Unusually for him, Ekstrom was happy to use the phone in the hotel room. It was a better bet than his cell phone at any rate, which in China would be intercepted and recorded. There was probably an office in Beijing where a red light flashed every time he used it.
Ekstrom sat on the bed and glanced at himself in the mirror as he unscrewed the telephone handset to check inside. He had on the snug white jeans and a blue polo shirt tight around his wiry biceps. He’d kept on the leather leg guards, which came up above the knee. An overtly sexual look for a man. He smiled to himself in the mirror as he took the back off the phone handset. He’d earlier seduced the wife of a German reinsurance executive wearing that very outfit. He could see why she’d gone for him. Ekstrom often found himself attractive. It wasn’t a gay thing — just objective fact.
The tiresome unscrewing of hotel phones was now the norm for Special Circumstances — since the Israeli secret service, Mossad, had perfected the “telephone hit”. A Mossad agent would enter the room posing as a maid or maintenance staff. A tiny charge would be inserted into the ear-speaker, set to explode four seconds after the phone was answered. The explosion was tiny, but since it was held against the ear of the target, it was almost always fatal.
Ekstrom had even used the technique himself once, in Abu Dhabi. It was ideal anywhere in the Arab world, since Mossad was always blamed for the hit.
With the phone reassembled, Ekstrom dialed the number. No one spoke as the phone was picked up, but Ekstrom spoke in English.
‘Half the job was done,’ Ekstrom said. ‘The Englishman is slippery. He seems to know what’s coming.’
‘You mean he outwitted you,’ came the gravelly voice. ‘You were too elaborate.’
‘Planning, preparation, subtlety. I make no apologies for the elegance of my methods.’
There was a harsh edge to the reply. ‘Elegance is for the decadent, Swedish. And I do not want your apologies. I want a job completed. A bullet to the back of the head is effective, I hear.’
‘No doubt,’ said Ekstrom, controlling his anger. ‘A Chinese firing squad is also effective. But I do not intend to verify the fact in person.’
‘I will protect you. You may count on it,’ said the Chinese voice in careful English.
Ekstrom’s silence showed he had no intention of counting on Zhang’s “protection”. When he spoke his tone was businesslike. ‘The target has flown. Do you know where he is? I need to be right behind him.’
‘I can do better than that,’ said Zhang. ‘I can put you ahead of him. You will leave in thirty minutes.’
Ekstrom hung up. He’d planned the hits on Oyang and Stone such that even with the double hit, he would be beyond suspicion. It had worked out fine with Oyang. But Stone was still out there. And Ekstrom was a professional. He had to finish the job.
There was too much self-assurance in Zhang’s voice for Ekstrom’s liking. Zhang wanted to take control. But Ekstrom hated relying on others. He felt uncomfortable. Bad things happened when he relied on others.
On the other hand, the job must be completed. The reputation of Johan Ekstrom and Special Circumstances depended on it. He would take Zhang’s car when it arrived in thirty minutes.