Covert One 4 - The Altman Code by Robert Ludlum Read Free Book Online Page B

promise.” Was there suspicion behind the words and the

smile? Or was Dr. Liang simply losing patience? For a simple scientist,

he seemed to inspire a little too much fear in the desk clerk. Smith was

acutely aware he might have raised his colleague’s doubts by putting him

off in Taiwan, then seeking him out a few hours later, and, finally–no

matter how subtly he had tried to make the invitation seem to come from

Liang–hinting he would not turn down an immediate invitation. But with

the time pressure, he’d had to take the risk. Suspicious or not, the

scientist was at least smiling when he left. Smith watched through the

glass doors as he stopped at the limo. The driver appeared from

somewhere and spoke swiftly and urgently. Both got in, and the limo sped

away.
    The bellman had taken his suitcase. Smith rode the elevator up to his

floor and found his room, still contemplating Dr. Liang, the limousine

driver who had inspected an engine that had given no indication it

needed inspecting, and the dark-blue Jetta. His bag was waiting, and the

bellman was gone–tipping was frowned upon in the People’s Republic,

although, as Shakespeare wrote in Hamlet, it was a custom more honored

in the breach than in the observance.
    The room was everything Dr. Liang had promised. As large as a small

suite in most modern American or European luxury hotels, it was

atmospheric, with a king-sized bed and side tables recessed in a

wood-paneled alcove lighted softly by antique table lamps. There was

also a cozy sitting area with armchairs and coffee table, a

leather-inlaid desk, green ivy plants, and a full bathroom behind a

paneled wood door. With the chintz prints and piecrust tables, it looked

very British. The windows were expansive, but the view was far from

spectacular–neither the river, Pudong, the two suspension bridges, nor

the Bund. Instead, Smith looked out on the older, lower office buildings

and residences of the millions who staffed, fed, and operated the great

city.
    Smith checked inside his suitcase. The all-but-invisible filament he’d

had installed in the interior was unbroken, which meant no one had

searched it. He decided he must be too jumpy, probably overreacting …

. Still, somewhere out there was the true manifest of the Empress as

well as the people who had created it and the people who had stolen it

from Mondragon. They might or might not be the same group. In any case,

he was reasonably certain some had seen him close enough that they would

recognize him again. By now, they might already know his name.
    At the same time, all he had was a short glimpse of the big, tall leader

of the attackers–a Han Chinese with unusual red hair–and a meaningless

name scribbled on a coffeehouse napkin.
    He was just starting to unpack when he heard footsteps in the corridor.
    He slowed, listening. The sounds stopped outside his door. His pulse

accelerating, he padded across the room and flattened against the wall,

waiting.
    As Dr. Liang Tianning entered the biomedical center, the staff secretary

nodded toward his private office. “There’s a man waiting, Dr. Liang. He

said he came to talk to you about your phone call. I … I couldn’t keep

him out.” She looked down at her hands in her lap and shivered. She was

young and shy, the way he preferred his secretaries. “I don’t like him.”
    Dr. Liang admonished her. “He is an important man. Certainly not one you

should dislike so openly. No phone calls, please, while he is here. You

understand?”
    She nodded, still looking down.
    When Dr. Liang entered his office, the man was leaning against his

filing cabinet, across from the desk. He was smiling and idly whistling,

like a mischievous little boy.
    Dr. Liang’s voice was uneasy. “I don’t know what I can add to what I

reported over the telephone, Major Pan.”
    “Possibly nothing. But let’s find out.”
    Major Pan Aitu was small and pudgy, with soft hands, a gentle