Page 54 of Need to Know

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CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Nate

I’d just stepped out of the shower and was drying myself when I heard a male voice calling "Room service!" through the concierge tablet intercom. It was followed by a sharp rapping on the hotel suite door. I pulled on a pair of sweat pants, and with the towel gathered around my neck, I strode through the lounge to the entrance hall. After checking the tablet screen and seeing a waiter in the hotel’s uniform outside with the trolley laden with cloche covered plates, I opened the door, then pivoted and walked away towards the bedroom to finish getting dressed.

"Can you set the dinner up in the dining room please," I called absently as I heard the clink and clatter of the trolley rolling into the suite and the door closing. I towel dried my hair and checked my charging phone on the nightstand; it was now at just ten percent, damn it!

A US Embassy driver had dropped us back at our hotel less than an hour ago. The stony silence between Jack and me in the car was partly my fault. I owed Jack an apology for running out on him this morning, but, honestly I didn’t know what to say. We’d shared a really intense experience, the kidnapping, and then the euphoria of escaping together. I’d bailed, leaving Jack to wake up alone and clueless as to why I’d gone to the authorities without him. It was selfish, and thoughtless.

On returning to the suite we’d stood in silence as an FBI team carried out a bug and camera sweep of the penthouse. They found nothing, which was a little comforting. But Jack hadn’t uttered a word, and his eyes didn’t linger, but flitted away each time they met mine. I was surprised by how much it hurt. An FBI agent was to remain stationed outside the suite door at all times, and if I left the suite, it would be by arrangement with Special Agent Porter and an agent would accompany me. If Jack left he was to be shadowed by an MI6 agent.

Instead of talking with me; Jack immediately changed into his new workout gear and accompanied by a woman from MI6 he’d gone down to the hotel gym. I suppose couldn't blame him for needing space. He was an active man and seemed to have gone a little stir-crazy after questioning by a British agent named Alexander Deveraux, and so I guessed he was desperate to get some exercise.

After hours in the interview room my priorities were to feel clean, have dinner, and then contact my agent to reassure her of my safety. I hoped that Jack and I could have a peaceful evening and maybe find our way back to each other. My first objective now met, I felt a little closer to my old self, but my phone was slow to recharge, so calls would wait.

Before letting me leave the US consulate, Special Agent Porter returned my phone and passport. She then offered an update on what her team discovered about the incident I’d reported.

“In highly volatile situations like this we work with our European partners. Based on the information you, and Jack Boyd supplied, and the toxicology report, a team headed by the German equivalent of the FBI, the BKA, located the ship hotel in a dry dock at Grey Pike Marina. They discovered two Chinese nationals, one with a head injury, and another asleep, apparently trapped in his sleeping bag.” A wry smirk escaped Special Agent Porter’s stern mask.

“Under interrogation the uninjured man revealed they were with the 14k gang. He said that the Chinese government is looking for a stolen item, offering a cash reward to any Chinese national who gave information on a man named Curtis Hale. But another party, an American he knew only as Xander, met with his gang master and revealed that you are Hale’s son. He and his cohort were ordered to track you as soon as you arrived in Berlin.” Special Agent Porter continued,

“We’re dealing with a third party with seemingly endless resources. I asked you earlier if there was anything else you wanted to tell me,” the agent said. We’d eyed one another before she stated, “Look, Mr. Linden, we know about the Téng hú chips!” I’d gulped, wondering if I’d been lured into a false sense of security. Would Special Agent Porter arrest me now?

“From the evidence we’ve gathered—your interview, Jack Boyd’s interview, and the security camera footage from hotel CCTV systems, we’ve assembled what we believe is an accurate picture. Tell me if I’ve got this wrong. Someone stole an in-development chip technology from the Chinese, got it as far as Berlin, and tried to use you to smuggle it out of Europe. At least two other parties want to get their hands on it.”

“As far as I understand, that’s correct.”

“Were you part of a plot against the Chinese Government, Mr. Linden?”

“Of course I wasn’t! I’m an actor, I don’t know why I’ve been involved in this.” I’d exclaimed in outrage. Special Agent Porter put her hand up to silence me.

“I didn’t think so. Even though we’re unsure of all the players on the board, this situation opens up the possibility of another accusation of technology theft by the US. Like it or not, hostile forces have you and your partner in their cross-hairs, Mr. Linden.”

“So, what are you going to do?”

“The US can’t officially admit to knowledge of the chips, so their existence remains need to know.”

I was about to complain when Special Agent Porter spoke on. “You certainly appear to be a trouble magnet, Mr. Linden. The fact that you and Mr. Boyd are high value targets for abduction and you’ve already been attacked once in Paris, by a Chinese national is significant.”

I hadn’t thought the Paris attack was connected, but maybe she was right. “It’s in the best interest of the US government to ensure your safety, and get you and your partner out of Berlin as soon as possible without any further issues. And so, we’re mounting a multi-agency surveillance taskforce around your movie première.”

“Thank you.” This news pacified me a little.

“We’re letting you and Mr. Boyd go, but for your safety, you need to remain at the hotel. My team will liaise with Maritime Studios and your talent agent.” I nodded; relieved that Jack and I now had protection.

“And Mr. Linden,” Special Agent Porter added sternly, “Those Chinese chips are to remain in the safe in your hotel suite! As far as all agencies are concerned, they do not exist.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I replied flatly.

“Good. At last we’re on the same page! The BKA, FBI, and MI6 are staking out the hotel for your protection. I’ll be in touch,” she said finally, and then sauntered out of the interview room, leaving the door open.

That parting comment wasn’t ominous at all! In the circumstances, these three agencies were extending a lot of manpower for a couple of actors readying for a movie première. Across the square at the events centre there was a security tech conference in full swing. I’d say the square and the hotel was crawling with spooks, and shady characters looking for and offering under the table surveillance-tech. We’d seen some of it in use, like the men who made themselves invisible to the hotel security cameras. In my gut I felt it; something wasn’t right about all of this.

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"Newt! Come in here, and sit down. We need to talk." A man said in a deep, serious tone. On hearing the male voice shivers ran down my spine and I was dragged back to the here and now—to the hotel suite. I pivoted and stalked into the lounge. The man who’d called me in here was the room service waiter. He was in his late fifties, handsome in a chiselled, weathered kind of way. His hair was combed back; dyed black I supposed, and…I knew those ice chip eyes…so much like my own. He stood by the wet bar, having poured himself a Scotch and tossed it back as if he was the guest.