Sea of Lies: An Espionage Thriller (64 page)

The landline next to the PC rang. “Mei Ling Nolan?” said the voice.

“Yes,” she replied.

“If you attempt to fly to the US, one of two outcomes results. On landing, you’ll be arrested and jailed on suspicion of abetting a fugitive or fugitives. Alternatively, you’ll be followed and have your communications tapped until the FBI eventually accumulates the evidence needed to arrest you on the same charges. For the time being, the only place we can guarantee your safety is Singapore. Your credit card will work for anything other than travel. This is for your own protection.”

Mei Ling fumed. “Since you know everything, what can you tell me about my father’s leaving Singapore? I need to understand what’s going on.”

“Come over to Internal Security Department headquarters off Tanglin Road and meet Inspector Lum. He should be able to help, and maybe you can help him, too.”

“When would you like me to come in?”

“We’ll have a car outside your house in fifteen minutes.”

*  *  *  *  *

Captain Jack Nishimoto answered his satphone. It was head office ordering him to land in Singapore. He asked them to hold and passed command to Jenkins, who was working on a Sudoku puzzle. He left the cockpit and was pleased to see that Adam Birch was now awake.

“Mr. Birch, I have the CEO of Harcourt Aviation on the phone at some ungodly hour US time. He tells me your real name is Robert Nolan, and you’re a rogue CIA officer selling China top-secret files stolen by Mark Watermen. Your companion, Ms. Mimi Chan, is actually a senior officer in China’s Ministry of State Security named Yu something-or-other.”

“I’m Robert Nolan and this is Yu Kaili. That much is true. I’m not selling anything to anybody. The China, Russia and US intelligence services are trying to kill us. China agents shot Watermen. My injuries resulted from a grenade explosion in a gun battle with Russia agents. The CIA is trying to kill or capture us to stop us from proving that current or former CIA officers were behind the hijacking of MH370 and the murder of almost every passenger, including your nephew.

“Ms. Yu is a fugitive from the MSS as well. She’s trying to solve the MH370 mystery, given that there were 152 China citizens on board. If I had been working with or selling secrets to China or Russia, why would I have used my life savings to charter this plane from Singapore to Sri Lanka, and now on to Australia? Those are funny places to go if you’re planning to defect.” Nolan spoke in an even tone: he was weak and past caring.

“Let’s split the difference. I’m flying you two to Truscott Field, but will report that I was coerced. You should also expect US military aircraft to intercept and force us down. At least that was what my CEO threatened.”

“That may or may not happen. If the CIA is complicit in the hijacking, the place they would most like me to end up is an offshore interrogation center. That’s what I believe Truscott Field is being used for: the questioning of high-value kidnap victims from MH370. For me to land there voluntarily just saves them another flight, but if US fighters force us down in Singapore, that means the CIA isn’t officially behind the hijacking. In that case, I’d be happy to work with uncorrupted CIA officials to solve the MH370 mystery. Either way, we should keep flying.”

“Sounds like you’ve thought it through. You have about an hour until Singapore-based fighters appear off our wingtips.” Nishimoto went back into the cockpit and spoke on the satphone for a few seconds before hanging up. He leaned around and said, “I told them you threatened to destroy the plane if we diverted our course from Dili, and I hung up. Let’s see what happens next.” He shut the cockpit door to have a word with Jenkins.

Nolan turned to Kaili. “Thanks for patching me up. I’m not bleeding anywhere, at least for now.”

“You’ve lost plenty of blood and you were asleep for about two hours, so you will dehydrate if you don’t drink.”

Nolan did as he was told, chugging most of a quart bottle. “What’s your real mission? We both know it doesn’t have anything to do with MH370.”

“My assignment now is to stay with you until you’re dead. If someone else doesn’t kill you, then I’m supposed to.”

“You could have killed me in my sleep just now.”

“I thought about it, but could not see the logic. At least not until I heard the rest of your plan.”

“
Plan?
What plan? There’s no plan beyond what I just said to Nishimoto. Fly to Truscott Field. If we’re forced down in Singapore, there’s a chance that someone honest in the CIA may be interested in what really happened to MH370. If the authorities allow us to land at Truscott, we draw one of two conclusions. The more likely one is that the CIA involvement goes all the way to the top. If that’s the case, it will be a one-way trip for me, and maybe you. Alternatively, there’s the less likely scenario that someone wants to track the flight to see where we go and follow us to investigate. That’s what I’m hoping for. I’m out of ideas otherwise.”

“So you’re saying there’s a good chance that I will die as a result of taking this journey with you?”

“Oh, it will be worse than that. If the black CIA is running an off-the-record interrogation facility, we will be tortured and questioned before we’re killed.”

“I don’t believe you. I don’t believe you could be so stupid as to actually fly to your own death without a contingency plan.”

“I’m making it sound worse than it is. It’s probably fifty-fifty we’ll have support behind us if this plane lands at Truscott. Had the black CIA been running the Colombo end, there would have been US snipers on-site and they would have shot me first instead of Mark or you. That I’m still alive points toward MH370 being an off-the-books operation. If we’re forced down in Singapore, I’m certain you’ll be released unharmed. Overall, I’d say your chances of surviving this are good, maybe seventy-five percent.”

“Thank you, but I’m not comforted by your probabilities.” She stood up and went to the food and drinks cabinet.

“Can you see what kind of medical supplies are back there? I need disinfectant and superglue to close the gash on my forearm. And could you please explain why your country is trying to kill me?”

“I’m at a loss. If I knew the reason, maybe you would be dead already. The two possible reasons are MH370 and the NSA files you took.”

“Let’s talk about the NSA files. The snipers shot Watermen first, either by design or accident. They killed him rather than have the CIA take him, and me, into custody to find out what was in the files Watermen traded in Hong Kong for a plane ticket to Moscow? Surely the CIA knew that already. Meanwhile, I presumably have a copy of the NSA files, the same copy China has. So China wants to kill me to prevent who, the Russians, from obtaining a copy? That’s a possibility, but it sounds more like something the CIA would attempt rather than China.”

“What about MH370? Why would China want to kill you rather than have the truth come out?” she asked.

“Consider the options. China could have been behind the hijacking. I dismiss this possibility, as the plane landed in southern Burma where China has no sway, and because the principals were all US ex-military and/or CIA with no obvious China connections. Next theory: China could be embarrassed if the plane were actually found. The high-value cargo on the plane—starting with a radioactive centrifuge used to produce weapons-grade U-235—shouldn’t have been there, and provides proof that China is spreading nuclear weapons technology. So, despite one hundred fifty-two nationals on board, the senior leadership may have decided it would be better if the fate of MH370 remained unknown. That makes some sense to me, particularly given that Teller actually did pull a centrifuge out of the cargo hold when the plane landed. Teller presumably had his people dump the centrifuge at sea between Rangoon and Penang, so now there’s no hard evidence other than what I might have gathered.”

“Is there anything else you’ve done to anger China?”

“The past year, I coordinated the creation of hacker software programs that infiltrate low-level China government, PLA and security services networks. I must be one of fifty CIA contractors and analysts doing the same thing. These are nuisance strikes and tit-for-tat retaliations to keep Unit #61398 from running amok through the Fortune 500’s IT architecture. None of these minor actions warrants a kill order. My death would put over eight hundred Unit #61398 operatives at risk of being the target of the retaliatory assassination that would follow.”

“Based on what you have said, it has to be the MH370 cover-up. That is why my superiors are adamant that you must die.”

“If that’s true, then by killing me, you’re signing your own death sentence. They’ll have no idea what we’ve discussed on this flight.”

She leaned over him with an evil-looking bottle of bright-red antiseptic, bottle-top applicator clutched between delicate thumb and forefinger. “Shush. I will brush Mercurochrome on your cuts. It’s going to hurt a lot. If you die, it would save both of us a lot of trouble.”

“You sound like my wife.”

*  *  *  *  *

“Let me go. Unhand me!” Chuck Burns wasn’t leaving without a fight, despite the presence of two Marine sentries, the head of security and Lavigne. “This is the most important day in the Pacific since we dropped Little Boy on Nagasaki back in August ’45, and you aren’t taking me away!”

A note of exasperation in her voice, Lavigne said, “Admiral Perkins and DCI Morris have already signed off. Either you walk out of here under control, or the Marines will shackle and carry you.”

The descriptions of burly Marines expelling sixty-four-year-old Head of Asia Burns with handcuffed hands and manacled feet swiftly made the rounds, supplying much-needed levity on an otherwise tense day.

CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

PRIMED FOR LAUNCH

FRIDAY MARCH 14, SINGAPORE; GULFSTREAM 550 N168TT FOR TRUSCOTT FIELD, WESTERN AUSTRALIA; REDDING, CALIFORNIA; BEIJING; FORT MEADE, MARYLAND; TOKYO

Mei Ling walked out of ISD headquarters somehow heartened by the news that Bert had put two FBI agents in the hospital. Her smile turned into a frown when she recalled that Bert was now a federal fugitive. Should Bob Nolan set foot in Singapore, he would be handed over to the Americans to face serious charges, perhaps espionage and treason. If Mei Ling ever wanted to be left in peace in California, she’d best stay out of Bert’s predicament until he was in custody. As a practical matter, Mei Ling should expect all her communications were monitored. Based on this last episode, Mei Ling felt the house had already been wired in Dolby stereo.

Reflecting on her just-concluded forty minutes in quasi-custody, she noted that Lum first had picked her brains on her father’s situation and timeline. Mei Ling recounted her father’s initial command for her brother and her to take refuge in the Kamloops, BC cabin. Next came his request for Mei Ling to fly to China to free her mother. Mei Ling had no idea why Bert had decided to cross the border illegally. She informed Lum that she had no intention of helping her father, as she only wanted to escape this chaos and return to the US.

“You are a filial daughter and caring sister. Think carefully, Mei Ling, before you agree to do anything to assist your father or brother. You would be jeopardizing your own freedom.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. My father cheated on my mother years ago, and knew if he ever did again she would leave him. Well, this week apparently he committed adultery in their bed. Dad spent as much time with Mark Watermen, not even his real godson, as he did with Bert or me. I don’t expect to take orders or advice from my father ever again. I am
not
helping him. As for Bert, I’d aid him if I could, but there’s no way he can contact me without everyone knowing, leaving me no choice.

“Now it’s my turn to ask questions. Where did my father go the night he left Singapore? How did he escape in the first place?”

Lum smiled and said, “Your father’s clever. He fled on a bicycle; he pedaled to Orchard Towers where he’d earlier rented a room in a fifth-floor brothel. We found his bicycle locked to a rail outside the parking lot. He failed to show up later when he was supposed to meet someone at the Shangri La Hotel lobby. Instead he made his way to Seletar Airport, where he boarded a private jet to Sri Lanka with a woman from China’s Ministry of State Security.”

“A woman spy? Or do you mean a girlfriend or whore?”

“We know she’s an intelligence agent, but don’t know the exact nature of their relationship. This woman very recently arrived in Singapore. I think they met for the first time in Paradise Alley in Orchard Towers, a high-end brothel on Wednesday night. They did not have sexual relations that evening. If, on the other hand, they met previously, that would indicate he’s spying for China.”

“Oh, no.” Mei Ling shook her head in dismay.

“If you’d like, I’ll have one of the officers get Robert’s bicycle out of the property room. We have no further use for it.”

“Yeah, sure. It will save me taxi fare home.”

So that explained why she was now pedaling up Tanglin Road re-running the latest chapter in her father’s lurid story. Orchard Towers was barely a mile away. Rather than turn left toward home, she took the right fork to see what attraction Paradise Alley might have held for her father.

Mei Ling knocked on the unmarked blue steel door. She didn’t know if it was even open, but from the tenants list, unit #05-01 was the place. She knocked again, and the door opened out to reveal a heavily made-up prostitute. Before Mei Ling could say a word, the mama-san exclaimed, “You must be Bob Gladstone’s daughter! The spitting image, with a touch of Asian blood. Come on in. I’m Linda, Mr. Gladstone’s friend.” She smiled coquettishly.

Mei Ling felt ill. Did every hooker in Orchard Towers know her father? She stepped into the gloom as the spring-loaded door snapped shut behind her.

*  *  *  *  *

The captain walked back into the cabin scratching his chin. “Well, here’s the latest. We passed Singapore thirty minutes ago in radio silence. There’s been nothing received from military air traffic control and no aircraft on scope. I’d have bet my house we’d have had a fighter escort by now if Bob Nolan, international spy, was really on someone’s arrest list. In the absence of a military escort, I had Jenkins file an amended flight plan changing Dili to Truscott Field, Mitchell Plateau, Western Australia. Australia actually granted the change request, which further confuses me. This plane is then grounded: no more destinations, domestic or international, without specific permission. Any attempt to take off without clearance will be treated as hostile, and you know how that story ends. What do you say to that?”