Medusa

Colonel Ming lightly clapped his hands.

“That is wonderful news, Wen Lo! Congratulations.”

“Thank you, Colonel. It has been a long, hard road, but our work will put China in the medical history books. This will be a boon to mankind. And to the Army, I might add. You and your comrades will derive great benefits from our endeavors.”

“Excellent!” The colonel paused for a moment, then said, “I am not a medical person, but, since you mentioned mankind, I wondered if it is customary to use human beings as lab animals.”

“Pardon me, sir, but they would be very upset to be described in that fashion. They are all volunteers from the slums. They faced miserable lives, in any case.”

The colonel nodded.

“Yes, I see your logic, Wen Lo. Your lab served to shorten their misery. I applaud your humanity and your genius.”

“I do nothing solely for myself, Colonel Ming. I am always thinking about the good of my country.”

“And your country would like to reward your hard work and sacrifice,” Ming said. “But this video raises some concerns. It is easily copied and transmitted. I fear that it will surface in quarters where people will not be as enlightened as you and me. You see the potential for disorder?”

Wen Lo was well aware of the government’s aversion to disorder. Through intimidation and assassination, he and his thugs often had stifled dissent when the government choose to pursue a hands-off policy.

“Yes, of course,” Wen Lo said. “But the government controls the media and the Internet. We can claim that the video is a fake. My organization can deal with those who choose to make an issue of this matter.”

“All true,” Ming said. “But we ca

“Disappear?” Wen Lo croaked.

Ming patted Wen Lo’s knee.

“Don’t be alarmed,” the colonel said. “We are old friends as well as colleagues. We have arranged for you to quietly leave China. The government is prepared to work with Pyramid while you are out of the country.”

“I suppose that may work,” Wen Lo said with reluctance.

“We will need to know where and how to reach the number one person in your company,” Ming said.

“Impossible! We never meet face-to-face. We communicate electronically through holograms.”

A sad look came to the colonel’s face.

“That is a shame,” Ming said. “I’m afraid the onus will fall entirely on your shoulders. You will be brought to trial, and the outcome is a foregone conclusion. An example will be made of you.”

Wen Lo was well aware of the consequences of being made an example of in China. He knew a number of the men who had been tried and executed for corrupt business practices.

“Very well,” Wen Lo said with a deep sigh. “We use a simple telephone number to set up our hologram meetings.”

The colonel reached into his pocket and pulled out a pen and a small notepad, which he gave to Wen Lo. After a few seconds of hesitation, Wen Lo jotted down a number and handed back the pad and pen.

“Thank you,” Ming said, inspecting the number to make sure it was legible. He tucked the pad and pen back in his pocket. “Now we can deal with your future. How does London sound, for a start? We can move you around, to Paris and New York, as need be. And, when it’s safe, we can bring you home again.”

Wen Lo’s mood brightened.

“London is fine. I have a town house in Soho.”

“Too public. The government will find you a less obvious place to live. Do you still play te

“Every day. It’s my passion.”

“Splendid. You will have endless time to work on your backhand.”

Ming lit a cigarette, took a drag, and tapped on the window separating the backseat from the driver. The car pulled over to the curb, and the colonel said to Wen Lo, “See you in Paris.”

The husky man got out of the front, opened the door, and escorted Ming to a second Roewe sedan that had pulled up behind the first one. As Ming got into the second car, he said to the man, “Make sure it’s neat.”

As the colonel’s car pulled away from the curb, he tapped out a number on his cell phone. After a few rings, a man’s voice answered.

“Mr. Austin?” Ming said.

“That’s right,” Austin replied.

“I have the information you are looking for.”

WHILE THE COLONEL WAS talking on the phone in his car, the husky man walked back to the first car and got in next to the driver. He tapped on the glass behind him and slid the partition open. Wen Lo looked right at him. This gave the man a perfect target when he shot Wen Lo directly in the right eye with a .22 caliber pistol.

The shooter slid the glass partition closed and grunted an order to the driver. They drove Wen Lo’s warm body to a mortuary that was waiting to embalm it. A glass eye replaced the one the bullet had vaporized. The embalmed corpse was turned over to the Bureau of Police. A tag attached to the big toe there certified that he had died while being incarcerated in a Chinese prison.

The police noted the death on records that were promptly destroyed. The body was shipped to a warehouse where the receiver complained about the quality of the merchandise. The corpse was dissected, immersed in acetone to eliminate all traces of moisture, and then given a bath of polymers. The muscles and bones were touched up with paint, and the body bent into a standing position, the arm cocked and ready to smash a te

When the transformed corpse arrived in London to join other bodies in an exhibition that would take it to Paris and New York, a te

In time, Wen Lo’s ski

And, as Colonel Ming had promised, Wen Lo had endless time to work on his backhand.

CHAPTER 48

WHEN JOE ZAVALA WASN’T DATING HALF THE FEMALE POPULATION of Washington or tinkering with his Corvette’s engine, he loved figuring out how things worked. To Zavala, the hologram projection room adjacent to Chang’s garishly appointed ship’s salon was nothing but an elaborate engine whose purpose was to send and receive lifelike images.

Zavala prowled through the intricate arrangement of microphones, lenses, lasers, projectors, and computers that surrounded the circular table and three chairs under the hanging cones. Austin was standing by, co

After an hour of analyzing the ingenious setup, Zavala stepped back and brushed his palms together.

“She’s all set and ready to go, Kurt. You can project yourself with a push of that button.”

Austin peered up into one of the cones overhead.

“This isn’t going to reassemble my molecules so that I end up with the head of a fly, is it?” he asked.

“Nothing to worry about, Kurt. This is all high-tech illusion, smoke and mirrors.”

“Keep a flyswatter handy, just in case,” Austin said, settling into the padded, contoured chair.

Zavala stood off to the side ready to intervene if something went wrong. Austin glanced across the table at the two empty chairs, studied the control panel for a moment, and then punched in the code number Wen Lo had given Colonel Ming before the Triad triplet met his premature demise.

Lights blinked and machinery hummed as a complex set of optics sca