She came to in a dark room. They had cut her down and chained her ankles to the legs of a cold metallic chair. Her wrists were handcuffed behind her, with twisted barbed wire forcing her elbows together.
The thin nylon fabric of her slip clung to her waist, soiled by dried blood and stale male perspiration. Both her bare breasts were crisscrossed with welts, which would leave permanent marks on her. Better than tattoos, these scars all over her body would earn her street credibility anywhere in the world.
She half opened the remaining eye, the other eye too swollen to be useful, and saw the camera mounted on the wall. With only a single low-wattage bulb hanging high above her, the room was not well lit. She hoped that whoever was watching her through the camera did not notice she was awake.
She closed her eye and slowly adjusted her sitting position. She leaned against the back of the chair, allowing the barbed wire to eat into the bare skin on her back. She needed to stay wide awake to craft a reasonable story of who she was and what she had done. They already knew her name and address. Her story would need to be based on true events and credible enough for her next round of interrogation. She could only lie about events and places they could not easily verify.
>>>>>
2 Days Ago
Hong Kong, China
She hated the long flight from Dallas to Hong Kong. It had been twenty-two hours since her last shower. She slept most of the time, waking up only for meals and trips to the cramped restrooms.
But the money made it worthwhile. As usual, it was half upfront, and the other half when the job was done. In the last five years, her account in the Bahamas had grown to the point she was seriously considering retirement.
"Ma'am, would you like breakfast?" The short flight attendant with a round face and thick makeup asked about one hour from landing. Megan Rock thought it strange that the airline would serve breakfast, even though the video screen in front of her indicated it was almost nine-thirty in the evening in Hong Kong.
"Are you from the Deep South?" Megan asked as she unfolded the small tray.
"Yes, ma'am. I grew up in Alabama." She placed a plastic tray with scrambled eggs, two sausages, and biscuit on her tray. "How would you like your coffee?"
"Black, no sugar." She sipped her coffee, wondering when exactly flight attendants had stopped calling her Miss and started addressing her formally as Madam. At twenty-nine, she was fit, tanned, toned, and thought of herself as young.
Swallowing the last bite quickly, Megan put on her stilettos and went to the restroom. She brushed her teeth, touched up her makeup, and pulled back her dark blonde hair into a ponytail. Removing her leather jacket, she adjusted her silver halter dress and retied the straps that ran across her back below the shoulder blades. She rotated her five-foot-nine frame, lifted up her arms, and checked herself in the mirror.
When she returned to her seat, she noticed the usual raised eyebrows and a couple of winks from the men in business suits sitting next to the aisle. The man next to her tried again to say something to her, but she ignored him.
"Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. Please fasten your seatbelts for the remainder of the journey. All electronics, including mobile phones, laptops, and computer games, must be turned off until we are at the gates in about fifteen minutes. We will be arriving at Terminal One of the Hong Kong International Airport in Chek Lap Kok. Welcome to Hong Kong."
As soon as the wheels touched the runway, Megan quietly switched on her cell phone and touched a button. Ten thousand miles away, Fabian Long saw her coded message and smiled. Working with Megan had been the best part of his life. He thought of her as a sister rather than work partners. He loved her specialty, taking an assignment only when the target was a foreign man. She would not touch women or children. Her favorite kill zones were nightclubs and hotel bedrooms.
Because she had no luggage, Megan was one of the first to clear immigration and customs. At 2300 hours, she walked directly to a man holding a sign with three Chinese characters, describing Tsim Sha Tsui, the tourist hub of Hong Kong chockfull of nightclubs, hotels and restaurants. The man walked her to a waiting van and pulled back the sliding door. She entered the back of the van. He rode shotgun.
Once the van started moving, the man turned around and spoke in a British accent. "The target is a money launderer," he pointed to a high resolution picture on his iPad. The man in the JPEG picture was bald, his head was egg-shaped, and his eyebrows almost touched. He had pale skin, double chins, small ears, and a large gap between his front teeth.
"Does he have a name?"
"Our client told us only that his first name is Ian. His recent client base included members of several terrorist organizations. After passing through Ian, the untraceable money is wired to sleeper cell groups in North America and Europe."
"Where's the kill zone?"
"A large nightclub in Nathan Road. The club attracts hundreds of business clients every night, perfect cover for you. Ian is being entertained tonight."
"What's my cover story?"
"Tonight, your name is Honey. A group of women will dance in front of Ian at midnight. He will be encouraged to pick one of them to go to a private room. Make sure he picks you."
"Does it need to look like an accident?"
"No. Just get it done quickly, and get out of there. There will be a team to clean up." The man spoke quickly without taking a breath. "Take a taxi to the airport, lie low, and catch the six o'clock flight out. Questions?"
"When will the rest of the money be wired?"
"As soon as the client receives confirmation that he is dead. By the way, he likes blondes with their hair down. He also likes to be punished."
Megan let her hair flow down her back. Her heartbeat gradually increased as she saw the skyline of Hong Kong. No matter how many times she had been to Hong Kong, the sight of it took her breath away. The van dived into the famous Nathan Road, three miles full of neon and flashing English and Chinese signs that emerged from the sides of buildings and crisscrossed over the traffic below.
