THE burgundy 737 was a flying sybaritic palace in the sky.
The software billionaire was dosing himself with a carefully calculated mixture of Ecstasy and male impotence pills to pass the time. The Ecstasy made him loving, but the impotence pills offset that by fueling his sexual appetite, which was a little aggressive.
At this instant, in a forward part of the jet, a flight attendant was making notes on the pad of a personal digital assistant. Once he was finished, he plugged it into the air phone and hit send. Now all he had to do was wait for a reply.
The other flight attendant seemed more concerned. This was her first flight on the billionaire’s 737, and she found the debauchery unnerving. Turning her head away from the rear section of the plane, she addressed the blond-haired man.
“You ever worked this gig before?”
“First time,” the man admitted.
“If I didn’t need the money,” the brunette said, “I’d make this trip one-way.”
The blond-haired man nodded. “Tell me about yourself,” he said.
Thirty minutes later, the blond-haired man smiled. She’d fudged what he knew as the truth—but not by much.
“There’s an opportunity you might be interested in,” he said easily.
Just then, the buzzer from the rear rang and a voice was heard.
“Bring us another two magnums of ch
ampagne,” the billionaire ordered.
“You keep that thought,” the brunette said. “I’ll go water the horses.”
IN Macau the streets were filled with late-night revelers. Two men drove slowly along Avenue Conselheiro Ferriera de Almeida through the throngs. The man in the passenger seat stared at a portable GPS mapping unit and gave directions. Turning at Avenida do Coronel Mesquita, they headed northwest along the road until they were at a side street that led to a residential area within a half mile of mainland China.
“Find a place to park,” the navigator ordered.
Pulling to the side of the road under a tree, the driver placed the van in park, then shut off the engine. The navigator pointed to a house set back from the road up the street.
“That’s the house.”
“Shall we?” the driver asked.
The navigator climbed out of the van and walked around to the front and waited while the driver reached under the seat, removed a leather bag, then met him in front of the van.
“You notice almost no one here has a dog?” the driver said.
“Sometimes,” the navigator said, “you just get lucky.”
Both men were dressed in dark clothing that blended into the night. Their shoes were rubber soled and their hands covered by dark vinyl surgical gloves. They moved with the certain sense of unhurried purpose that comes with competence, not arrogance. Slipping unseen to the front wall surrounding the home, they paused for a second at the gate. The driver reached into his pocket, removed a pick, and a second later sprung the lock. He opened the gate, allowed the navigator to pass inside, then closed the gate behind them.
There was little need to talk. Both men had memorized the plan.
Walking around to the rear of the house, where it was dark, they disabled the security system, jimmied the lock, and then crept silently into the house. Pausing at the foot of the stairs, the driver flipped open a small black plastic box and slipped an earpiece into place. Pointing the device at the floor above, he listened for a moment.
Then he smiled and nodded at his partner.
Placing his hands together, he tilted his head and placed his hands alongside his cheek, using the universal hand signal for sleep. With one finger, he pointed to the far end of the floor in the left corner. With the other, he pointed a distance away to where another bedroom was located on the second floor. Then he pointed a fist toward the spot on the left side. Primary target there, secondary target there.
Doing a kind of curtsy, he spread his hands apart.
Then he unsnapped a pouch clipped to his belt and handed an eight-inch leather case to the navigator and smiled. Taking the case the navigator slowly began to climb the stairs. Several minutes passed as the driver stood silently on the landing.
Then he heard the voice of his partner.