For an operator such as Johan Ekstrom, making a hit at a place like this was child’s play. The resort was spacious, full of people, with every reason for strangers such as him to be seen coming and going. People were arriving, and leaving, by car, by light aircraft and by yacht.
You plan, you kill a man, you leave. It was simple. Best of all, he had the advantage that the place was full of white Europeans, Russians, South Americans, you name it. Was there anywhere else in China where he would find an assassination easier?
Lucky for him, then, that last job spec had come through when it did. Because two assassinations — unconnected — were a different proposition. The second must be completed before the first has been discovered. Or while the hunt is on for the killer from the first hit. Then there’s the likelihood of being spotted near the two events, and being the obvious suspect. The risks are infinitely greater.
The second target would be the more challenging. Ethan Stone. It was tempting to wrap that one up, leave, then deal with Oyang elsewhere. But this Zhang from the Gong An had insisted Oyang be dealt with before he left the Country Club. It was exactly the kind of challenge that made it all worthwhile for Ekstrom. He had to come up with a way of killing Oyang (which was trivial), and dealing with Ethan Stone at the same time.
Ekstrom was wearing polo gear of white trousers and polo shirt of crimson and white quarters. The colours of the Royal Bengal Club, Buenos Aires. He had on riding boots and was carrying the thick leather leg guards of a polo player, concealing the Glock handgun in his waistband. Seventeen round magazine, with suppressor. Is that a silencer in your pants, or are you pleased to see me?
And of course the polo helmet with face guard. No point taking unnecessary risks with security cameras. Ekstrom walked down the corridor to Oyang’s suite at four fifteen. Two minutes max. No need to spin it out. He hadn’t been paid to do that. He’d found out that Oyang had given the butler time off until six. Idiot. By the time the butler discovered Oyang, Ekstrom would be watching the main event: the last moments of Ethan Stone.
Ekstrom stood outside the door of Oyang’s suite, and shielded his hands from view of the security camera with his body. He snapped on the latex gloves, swiped the master key through the door lock, and slipped inside. No alarm. No guard. Oyang was making this all too easy.
Johan Ekstrom hated surprises. At least he hated this kind of surprise. He’d just been cheated out of what was rightfully his, and he’d had to change his plans. Worse still, a clean, simple job had just turned into a messy one.
No wonder he hadn’t needed to deal with any security or Oyang’s “butler”. Oyang had sent them away deliberately. Ekstrom picked up the dining chair that was lying on its side on the thick carpet, stood up on it and took out his trusty Swedish Army knife. He sliced though the white rope. As it sprang back, he realised Oyang had used the belt from a white cashmere bathrobe to hang himself.
Oyang’s body collapsed lethargically to the floor. This was no good. In order for Ekstrom to frame Ethan Stone for a murder, Oyang had to have been murdered. Now he had to make a suicide look like murder.
After the business with Alban, Ekstrom would have guessed it would be difficult to get a cadaver to sit up properly. But not this difficult. Ekstrom put the chair on its side, and managed to balance Oyang’s back up against it fairly straight. But then the head lolled back badly. Hardly surprising given that the neck was broken. The eyes were still staring, bulging slightly, and the mouth hung open obscenely.
Ekstrom got there in the end. He couldn’t shoot the body on the ground. For one thing the round would come out the other side and damage the floor. For another, ballistics tests would show how near he had been. Ekstrom stood back to take the shot from ten paces as planned. He took twelve for good measure, then placed a.22 round in the centre of Oyang’s forehead, execution-style. Reminded him of that idiot soldier he’d executed on camera in Afghanistan.