Book Trk
Chapter 52
We locked the pistol in the Bentley’s glove compartment and then found a more upscale restaurant than the noodle shop.
Though it was only 11 AM, we ordered fried rice with pork belly and wok-fried beef with vegetables.
As we ate, Mei-ling asked, “What’s the plan?”
“I don’t know yet.”
She looked stunned. “You asked him to get you THAT, and you don’t have a plan to use it?!”
“It’s the nuclear option. In case everything else fails.”
“Well, yes, I’d rather hoped it wouldn’t be your opening gambit.”
I chuckled. “Definitely not the opening gambit.”
“So what’s the opening gambit, then?”
“I’ll call Lau and see if he’s arranged the meeting yet.”
“When did you check with him last?”
“About a week ago.”
“What?! I thought this was urgent!”
“It is.”
“Then why haven’t you talked to him in – oh,” she said, suddenly realizing the answer:
I’d been stalking her all that time with no other thought besides getting her back.
I gave her an ironic half-smile. “I was a little preoccupied.”
She shook her head. “You were pretty far gone over me, weren’t you.”
I reached across the table for her hand. “Still am.”
She smiled as I lifted her hand to my lips and kissed it.
Two hours later, we went back to the noodle shop.
When we walked through the beaded curtain, Mei-ling knocked on the door.
“We’re back,” she called out.
“Come in,” the gun merchant replied.
We walked in to find him looking more stressed than last time.
He took a heavy drag on his cigarette, then held out his hand. “Rest of money.”
“You have it?” I asked.
“Yes. Rest of money.”
I took out the remaining bills and counted out 250 on the desk.
He grabbed the cash, stuffed it in his desk, and pulled out a Styrofoam takeout container secured with rubber bands. After he removed the rubber bands, he opened the lid.
Inside was a rectangular block of light brown putty, about 11 inches long and 2 inches high and thick.
A metal box about half the size of a pack of cigarettes was duct-taped to the putty. Two wires with metal prongs protruded from the box.
C4 plastic explosive.
I’d seen some during my training with Lars, so I knew I was looking at the real thing.
“Jesus,” Mei-ling whispered behind me.
Next to the block of putty sat a hand-held metal grip with a straight section and a hinged lever jutting off at 45 degrees.
It looked like something a fitness nut might use to exercise his hand muscles –
Except for the small key inserted into the side and a green light that was currently dark.
“How do I arm it?” I asked.
“Put these in,” the man said as he pantomimed sticking the metal prongs into the block of putty. He didn’t actually insert them, though. “Put both in or not go off. Next, turn key.”
He turned the key on the handle, and the green light came on.
“Once light on, squeeze handle – boom.”
He turned the key back to its initial setting and the light went out.
“What if I want it so that if I let go of the handle, it detonates the C4?” I asked.
He frowned, then asked Mei-ling something in Cantonese.
“A dead man’s switch,” she suggested in English.
“Yes,” I agreed.
The gun merchant nodded.
While the light was still off, he squeezed the hinged lever so it was right next to the handle. Then he turned the key again so the light came on.
“Do this. When light on, you let go of handle – boom.”
He immediately rotated the key so the light turned off. Only then did he relax his grip.
He placed the detonator in the Styrofoam container next to the putty, closed the lid, and secured everything with rubber bands so nothing could fall out. “One thing.”
“What?”
“You get caught – not get it from me,” he said gravely.
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He handed me the Styrofoam container and glared at Mei-ling. “Now we even.”
She nodded. “Now we’re even.”