Rogue Commander, Leo Maloney [classic books for 11 year olds TXT] 📗

up. Combines Bloch and Boss. Nice, huh?” He could practically hear Lily’s eyes rolling and then remembered that the operative was not on vacation. “FYI: it’s a shit storm back here. Cobra’s rogue, working some other angle. At least that’s what we think, and the Wizard’s duly pissed. Got any questions before you’re down the rabbit hole?”

“Uh-uh,” Lily grunted again.

Shepard waited. “Whenever you get like this, I can tell you’re a little tight.”

Lily coughed in her hand and whispered, “and a bit wet.”

Shepard laughed. “You’re so twisted, just like everybody else around here. I’ll keep the comm open till you’re clear, okay?”

“Mm-hmm.”

She walked along now in the hazy morning sunlight, the Meridian Gate looming before her at the end of a vast plaza of flat gray stones. The term gate was deceptive, as the southern entrance to the Forbidden City was composed of an enormous red building, with high-walled wings on either side—angled outboard and topped with double cupolas. With its arched opening in the center, the whole thing looked like an angry Chinese lion just waiting to swallow her up.

For a moment, she wished she were a tourist, and could spend the day exploring the hundred square acres of 980 ancient buildings, its museums of treasures from the Zing and Qing dynasties, and its walls and ramparts and moats. But she wasn’t here for the view. She was here to track down Colonel Shin Kwan Hyo.

CIDEX, the China International Defense Electronics Exhibition, was being held in the capital at the Exhibition Center, where hundreds of manufacturers from the around the world had come to pitch their wares to Beijing. Of course, given that the show was run by the Peoples Liberation Army, China’s purpose in throwing the party was to get their hands on all the latest drones, tactical communications packages and missile command and control.

The PLA’s tactic was to charm and smile and purchase, for double the asking price, any new toy they thought worthy of reverse engineering. The people who attended knew this, but they all went home happy with bulging wallets. After all, the Chinese had invented piracy on the high seas a millennium ago. Why should they stop on the low ground?

Lily, as Rosalind the sales rep for Thales, had arranged to meet with a PLA general named Deng Tao Kung, who she’d e-seduced into taking an interest in Thales’ most sensitive encrypted radio packages. Some careful research by Zeta had revealed that General Kung was a missile regiment commander and that Colonel Hyo was in the same game, so the odds were good that they’d be sharing tea.

None of the serious business meetings were held at the convention center; too many prying eyes and ears. General Kung had chosen to hold court this morning in the Forbidden City and had invited “Rosalind Stone” for a brief, friendly chat. She was hoping that was all she’d need.

Lily entered the entrance archway and headed straight for the Gate of Supreme Harmony. Then she walked left along a marble-lined moat for the Hall of Military Eminence, which was a modest red building with wooden-screened windows and a sloping orange roof. It had once housed thousands of ancient historical strategy books, which had all been burned in a conqueror’s fire. It was now simply an empty hall, perfect for quiet conferences. Unlike the other opulent structures, it held little attraction for tourists.

Her heart rate picked up a little as she saw a small gathering on the slate walkway before the central door of the hall. They were mostly military officers—predominantly men, but there were a few women. And they were all Asian. Among them stood a few Westerners in business attire who she assumed were sales people like herself, or rather, like she was pretending to be. A pair of uniformed PLA military police stood between her and the throng, observing anyone who approached with their steely gazes.

Nothing fancy now, lass, she told herself. All we want is a handshake with Hyo and to pique his interest in another meeting. Then we’re out.

She had to remind herself that she wasn’t doing her usual “honey trap” thing today. She had to be absolutely sexless, which was a challenge for her.

One of the MPs pushed out a palm and looked her over. “Yes, miss?”

“I am here to meet General Deng Tao Kung. My name is Rosalind Stone.”

The first MP nodded and pointed at her briefcase while the other one stepped in and extended his arms, palms up. Lily placed her briefcase on his palms and thumbed the catches. The first MP opened it, poked through the contents with a finger, closed it, and waved toward the doorway. She wasn’t surprised that they didn’t frisk her because that was a cultural no-no here. But it wouldn’t have mattered anyway because there was nothing under her suit but modest lingerie. Sometimes you just had to go weaponless, and pray.

“Thanks,” she said.

The MPs nodded jerky head bows; she excused her way through the small crowd and stepped inside. It took a few moments for her eyes to adjust. The Hall of Military Eminence was a large rectangular space with a polished floor of teakwood planks lit only by the stream of diffused sunlight slanting in through the screen windows. The floor space had been carefully arranged with red brocade divans, thick wooden armchairs, and low tea tables.

Military officers and business people occupied the sitting spaces, heads bent close, discussing catalogues and technical specs as translators hovered nearby. A small flock of young Chinese women in blue silk wraps moved around the floor carrying trays of teapots, cups, and small finger snacks.

Looking around the room, Lily spotted General Kung by matching his face to the image she’d memorized. He was sitting on a divan against the far wall, sipping tea and chatting with a younger Chinese officer. A pair of bodyguards hovered nearby. He wore a sage-green dress uniform nearly identical to the older American “Class-A,” with brass buttons, five rows of ribbons over