Page 161 of King’s Ransom

I scowled when I recognised him.

Special Agent Trey Hooper.

‘Well, if it isn’t two of the world’s greatest detectives,’ he said. ‘I must say, I’m a little concerned to see you here, Speedman, at the offices of a known front for the Chinese government. You’ve got some explaining to do.’

‘Listen, Hooper,’ I said quickly. ‘I know more about what happened on December 21st than you might realise. You have to listen to me—’

‘I don’t have to do anything, you scrawny little asshole,’ Hooper said.

He took a few steps forward.

‘No. First, I’m gonna arrest you and then the Bureau’s counter­intelligence unit will hold you indefinitely while they get to the bottom of this. And I’m going to enjoy telling Audrey’s parents about it, too—’

His nose was right up close to mine.

Which was when I saw it.

Over Hooper’s shoulder.

Out on the sidewalk.

Right outside the window.

A little wheeled delivery robot.

Arriving.

I grabbed Hooper by the lapels and, diving quickly, pulled him over the counter as the delivery robot outside exploded.

The blast shook the whole building.

In a single shocking instant, the little robot delivery cart just blew apart in a violent eruption of fire and smoke and the entire front window of the office shattered, sending a storm of glass shards rocketing inside.

The two armed FBI agents were hurled fully six feet through the air. They went slamming into the side walls.

Xiao was also blown off his feet, but since he’d been facing the street, his face was shredded by the hailstorm of razor-sharp shards.

He was thrown backwards through the air and slammed into the receptionist’s counter—the one I had dived over with Hooper in the nick of time.

Xiao slammed into the counter so hard, it splintered and cracked, and Xiao slumped to the ground.

The receptionist was okay.

I’d clipped her as I’d dived over her counter with Hooper and she’d tumbled to the floor beside us.

Gasping, she hurried over to the older grey-haired Chinese gentleman who’d also been thrown back by the blast. His head had hit a desk and he now lay on the floor, bleeding.

‘Comrade Chang!’ the receptionist gasped. ‘Are you hurt?’

Outside, onlookers screamed.

Others were beginning to peer curiously in through the now-shattered front window.

Hooper groaned beside me. Unprepared for my desperate evasive dive, he’d landed awkwardly, hitting his head.

I heard sirens.

The fire department and NYPD would be here soon.