his office to find Zhou already there.
“The car is waiting for us,” Zhou said.
They went outside where the official car was idling. An aide stepped forward to open the rear door. “Your luggage is in the trunk, Colonel,” he said.
As soon as they were seated, the car pulled away and drove out of the grounds, picking up the near-deserted road. Neither man spoke. They both had their thoughts to deal with, and small talk was not a skill either had learned.
The drive to the isolated military airfield took just over a half hour. Sitting on the runway was a sleek Gulfstream G650. Powered by twin Rolls-Royce BR725 turbofan engines, the executive jet had a cruising speed of around 560 mph, with a ceiling of 51,000 feet. It would cruise 7000 nautical miles before needing refueling. Chan had exclusive use of this luxurious aircraft and had used it many times. The Gulfstream had civilian markings and a logo for a company that existed only on paper, based in Hong Kong. The crew wore smart nonmilitary uniforms and the young woman who welcomed them aboard was fresh-faced and attractive. She guided them to their seats as their driver brought the luggage on board.
The woman’s name was Jui Kai.
Chan knew her very well. On an extremely intimate level. His involvement with her had been ongoing for some months. Her natural beauty and her entrancing personality charmed him. He enjoyed her company immensely.
“It is good to see you again, Colonel. It has been some time,” the young woman said, playing the game for the plane’s crew. “I hope you enjoy the flight.”
“I am certain I will, my dear.”
Zhou studied the Gulfstream’s well-appointed interior with a jaundiced eye. “A very expensive toy,” he stated.
“But necessary,” Chan said.
“If you believe so,” Zhou said.
Jui Kai moved away to the rear of the jet, where the galley was located.
Zhou mumbled something about it being a long flight as he pushed his way to a seat.
“Look on this as an adventure,” Chan said. “We may be witnesses to China’s greatest success in the field of espionage.”
“Just because we have this gweilo does not mean we yet have his secrets,” Zhou said.
“Foreign devil? Ever the pessimist, Yang Zhou.”
“I prefer to call myself a realist. Nothing is won until the race is over.”
“Very good,” Chan said. “But I have a good feeling about this, Zhou. I don’t deny we have much work ahead of us. From what I have learned about this man Kaplan, he may be difficult to break. Which in itself offers a challenge.”
Jui Kai appeared again from the galley.
“May I offer you both a drink? Colonel? Mr. Zhou?”
“A glass of very decadent American whiskey would be pleasant,” Chan said, smiling.
“Mr. Zhou?”
Zhou managed a sharp nod. “The same,” he said. “With ice.”
“Ice?” Chan said. “What a disrespectful way to treat good whiskey.”
Zhou slumped into his seat and stared out the side window.
The Gulfstream began to move as the pilot increased power. It held position at the end of the runway, the engines building until there was sufficient power to speed it along the tarmac and into a fast rise.
Minutes later they were at cruising altitude.
Jui Kai brought the drinks, handing them to Chan and Zhou. “Please call me if you require anything further.”
Chan nodded. He smiled at the young woman. An expression of familiarity. Extreme familiarity. He sometimes found it difficult to control his feelings in her presence.
“When do we eat?” Zhou asked. He was so concerned with his stomach he failed to notice the looks exchanged between Chan and Kai.
“Whenever you wish, sir,” she said.
Chan relaxed into the soft, cream-colored leather seat, savoring the mellow whiskey. He could still hear Zhou grumbling to himself.
It was, he realized, definitely going to be a long flight—around fifteen hours with a stop for refueling. All that time with Yang Zhou sitting across from him. As much as Chan recognized the man as an expert in his work, he was not so impressed with Zhou’s social skills.
From what he knew of the man, it was obvious Zhou had little in the way of a social life. He gave himself to the job, denying pleasure and spending much of his off-duty time in his office. A strange and reclusive life, Chan decided, but one Zhou chose.
Chan tried to push the negative thoughts out of his mind, concentrating on the task ahead.
He was looking forward to meeting Dr. Luc Melier again. It had been some time since he had been involved with the man. Melier, Chinese-French, was an excellent choice to work on Kaplan. He resided in France and refused to travel very far to carry out his work, which was why Chan was coming to meet him.
Melier’s reputation as a skilled manipulator was without equal. Chan had seen him on other occasions, working to break through stubborn minds. He did it with comparative ease, very seldom having to resort to anything close to violence—not that it was ruled out entirely because there were times when the minimal amount of force could tilt the balance.
That would be where Zhou came into his own. The man had no kind of conscience when it came to using brutal methods. It was quite an education watching the man at work; the only thing that troubled Chan was how Zhou obviously took great pleasure inflicting hurt on others. Yet there was a place for Zhou, and Chan never interfered when it came time to employ the man’s talents.
An hour into the flight, Zhou fell asleep. He had already eaten, downed a couple more whiskies and had even stopped grumbling. Chan hoped the man might sleep for the rest of the flight. He doubted that would happen.
He took tea when Kai offered it, not yet ready for food himself, allowing a pleasured smile when her slim, warm hand brushed his as she passed him his drink. When she left, he slid a file from his attaché case and spent some time going through work-related documents. There was, he thought, always something that needed his attention. Not that he minded. Xia Chan was dedicated to his profession, the demands of his position keeping him fully occupied. At present it was the Zero Project that demanded his time. Though it was a consuming matter, Chan did not regret a second. It was the single most important thing in his life at the moment. Sanctioned by the supreme authority in the country and placed in Chan’s hands, he understood that nothing of such importance would come his way again and he was aware of the honor that had been bestowed upon him.
Failure was something he refused to even consider.
It would not happen.
He would breathe his last before he would concede victory.
* * *
THEY MADE THEIR
