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Page 3.
Scene 1. Dysprosium Road
 A man on a mission, a concealed automatic, a gin and tonic with fresh ice cubes on a breezy terrace—these made a trilogy suitable to a beautiful day. There was just one missing element that would make it a perfect quartet this desert summer evening in Baotou, Inner Mongolia. That rare element was just around the horizon of Jack's thoughts.
A warm, dry wind off the mountains and steppes ruffled Jack Gray’s short dark hair, like the gentle fingers of a woman with love on her mind. There was something wonderfully feminine in the air this evening, and Jack had a name for her: Xue Siquin, his beautiful young translator and official state handler. She was a rare earth, indeed.
There was also danger in that warm, hay-scented air. There was nothing like a bracing thrill to accentuate the perfume of being alive, Jack thought as he waited for Chinese army and police to raid Sunrise Engine Corp in their fortress-like building across the street.
The global criminal syndicate had taken over the world’s supply of rare earths, which lay in the ground just north of Baotou. You needed the seventeen rather obscure lanthanides on the Periodic Table, plus yttrium and scandium, to make everything from computer chips to medical equipment, from radios to toasters. The world economy was at stake this evening—and therefore civilization itself.
Jack was here against orders. This job had to be done. He was going rogue, exposing his flank, even as foreign agents were being ordered out of China as the army and police moved in for the kill. If his calculation was right, he’d make himelf bait. He wanted to be noticed by those, high up, who were engineering the syndicate boss’ escape. Jack’s plan was the last option when all else had failed—make them show themselves so he could take down not only the boss, but those in government who were on his secret payroll.
Any moment now, host nation forces would raid Sunrise Engine Corp across the way in a hail of sirens, gunfire, and flash-bang grenades.
Not a uniform in sight—except for the pretty traffic cop in the intersection. Jack stayed cool, sipping his drink, and calculating from his perch on the balcony. He’d found a convenient staging area. An international trade convention happened to be taking place in this modern glass hotel across the street from the sprawling, gloomy fortress of Sunrise Engine Corp. Here, Jack could lose himself amid hundreds of celebrating men and women, including many Westerners like himself. It was a great cover. Passing himself as a trade representative (Herr Kutt of Düsseldorf), Jack had walked through the dancers and laughers and diners in the ballroom behind him, to reach his current hiding place in plain sight on the balcony overlooking the intersection and traffic circle.
Might as well enjoy this reverie while I can, Jack thought. His tender thoughts kept drifting to the beautiful young Yanhu graduate student assigned as his interpreter by Beijing. Xue was interested; of that there was no mistake. And so was Jack. She was his other unfinished business here in the People’s Republic of China (PRC). They had become friends while working together. Tonight was to be their first romantic date. Where was she right now, anyway? Safe, he hoped, and as eager as Jack. But first things first (sigh) as always.
Jack stood alone—half-hidden in shadows on a high balcony overlooking a major intersection in Baotou, Inner Mongolia. The larger panorama looked across a hot, dusty landscape roiling with musky fragrances of late summer. He wore a white dinner jacket, held a gin and tonic, and packed a punchy little automatic pistol he’d smuggled in against orders. Later tonight, if he and Xue survived, they would enjoy a luxurious hotel room in Beijing, complete with clean bed sheets, an indoor swimming pool with fragrant steam silently blowing across its interior-lit, bluish waters, and a bottle of fine red wine. The trick would be to survive long enough to enjoy those things.
From the ballroom behind Jack, brassy dance music wafted softly amid violins. He smelled hors d’oeuvres, fresh coffee, and sparkling champagne. Laughter and conversation bubbled through plate glass. Several hundred semi-formally dressed trade delegates and their spouses from around the world were happy about deals made here—contracts inked, and huge monetary sums deposited in good faith, billions of yen, in capital investment banks around the globe.
Jack carried a Kimber 1911 Ultra-Covert II with .45 ACP rounds (7-clip) in a compact holster at the small of his back. He had two clips of spares in special inside jacket pockets. He normally carried a larger 9 mm Sig-Sauer, Coast Guard issue, but he’d left his cannon at home—too compromising at a diplomatic function. Besides, he did not have a valid local carry permit. Guojianbu had not sanctioned weapons for foreign agents (‘assistants’ and ‘advisors’) on the delicate operation just ended. Furthermore, Madame Zhang, Dragon Lady of MSS, had made it clear she did not like Jack. It was a matter of mutual instincts. Jack, on the other hand, went nowhere without a personal armory—it was part of him, the way a boar had tusks, or a beetle had a carapace, or a hunting dog had hackles. The deadly little Kimber was insurance—literally having his back, guarding his six, or whatever. It snuggled at the end of spine, warm and silent, and unnoticed—unless he turned a certain way, and lifted one elbow, just to feel the reassuring hardness of the holster on his goose-bumpy skin.
Nothing more to do now but wait.
The blood-red summer sunset gloried in smears of mauve and flame-yellow. The day's humidity and heat had relented, and a refreshing breeze smelling of hot earth and dry grass blew across Inner Mongolia's largest city. Nightfall brought the first quenching breezes.
The nerve center of the city seemed quiet. Traffic was light—about one truck or bus for every private automobile—various Chinese, Indian, Korean, and European makes. They sent a tinge of sour exhaust up into the fragrant air.
Among the leaves, on the travertine balcony railing, lay a compact but powerful pair of binoculars for Jack's use when the time came. He was as ready as he would ever be.
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Copyright © 2018 by Jean-Thomas Cullen, Clocktower Books. All Rights Reserved.
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