Ranell swallowed hard. “Please, just tell me what I have to do.”
“Give me your cell phone.”
Ranell handed it over. “This will be so simple,” Hétóng explained as he worked, pulling out his own cell phone and holding both close together while the devices communicated. “There is literally nothing you need to do except make sure this phone is on your person when you attend meetings.”
Hétóng looked up and handed Ranell’s phone back. His face cracked again into that evil grin, and he said, “That’s it. Now just sit back and await my next phone call. Don't try to contact me. I will contact you."
“You go to hell!” Ranell shouted at the top of his voice.
With lightning speed, Hétóng dropped into a fighting stance and simultaneously reached into his jacket.
“Get your hands up!” The shout came from one of the pedestrians passing by. With nearly the same blazing speed as Hétóng, this stranger produced a pistol and pointed it at the Chinese operative. “Hands up!” he repeated the thunderous command. “Do it now!”
Ranell noticed that four other pedestrians, both men and women, had also produced pistols, and they were all advancing rapidly.
Hétóng remained in his crouch, hand inside his jacket, maintaining that same inscrutable stare, paralyzing Ranell with its intensity. Then he relaxed. He was loose, almost languid, but the eyes were just as dead. “Well, five against one… those are pretty long odds, Josef.” He straightened and slowly withdrew his hand from his jacket pocket.
“Hands in the air!”
Hétóng raised his hands.
“Get on your knees!”
"What's going on here, guys?” Hétóng’s voice was light and friendly, “We’re just a couple of businessmen having a conversation.”
“It’s all right now, Dr. Ranell.” One of the female officers holstered her pistol and placed a guiding hand on Ranell’s shoulder. She made a gesture, and Ranell handed her his cell phone. "You did great. We'll take it from here."