you open that one?’ he asked.
Amir clicked on the file and brought up the document on the screen.
Location: Baghdad, Iraq
Target: US Ambassador Antonio Mendez
Purpose: Destabilization of Middle East. Trigger new US–Iraq war.
Benefit to Equilibrium: Gain control of oil resources. Increase in crude oil price.
Mission detail: Multiple attack on convoy. All vehicles destroyed. Security team neutralized. Target escaped with bodyguard. Bodyguard shot dead. But target reached safe haven and survived.
Result: MISSION FAIL
Connor felt his knees give way. He knew without a doubt that the bodyguard in question was his father. The target, Ambassador Antonio Mendez, was now the President of the United States. Connor’s first Buddyguard mission had been to protect the President’s daughter. That’s where he’d learnt the truth about his father’s death: Justin Reeves had sacrificed himself saving the former ambassador during an ambush in Iraq – as detailed in this very file.
But there was another truth Connor hadn’t known until that moment.
Equilibrium had killed his father.