The Machine (An Ethan Stone Thriller) (31 page)

'The story of Steven Semyonov just keeps giving and giving.  The search technology billionaire who disappeared in China over a week ago had recently run out on his position at the top of one of America’s fastest growing corporations.  Behind him lies a trail of murder and mystery, with executives at SearchIgnition Technology still refusing to comment on persistent rumours of bad blood between Semyonov, director of corporate Vision, Antonio Alban and the other board members.  With Alban known to have been murdered in a James Bond-style hit, and Semyonov’s death still shrouded in mystery, speculation has reached fever pitch in Silicon Valley. 

'But it gets better.  The incredible story of Steven Semyonov has led me to the beautiful mountains close to Tibet in the far west of China.  One of the most intriguing questions is why Semyonov left the US and came to China at all.  Technology expert Doug Carslake has tracked Semyonov’s career since the early days, including his investments in China, which began over a year ago.  Doug thinks he may have found something...
’  

So that was Carslake’s game, Stone thought as he watched.  Carslake wanted his fifteen minutes of fame on TV with Virginia Carlisle.  He was going to tell the world that he discovered this weird object under the mountains.  He’d get the GNN technicians to mock up bogus radar pictures of an object underground, make it look convincing.

‘Cut,’ shouted a producer, and Virginia stepped away from the screen. 

‘Well, lookee here,’ she said as Stone approached her.  ‘It’s my old friend, Ethan Stone.  How much time d’ya waste in Sichuan, honey?  Feeling pretty silly that I scooped your stuff?’  Even her voice was in TV mode.  No upper class Vassar girl tones now.

‘You seem pleased to see me,’ said Stone.  She did, in her usual confrontational way.  ‘What brings you to the Polo Tournament?’

‘What the heck?  Everyone’s here aren’t they?’ she said.  A great reply, it really was.  Conveyed no information whatsoever.  She spent the day with make-up girls and chick-lit, but Virginia was razor-sharp.  And always good value in a confrontation.  Which Stone was about to provide her with.

‘Come on!’ she said.  ‘Lighten up.  It’s a bit of fun.  I can be anywhere while I’m here!’  Her arc-light TV smile had just switched on again.  With a flick of the head her hair rippled and fell, a curtain of blonde silk over that army T-shirt.  ‘It’s disgustingly easy to report from anywhere in the world.  At least,
you’ll
be disgusted, Mr Moral Highground.’

‘So do you buy it?’ asked Stone.  ‘Carslake’s story?’

‘Of course not,’ said Virginia.  ‘It’s all crap.  You know it and I know it.’  She turned to the producer.  ‘Let’s take a break.  I need to have a chat with Professor Stone here.  I think he’s got something he wants to tell me.’ 

Translation: there’s something she wants to tell me.

Stone left the clubhouse with Virginia, and they were immediately surrounded by a group of polo players who evidently fancied their chances with the TV star.  The supply of willing Shanghai wives must be running low.

Stone was genuinely mystified.  Virginia was still smiling, charming, flicking the hair around.  But he felt she was acting more than ever - stretching every sinew to keep a brave face.  Why was she was putting out news stories she didn’t believe?  Why come to Balong to put out Carslake’s story, which she thought was “crap”. 

Virginia Carlisle strode past the crowds and on toward her hotel.  ‘OK, Stone.  You’re a clever boy,’ she said finally.  ‘How much d’you know?’ 

‘You can stop fishing, Virginia,’ he said, ‘I know you’ve been speaking to Carslake.’ 

‘It doesn’t mean I believe what he says,’ said Virginia, but her guard was already dropping.

‘Of course you do,’ said Stone.  ‘Because you knew all that stuff about Semyonov already.  You always do your research on people – or get your lackeys to do it for you.  And now you’re worried because Carslake knows more than you would like.   Carslake knows more, hard, unexciting facts about Semyonov than anyone, and you don’t like that.  Because you’re worried that guys like Carslake and me are starting to put two and two together.  You know that stuff.  Where Semyonov grew up, near Manchester New Hampshire.  Where he went to school.  His real name.  Pictures from his school yearbook.  His relationships, or the lack of them.  His bizarre series of illnesses.  The time he spent in jail…’

At this last point about Semyonov being in jail, Virginia looked at Stone, not with her superior, knowing glance any more, but with something akin to despair.  Stone had caught her out there, and she knew it.  A week ago in Hong Kong, she’d told Stone that Semyonov had studied at Columbia and MIT, when in fact he’d been in jail.  She wasn’t even fighting this any more.  Her eyes were saying that the game was up.  Except Stone wasn’t quite sure which game it was.

They’d reached the door of her hotel room.  Virginia stood at the threshold.  Didn’t even take out her key.  ‘I’m so tired of this whole story,’ she said.  ‘Trying to control it.’  Her guard had finally come down, and she knew it.  That frightened her.  She was the big star who showed herself to the world every day, but right now she wanted to be alone, to hide in her room, until she could find a way to reconstruct her public image for the world.

‘You’re going to have to give me some space, Stone.  I really can’t deal with all this right now.’

And that was it.  She went in the door and closed it behind her.  It was going wrong for Virginia.  She’d been peddling garbage stories on GNN primetime, and now she was getting caught out.  She’d spoken to Carslake, and she hadn’t liked what she heard.  Then she’d spoken to Stone and that hadn’t helped either.  She’d obviously realized she’d have to start her whole Semyonov narrative from scratch.

Stone walked away from Virginia’s room.  The question was, why had she done it?  Stone was still mystified with her behaviour.  He needed to find Carslake, and see exactly what that nutjob had said to Virginia Carlisle.

Chapter 54 -
3:17pm 12 April
- Balong Polo Resort and Country Club, Zhejiang Province, China

For an operator such as Johan Ekström, making a hit at a place like this was child’s play.  The resort was spacious, full of people, with every reason for strangers such as him to be seen coming and going.  People were arriving, and leaving, by car, by light aircraft and by yacht.

You plan, you kill a man, you leave.  It was simple.  Best of all, he had the advantage that the place was full of white Europeans, Russians, South Americans, you name it.  Was there anywhere else in China where he would find an assassination easier?

Lucky for him, then, that last job spec had come through when it did.  Because two assassinations – unconnected – were a different proposition.  The second must be completed before the first has been discovered.  Or while the hunt is on for the killer from the first hit.  Then there’s the likelihood of being spotted near the two events, and being the obvious suspect.  The risks are infinitely greater.

The second target would be the more challenging.  Ethan Stone.  It was tempting to wrap that one up, leave, then deal with Oyang elsewhere.  But this Zhang from the
Gong An
had insisted Oyang be dealt with before he left the Country Club.  It was exactly the kind of challenge that made it all worthwhile for Ekström.  He had to come up with a way of killing Oyang (which was trivial), and dealing with Ethan Stone at the same time.

Ekström was wearing polo gear of white trousers and polo shirt of crimson and white quarters.  The colours of the Royal Bengal Club, Buenos Aires.  He had on riding boots and was carrying the thick leather leg guards of a polo player, concealing the Glock handgun in his waistband.  Seventeen round magazine, with suppressor. 
Is that a silencer in your pants, or are you pleased to see me?

And of course the polo helmet with face guard.  No point taking unnecessary risks with security cameras.  Ekström walked down the corridor to Oyang’s suite at four fifteen.  Two minutes max.  No need to spin it out.  He hadn’t been paid to do that.  He’d found out that Oyang had given the butler time off until six.  Idiot.  By the time the butler discovered Oyang, Ekström would be watching the main event: the last moments of Ethan Stone.

Ekström stood outside the door of Oyang’s suite, and shielded his hands from view of the security camera with his body.  He snapped on the latex gloves, swiped the master key through the door lock, and slipped inside.  No alarm.  No guard.  Oyang was making this all too easy.

-oO0Oo-

Johan Ekström hated surprises.  At least he hated this kind of surprise.  He’d just been cheated out of what was rightfully his, and he’d had to change his plans.  Worse still, a clean, simple job had just turned into a messy one.

No wonder he hadn’t needed to deal with any security or Oyang’s “butler”.  Oyang had sent them away deliberately.  Ekström picked up the dining chair that was lying on its side on the thick carpet, stood up on it and took out his trusty Swedish Army knife.  He sliced though the white rope.  As it sprang back, he realised Oyang had used the belt from a white cashmere bathrobe to hang himself. 

Oyang’s body collapsed lethargically to the floor.  This was no good.  In order for Ekström to frame Ethan Stone for a murder, Oyang had to have been murdered.  Now he had to make a suicide look like murder.

After the business with Alban, Ekström would have guessed it would be difficult to get a cadaver to sit up properly.  But not this difficult.  Ekström put the chair on its side, and managed to balance Oyang’s back up against it fairly straight.  But then the head lolled back badly.  Hardly surprising given that the neck was broken.  The eyes were still staring, bulging slightly, and the mouth hung open obscenely.

Ekström got there in the end.  He couldn’t shoot the body on the ground.  For one thing the round would come out the other side and damage the floor.  For another, ballistics tests would show how near he had been.  Ekström stood back to take the shot from ten paces as planned.  He took twelve for good measure, then placed a .22 round in the centre of Oyang’s forehead, execution-style.  Reminded him of that idiot soldier he’d executed on camera in Afghanistan.

Chapter 55 -
3:17pm 12 April
- Balong Polo Resort and Country Club, Zhejiang Province, China

Stone tracked Carslake down to his room in the Seasons hotel.  He was lying on a sofa, watching TV. 

‘You been here all the time, Carslake?’

‘Sure.  I gotta save some money, man.  It’s gonna cost me if I even breathe outside this room.  Those people out there.  Designer clothes, cocktails, goddamned Maseratis.  They look at me like I’m a piece a shit.’  Carslake’s eyes stayed doggedly at the TV as he spoke to Stone.  He was lying of course.

‘Did you notice Virginia Carlisle’s here?’  said Stone.

‘The babe-licious Virginia Carlisle?  No.  Why should I?  You really think she wants to hang out with me?’  He laughed. 

Stone cut him off.  ‘You contacted her didn’t you?  You called Carlisle and told her to come here.’    

‘You think she takes notice of me?  After I sent her to the wrong end of Sichuan looking for the Machine?’ he said. 

‘Chuck it, Carslake.  You couldn’t resist getting yourself on TV.’

‘Why shouldn’t I?’  Carslake snorted, coming clean.  ‘If I were you I’d find out what Carlisle knows.  She’s made the weather on this story and she knows a lot more than she’s letting on.  And FYI, I didn’t bring her here.  I contacted her with some ideas to get my name on TV, and next thing she’s following me.  In fact she was here before us.’  Carslake was still looking at the TV.  ‘What puzzles me is: why?  Why was she so keen to come down here and talk to me, Doug Carslake?  Have you any idea, Stone?  Because it beats the hell outta me.’

It was sinking in that Carslake had just hit the nail on the head.  Virginia really did have hidden depths, and Stone had just distracted himself from them.  He’d been looking everywhere, but some of the answers had been right in front of him.  Stone went over to the computer.  It was time to do a little extra checking up on Virginia Carlisle herself, rather than Semyonov. 

The word “Semyonov” may have been embargoed from the search engines, but Virginia Carlisle was most emphatically not.  Stone found articles of every shape size and colour on Virginia Carlisle.  Youtube clips by the hundred.  Fan clubs, Facebook groups.  Profiles of her in every magazine from The Economist, through Vogue, Psychology, Forbes and a Virginia Carlisle lookalike posing in Playboy for the real fantasists.  Not a bad likeness either.

Stone soon found the details he was looking for.  He realized he was staring at the screen, at the same thing for a good thirty seconds.  The game had suddenly changed.  The key person in the story about Semyonov and the Machine, was not Oyang, or Junko Terashima, or Ying Ning.  It was Virginia Carlisle.  He got up and walked to the door.

‘Where are you going, Stone?’

‘I’m going back to find Carlisle,’ he said.  ‘I just realised why Virginia Carlisle hightailed it here to join us.  She wants to stop the truth leaking out.’

Chapter 56 -
5:17pm 12 April
- Balong Polo Resort and Country Club, Zhejiang Province, China

Back outside the Country Club, questions slid around Stone’s mind in geometric patterns, like pieces on a chessboard.   He had to find Carlisle.  He was sure now what she was up to.  He also had to find Ying Ning.  She’d disappeared and he didn’t trust her any more.  The last time she’d disappeared like this she’d been with Panchen, and things had not turned out too well.  Ying Ning could be decorating Rupert’s silk shirt with angry saliva at this very moment.  Or going after Oyang with a kitchen knife.