CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Jack
“Hello, Mr. Boyd, its Agent Deveraux!” The British voice came through the speaker on the concierge tablet.
Nate and I looked up at one another sharply.
After the initial scramble to help Curtis, Nate was subdued, perched on the coffee table beside the couch, holding his father’s hand and staring at him, bewildered with the shock of discovering his father was alive.
We’d put towels down on the couch and carried his father there, and then using the contents of the first aid box I’d found in the bathroom, Nate cleaned up the wound and dressed it the best he could.
Curtis Hale hadn’t regained consciousness yet, but I’d checked his pulse and it was strong.
When we’d moved him a black leather passport wallet fell out of his back pocket.
It contained a US passport in the name of Christopher Hurst that had an address in Hawaii with two hundred and ten Euros in notes.
Sharp knocking on the door reverberated.
“I’ll get it,” I murmured as I strode to the door.
I checked the concierge tablet camera view to ensure it was Agent Deveraux.
He was accompanied by two men in orange German paramedic uniforms who had a wheeled stretcher trolley with them.
The FBI agent on sentry duty was also there, his hands on his hips, a perplexed grimace on his face. I opened the door.
“Ah, Jack. I caught the elevator up with these paramedics, are you okay? Is there a problem?”
“Oh, hi Agent D,” I said casually. “The room service waiter passed out,” I informed, speaking loud enough for the FBI agent to hear.
“Come in, come in,” I beckoned the paramedics, “He’s on the couch,” I said directing them to where Curtis Hale lay. Deveraux stood aside and let them through as the FBI man looked on quizzically, I didn’t want him coming into the suite or calling for backup.
“What’s going on in there?” he griped as he tried to edge his way in.
“As I said, the room service waiter passed out. Nothing to worry about Agent Lopez,” I smiled, and then closed the door on him. While the paramedics got to work, Deveraux beckoned Nate and me onto the balcony.
“Where are you taking my dad?” Nate asked his voice husky with concern.
“To a safe house on the outskirts of the city, it’s got a medical facility. You said there’s a tracker in his side?”
“Yes. He said a Chinese agent brushed past him this morning and shanked him with something that left a tracker, the area looks badly infected,” Nate informed
“My colleague can cut the tracker signal using a foil blanket before removing it. I’ll make sure your father’s okay, antibiotics, pain relief, the works.”
Nate still looked worried. “Don’t tell the FBI or the CIA where he is,” he pleaded.
“Jack told you about the chips, right?” Deveraux nodded.
“I don’t know how involved Special Agent Porter is or what she knows, but she allowed a CIA operative, Kirk Rivera into the room when I was being interviewed. ”
“And why is that significant?”
“Before he collapsed my dad told me Rivera is the one who betrayed him. Rivera was his new CIA handler. My dad was supposed to pass the chips to him for research. But Rivera arranged a side deal to pass the chips onto Oliver Roux.” Deveraux’s eyes widened at hearing this.
“Oh, this shines a new light on everything!” he admitted.
“That’s why my dad ran…he was double-crossed, refused to hand the tech over to that fucking monster! Dad’s got a US passport in the name of Christopher Hurst. Can Britain help him? Maybe give him political asylum?” Nate begged.
“The US won’t be informed that we have your father until he’s safely on UK soil.
I’m sure we all want to understand what’s going on here.
If this was a sanctioned CIA operation against the Chinese government, they won’t stand for it.
If their tech isn’t returned, we could see a new tit-for-tat tech war with huge geopolitical ramifications.
When your father’s well enough we’ll fly him to London to debrief and once he’s on UK soil he can apply for asylum. ”
“What about the chips?” I asked.
“The official UK government line is that we have no knowledge of their existence!” he said pinning us both with a glare. So, this was still the play, deny that the chips exist to prevent an international incident.
“The tracker they put in your father lost power here. The security in the penthouse is far better than the rooms on lower floors, but the Chinese Ministry of State Security have agents in the city and they’re canny bastards!” Agent D warned.
A tall wiry paramedic came to the French doors. “I got the tracker out. The patient’s sedated and on the trolley. Ready to go, guv?” he said. Deveraux nodded. We all moved to the lounge, where Nate rushed to his still unconscious father, placed a kiss on his brow, and said,
“I’m sorry, I love you, dad. Don’t worry, we’ll work this out.
” I wasn’t sure what Nate had to be sorry for.
We’d probably saved his father’s life. I scooped the passport wallet from the coffee table and Nate’s blue-eyed gaze met mine.
He nodded, giving me permission. “Here, he’ll need this,” I said as I gave the wallet to Agent Deveraux.
He opened the passport, glanced at the identity and nodded.
“We’ll take him down t’ basement using the service elevator and then out back,” a Northern English paramedic said having gathered all of the medical gear into his bag and taken a hold of the rear handle of the trolley.
I hurried down the hall and opened the suite double doors and then stood aside as the paramedics pushed the trolley out.
When they passed through, I closed the first of the two doors.
“Mr. Boyd. Special Agent Porter wants an update,” Lopez said, his hand gripping the closed part of the door, preventing me from shutting the other door on him. I glared, unimpressed by his ballsy move.
“The paramedic thinks the waiter had a heart attack. They’re taking him to the nearest hospital,” Alexander Deveraux said before I could reply. “Now, I’d better get back to it,” he added, all business.
I took a breath and schooled my features. “Thanks for the update, Agent D,” I said as he stepped through the doorway and sauntered gracefully down the hall toward the elevator.
“I need to come in and do a security sweep,” Lopez insisted, barging into the suite. I remained by the door as he went from room to room looking for what, I didn’t know. When he was satisfied there were no Chinese agents lurking in the closets he returned to the front door.
“Is that everything? Our dinner’s getting cold and we’re exhausted.”
“I had to check…you know…appease the boss.” Lopez admitted. “Everything is fine, have a good evening sir,”
“You’re doing a great job guarding the door! Good night Agent Lopez,” I said with faux cheerfulness.
Nate and I were alone at last!
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