The Prisoner's Gold (The Hunters 3) (22 page)

Sunday, April
6

Panyu, Guangdong Province

(
1
,
175
miles south of Beijing)

Despite the fertile soil of the Pearl River Delta, Panyu is known more for factories than farming. A former suburb of Guangzhou, the expansive urban sprawl has effectively consumed Panyu, folding it into a megalopolis that continues to grow. More than sixty million people reside in the region, making it one of the most densely urbanized areas in the world.

The tightly packed population of the delta was a double-edged sword. Cobb knew that people in large cities often kept to themselves, but he also realized that distinct faces stood out in a crowd. Here, his chiseled American features would stick out like a sore thumb – especially if he visited the same spot twice.

In his mind, a rekky was simply too risky.

‘Lorenzo, are you
sure
this is the right place?’ McNutt asked as he peered down at the warehouse from a hillside overlooking the industrial neighborhood.

Garcia grinned from the safety of his suite at the Westin a few miles away. McNutt had yet to call the computer whiz by his proper name, and he had all but given up correcting him. At this point, the teasing actually made Garcia feel more accepted.

‘I’m sure,’ Garcia replied.

Garcia had found the facility, and a brief description of the artifacts housed inside, by hacking into the database of the State Administration for Cultural Heritage. The SACH, as it was known, was a subsidiary of the Ministry of Culture responsible for the management of China’s museums, including the cataloging of the country’s historical relics.

‘Well, I’m
pretty
sure,’ Garcia continued. ‘The site didn’t list the exact info we were looking for, but Maggie agreed that it’s our best target.’

‘Pretty sure?’ McNutt repeated. ‘Now he tells us.’

McNutt wasn’t complaining. He had covered countless incursions, and as far as vantage points were concerned the warehouse was nearly perfect. It had been built at the base of one of the few protected nature parks that remained in the city and from his hiding place on the wooded slope McNutt had full view of the warehouse, the surrounding neighborhood, and the highway that encircled both. He could protect the team’s entrance and their escape, just as long as they stayed within the two-thousand-yard range of his custom-made EDM Arms Windrunner: the present he had purchased for himself during their visit to Hong Kong.

Cobb interrupted them. ‘Josh, are you in position?’

‘Affirmative,’ McNutt replied.

They were using a sophisticated communications set that utilized tiny buds placed in the inner-ear canal and a thin film with an embedded microphone that had been attached to each team member’s molars. Garcia had tweaked the software to filter out both mouth noises and background hiss, and he had boosted the level of encryption to such degree that every hacker at the NSA would grow old and die before cracking it – or so he claimed. As a result, Cobb felt comfortable using their real names on the operation.

‘And ladies,’ Cobb said, encouraging Sarah and Maggie to finish the radio check, ‘how are you doing tonight?’

‘Reading you loud and clear,’ Sarah said.

‘Me, too,’ Maggie added.

‘Last chance for “no-go”,’ Cobb instructed. It was military-speak to let them know that any of them could call off the mission if they felt that something was wrong. All they had to do was speak up.

The radio channel was silent.

‘We’re go on Sarah’s lead,’ Cobb said.

‘Approaching now,’ Sarah replied.

McNutt dropped the binoculars and pressed the scope of his rifle to his face. He didn’t have eyes on Cobb, but he took that as a good sign. He reasoned that if he couldn’t see Cobb, it was unlikely anyone else could either.

Sarah and Maggie drove to the warehouse in an inconspicuous Mercedes A-class hatchback that Papineau had chosen because of its ubiquity throughout the region. They parked the Mercedes behind a small outbuilding across the street from the main warehouse and immediately exited the vehicle. The pair walked purposefully toward the building, their confident strides giving off an air that they belonged there. Even their attire failed to attract attention.

The women were both dressed in the new dark uniforms Sarah had put together. The fabric was designed to absorb light, but the material could pass as eveningwear instead of tactical clothing. Despite their chic appearance, the trousers concealed several hidden pockets that held first aid and survival gear. Their tops had been constructed with built-in holsters for their 9 mm handguns and sheaths for their ceramic, T-handled knives. The outfits were complemented with all-purpose boots that also fit the style of well-moneyed tourists.

‘Going in,’ Sarah said.

McNutt watched as she made short work of the front door’s lock. A moment later, the women disappeared into the warehouse. He turned his attention to the facility grounds, then continued outward to the surrounding buildings. It was his job to warn the others if anyone approached. He switched his scope to night-vision mode, hoping to illuminate the shadows. When he still saw nothing, he activated the scope’s infrared capabilities and looked for the heat signatures of anyone who might be lurking nearby.

He spotted Cobb for the first time that night.

The team leader was resting against the wall of a bus stop canopy roughly one hundred feet from the warehouse entrance, on the other side of the street. He held a map of Guangdong in one hand, keeping the other hand free for the Glock that McNutt knew he had strapped under his shirt. If anyone approached the warehouse from his direction, it was Cobb’s job to run interference.

McNutt watched as Cobb subtly adjusted the bud in his ear.

‘How we doing in there?’ Cobb asked.

‘This place is pathetic,’ Sarah answered. ‘I opened the lock on the front door in two seconds, and that’s the only security we’ve found. No cameras. No guards. Nothing. Maggie could have kicked in the door and done this job without me. The place is all boxes on shelves with Chinese characters and numbers. You know that last scene in
Raiders of the Lost Ark
? It’s like that. The shelves run on forever.’

‘Stay cautious,’ Cobb warned. ‘You never know what’s around the next corner. Until you find the manifest, stay radio silent—’

‘I found the manifest,’ Maggie interrupted.

Garcia chuckled at the timing. ‘Can you translate it?’

This time, Garcia didn’t have access to a live feed of what they were seeing. That would’ve required an active laptop to stream the Bluetooth connection from the cameras in their eyewear, and Garcia didn’t want to risk leaving a computer in the car unattended.

‘Yes,’ Maggie answered. ‘It’s all numbered descriptions. Just give me a few minutes.’

She fell silent as she flipped through the pages of the printed ledger, which were filled with cramped Chinese characters etched in a careful scrawl.

The book was over five hundred pages thick.

She had her work cut out for her.

* * *

After nearly ten minutes of silence, Papineau’s patience was wearing thin. Like Garcia, he had been listening from the hotel suite, but even in his posh surroundings he was growing uncomfortable.

‘Anything?’ he asked.

Maggie finally filled them in. ‘We’re looking for two boxes. I’ve got the identification numbers; we just need to find them.’

‘Easier said than done,’ Sarah added.

Cobb knew she was talking about the seemingly endless rows of shelving that she had described earlier. ‘How much time?’

‘No way to say for sure,’ she admitted. ‘Ten minutes? Maybe fifteen?’

Cobb watched as a patrol car cruised down the road toward him. It slowed slightly as it neared the outbuilding, then came to a stop as the men inside noticed the parked Mercedes.

‘Sorry ladies,’ Cobb said, ‘but you don’t have that much time.’

Sarah and Maggie moved quickly through the warehouse, checking the markers for each row as they ran. Fortunately, what the facility lacked in modernization was more than made up for in organization. Each section of the space had been assigned a numeric label, and each box within that space had been further identified with a unique stamp. Every object was perfectly catalogued, with a place for everything and everything in its place.

Sarah wondered if the artifacts themselves had been tagged with barcodes.

She would find out soon enough.

Maggie suddenly stopped dead in her tracks. ‘There,’ she said as she pointed at a pair of boxes collecting dust on a shelf. ‘That’s what we’re after.’

‘Jack, did you copy?’ Sarah asked. ‘Maggie found the boxes.’

‘How big are they?’ Cobb asked.

Sarah stepped forward and took note of the size. ‘A little bigger than a shoebox. Why?’

Cobb didn’t give her an answer.

* * *

Cobb watched as the two men from the patrol car stepped out of their vehicle and walked cautiously toward the Mercedes. ‘Hector, talk to me.’

‘I’m not getting any radio chatter from the police band,’ Garcia said in his ear. ‘Looks like a genuine patrol. They’re not responding to a call, at least. I can’t understand what they’re saying on the radio, but the voices are all calm and bored.’

‘Stand down, Josh,’ Cobb instructed. ‘Let me see if I can work this out.’ Cobb didn’t want anyone to get shot just for doing his job, but he knew that McNutt wouldn’t hesitate to drop the unexpected visitors if it meant protecting the team.

‘Copy that, chief. But I’m here if you need me.’

Cobb knew his sniper was zeroed in, the crosshairs of his scope tracking the patrolmen’s every move. He stepped away from the bus stop and waved his map like a flag. ‘Hey there! Hey, officers!’ Cobb called out with a phony drunken slur to his voice. He ambled across the road toward the warehouse, staggering like a drunkard.

The men abandoned the Mercedes and headed straight for him.

‘Jack just bought you some extra time,’ McNutt informed the women.

‘How?’ Sarah wondered.

McNutt watched closely. ‘I think he’s pretending to be me.’

Cobb spread the map on the ground in the middle of the street, luring the patrolmen in for a closer look. ‘You’re just who I was looking for. Can you give a guy directions? I think there’s something wrong with my map. It’s in
Chinese.
’

He wobbled as he spoke, then flailed his arms wildly as he pretended to catch his balance. In actuality, he used the move to lift his shirt and expose the grip of the semi-automatic pistol he had holstered in the rear of his waistband.

Just in case.

* * *

Sarah peeled open the seal on the first box with one of the tools in her burglary arsenal. Some girls never left home without lip gloss; Sarah rarely went anywhere without lock picks and a pocket knife. She lifted the lid and peeked inside.

‘Loose-leaf documents, a couple of bound notebooks, and a book,’ she announced. She opened the second box and reported its contents as well. ‘More of the same.’

Maggie rifled through the collection. ‘I can’t translate all of this right now. Even if I hurried, I might not catch what we’re looking for. I need to be thorough.’

‘Just take it,’ Papineau ordered. ‘Take all of it.’

Sarah didn’t need to be told twice. From one of her pockets she withdrew a small folded piece of fabric. With a snap of her wrist, the compact square unfurled into a pouch. After dumping the entire contents of the first box into the bag, she threw her arms through the handles and swung the satchel over her shoulders like a backpack.

When she was done, she pulled an identical bag from Maggie’s pocket and emptied the second box. In less than a minute, the haul was secured and the boxes resealed. The missing layer of dust was the only evidence that anyone had tampered with the collection.

‘Done and done,’ Sarah announced. ‘We’re on the move.’

* * *

As the men from the patrol car drew closer, they started shouting in Cantonese.

‘Sorry, fellas,’ Cobb replied, ‘I have no idea what you’re saying. I’m just trying to find my way back to Guangzee … Guangzow? … Gesundheit?’

Maggie translated their response in his ear. ‘They said, “What are you doing here? Show us your papers. You have no right to be here.”’

‘Chief,’ McNutt said, ‘this party’s about to get crowded. I have a car approaching from the north. He’ll be on you in twenty … nineteen … eighteen.’

Cobb could see the headlights of the new arrival in the distance.

The patrolmen saw it, too. The first turned to the second and quickly argued his point.

Maggie translated. ‘‘‘Shit! They’re already here. Let’s just kill him and get this over with. We’ll get all the credit.’’’

Cobb pulled his weapon before Maggie had even finished.

It was kill or be killed.

Cobb squeezed his trigger twice, burying a hollow-point round into each of the men’s foreheads. The backs of their skulls burst open like overripe cantaloupe. As their bodies hit the ground, their weapons clattered harmlessly to the pavement.

McNutt saw everything through his scope. ‘Nice shootin’, chief. By the way, those are Czech machine pistols. Definitely not military or police issue. Not around here.’

‘They weren’t cops,’ Cobb agreed as he took out his phone and snapped their pictures for possible identification. Then he turned his gaze toward the car that was bearing down on him. ‘And neither are they. A little help here, Josh?’

‘Already on it,’ McNutt replied as he steadied his aim. ‘Three … two … one …’

A second later the .50 caliber slug from McNutt’s rifle tore through the engine of the approaching sedan as if the car was made of Jell-O. Smoke and steam billowed from under the hood as the driver jerked the steering wheel and slammed on the brakes. The car came to a stop a mere twenty feet from where Cobb stood, but none of the goons inside leaped out to confront him.

‘Wrong move, fellas,’ McNutt said with a grin. Moving objects at least made things interesting – though not much of a challenge to a marksman with McNutt’s skill – but a stationary target was child’s play. The next time he fired, the gas tank ruptured and the sedan exploded in a magnificent shower of flames.