Girl Goes To Wudang (An Emily Kane Adventure Book 7) Page 7

  His debt to Emily was tremendous, more than could ever be repaid, especially since she’d taken the child into her care, or that of her extended family, sheltering her from the dark period that faced Jiang as he attempted to retrieve his standing in the Chinese intelligence service. But he knew Emily would never allow Michael to use any of it as leverage to turn him into a double agent.

  How strange the circumstances must have seemed to him when Michael passed him information from Emily. The tip off about General Diao’s early preparation for the coup attempt that had caused so much havoc in China brought his career full circle. Once hunted as a potential enemy of the state, and now newly ascendant, perhaps even hailed as a hero, and secure in the upper echelons of the counter-intelligence branch, it must have given him considerable satisfaction to locate this old widow for her – Emily smiled to think about it. Of course, she could never allow the connection to be revealed to anyone at the Embassy or in the Department of Defense.

  “Please forgive me,” she said, when Mrs. Gao touched her hand. “I have a work-engagement this evening.”

  Emily couldn’t help wondering if it was impolite to refuse such an invitation, though she had no wish to put the old lady to the difficult of preparing a special meal. It was going to take some time to solve the maze of rules and obligations that constitute Chinese etiquette.

  “I hope you will stop by tomorrow morning, xiao jie.”

  7

  A Stagnant River

  The string of low-earth-orbit satellites had originally been launched by an ambitious start-up company, with funding from several tech giants – though a small portion of the money came from a CIA front company. The agency’s sole interest had been to piggyback a micro-CPU on the hardware of each bird prior to launch. Several million lines of code served to conceal a second voice and data stream in the primary signal, complete with its own layer of bleeding edge security. The start-up went bankrupt within eighteen months of the final launch, but the system continued to function smoothly with a satellite slowly passing 275 miles above Beijing every fifty-two minutes.

  Emily didn’t really need a secure sat-phone, but Michael knew she’d never willingly carry an ordinary mobile, and Yuki and Andie felt a need to be able to stay in touch. She’d developed the habit of minimizing her electronic trail in high school, when it may really have meant the difference between life and death, but she clung to it now, even when it had become more of a hindrance to the people who cared about her. Michael gave her a little speech before handing it over.

  “You’re sure you want this thing?” he’d asked, glancing at Yuki and Andie, as they sat around the kitchen counter. “If the Chinese find it on you, it’ll cause an incident. These things are illegal over there, and they’d probably move to expel you for espionage.”

  “How will they recognize it?” Andie asked. “It looks so ordinary, like an old flip-phone.”

  Li Li had been listening in from the door and offered her opinion, before being shooed out of the room: “I wouldn’t be caught dead with that old thing. Can it even text?”

  “It sounds like I can’t risk leaving it home,” Emily said. “I’ll just have to carry it with me everywhere.”

  “First of all, I don’t think ordinary police will give it a second look. But folks in the Interior Ministry might, especially if they have any reason to take an interest in you.”

  “Will they?” Yuki asked. “I mean, will they be tracking her every move?”

  “It’s anyone’s guess,” Michael said. “We don’t know what motivated President Liang’s request, but we have no reason to assume they’ll pay you any special attention.”

  Emily had held the phone in her fingers the whole ride home, and now, walking through the neighborhood around Mrs. Gao’s apartment, she felt it buzz. It was her mother’s time, and she would not be denied. So many questions, and no way to satisfy her need to know in one call.

  A trio of little boys raced through the alley, swerving around her at the last second, eager to get to a nearby playground before dusk. A sign announced the rule: Park closes at sunset. But all the neighborhood kids knew the guard would let them play until the sky went dark.

  She turned into the lane, where a broad sidewalk made it easier to stroll without having to watch for traffic. Food stands were ready for the crush of casual diners who’d arrived home only a few minutes earlier. An elderly man worked a makeshift grill halfway down the block, and his wife offered passersby an assortment of skewered chicken parts. Emily had tried the birdclaw-on-a-stick the night before, and felt a slight tug of obligation when the old lady held out another one for her.

  “It’s fine, Mom,” Emily said. “A kitchen and a laundry, what more could I want?”

  “… and the neighborhood?”

  “There’s an open-air food market around the corner, and lots of stands everywhere.”

  “But it’s so far from the embassy. Andie says it’s at least five miles.”

  “Probably more, but I need the exercise.”

  “You can’t run on the streets in Beijing, Chi-chan It’s too dangerous with all that traffic.”

  “Don’t worry, Mom. When I run, it’s pretty quiet, and I can shower and change in the Marine House when I get there. I took the subway home yesterday, and it’s pretty easy, only two trains… about twenty five minutes.”

  “Okay, sweetheart. Just be careful… oh, Michael wants a word.”

  He warned her again not to let anyone examine the phone, since he’d requisitioned it for her ‘unofficially.’ The DSS had already given her a secure phone on her arrival, registered and traceable by them, which she couldn’t refuse, since they wanted to be able to reach her at anytime. Of course, Michael knew she would not often want to initiate calls on an embassy phone. He cycled through other precautions, like not taking or making any calls on the sat-phone from within the Embassy compound, and some technical arcana to be careful of, but he was working up the nerve to break a different kind of news.

  “Jiang said he was happy to help, though not to mention it. He also has a favor to ask... sort of.”

  “Will I see him at any of the upcoming events?” Emily asked.

  “I expect he’ll be at the state dinner, but he might not be able to speak to you there.”

  “What’s the favor?”

  “He asked about Li Li… and he’s apparently found someone…”

  “He’s got a girlfriend,” Andie called out in the background, probably trying to grab the phone.

  “Yes, he says it might be serious… and he’s thinking about bringing Li Li home, you know, to Beijing.”

  Emily found it difficult to breathe for a moment, until Andie’s voice rang out again: “Absolutely out of the question.”

  “We were wondering what you thought,” Michael said.

  The air came in, filling her lungs until she pressed it out again, and her mind came into focus, thinking about the last thing Li Li told her, when they were stargazing on the back lawn. Could she really stand in the way of a reunion with her uncle, her only living relative?

  “I… I don’t exactly… I don’t know what to think. What right do we have to say no?”

  “You’ll have to talk to him,” Michael said. “Find out how safe it really is…”

  “… and how serious this new relationship is,” Andie added. “I mean, is he really thinking of settling down with this woman?”

  Later that evening, after spending an hour in Mrs. Gao’s kitchen sharing a watermelon she’d purchased from a Uighur street vendor, Emily strolled down to the avenue. A few blocks further brought her within sight of the walls of the ancient Forbidden City, and only a few more steps and she stood on the embankment of the palace moat, the Tongzi River.

  Emily hadn’t the time or the inclination to visit the Palace Museum… but what if Li Li were with her? Or would she scorn the idea of crowding in with the tourists to gawk at curios from a bygone era? The prospect of bringing her over had begun to exercise a peculiar
attraction over Emily’s imagination. Perhaps it wouldn’t really be as dangerous as everyone feared.

  A breeze had riffled her hair as she walked, but when it died down for a few moments, the odor of the still water in the moat, now clogged with algae, crept into her nostrils. The moat dated to the Ming Dynasty, and in the past had been supplied with fresh water from springs west of the city. Eventually, the springs dried up and water had to be metered into the Tongzi from a nearby reservoir, and shortages in the previous century meant the river could no longer be allowed to run. Like a stagnant, elongated pond, the algae could not easily be held in check, and on a hot summer day the smell could become overpowering.

  Emily arrived at the New Embassy Compound, or NEC, at her usual time, a little before 0700. After a quick shower in the Marine barracks, she changed and headed down to the Attaché’s conference room. A briefing had been scheduled for 0800, but the corridor was already clogged with the other deputies, who seemed to be in a quandary about whether to notice her.

  “Someone from the Deputy Chief of Mission’s staff,” Madeira said. He offered her one of the cups he was holding. “Coffee’s not too bad, by Beijing standards. Cream and sugar’s over there.”

  Emily took the cup to be polite. “A change in today’s agenda?”

  “Probably not. The PLA sets its schedule with great care. Besides, our convoy is already lined up outside.”

  “Have you done many of these?”

  “A few. They’re fond of showing off the results of their latest exercise.”

  “I thought we were meeting one of their ‘sword’ units today.”

  “That’s the rumor,” Madeira said. “It’s always a question whether those guys will actually show.”

  “Why wouldn’t they?”

  “Theories abound, but Jepsen thinks they’re paper tigers and don’t want us to know. The numbers suggest as much. I mean, we’re talking over five thousand special forces operators. One way to get that many is to lower training standards.”

  “We encountered a company from the ‘Southern Sword’ during Operation Seabreeze, and they sure seemed like the real thing.” Were they really the equivalent of the SEALs, as the PLA liked to claim? Emily had her doubts, at least about their skills. But there was no doubting their commitment, as she found out on Itbayat.

  The door to the conference room swung open and Jepsen leaned out. “Tenno… a word.”

  The Deputy Chief of Mission’s assistant didn’t rise when she entered, merely turning in his chair to glance in her direction, and she prepared for yet another dressing down.

  “DSS notified my office that you registered a Dongcheng address. What on earth are you doing with an apartment way out there, Lieutenant? That could create a security headache for us.”

  “Security, sir?”

  “Yes, in the event of a lockdown or an evac, you’ve made it that much harder to track you, or even get to you. And how the hell did you even find that place? It wasn’t listed with the usual services.”

  This was a difficult question to answer, and if it was more than a matter of casual curiosity to the Deputy Chief’s office, the whole business might put Michael – and Jiang, for that matter – in hot water. The assistant stood up and straightened his jacket, and Emily noticed his crisp haircut, his blue eyes… and contact lenses. Were they tinted? This was a moment to practice the subtle art of diplomacy.

  “Are you saying you have a place for me in Sanlitun? Because I was given to understand…”

  Jepsen cleared his throat, and Emily let him occupy the precarious position of changing the subject, whatever his motives might be. Conversation, she’d come to recognize over the last few weeks, could be approached as a form of martial art.

  “She’s a Marine,” he said. “I’m sure she can figure it out.”

  “Fine. If you say so, Colonel. It’s your staff. But tell me, Lieutenant, how did you find a place way over there?”

  “A friend found it for me, probably on one of the Chinese social media, you know, Weibo or WeChat. My landlady’s just a sweet old lady.”

  “I’m sure she is. DSS is checking her out now.”

  “Isn’t this a lot of attention to be paying to a housing screw up?” Jepsen cocked an eyebrow. “I mean, it’s not like she’s some visiting dignitary.”

  “I trust your dress uniform is in good condition for Saturday,” he continued, ignoring Jepsen. Emily nodded. “…and by good condition, I mean like new. If it needs any ‘sprucing up’, bring it by the second floor office in the Atrium building. Margie Cabot is expecting you and has a tailor lined up.”

  Before Jepsen could say “What the hell…,” the Deputy Chief’s assistant had already exited the conference room. A moment later, impatient noises from the corridor presaged a head stuck through the door, and the rest of the staff began to edge their way in.

  “Care to explain what’s going on, Lieutenant?” Jepsen whispered and snarled at the same time, his eyes wide.

  “You know almost as much…”

  “Not now, Tenno.” An open hand expressed his perplexity and frustration. He was unaccustomed to being kept in the dark about anything to do with his staff. By now, most of the other deputy attachés had found seats around the table, and the non-comms were standing on eggshells by the doorway. “Save it for later. I’ll expect an explanation.”

  Once he’d regained some composure, Jepsen commenced his briefing. “There will be some bragging, since the latest exercise went quite well, and our tone should be congratulatory.”

  “I hear it incorporated a number of the real world elements we suggested,” said the Naval Attaché, Commander Charlie Redmond.

  “Yes,” Jepsen said. “Much less choreographed, a stronger ‘enemy’ and a few surprises for the home team. They have a presentation to show us, some quants, casualty estimates, materiel, logistics.”

  “What sort of assistance are we authorized to give them?” Madeira asked.

  “It’s not a chess game, Woody. Remember, everyone, our objective is to position ourselves as potential allies to the next generation of officers – ‘model the behavior’ of cooperative engagement as much as possible. Personal connections are the building blocks here.”

  “Is there room for direct criticism?” Emily asked.

  “Not from you, Tenno. Any critique you have, run it by Madeira… or me. Otherwise, keep it zipped, Lieutenant.” Jepsen stared at her for a moment, having lost his train of thought. Cmdr Redmond cleared his throat to get things back on track. “Oh, yes, right. One last item, cooperative engagement needs to be a two-way street, and the Beijing army’s special forces unit will be giving a demonstration of their training techniques.”

  “They call themselves the Eastern Sword.” Redmond smirked as he offered this tidbit.

  “After the recent unpleasantness, in which Southern Sword units played a central role… and as we all know, the purge of the Guangzhou army has been extensive, President Liang has ordered the Beijing units to take the lead within the special forces community.”

  Emily found Jepsen’s offhand manner of speaking about the civil war General Diao had precipitated disorienting, to say the least. She’d lived through some of the worst of it, had even been a target of one of Diao’s intrigues. The Attaché staff saw action only tangentially, having been evacuated early on, before Diao’s forces made it this far north… and in the end, his effort stalled before he could take Beijing.

  “Are they still trying to compare themselves to the SEALs?” Madeira asked.

  “That’s part of Liang’s expectation, and with that in mind, they’ve also organized a hand-to-hand mini-tournament. As a courtesy, we’ve been invited to participate, though the better part of valor may be to decline, politely.”

  “So our task is to avoid noticing how far from SEALs they still are.” Redmond glanced around the room, looking for support, and several of the non-comms snorted along with him.

  “Tenno served on the BHR in Operation Seabreeze,” Mad
eira said. “I gather she got to see a Southern Sword unit or two up close.”

  “Is this true, Lieutenant?” Jepsen asked.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Anything you’d care to share with the rest of us?” Redmond asked.

  Emily took a deep breath to gather her thoughts, and tried to separate her intense feelings about Diao’s son from a rational assessment of their capabilities. “I’d say their training as a ground combat unit was first rate, sir, especially in stamina and endurance preparation. If the Beijing units are anything like them, I’d expect an impressive display, and fierce hand-to-hand skills.”

  A few of the non-comms in the back of the room were glued to a tablet, perhaps watching a video, and Jepsen made a point of ignoring them with a scowl.

  “It’s an hour ride over to the PLA National Defense University at this time of day. We leave in ten minutes.”

  As the staff filed out, Redmond approached the non-comms, probably curious about whatever they’d seen on the tablet. Emily tried not to pay them any mind, and stuck close to Madeira.

  “Woody?”

  “Standard issue jarhead nickname. You can never shake these things.”

  “So I’ve noticed.”

  “At least, it’s better than the first one they gave me.”

  “Which was…?”

  Madeira eyed her for a moment, perhaps weighing her trustworthiness. The calculation came out in her favor. “Lumber.” Emily couldn’t suppress a giggle. “Yup, like a pornstar. Don’t laugh. I’m sure you’ve got one or two to share.”

  It took a bit more urging, but in the end, she’d have to share at least one. “Ninja. That’s what a couple of lance corporals came up with.”