Bob might not have known it at the time, but Sanya is a city built outward from a natural harbor, rising like a barricade behind a smoothly curving beach. The gleaming buildings of Sanya were by no means as numerous as those of Bangkok, but were on the whole much newer. Much of the city had been rebuilt specifically for tourism by the Chinese government over the previous few years, and the old city had now become a shipping district occupying less than a quarter of the total area of Sanya proper. The massive statue on its promontory, its three faces watching all sides, was a child of this government building project.
Zachary Taylor was not particularly comfortable with the statue. As the mercenaries made their way down the quarter-mile dock to the island itself, he repeatedly glanced up at the nearest of the three faces. The others' attention seemed to be fixed on the scenes of merriment playing out even after dark along the shore. Rows of introduced palm trees divided hotels from their most recent inhabitants, now taking part in various beach games, a small party, boat races, and a bonfire. Near the convergence of the dock and the beach, dark figures could be seen in several low wooden structures resembling gazebos open to the night air. The sea breeze tempered what would otherwise be a climate not quite as hot as that of Thailand, but reasonably similar. It was the dry season for Hainan as well.
With the moon nearing new, the lights of the city and a few poorly maintained bulbs on posts on the dock were the only illumination for the mercenaries as they followed the narrow wooden structure. Sun Xianli seemed quite pleased to be back in his homeland; though he professed to have never been to Sanya before, this did not stop him from pointing out everything in sight to Bob and Gordon. He was largely ignored, as Bob's attention was focused on navigating the dock, which was in fairly poor condition and almost blended in with the water below in places.
"We have no map! Do you know where to go? Mr. Kang lives on the other side of the island." Xianli kicked a barely visible crab out of his path and into the water.
"No, he doesn't. He lives a little north of the airport." Bob drew a glowing GPS from his jacket. "Just relax and follow me."
Sun's eyes fixed on the lighted square. "You have very much technology. Rich folks, huh?"
Bob's distaste for the freelancer had never completely receded, but was once again brought to the forefront of his thoughts. "A GPS is necessary equipment in this line of work. Everyone should have one." He regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth.
"What the hell... damn crabs!" Rene Levancon's voice cut through Bob's thoughts from the rear of the group. It was a welcome distraction- Xianli once again reverted to pointing out useless features of their surroundings. He kept this up until, finally on the beach, Gordon brought his face mere inches from the mercenary's scarred countenance and told him in as serious a tone as he could manage to shut up. Xianli sulked past the gazebos. A few faces, mostly Chinese, peered out at the foreigners in their unseasonal green or black jackets.
A major street ran along the beach, where the sand gave way to small plants and occasional introduced trees. The group had emerged from the beach only about a hundred yards from a bus stop. Bob and Xianli studied the route for a few minutes, tried to determine how to reach the airport, then boarded the first bus to arrive, the other three following aboard the well-polished but overcrowded vehicle. The Chinese pop being played on a speaker somewhere nearby was barely audible over dozens of tourists, and Xianli had to shout for the others to hear him announcing where they were for the duration of the ride.
Not wanting to get too far from the route on the GPS, Bob led the mercenaries off the bus at the airport and continued on foot. They continued northward for several blocks, finally passing the airport and a small band of office buildings and entering what appeared to be an upscale suburb but was apparently still part of Sanya itself. Here, mansions built in various styles rose from ground that had been cleared from the native jungle perhaps within the lifetimes of the mercenaries. The jungle still sprung up between the houses, effectively giving those wealthy enough to live here their own natural fences. Lampposts in pairs on either side of the unnecessarily wide streets cast long shadows as the men passed.
Finally, at the end of a cul-de-sac, occupying almost the entire end, the residence of Do Young Kang loomed before them. Hedges obscured most of the property and iron fences poked up through the hedge in spots. Two cameras over the door followed the mercenaries down a long sidewalk, and a bodyguard in a business suit opened the door. He barked something in Chinese at the mercenaries.
"Guns in the basket." Xianli translated. The bodyguard raised a wicker basket and collected five pistols from the group, then growled something to his countryman. "Just a precaution. We'll get them back." Xianli's smile was clearly forced at this point. He seemed to have become far more nervous without his firearm. The guard led the guests down a long, wood-paneled hallway and into a large reception room. Here he left the mercenaries, continuing down another hallway toward the back of the house.
Bob glanced around at the contents of the room. The most notable feature was a medium-sized wooden desk near the back of the room, mostly bare. The carpet seemed to be nothing special, and the walls were covered in framed documents and scrolls. Behind the desk hung a centuries-old painting of a man walking up a mountain, with the mountain fading away-whether this was deliberate or due to age, Bob could not tell. He decided that whatever impression the room was meant to convey was lost on him due to inability to understand Chinese.
The guard returned silently, followed by a smiling Chinese man in a business suit. After all the strange-looking Chinese men Bob had dealt with recently, Kang's round face was a welcome change. Bob shook the businessman's hand.
"Welcome, welcome." His voice was jovial and his English more closely resembled an Englishman's than what would be expected of a man from Hainan. "Your employer is very good with times. You're about five minutes early, and he says you came all the way from Thailand!" Kang sat down at his desk and gestured at a row of wicker chairs in front of it. The mercenaries seated themselves, Bob at the center.
"Yep. Straight from Bangkok." Gordon's tone suggested to Bob that he would not be contributing much this time.
Kang leaned forward. "Ah, Bangkok. Busy city. Not quite Beijing, but still busy. You made quite the journey, then- a friend of mine saw you in Trat, and I thought you were in that area."
"We were in Trat, but our boat was in Bangkok, and we had to go back. Yeah, we met your friend... Xiaolong?" Bob didn't particularly want to think about the "information broker".
"Fan Xiaolong. Yes." The businessman seemed puzzled, perhaps even worried. "Anyway, your job. There is a large military base about ten kilometers to the east of here. It contains the home port for the South China Sea fleet as well as a barracks. This base is a great symbol of China's power. We fear terrorists will try to attack it during the Labour Day celebrations in the capital. We have received many reports of suspicious Uighurs in the area."
Bob shifted slightly in his chair. "Erm, what are Uighurs?"
"Uighurs are Muslims from the far west of China. They frequently cause problems for us- secessionists, terrorists, demonstrators, all types of troublemakers." Kang rested his round face in the palm of one hand. "They have tried to attack military bases while the base was empty before. We have to send the troops stationed here to the parades in the capital, and the fleet is almost entirely out on patrol. If anything happens to the harbor or barracks here, our defensive capabilities will be greatly reduced and we will have egg on our faces."
"All right, I got it." Sadeski tried to sound confident despite not knowing what was expected of him. "What do you want us to do? Find the terrorists? Guard the place?" He hoped it was the former- another defensive operation would not be a pleasant task.
"Guarding, yes." Bob's heart sank. "Oh, it's not that bad. We're fairly certain when this will happen. The ideal time would be sometime on the 30th, so you will have a few days off. You see, we'll have special forces teams here up until the 29th. Sometime on that day you'll be needed to take over. By the night of the 1st the special forces will be back. So, since your employer has already agreed to this and been paid the first half of the flat fee, you should be fine."
A tall Chinese man in a pilot's uniform silently walked in behind the mercenaries. Kang raised his eyes. "Sun Dinghuang?"
"No, not at all..." Bob trailed off.
Kang laughed. "No, not you." He switched to Chinese and began conversing with the newcomer. Bob and Gordon turned in their seats.
The pilot's eyes widened at the sight of the two men. "Hey! I saw you in Thailand!" Kang gave him a sharp glance, and the pilot fell silent.
"This man is Sun Dinghuang." Kang sighed. "He's a fighter pilot. He's currently wanted by the Thai government for illegally entering their airspace. He's also legally dead." The businessman heavily emphasized the last two words, glaring at the tall pilot. "And none of you saw him, and that includes that night you were in Trat."
Bob glanced over at Xianli, who nodded solemnly, then back at the businessman. "Got it."
Kang barked an order in Chinese at Sun Dinghuang, who stalked out of the room. The smile returned to Kang's face. "So. I'm letting you use the van at the end of my driveway. I want it back May second. Blood is fine, damage is not." He handed Bob a steel key. "Sanya is paradise. Enjoy it, but be ready."
Sadeski was suspicious of the entire operation, but he thanked his newest client and allowed himself to be led to the van by the silent bodyguard, who returned the mercenaries' pistols before stiffly retreating to the house. There was no conversation the entire way back to the dock, save another comment about the GPS by Xianli.
At the dock, Gordon took the van, leaving the other four behind while he searched for a parking space for the night. Bob first turned to Xianli. "What are you doing for the night?"
"Well, Mr. Kang said no work until the 29th." Sun grinned his unsettling smile. "I have friends in Haikou, on the other side of this island. Do you mind if I come back in about a day? This is a tourist area. You'll be fine without me. Plenty of English speakers."
"Go right ahead." Bob was relieved to hear this. He did not want Xianli spending any more time than necessary on the boat while it was moored. The freelancer might not be a kleptomaniac, but Bob had no reason to believe that. He waved goodbye as Xianli walked off toward the bus stop once again, then turned to Rene Levancon. "Kid, you've got shore leave. Go have a good time."
"Sure, whatever." Levancon had never been good at concealing his emotions, and Bob detected something through the gloomy tone. As soon as the Frenchman was out of earshot, Bob revealed his suspicions to Zachary Taylor.
"Rene's acting really strange lately, Zach." Bob began pacing the sand. "He makes strange calls and switches to Thai or French when you try to listen in lately. He had no interest in learning Thai before he started acting like this. He's not mopey, he's not his usual self, he's just weird. What do you think is going on?"
Taylor chuckled. "Bob, you wanted him to do all of that except the weird phone calls. Why don't you just ask Mark who he's calling?"
"Mark thinks he's calling our phones." Sadeski kicked some sand over a crab, which scuttled away across the beach. "He's not, though. I've seen him on the phone when everyone else is accounted for. He's done something to his phone."
Zachary shrugged. "No idea, boss. But yeah, he is really weird lately. Rene and nice don't exactly work."
"Right. So I've got a job for you." Bob paced another lap before coming to a stop facing Taylor. "I want you to tail him, tonight, and at least attempt to figure out who he's calling. With any luck, it's just some misunderstanding. Got it?"
"Yeah, sure." Zach didn't seem particularly interested in his task, but he pulled a pair of headphones from his jacket, clasped them to his ears, and set off after the Frenchman.
Almost half an hour of tailing Levancon through first a restaurant district and then a complex of cheap hotels to the east led Taylor to a run-down hotel with a damaged neon sign over the entrance, made up of Chinese characters. Zach wondered if Levancon had learned to read Chinese at some point, but decided it was unlikely. Keeping a safe distance behind the French mercenary, he made his way into the building, assuring the receptionist in a mix of simple English and hand gestures that he was only going to find a friend. Reaching the third floor, he saw the Frenchman entering a private room.
Taylor stealthily crept up to the door Rene had passed through. The hall was otherwise empty, and Zach was very conscious of every sound he made. He longed for some noise to mask his movements, but heard none. Finally reaching the door, he pressed an eye to the keyhole. Seeing nothing, but hearing a faint voice, he replaced his eye with his ear.
The voice was clearly Levancon's, and he was speaking Thai. No other voices could be heard, so Taylor assumed he was on the phone. From the volume, Taylor judged Rene to be about ten feet away. There were brief pauses, but Rene seemed to be doing most of the talking. In the pauses, Zach heard nothing from the phone. He had expected to hear a synthetic voice from the phone's speaker- the model Bob had chosen to buy for the crew did not seem to have a quiet setting. Taylor had a sudden suspicion that the phone wasn't actually on.
The suspicion came too late. The door suddenly opened inward and Rene had him in a headlock before he had time to react. A knife hovered near Zach's face. "Dammit, Rene!" Taylor struggled in the Frenchman's grip.
The knife moved away. "Zach?" Rene's voice was incredulous. "Why were you listening in on me?"
"I wasn't. I don't speak Thai. Let me go." Levancon complied, but kept the knife pointed at his friend. "How did you know I was here?"
"You're too loud, Zach." Rene was not amused. "Spill it. Why are you here?"
Taylor sighed. "All right. You're acting weird, and Bob wanted me to find out what's going on."
Rene's face reddened in the dim light. "Nothing is going on. I advise you to get out of here and tell Bob you lost me. I assure you, I'm not doing anything dangerous. He's overreacting. I don't want to discuss what I'm doing, it doesn't concern you. Now get out."
"All right, man." Taylor took a few paces away, then turned. "But you should sort this out with Bob. He's got anger issues sometimes, but he takes care of his crew. He's probably just concerned for you."
"He doesn't need to be." Levancon pushed the door shut.
ns 15.158.61.20da2
