Chasing the White Lion James Hannibal (essential reading TXT) 📖

computers long enough to grab a slice and a bottle of Mountain Dew. On the return trip, something down in the plaza seemed to catch his eye. He set his food beside the keyboard and played with a trackball. An automated tripod hummed, rotating and tilting its camera to focus on the plaza. The geek sat back, showing Tyler his find. “Did you see this?”

On the screen, showing the base of the eastern tower, workers were busy setting up for a technology convention. The prototype on the center stage looked like a giant drone. “Is that some kind of helicopter?”

“It’s a quadcopter Passenger Air Vehicle. The long-awaited PAV. Looks like a medevac version with that open platform underneath.” The geek held a hanky to his face, whether for his cold or the drooling, Tyler couldn’t tell. “Can we stop by later with your checkbook? I’ll take two.”

“After the mission.” Tyler put his eye to the scope and snapped his fingers. “Look sharp. We’ve got our first customer. Southern entrance to the square. Black suit. Blue tie. I think it’s Atan.”

The tripod whirred as Eddie shifted the camera again. “Found him. Locking on.” On-screen, the video tracked their target. Facial recognition boxes flashed all over his face, then turned green. “Yep. That’s our Albanian friend. Here at the Frenzy, he’s the Hyena.”

“Why is Atan the Hyena?” Finn asked, mouth half full of seafood pizza. “All the other top positions are named for wildcats.”

“A joke?” Tyler said. “Val told me narcissists often have odd senses of humor. Or maybe Boyd’s way of motivating his Jungle players to aim higher. Whatever the reason, the name suits Atan.”

“Because he is ugly?” Darcy asked. “Or because he is a low-life scavenger?”

“A little of both.”

Five minutes later, at 7:40 p.m., another potential competitor appeared, shrouded in a hoodie. Val had predicted five-minute breaks between arrivals. The times given to her and Talia were a clue, plus her profile of Boyd indicated a need for minute levels of control.

The narrow shoulders and hip motion of the new target walking across the plaza spoke of a female, but Tyler couldn’t be sure. “Eddie, get me a shot of this one’s face. I don’t have the angle.”

“On it. If Atan was the first of the top-tier competitors, I’ll bet this is our Clouded Leopard.” Earlier in the day, Finn had set up a remote 10k camera on the roof of a building north of the towers, focused through the gap. Eddie used it to capture the target’s face with a nearly straight-on view. “And . . . I’m locked on.”

Tyler glanced at the geek’s monitors. The mystery guest was definitely female, and Asian, but a good portion of her face remained in shadow beneath the hood, foiling his software. The facial recognition boxes flickered and gave up.

“No way.” Eddie slapped the table. “That’s Bi Fan, the Hong Kong Hacker.”

“How can you tell?” Finn asked. “Facial recognition timed out.”

Eddie gave him an incredulous look as the woman passed out of the camera’s field of view. “Because she’s famous? I recognized the scar on her chin.” He called up an article on the next monitor over. The headline read MAJORDATABREACH. “Bi Fan orchestrated the 2015 hack of the US security clearance records. The Chinese government let her slide in exchange for all the info, but she wound up in Tai Lam Women’s Correctional anyway.”

Pell, despite his complaints, had stacked several slices of bacon-bit pizza on a napkin. “On hacking charges?”

“Nope. Stabbing. She killed a pickpocket on the bullet train.” Eddie pulled up a second article, all in Chinese. The photo showed a body bag being rolled from a train on a gurney. “Boy, did that guy choose the wrong mark. Bi Fan did the same to his convict sister, who came after her in prison with a shiv. That’s where she picked up the chin scar.”

Finn read the article over his shoulder, pizza sagging from his hand. “Two murders. And the Chinese let her out for . . .”

“I don’t know. Good behavior?”

“Violent hacker.” Tyler went back to his scope. “Nice. A wonderful addition to the game.”

The Snow Leopard came next, aptly named. Like Atan, he made no effort to hide his face as he approached the tower entrance, dressed in an overcoat and jeans. Eddie’s facial recognition software pinned him down as one Grygory Rudenko, confirmed by the Siberian prison tattoo on his neck—an eight-pointed star.

Finn finished his pizza and licked his fingers. “This file is pretty thin. Says he’s Ukrainian. Deals in antiquities. Can you get any more?”

Eddie tried, working the keyboard, but shook his head. “Nothing here screams diabolical. Other than smuggling stolen artifacts, Rudenko’s squeaky clean. I’m surprised he’s pulling down enough cash to earn a ranking in the Jungle syndicate.”

“Strike two,” Tyler said. “Keep watching. Someone in this game is our kidnapper. I can feel it. Either way, get as many IDs as you can. I don’t like sending Talia and Val into this deal-making deathmatch without knowing all the players.”

No one showed up for the next time slot, 7:50 p.m. And the 7:55 was an unknown panther wearing a hoodie, like Bi Fan. Eddie’s software failed to get a match, but the guy was tall, possibly Scandinavian from what Tyler could see via the secondary camera. He checked his watch. “It’s almost eight. Our girls are next on the list.”

CHAPTER

SIXTY-

THREE

TWIN TIGERS PLAZA

BANGKOK, THAILAND

TALIAAND VALCROSSEDTHEMARBLEPLAZA at a leisurely pace. No need to look stressed or hurried—not yet.

Tyler had ordered them to arrive together, despite their separate time slots. He’d pitched the idea as a way to test the boundaries of Boyd’s little game from the start. He called it poking the lion with a feather. That was an excuse. Tyler was still hovering, using Val as a surrogate. But Talia didn’t mind. She had learned her lesson in the bowels of Jafet’s underworld. Leaning on her team—and God—was okay.

She and Val both dragged rolling suitcases, and each wore a heavy duffel slung at her hip. Talia’s