The black hybrid Range Rover exploded out of the gates of The Mansion like an enraged bull charging at a matador. Mei Lin had it guzzling fuel because it ate up more road that way, she explained to Caldwell. Only the elite of Hong Kong could afford to keep hybrids on the road these days as the tax on hybrid vehicles was double that of electrics and both petrol and diesel were severely rationed with prices to match. They were trying to hit town before lunchtime as Mei Lin reckoned that was probably the best time to breach the NEXT facility. At lunchtime guards were down, awareness was low as staff concentrated on getting a good square meal to see them through the afternoon. Caldwell and Mei Lin, on the other hand, were skipping lunch.

“You get a quota every month. Once you’ve used it up, that’s it. If you don’t use it, it doesn’t carry over to the next month,” she explained.

“Similar to the Union, except that the hybrid tax is a lot more punitive. That’s if you can get a license,” Caldwell observed pensively.

The Range Rover screeched to a halt as a set of temporary traffic lights turned red. A section of oncoming lane had been blocked off. A yellow electronic sign with an amber dot matrix display on a black background read “Maintenance Works in Progress”. They waited as oncoming traffic threaded round the road works and glided past their vehicle. Some of the drivers stared at the Range Rover wondering who on earth could afford to run a hybrid with the engine idling at a traffic light.

The temporary traffic light turned amber, then green. Mei Lin hit the gas and the huge car inched forward. There was a silver Mercedes S-Class electric in the opposite lane. The driver was tapping his hands on the steering wheel. As they drove past, Caldwell took a look at the driver. His face was partially obscured by the rear-view mirror. Caldwell’s attention turned to the front passenger. An ugly mask of battered features stared straight back at him. The eyes widened in disbelief, the twisted mouth a near-perfect zero of surprise. The disfigured Yakuza’s hands went up and he gestured wildly in their direction. It was the Yakuza heavies from the Union.

The Range Rover surged forward leaving the traffic behind. Caldwell looked in the rear-view mirror. The silver Mercedes was doing a u-turn and cutting off on-coming traffic. Horns blared noisily. Mei Lin had noticed all this without taking her eyes off the road. She sent the accelerator crashing through the floor of the vehicle.

The Range Rover hugged the bend like a greyhound, the powerful engine purring with the effort. The smell of burnt rubber filled the air as the car maneuvered one of the numerous hairpin bends that plagued drivers on the winding Shek O roads. Caldwell checked the rear-view mirror again.

“They are closing in,” he warned.

“Just what we don’t need. I take it those are the two Japanese you encountered in London.”

“One and the bloody same,” Caldwell said with exasperation.

Once again he checked the rear-view mirror. The Mercedes was making a lot of ground. Their Range Rover, even in fuel mode, was no match for it. Luckily the Range Rover was built like a tank and would give the Mercedes a run for its money should the Yakuza attempt to run them off the road. On this stretch of road, with its bends and its sheer drops, it was possible to die in any number of ways without anyone noticing.

“I knew this was a bad idea,” Mei Lin said.

She’d barely spoken when the Mercedes scraped their tail. The Range Rover surged forward and veered dangerously to the opposite lane, barely missing a two-door Toyota electric going the opposite way. The driver of the Toyota beeped in anger as the car disappeared in the distance. There was yet another bend, which Mei Lin negotiated with the tightest of margins. The Range Rover’s left side rolled off the rocks as the Mercedes moved up swiftly to the passenger side of their vehicle. Caldwell glanced sideways and saw the disfigured Japanese man’s window winding down. Suddenly, the Yakuza whipped up a submachine gun and sprayed the back of the Range Rover with a few bursts. There was a hollow sound as the bullets bounced off the bullet-proof body.

Caldwell and Mei Lin ducked instinctively. Caldwell recognized the sound of the gun. It had probably been part of his early training at HYDRA. A new generation Uzi, made in Israel, evolution of the original design by Major Uziel Gal, developed after the Arab-Israeli War of 1948, based on Czech and Soviet submachine guns. The original was 650mm long with folding stock and a 10 in. barrel. It weighed 8.2 or 8.41b and fired 600 rounds per minute. This one could probably spit out thousands of rounds with even greater precision. Caldwell did not recall ever being a big fan of machine guns, all those bullets and no control.

Mei Lin stepped on the accelerator. The car shot forward aided by the sudden steep descent into the Eastern part of Hong Kong known as Chai Wan. They were now on a spiral flyover with very little in the way of side barriers to keep a car spinning out of control on the road. The Mercedes surged forward too. It was now sitting right on the Range Rover’s bumper. Mei Lin hit a red button beside the steering wheel. The Range Rover pulled away like a rocket taking off. Some kind of nitro deal.

“We have to lose them quickly. Getting into a gun fight in the center of town is a very bad idea,” Mei Lin gasped.

The Mercedes was stepping up the pace. Its superior engine was responding quickly and efficiently. Mei Lin suddenly slammed on the breaks. Caldwell quickly cottoned on to her ploy as he saw the electric Park N Shop delivery van approaching in the opposite lane. She was betting that hitting the breaks suddenly would cause the driver of the Mercedes, to swerve instinctively. It was a risky bet as the Japanese seemed bent on forcing them off the road. The gigantic skyscrapers that formed Hong Kong’s skyline were already in view. The ruse paid off. The Yakuza instinctively swerved into the opposite lane and ploughed head on into the Park N Shop vehicle. Caldwell felt the whiplash travel all the way up his spine. Mei Lin had been better prepared for it. He turned round to see that the entire nose of the Mercedes had been crushed under the front of the van. There was smoke streaming from the front of the car. The disfigured Yakuza was the first to stumble out of the wrecked car. His face was covered in blood.

They stayed silent as the Range Rover hit the Eastern Expressway and headed straight down into Central, bypassing the shopping paradise of Causeway Bay, the nightlife of Wanchai and the business district of Admiralty. Caldwell and Mei Lin breathed a sigh of relief. Ten minutes later they were being shunted downwards by a creaking car lift into the underground car park of NEXT Tower.

Mei Lin found a secluded parking spot not far from the service lifts.

“So what is the plan? I was somehow hoping you’ll be able to tell me on the way down but I guess the Yakuza have a way of spoiling a briefing,” Mei Lin said. She was still breathing heavily.

“Nice driving Mei Lin. I would have been totally useless.”

“Not exactly the time for modesty.”

“Fair enough. What kind of information can you get with this Augmented Reality unit?” Caldwell asked pointing at the tiny silver wearable AR unit with matching glasses.

“Standard data on major buildings and streets. Occasionally you get AR signposts, which you can tap for more details. In default mode the data comes from the central Hong Kong Government database and is transmitted on a prohibited spectrum.”

“OK, that’s exactly what I was betting on. Now, if I recall, building management systems in Hong Kong are all computerized and handled by an independent company under contract. Right?”

“Correct. Kai Shing is the oldest and biggest one. Also manages most of the newer buildings.”

“And building management companies are notorious for not being all that security conscious, right?”

“True.”

“And they typically have interactive electronic blueprints of buildings in their system with an AR interface?”

“Correct. Technicians use them when they are performing maintenance. That’s how they know which floor to go to and which section of the ceiling or flooring they need to open up. What are you getting at?”

“I want you to hack Kai Shing, make a copy of their blueprint database and beam it wirelessly from the Range Rover.”

“Brilliant idea, but one problem wise guy.”

“What?”

“We are underground. The signal is going to be too weak.”

“Ah, right. You’ll have to park the Range Rover at ground level near the entrance. There are lots of cars parked there. It is a working day.”

“OK. The AR unit has some rudimentary two-way communications on a public frequency. We can use that to communicate. I wouldn’t stay on it too long as any security guards, cops or ham radio nerd in the vicinity is going to pick up the signal sooner or later. At any rate I can beam text messages to you long with the blueprint data,” she said.

“Good.” Caldwell put on the glasses and clipped the AR unit to his belt. The display read NEXT Tower, No. 8 Queens Road, Central. The signal was weak and looked like it might die out at any moment.

“How long before you’ll be beaming?”

“Say five minutes. Unless of course it turns out that Kai Shing does not manage NEXT Tower or they use hard copy blueprints. Or my hacking skills are not up to par.”

“Unlikely. This is Hong Kong after all. It’s technology hub extraordinaire.”

“I’d say the odds are on our side. Take care.”

There was a look in her eyes that was not too different from the look she had in his memories when she boarded that No. 8 bus all those years ago. Caldwell stepped out of the Range Rover and walked towards the lifts. The bumper at the back of the Range Rover had been knocked clean off.