At the word railgun, Charlie’s head came around. “What did you say?”
Davis rolled his eyes and laughed. “Let’s get real.”
“It’s no joke,” Zhen said.
“It’s bullshit!” Davis said. “You’re talking about a fantasy weapon the Navy’s been working on since Arnold played the Terminator, possibly longer. In all that time, they’ve never succeeded in building any power source small enough to be mobile.”
“Up until now,” Jordan said. She was convinced Zhen was telling the truth. “If we’re to believe Zhen—and I do—that particular problem’s been solved.”
Davis stared at her for a moment. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”
Jordan nodded, then turned back to the kid. He was still a teenager. Eighteen years old, happy to make a boatload of money, proud of the work he’d accomplished, and convinced he’d been issued a license to hack by the U.S. government. How could someone as obviously smart as this kid be so dumb?
Davis was back nose-to-nose with Zhen. “Explain this weapon to me.”
“You want the technical description?”
“I’ll settle for layman’s terms.”
“Can I see your computer?”
Davis handed him Charlie’s laptop. Zhen powered it up, typed a few keystrokes, then rotated the screen back around. A picture of a railgun mounted on the back of a large transport truck filled the monitor.
“Basically the gun has three parts. The armature, that’s the part here that looks like a cannon.” Zhen used the cursor to point. “It sits on a rail system mounted to the back of a transport truck. This thing that looks like a trunk-bed cargo box is called the compulsator. Basically it’s a battery that stores up to a ten-megajoule charge.”
“What’s a megajoule?” Charlie’s voice behind her startled Jordan. He’d gotten out of the desk chair and was squinting at the photo.
“It’s a measure of energy that puts out a charge with a force equivalent to a one-ton truck traveling at 160 miles per hour hitting a brick wall.” The more Zhen talked, the more animated he became. “When the electromagnetic pulse, or EMP, is released from the compulsator, it travels around the rails creating a magnetic field that slides the armature forward and launches the projectile.”
Charlie looked impressed. “That must pack one hell of a punch.”
“Hell, yeah,” Zhen said. “This model fires at Mach 7.5. We’re talking Star Trek. The actual speed depends on temperature and atmospheric conditions, but basically the bullet it shoots is moving at 5,300 miles per hour and hits the freakin’ target at Mach 5. There’s so much kinetic force behind it that the projectile starts to burn, coming apart on impact.” To demonstrate, he slammed his right fist into his open left hand and then flung open his hands.
That would explain the shrapnel she’d found buried in the side of the plane. “How big are these bullets you’re talking about?”
“Maybe seven pounds.”
“That’s all?” Charlie said.
Davis reached over and tapped the picture of the gun, causing the plasma screen to distort. “How far can it shoot?”
Jordan had read enough about railguns to know the answer, but she let Zhen field the question.
“According to the specs, two hundred nautical miles. It shoots up into the exo-atmosphere, like five hundred thousand feet into space, before gravity pulls it back to Earth. It’s cutting-edge technology.”
Davis sat back in his chair looking less than convinced. “I’ll admit, it sounds great in theory, but how accurate can it be?”
“It’s dead on, dude. The bullets use an internal guidance system. Once you lock in the preprogrammed GPS coordinates—”
“Wait a minute,” Jordan said, cutting him off. “Are you saying that once the projectile’s launched, you can’t alter its course?”
“Not by a command system. They haven’t made one yet that can take the heat. But that doesn’t mean you can’t take it over.”
The food arrived before anyone could ask him to expound. Once it was doled out, Jordan steered things back to the subject of Eddie.
“Tell us about the people Eddie was looking to impress.”
“I told you, the only guy I met was Ping.”
“He never talked about anyone else?”
“I heard him refer to the dragon a few times.”
“That’s the name used for the head of the Triad,” Charlie said. Jordan swiveled toward him. He was back sitting behind the desk with his plate of food in front of him. “Last year, the dragon was named one of the fifty most influential men in China by China Digest.”
Jordan turned back to Zhen. “Are you sure Eddie didn’t know who he was?”
“That was the whole point of the op. Eddie was supposed to find out who this dragon dude was. He said once he learned the dragon’s identity, the CIA would have an inroad to the highest branches of the Chinese government.”
“What did he mean by that?” Davis asked.
“How should I know? Eddie was pretty closed-mouth. All I know is this dragon was somebody powerful.”
Charlie cleared his throat. “If Eddie was an NOC, his mark would have to be someone high up in the Central Military Commission or Communist Party government. Many Guangdong businessmen are also government officials.”
“Ping?” Jordan asked.
Charlie shrugged. “Anyone making money in China has his hand around somebody’s balls.”
Since the inception of Chinese President Xi Jinping’s anticorruption campaign, over nine hundred senior Communist Party officials had been accused of corruption. Jordan wondered if Eddie had tumbled upon someone not yet exposed.
“Are you thinking he got too close?” Davis asked, echoing her thoughts.
“It’s possible.” Charlie picked up his chopsticks. “In China, a little knowledge makes you both valuable and dangerous.”
“It’s a good reason to arrange an extraction,” Davis said.
“What’s a NOC?” asked Zhen.
“It’s what they call a CIA agent with a nonofficial cover,” Jordan said. “Basically, it means that if the agent gets caught spying, the United States government will disavow him and his actions.”
Zhen sat bolt upright on the edge of the couch. “Hold on, dudette. That means they would disavow me, too.”
“Unfortunately, Zhen,” she said, “you were never protected.”
The kid’s face distorted in anger. “There’s no frickin’ way Eddie would just leave me here.”
Jordan smiled sympathetically. “Unless he wasn’t given a choice.”
As the realization of his predicament sank in, the fear grew in Zhen’s eyes. “You have to help me. I want to make a deal.”
“That’s not up to me. It’s not up to any of us.”
“Who is it up to, then?”
It was hard to say. With the U.S. government calling him a traitor and his cousin likely dead, things didn’t look good for Zhen. Still Jordan went with the cliché. “All I can do is put in a good word for you, provided you’ve told us everything.”
“I have. I swear. What else do you want to know?”
“Tell us what happened after you met Ping Mu.”
The story he told fit.
“Once you doctored the plans, did Ping sell them?” she asked.
Zhen slumped back against the couch cushions. “He couldn’t. No one wanted to buy them without proof the gun worked. He built two prototypes. Eddie said things were getting too dangerous after he sold one to some Russian dudes and arranged for me to get out. We were waiting for his contact in Guangzhou when the cops showed up.”
“How did you end up back at REE?” Davis asked.
“The police asked me what I was doing in China. I told them I worked for Ping. Next thing I know, he’s there picking me up. He wanted to know where Eddie was. I told him I didn’t know.”
Jordan mulled over what they heard. Letting her eyes wander, she took in the empty plates and the dirty glasses on the coffee table. She could hear Charlie’s anime show chattering on the television, though she knew he’d absorbed every word of the conversation. Outside the windows, the sun was setting, coloring the sky above the Nanling Mountains blood red.
“Agent Jordan, I’ve told you everything I know,” Zhen said. “Now I want to know where Eddie is.”
She found it hard to look at him. There was no easy way to break this kind of news, and she hadn’t had much practice doing it. “Kia, I think Eddie’s dead.”
“What?” The boy’s voice broke.
Jordan told him about the plane and how it had gone down. How she had reason to assume it was him who had died.
“Then you don’t know for sure that it’s Eddie.” Hope caused his voice to rise.
“They’ll run his DNA or pull dental records. Then we’ll know.”
“Does this mean the Russians tried to kill me?” His voice rose to an even higher octave. “Did Eddie die because they thought he was me?”
“We don’t know that. Maybe someone knew it was Eddie on board.” Jordan wasn’t sure her words were a comfort. She wished she could give him a minute to process his loss. Unfortunately, the clock was ticking. “Did you or your cousin get a good look at the Russians who bought that gun?”
“Yeah, we both did. I showed them how to program the weapon.”
If the Russians wanted to keep the gun under wraps, eliminating both Zhen and Eddie made sense. Ping had to be the one who told them which flight to attack.
“Were they Russian military?” Davis asked.
“No, more like mafia dudes.”
“Do you know what Ping plans to do with the other prototype?” Charlie asked.
“He’s lined up a Chinese buyer. They’re meeting tonight.”
Jordan felt a surge of adrenalin but forced herself to stay calm. “Where? At the manufacturing plant?”
Zhen nodded.
Davis scrubbed a hand through his hair. “How do you know they’re Chinese?”
“Because Ping made me create an interface to the Chinese GPS satellite system. I was just finishing when you guys showed up.”
“What now?” Davis asked.
Jordan couldn’t make this decision on her own. “I need to make a call.”
* * *
It was midafternoon in Ukraine, and Lory picked up on the second ring.
“We found Kia Zhen.” Without preamble, she filled him in on everything they’d learned, including the bit about the pending weapons sale.
“Fuck.” He banged his fist down on his desk hard enough to concuss the phone. “Hang on. I’ll be right back.”
When the line switched over to Muzak, Jordan started pacing the bedroom. She couldn’t shake the feeling that somehow they were missing something in the bigger picture. Hopefully Lory would have some good news when he came back online—or at least some answers.
“Still there, Jordan?”
“After we talked, I spoke with my CIA contact in D.C. He confirms there’s been chatter about a weapons deal. Factions in Russia and China have been cozying up to each other for some time, but you just shed some new light on the situation. At least we know where the deal’s going down. Well done, Agent Jordan.”
“Thank you, sir,” she said, but she didn’t want praise. She wanted a plan of action. “What happens next?”
“I’ll update the director and the ambassador and see if I can’t fire up the Ukrainians to find these assholes. Zhen’s word isn’t much to go on, but it sounds like the Russians may be planning a coup d’etat. I’ll also order a new DNA test on our dead fugitive. Another good lead.”
“Any word on RSO Todd?” Jordan asked.
Lory hesitated. “She never made it out of surgery.”
The news about Todd hit Jordan hard. The RSO died because Jordan had come looking for Zhen and then had left her lying on the restaurant floor in a puddle of blood.
“Jordan?”
She forced herself to refocus. “Still here, sir.”
“You need to get back to Guangzhou with Zhen, and you better make damn sure your Reuters journalist doesn’t print any of this. All we need is word getting out to spark a full-scale panic on the part of our Western allies. I don’t know what the fuck you were thinking taking him along, but I’m holding you personally responsible for any leaks or negative repercussions.”
“I understand, sir.” She knew there was no point in arguing. She had her own reservations. “If it helps, he used to be Special Forces, and he claims to still be in the active reserves.”
“It’s worth checking out.” Jordan heard him bark something at Mary. “Meanwhile, the PO is working on a way to bring you into the consulate and get you out of China. You need to go to the safe house and be ready to move.”
“What about the gun?”
“What about it? The National Security Council has recommended to the president that she initiate a covert action to secure the prototype and the plans. My guy expects he’ll get a green light within the next four hours. Unfortunately, the CIA doesn’t have an operations officer in country. They’re looking at fourteen to twenty-four hours to get someone on site.”
“That’s too much time. At best the agent would be looking at a recovery mission.”
“Do you have any other ideas?”
He was being facetious, but she knew there had to be some way to stop China from acquiring a weapon with such long-range strike and defensive capabilities. Allowing the sale to happen would only increase the vulnerability of Western allies in the region and hamper the ability of the United States and Europe to defend them.
“What about Special Forces?” she asked.
“You know as well as I do that we can’t send a strike team into China. It would be a suicide mission.”
“Well there has to be something we can do. We know the Chinese and Russians are working together. There has to be an end game we’re not seeing. But knowing as much as we do, you can’t seriously expect me to stand by and do nothing.”
“You and what backup, Jordan? A consulate driver, a Reuters journalist, and the traitor who stole the secrets to begin with?”
“I’m fairly certain the consulate driver is a CIA asset.”
“We can check that out, too.”
“My instincts are telling me they can be trusted. Both Charlie and Davis put themselves in harm’s way today helping me do my job, and Davis saved my life yesterday.”
“Admirable. Are you going to defend Zhen, too?”
“Truthfully, I don’t believe he’s a traitor. I think he honestly thought he was helping his cousin, who he believed to be a CIA undercover operative.”
“Sounds a little naïve.”
“Maybe, but it doesn’t change my assessment.”
He was quiet for a moment. “Just what is it you think the four of you can do?”
She hadn’t really formulated a plan, but he was listening. That was a start. “The security at REE isn’t that sophisticated. It’s possible we could get in, retrieve the plans, and sabotage the meeting. At the very least, we could stake out the plant and document who comes and goes for later follow up.”
Lory laughed. “Your RSO in Tel Aviv told me you’d be trouble.”
“You talked to Daugherty again?” Jordan was sure he’d filled Lory in on her exploits. She may have earned a medal for efforts on behalf of Israel, but she’d still gone rogue in a profession where following orders was considered rudimentary. “What did he have to say?”
“He suggested I ask my CIA contact if he would consider you for the hostage exchange program.”
The program had existed for years, designed to enable the CIA and FBI to temporarily swap personnel depending on need. She wondered if it really extended to other federal agencies or if it was just Daugherty’s wishful thinking. “He wants to get rid of me, ey?”
“More likely he wants to absolve himself of any responsibility for your future actions.”
“What did you tell him?”
“That it wasn’t a bad idea.”