Covert One 4 - The Altman Code (36 page)

Nothing interesting … although an envelope had been stapled to the
corner. He checked it–a Donk & Lapierre business envelope with a
handwritten notation:

Bxtsrn invoice, The, Dortagcr Emprejs After all this time … all the
deaths … This was it! Fingers trembling with eagerness, he pulled open
the envelope, yanked out a single sheet of stationery, and unfolded it.
On it was writing that matched the writing on the envelope, but there
was no manifest. As a hot bolt of rage shot through him, he stared at
the note:

You’ve wasted your time,, Smith. you. didn’t really believe, I’d leave,
anything so important somewhere, you could find it so easily? I’ve
destroyed the manifest. You’re, next.

It was signed with the initials RM. Ralph Mcdermid. Arrogant bastard.

He had known! How–?

As he thought that, Jon froze and looked up. You’re next. “Good evening,
Colonel Smith.” The whispering voice came from the open office door. The
office’s overhead light flashed on. Feng Dun stood just inside the
doorway, his mottled red hair shining in the light. His expression was
grim, but a small smile of genuine satisfaction played at the corners of
his mouth. He held a mini Uzi aimed at Jon. As they stared at each
other, Feng gestured behind him. Four armed men ran past and spread out
across the office.

Sunday, September 17.

Beijing.

The faint click of the Westminster wall clock sounded in Niu Jianxing’s
ears before it struck the half hour. His alert gaze darted around his
study in the courtyard house at the edge of the old Xicheng district,
mirroring the churning of his mind. Dispatching the submarine Zhou Enlai
to menace the American frigate was a move of such colossal stupidity, so
criminally dangerous, so completely counterproductive to China’s
interests and the very existence of the People’s Republic that he was
beside himself with disgust and fury.

The fire in his eyes would have shocked his colleagues, whom he had
taught to expect the sleepy Owl of Party and government meetings. This
alert, energetic man was the unleashed Niu. Like a tiger, he prowled his
study, grappling with what he was beginning to understand. Although Wei
Gaofan had covered himself well, now there was little doubt in Niu’s
mind that it was Wei who was behind the decision to send the sub.

This stupid move not only revealed to the Americans that the Chinese
navy had been shadowing their Fifth Fleet, it astronomically increased
the danger of a disastrous confrontation over the Empress.

When Major Pan had first reported his suspicions about Jon Smith, Li
Aorong’s connection to the Empress had made the Owl suspect Wei Gaofan
might be guilty of corruption, since Li was Wei’s protege, and Li did
not go to bed without Wei’s blessings. It seemed both men planned to
make a small fortune on the cargo. Wei would not be the first
Zhongnanhai official to succumb to private greed. But the Zhou Enlai’s
new assignment had turned that assumption inside out. It was too easy an
answer, too obvious. Hands clasped behind his back, the Owl turned on
his heel and marched across his study again, each foot hammering home
his revulsion and rage. Now he knew it must be that snake Wei who had
turned against the human-rights accord. Wei was sabotaging it,
and–worse–it was only part of his infidelity. In fact, Wei intended to
cause an incident with the United States of such magnitude that it would
turn the clock back to the Cold War … to the building of new weapons
of mass destruction … to societal controls that would lead to
catastrophes like the Cultural Revolution … to an isolated China
putrefying in its own recycled bitterness. That was what Wei was after,
Niu decided, disgusted and afraid. Not greed for money; greed for power.

When a tap sounded at the private rear door of his study, the Owl
hurried to it with an alacrity that was in sharp contrast to his sixty
years. He unlocked the door to admit Major Pan. “Come in. Come in.” He
impatiently motioned the agent to sit facing his desk. Nervous, the
major lowered his pudgy body onto the wood chair and perched like a wary
bird, ready to fly. Summonses to drive to Beijing from Shanghai in the
middle of the night always made Pan nervous. Especially a summons from a
member of the Standing Committee. Niu resumed pacing. “What progress
have you made in the matter of the American agent and The Dowager
Empress?”

“Not much, master.” Pan craned his neck, watching Niu’s progress around
the room. “The storm has passed, leaving little sign behind. We’ve had
to release Li Aorong. He continues to insist he knows nothing about his
son-in-law’s business activities, or where he and his daughter have
disappeared.” Niu stopped and stared. “You had to release him? Why? If
it were some legal technicality, I can–”

“No legal technicality.”

“Then what?”

Pan chose his words carefully. “I believe the question was raised to
General Chu as to the propriety of holding Li without arresting him.”

“A routine policy in a national security matter was questioned? Of
General Chu? Absurd. Who asked such a question?”

“I believe the Central Committee.”

Niu frowned. General Chu had run up against the Central Committee, a bad
position. Still, the general should have informed him of the order. Now
Niu would have to watch the general carefully, too, to make certain
where his loyalties lay.

Niu returned his thoughts to the major, repressing his anger and
frustration. He had momentarily forgotten Pan’s reluctance to reveal
anything that could indicate a definite view of a subject not directly
connected to his official duties. Pan protected himself, which was one
reason he had held his position in Public Security so long.

But Niu no longer had time for such niceties. The Empress would arrive
in Iraqi waters Wednesday morning. It was already after midnight Sunday.

“Meaning Wei Gaofan?” he asked bluntly. “I know my colleagues, Pan. Tell
me. It will go no farther than this room.” Pan hesitated. At last he
said cautiously, “I believe that could be the name General Chu
indicated.” A hint of hope crept into his voice as he continued, “Should
I rearrest Li Aorong, sir? I could put him under house arrest. At least
we would know where he was.” “No!” Niu said instantly. Then he tempered
his tones. “That would not be productive.”

The last thing Niu wanted was to alert Wei to his suspicions, or to
suggest to Pan that there was more here than a simple
counterintelligence investigation. “For now, Major Pan, continue to keep
him under surveillance. You are still watching him, are you not?”

Pan gave a slow nod, his gaze warily on Niu.

The nod was so small that Niu had the impression the major hoped it
might be overlooked. Niu interpreted it to mean that Wei Gaofan had
leaned harder on General Chu than Pan had suggested, which meant Pan was
continuing to watch Li Aorong on his own initiative. General Chu did not
want to know what Pan was doing, but at the same time, he wanted Pan to
make progress.

Niu had believed for many years that this was the way Pan operated and
why he was unusually successful–careful not to actually break orders,
but bending them to get results. It was what Niu needed now, and one of
the reasons Pan was valuable.

“Good,” he told him, resuming his pacing. “Continue exactly as you’re
doing.”

“Yes, sir.” Major Pan nodded sagely, well aware that Niu was telling him
to keep his name out of it also.

“What else do you have for me?” Niu asked.

“We’ve been examining Yu Yongfu’s business operations, but there seems
to be nothing revealing there about Colonel Smith.”

“What about Yu and his actress wife? Do you have any leads?”

“Not as yet.”

Niu returned to his desk chair and sat. “I’ve had the pleasure of
meeting Li Kuonyi several times. She’s a clever woman and a good mother.

If she can’t be found, I’d suggest that perhaps she doesn’t want to be.

Which would mean she and her husband might be, how do you say it, ‘ the
run’?”

“That had occurred to me,” Pan acknowledged.

“If not, could her father have spirited her away so she’d be unavailable
to discuss her husband’s affairs?”

“That, too, master.”

“Or maybe she’s being hidden by powerful forces?”

Pan did not want to discuss that possibility, but at the same time he
did not deny it was an option.

“Have you found evidence of anyone else being part of the Empress
venture?” the Owl continued.

“Only the Belgian company I spoke of–Donk & Lapierre.”

“Nothing else?”

“No.”

“But you wouldn’t rule it out, Major?”

“I rule nothing out in an investigation.”

“An admirable trait in a counterintelligence officer,” Niu said.

From the moment Pan had entered his office, Niu had been assessing the
spycatcher’s position on everything they discussed, but had found it, as
always, nearly impossible to be certain. His gaze remained impassive,
and his soft face neutral and unsmiling. Still, Niu had no choice but to
use Pan, if he wanted to uncover what he needed.

“Continue your investigation as you see fit, but from now on report to
me first. I must know all there is concerning the voyage of the Empress,
particularly its cargo, and about everyone involved in the transaction.
Within the country or abroad.”

“First? In case General Chu should ask questions at some point, may I
have that in writing, sir?”

There it was. The agent was covering his back again. Niu almost smiled.

On the other hand, such caution had enabled Pan to survive in a job that
was perilous for many reasons and from many directions. The difference
between an excellent technician like Pan and a leader was exactly the
willingness to take large risks. Pan was no gambler.

At the same time, the Owl was beginning to believe that his lifetime of
work for China … his stubborn commitment to his country’s growing into
an important and friendly world power … was in jeopardy. To save both
his vision and his nation, he would chance anything he must.

“Of course, Major,” Niu said smoothly, “but you must not reveal it
unless absolutely necessary. Is that understood?”

“Completely, sir.”

Without another word, Niu wrote a letter authorizing Major Pan Aitu to
be his official agent, who must report first to him and to no other.

With a quiet thrill and a moment of nervousness, the spycatcher watched.

As soon as the paper was in his hand and then into his pocket, he
slipped out the way he had arrived–through the back door.

It was after one o’clock. He paused in the dark and shivered. Winter’s
early chill was beginning to touch Beijing. He was puzzled. For some
reason, Niu Jianxing suspected Wei Gaofan of at least corruption …
possibly more. He himself suspected Wei of some connection to the
Empress and was relieved to be under orders from Niu Jianxing at last.

But not too far under.

He hurried to his car. He must return quickly to Shanghai. There was
much to be done.

Hong Kong.

His eyes snapped open to a pitch-black room. The air stank of
droppings and dirt. Somewhere, a rat scurried away. Jon involuntarily
shuddered as he listened for the high-pitched chatter and the
sharp-clawed click of the horde of rats he imagined circling in the
dark. But there was no noise. No rats, voices, traffic, cries of night
birds … A pinpoint of light appeared ahead. He had to look up to see
the tiny beam. It felt warm, even hot, on his face, but he knew that was
an illusion built on hope. An illusion and a spatial delusion caused by
the absolute darkness, with no point of reference, no sense of
dimension, everything flat black. Except the tiny beam that was real,
and by concentrating on it hard enough, moving his head, and opening and
closing his eyes, he finally brought it and the room into focus.

He was in a chair, his legs bound at the ankles. Someone was tying his
hands behind him, roughly. Nylon rope burned through his skin. The point
of light was not a crack in the walls or ceiling, but a reflection from
a corner off a small metallic silver box attached high on the wall. A
reflection of light from around the corner, in front of Jon and to his
left. This room was L-shaped, and Jon was tied to the chair at the rear
of the L’s long arm.

Oriented now, he felt better. A wave of something close to euphoria
washed over him as if he were on solid ground again, a part of the
world– and then it all came back … his excitement that he had finally
found the invoice manifest, the note from “RM” that not only showed that
the manifest was gone but revealed the dangerous depths of the Altman
founder’s arrogance … the lights flashing on, Feng Dun and his killers
… He had been guilty of one of the oldest mistakes in the world–so
involved he had dropped his guard. Now it was not the knowledge that he
would likely die that bothered him, because that was always there in
black work. You knew it could happen. It would not, of course, you told
yourself. But it could. What shook him was the failure. The president
was left to face a deadly confrontation with no acceptable options.

Jon hardly heard the door open around the corner of the L A light flared
on overhead, momentarily blinding him. Someone left, and someone else
arrived. When his eyes adjusted, Feng Dun stood alone in front of him,
scowling.

“You’ve caused us a lot of trouble, Colonel Smith. I don’t like people
who cause me trouble.” His whispery voice was measured, his manner
unhurried. As he stepped closer, his movement was fluid.

“That’s strange hair,” Jon said. “Especially for a Han. The white makes
it even odder.”

The blow smashed into his face, spinning him and the chair over
backward. His head slammed against the floor. In the split second
between the impact and the pain, he realized Feng had been so fast he
had not seen his hand move. Then violent pain overtook him, and he felt
blood run hot and sticky down the side of his face. For a few
disorienting seconds, it seemed as if he had floated out of the room.