Ekstrom sat at the controls of the Porsche Turbo S which had been set up in the Atrium of the Balong Country Club. He checked himself in the reflection. Eyes a pleasant, smiling blue underneath the neatly styled hair. There was just a hint of steel under the blond. Perfect. He threw the stick smoothly into first gear, left foot poised to drop the clutch.
Ekstrom was no poser. He looked good, but his look, his apparel — it all had a point. Take those shoes. Looked like tennis shoes, but to people who knew, the difference was obvious. They were designed specifically for driving high performance cars, and Ekstrom kept them for that purpose only.
Three — two — one. High up to his left the light went green, and Ekstrom pulled away in a surge of smooth power from the 430 horsepower unit behind his head. Gear changes — fast and clean. He kept the revs in the powerband, 3500–4500, and twisted easily around the hills on the asphalt road, and then through onto the dirt section of the track. The noise was incredible — so realistic.
The red brown dust of the Balong estate enveloped the windows of the car. Ekstrom’s cool concentration was total. He braked hard, shifted to second for the hairpin, powered out. Seven thousand revs. Beautiful. His favourite part of the course, and the Porsche handled it fabulously. Better than the Maserati he’d tried earlier.
The Maserati dealer behind him was unconcerned. From his concession stand at the Balong Club, he’d already sold seven cars to rich Chinese on the first day of the polo weekend. Maserati was a more exclusive brand. The Porsche was almost commonplace.
Ekstrom checked his time on the competition board and stepped out of the simulator booth in the atrium of the Country Club to a ripple of jockish applause from the polo boys. Ekstrom was impressed. It was a staggering piece of simulator technology from ShinComm Corporation. The car dealers used it so more people could test drive the cars, but the controls were so realistic they could also be switched to “live” mode, and drive a real car remotely around the estate.
He turned to the Porsche dealer behind him. ‘The controls were just like the real thing,’ he called. ‘And the graphics — wow!’
The dealer made a polite bow. ‘It’s a new system. Smoothvision live video combined with amazing RC software from ShinComm. My customers can drive a car through Shanghai, London, or the French Alps from these controls — a real car. Anywhere we have a Porsche dealership. Helps to sell the cars. And if someone takes a car for a test drive and gets too aggressive, we can take control from here and bring them back safely.’
Ekstrom felt his smartphone vibrate and turned to walk away from the hubbub in the marble atrium. Well, well — another message. Two in just a few days. Where was he going next, after the hit at the Country Club? Ekstrom entered his password to decrypt the message.
His eyebrows raised slightly in surprise. Two targets now — and both here in Balong, at the same place. Unconventional.
And the second target — Ethan Stone. Ekstrom had been expecting that one, ever since Williams loused up in Hong Kong. But it was a much more interesting challenge than his first assignment. And the car dealer had just given him an idea.
This was just getting worse. Stone came out of the luxurious Shui Hu Hotel and walked back up from the yachting marina when it hit him. Huge, shiny, dark blue in front of him. A dark blue truck in front of him with a satellite dish deployed on its roof, and a familiar logo on the side panel. GNN Worldwide News. Virginia Carlisle was here again. What was she doing? Did she know Stone was here? Or Oyang? Was she really extrapolating from that post Stone had made on the NotFutile.com web site?
Impossible. There was only one person who could have told her to come here to Balong. Carslake. But why would she listen to Carslake anyway? Stone needed another chat with Virginia Carlisle.