Power and Empire

“Can we get to it somewhere else, Officer…?”

“Special agent,” she corrected. “Callahan, FBI.”

“Okay, Special Agent Callahan,” Feng said, chewing on his trembling bottom lip. He’d become wooden, his words barely audible. “There’s more going on than you realize. Take me somewhere safe. I promise I’ll tell you everything I know.”

• • •

Ryan and Chavez moved their rented Dodge to a cracked asphalt parking lot behind an abandoned warehouse three blocks from Chicas Peligrosas. John Clark and the others had scattered to various locations in the area. The GSM mic broadcast on a cell signal, so there was no need for them to congregate any closer and risk being caught by responding officers.

Chavez gave Ryan a nod during a lull in the conversation. “I guess this Feng character is a big deal after all. Sorry I doubted you, Jack.”

Ryan raised an eyebrow, grinning. “Wait,” he said. “You doubted me?”

Feng started talking again. It sounded like he was about to break down in tears.

“…Seriously,” he said. “You have to promise to keep me safe.”

“I can do that,” Agent Callahan said. “But why should I?”

Chavez grimaced and mouthed, “Heartless. I like her.”

Feng insisted he be taken somewhere else before he would talk. Callahan continued to play hardass, reminding him of the trouble he was in for sanctioning child prostitution.

Clark’s voice came over the radio, sounding strained and fatigued. “Dom,” he said, “I assume you have your FBI credentials.”

“I don’t leave home without ’em, boss,” Caruso said.

Officially on special “unspecified duty” away from his assigned field office, Dominic Caruso maintained his commission as a special agent with the Federal Bureau of Investigation. This often made him the only member of The Campus who could legally carry a weapon in all fifty states and U.S. territories — not that any of them let a little thing like that stop them from packing. Many of the things they did overseas were, in point of fact, against the law. It was the way of counterintelligence work. The fact that one’s government sanctioned an action in no way made that action legal in another country, no matter how moral or right it might be.

Clark continued. “The human trafficking is bad enough, but there’s more going on here than that. Eddie Feng is a piece of shit, but he knows something — as evidenced by Jack’s earlier discovery about the Beijing subway bombing. We need to find out what that something is. Dom, I’ll get Gerry to pull a few strings with the Bureau so you can insinuate yourself into Special Agent Callahan’s investigation. Stick with her and find out what she knows. The rest of us will back off a bit and do more research into the unholy union between the Sun Yee On triad and the Tres Equis men.”

“Copy that,” Caruso said. “I’ll follow at a discreet distance when they come out, and then introduce myself to Special Agent Callahan in an hour or so.”

“That should give me enough time,” Clark said. “I’ll let you know.”

Over the radio, Feng’s voice changed from whining to demanding. “If you don’t get me out of here, I’m going to have to ask for a lawyer.”

“You do that,” Callahan said. “We’ll see then what kind of protection you get.”

“Look.” Feng was sobbing again. “I was bluffing about a lawyer. Just put me in solitary. These animals would kill me five minutes after I go into general population. I swear, I’ll give you everything I’ve got.”

The voice of a male agent came across now. “Including whatever code you’re using?”

“Yes.” Sniff, sniff.

“And what all the numbers mean in your data?”

“Yes!”

“And who they correspond to?”

“If I know.”

“How about Coronet?” the male voice asked. “Who or what is that?”

“What is wrong with you people?” Feng spoke so quietly now that the GSM mic barely picked up his words. “I said I’d tell you, but you have to get me out of here.”

“So tell,” Callahan said. “Show some good faith.”

“Okay,” Feng whispered. “This guy, Coronet. I think he’s some kind of spy.”

• • •