Reamde

“We can look right down on it. We were up half the night watching them through binoculars,” Csongor said.

“So it’s an office building? Apartments?” Zula asked.

“Strictly apartments,” Csongor said.

“A dump,” said Peter. “Half the block is vacant.”

“How can anything be vacant in this town?”

“One block away is a construction site,” Csongor said. “The area is under development. The building and the ones around it are probably going to be demolished within a year.”

“The taxi driver was extremely helpful once he saw the wad of cash,” Peter said. “He got out of the taxi for a smoke, asked around on the street a little bit, learned some more about the building.”

“And?”

“And it has kind of a seedy reputation. The landlord can’t write long-term leases in a building that he’s itching to tear down. But he hates leaving money on the table. So he rents on a month-to-month basis to anyone who’s willing to pay in cash, no questions asked.”

“I get the picture,” Zula said.

“So, as an example, there are various foreign tenants,” Csongor said.

“Like Filipinos?”

“No,” Csongor said with a laugh, “internal foreigners.”

“What does that mean?”

“Chinese people who come from parts of China that are so far away and so different that they might as well be foreign countries.”

“Economic migrants,” Peter said. “Their equivalent of Mexicans.”

“Okay,” Zula said, “but Manu is not one of those.”

“It appears that Manu and a few other young guys are living together in one of the units. We don’t know which one,” Peter said. “They put up the basketball hoop on the roof. They go up there and hang around drinking beer and smoking and playing ball until all hours.”

“With laptops,” Csongor said, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Yeah, even at two in the morning they have the laptops going. Their real office is somewhere down below, but they’ve obviously set up Wi-Fi to the roof.”

“So it’s believed that the Troll is one of these guys,” Zula said, trying to put this all together, “or that maybe they all, collectively, are the Troll. They’re running REAMDE out of this apartment. They’re having a problem with bandits attacking their victims when they go to the ley line intersection with ransom and so they are paying mostly younger kids to hang out at the wangba all day killing the bandits. Manu goes to the wangba to oversee them, but he’s constantly in touch with the apartment by phone.”

“Five minutes after Manu departed from the wangba,” Csongor said, “another guy showed up dribbling a basketball and took his place.”

“The bandit-killers work in shifts around the clock,” Zula said, translating that.

During the last minute or so, the security consultants had been climbing into the van and taking seats one by one. There weren’t enough seats and so one of them ended up sort of wedged into the space between the driver’s and passenger’s buckets up front. Sokolov slammed the rear doors closed and got in last and claimed a space that had been reserved for him.

“Everyone ready?” Yuxia called out, in a voice that easily penetrated to the back row.

Response was muted but affirmative.

Ivanov looked to the security consultant seated between him and Yuxia, and they exchanged a nod. Ivanov reached out with his left hand and placed it over Yuxia’s right hand, clamping it in place on the steering wheel. At the same moment, the security consultant reached forward and slapped a handcuff down over Yuxia’s wrist. A moment after that he had snapped the other half of the cuff over the steering wheel. Ivanov removed his hand.

“What the fuck!?” Yuxia exclaimed, pulling her hand back, testing the cuff, still convincing herself that this was really happening.

“For your benefit,” Ivanov explained.

“Benefit!?”

“When there is investigation by PSB, they will see handcuff, see that you had no choice, find you innocent.”

“Innocent of fishing?”

Ivanov opened his jacket, letting Yuxia see a shoulder holster. “Huntink.” He snapped his fingers and Sokolov handed him a map printed, apparently, from Google. It showed a satellite photo of Xiamen with streets superimposed.

“Zula! What is going on, girlfriend?” Yuxia called.

“They kidnapped me,” Zula said. “I tried to escape last night and warn you but they caught me. I am sorry you got mixed up in this.” She had told herself last night that this would be the last of crying, but tears came freely to her eyes now.

Yuxia caught that detail in the rearview mirror. “I am going to fuck you up, motherfucker!” she told Ivanov.

“Perhaps later,” Ivanov said dryly.

“It won’t help to talk to him like that, Bigfoot,” Zula said.

“We go now,” Ivanov said, “and all will be fine at end of day, exception being for Troll.” He reached over and shifted the van into drive, then gave Yuxia an expectant look.

“Who is Troll?” Yuxia said in a sullen voice. But she gave it some gas and pulled out onto the waterfront road.