Power and Empire

The long table was at the back of the restaurant with rustic earthenware settings for ten. As guest of honor, Li sat at the head, facing the door, his back to the rich mahogany bar that stood nearly four feet high. José Prieto, Argentina’s minister of agriculture, sat immediately to Li’s right under a set of rawhide boleadoras that hung from the wall along with assorted other gaucho memorabilia. A white linen tablecloth partially concealed the air-conditioning vent behind the Argentine’s chair.

Most of the ministers knew one another, some of them quite well, but Anika Bos from the Netherlands was newly appointed and worked the table, introducing herself. She was a stunningly beautiful fifty-year-old woman. Most of the men had traveled without their wives, leaving them free to sample the local nightlife — and, perhaps, they seemed to think, explore a cross-border relationship with the Netherlands. A number of them maneuvered for the opportunity to buy her a drink after dinner.

Li kept his face passive but scoffed inwardly at the thought. Unfortunately for Anika Bos, the lascivious Argentine minister had made certain she was seated beside him. Drinks with anyone would not be in her cards.

Prieto tapped his knife against the side of his water glass after everyone was seated and began to welcome the attendees on behalf of his country, calling them each by name as if they were old and dear friends instead of economic rivals or potential customers for Argentine beef and grain. He jokingly apologized to the Canadian minister that the evening’s discussion would have to take place in English because not everyone at the table spoke French.

Li stopped listening almost at once. He moved as if to readjust his chair, glancing at his watch, and laughed along with everyone else at another of Prieto’s asinine jokes, though he had no idea what the man had said.

Five minutes past seven. He could begin whenever he chose to do so.

Li sat through the picada of baked cheese, cured meats, and crusty bread — not because he was hungry. He’d already eaten breakfast in his hotel room. But there would inevitably be survivors, and some of them would eventually regain their senses enough to recall things that had been out of place.

At seven-twenty he leaned back slightly in his chair to get Long’s attention. The colonel nodded to the other two Chinese security men, telling them to remain in place and watch his food while he accompanied Li around the bar to the restroom. The entire restaurant had already been swept for threats, but anyone with a protective detail would see nothing out of the ordinary if Long Yun checked it again.

Once in the restroom, Long Yun made a call, making certain Amanda was ready. He spoke quickly, then nodded to his boss, keeping the woman on the line. From this point on, there could be no error in communication.

Li removed a device that looked like a mobile phone from the inside pocket of his suit jacket and entered six digits — the first half of the code needed to detonate the small shaped explosive that he knew was behind the wall vent. It would be a directed blast, not much larger than a hand grenade. There would be a great deal of noise and smoke, and those sitting directly in front of it would be cut in half. The rest of those present would have a very exciting story to tell. To that end, it was imperative that both Li’s hands be visible when the device exploded. Too many things could happen to allow the bomb to be detonated at any specific prearranged time. He’d not risen to his present office by being careless. No, Long Yun would let Amanda know he was in the clear after he armed the device. She would then enter the second half of the code, detonating the device while he was standing slightly around the corner and behind the safety of the thick wooden bar, chatting amiably with the bartender.

“Sixty seconds,” Long Yun said. He dropped the phone into his pocket but kept the line open so the woman could hear if anything changed.

Li began a silent countdown in his head. The bar was close, right outside the door, so he took a moment to wash his hands. The colonel gave an approving nod at his gravitas. He liked to appear in complete control, especially in front of his security detail — two of whom were about to die, though they had no idea.

“Be sure to open your mouth, sir,” Long Yun said. “It will help with the pressure of the blast. The temptation to look toward the device will be great—”

“I will be fine,” Li said.

With twenty seconds to go, he tossed a crumpled paper towel into the trash can and stepped out the restroom door.

• • •

It was obvious from the tone of his voice that Ding Chavez was sitting up straighter in the car.

“She’s on a rifle?”

Midas still whispered. “Affirmative. Suppressed bolt-action. Looks like a small-caliber, maybe a .22 from the size of it. She’s sweeping the crowd like she’s looking for someone — holy shit!”