“Indeed. He would,” said Quan, ordering tea from the room service view field. “And this is only the beginning.”
Minutes later, there was a knock at the door. Quan went, expecting his tea had arrived and was surprised to find himself face to face with a tall young man in a tailored suit, not one of the hotel staff. Behind him was an older, shorter man in a rumpled suit who was looking up and down the hallway.
“Dr. Jintao?”
“Yes?”
“We’re from the American Embassy.” He flicked open a backlit ID card and tucked it back into his inside pocket. “Your presence has been requested at the embassy.”
“What is this about?”
“I was told it has something to do with your visa.”
“We’ve had a long day and we just got back. Have someone com me tomorrow morning.”
“I realize you’ve had quite a day; however, I’m afraid it can’t wait. It’s an important matter and it shouldn’t take much of your time.”
“Is this about the Chinese delegation?” asked Quan.
“I don’t know anything about that, sir. It’s about your reentry into the United States. You should come with us and we’ll have you back here as soon as possible.”
“I don’t understand. My papers are in order. Our attorney saw to that.”
Just then a waiter arrived pushing a silver cart with tea service. “S’il vous plaît excusez-moi,” said the waiter, stopping while the two men stepped aside.
Resuming the conversation after the waiter left, Quan said, “Does this involve all of us?”
“No, sir. That won’t be necessary. The request was just for you, sir.”
“I can’t understand what possible problem there could be.”
The young man looked briefly to the stocky man behind him then said, “We have a high-ranking official in town. He’d like to meet you, and I believe he’ll be able to help with whatever the problem is. It would be best if you would come with us. As I said, it won’t take long.”
“Very well. Wait here,” replied Quan. “I’ll join you in a minute.”
He closed the door and spoke in low tones to Lotus and von Ang. “I have to go to the American Embassy. It’s only a few blocks from here—something about my visa. I should be back in an hour. If not, com me.”
Lifting his jacket from the chair back, Quan left the suite. As he walked toward the elevators, he thought that something like this was bound to happen. He was becoming accustomed to subterfuge. Waiting for the lift he glanced at the older man next to him—dark features, perhaps Basque, smelling of tobacco. The man’s broad shoulders, hard hands, and soft shoes spoke volumes. There was nothing diplomatic about him.
On the rooftop, a matte black glide was waiting and Quan was ushered into the back seat with the younger man. During the short ride to the embassy, Quan’s thoughts turned to Sealy and how apprehensive she would have been, if she were there. He was glad she wasn’t.
Comfortable and calm, his senses reached out to everything around him—the air rushing past the windows, the sparkling lights below, the shallow breathing of the shorter man in the front seat, and the pungent cologne of the young man to his right.
The glide descended into the embassy garage and steel blast doors closed over it. The two escorts led Quan past a row of government glides and through a side door into the main lobby. An expansive floor of polished travertine stretched out in front of them with a colonnade running down the center. On either side of the colonnade were a series of lounge areas. Each lounge was appointed with a four meter square rug, brown club chairs, an oversized coffee table, and tall ficus trees in earthenware pots at each corner. Quan counted four lounges on each side of the colonnade.
The embassy seemed deserted—until they came to the last pair of stone columns. In the lounge to the right, two men came into view. One of them was built like a weight lifter, his tonsured hair clipped close to the scalp and shaved around his ears. The other man was tweedy and casual-looking, like many of the academics Quan had seen at the conference.
“Ah, Mr. Jintao,” said the big man, rising from his chair, a look of readiness on his face. Extending a hand, he said, “Markus Bledsoe, American Embassy, and this is Claude Renaut of our science office here in Paris. Glad you could spare the time.” Bledsoe’s accent was a carefully enunciated south Texas drawl. “Come sit for a spell. What can we get for you? I’m having a bourbon. What would you like?”
Quan saw through the pretense. “Science office” meant DARPA, the defense department’s research group, and Bledsoe’s haircut said military. “Nothing, thank you. Your representative said this was important. It’s been a long day. Can we get right to it?”
“Yes. Yes, of course we can. First of all, let me assure you. We’re here to help. We’ve been watching the news and that discovery of yours is very impressive. You’re quite a celebrity.”
“Your people mentioned something about a visa problem. What exactly is the problem?” asked Quan, planting himself in one of the club chairs. His escorts crossed the lounge and parked themselves next to a marble fireplace that appeared to have never been lit.
“Relax. Everything’s under control. You and your associates have temporary visas to do academic research in the U.S., and I just want to be sure you don’t run into any problems reentering the country. You know, it’s increasingly more difficult for foreign nationals these days, since Dontrum took office.”
From a vantage point high above, Quan saw their strategy. They were after the invention. He watched patiently as they did their dance.
“You see,” Bledsoe went on, “there’s been a little complication. Our state department received a request from the Chinese government and, well, sir, they’re asking for your extradition back to China. Seems they intend to charge you with some sort of capital crime. Not a good position to be in. Not good at all.”
“They like to play the power card,” Quan heard himself say. “But the United States has no extradition agreement with China.”
“That’s true, not officially. But, believe you me, if our government decides you should be sent back to China, that’s exactly where you’d end up.” Bledsoe swished the contents of his glass and looked across the room at the two escorts, who stood by with expressions of indifference.
“But don’t you worry,” Bledsoe continued. “I’m on your side and I know how to handle matters like this. Oh sure, with your clout, you might possibly beat those charges, but why put yourself and your associates through all that? You don’t have to go back to China. We can make sure you have safe haven in United States. All we want is a little cooperation.”
Quan settled back in his club chair. “It’s not difficult to guess what that means.”
“Maybe so,” said Bledsoe, taking a sip from his tumbler and setting it back on the coffee table. “Why don’t I just let Mr. Renaut here explain what we want.”
Renaut cleared his throat and looked from Bledsoe to the young Jintao.
“I apologize if this meeting caught you by surprise. You see, Colonel Bledsoe is only here for a short time and he has authority over matters like this.”
“So, what is it you want?”
Renaut went straight to the heart of it. “For starters, we’d like to see the plans for the equipment you built and we’d like to build one or two for our own use. We’d like to see what we can do with them . . . like, to see if we can reproduce your experiments.”
“Military applications,” said Quan.
“Perhaps,” said Renaut.
“You know how it is,” said Bledsoe, attempting to sugarcoat the proposition. “We’re a military state now, and we’re asked to conduct peacekeeping missions all over the planet.”
“As well as regime changes and covert operations,” said Quan.
Bledsoe edged forward in his chair, his face becoming stone. Quan became aware of the remarkable span of his shoulders. “Look. I understand why you might not approve of some of the things we do, but here’s t
he deal. You get to continue doing what you’re doing on American soil indefinitely in exchange for a little cooperation. I have authority to arrange permanent resident status for you and all of your people. And, in return, all we want is to play around with this invention of yours. Now that’s a pretty fair trade, don’t you think?”
“It’s been a long day. I’ll need to think about it,” said Quan.
“It’s been a long day for me, too, Mr. Jintao, and believe me, I have other things to take care of. Listen. If I’m going to help you, we need to come to an agreement toot sweet—right here and now. So, what’ll it take? What do you want?”
“What every American wants,” said Quan. “A grant, of course. We need money to continue our research.”
“How much money are we talking about?”
Without hesitation, as if the words spoke themselves, Quan said, “Fifty billion dollars.”
Bledsoe froze, studying Quan carefully for a moment. Then the corners of his mouth turned up. “I like your style,” he said, picking up his glass again and shifting back into the chair. “But lordy, give me a number I can work with.”
“All right, here’s a number you can work with. In a conflict situation, your military spends that much in a week. Using this technology, you would get your return on investment in a matter of days. There’s nothing else in the world that can give you this kind of advantage and you know it.”
Renaut interjected. “For fifty billion we would want the plans and the exclusive right to build the machines ourselves. And we’d want your assistance in making modifications down the road if necessary.”
“Sorry. No exclusive rights. Too many other scientists want to conduct these experiments. We retain all rights to the equipment design, and changes are at our discretion,” said Quan.
“I don’t think you’re getting it. Let me make myself clear,” said Bledsoe, shooting a glance at the two agents who perked up and stood at the ready. “I make one phone call and you’re permanently locked out of the U.S. and your laboratory. Is that clear enough for you?”
Quan felt a familiar stirring in him. From his first glimpse of Bledsoe, he anticipated some form of threat would come and now the strategy was obvious. “You make yourself perfectly clear,” said Quan.
He was tempted to disincorporate, fade from view and walk out of the embassy. But that would aggravate the situation and reveal something best kept secret. The Americans were offering safe haven and the possibility of funding, and there was more to be gained by cooperating.
“It looks like you have me at a disadvantage,” said Quan. “All right. I can make the plans available on a nonexclusive basis for the grant and assurances that we can continue our work in California.”
Bledsoe sat back in his chair, his gaze riveted on young Quan. Keeping their expertise on American soil was essential and granting them permanent visas wasn’t going to be a problem. Fifty billion would require some arm twisting but it was doable—he would need Renaut’s help to sell the Appropriations Committee on the idea of weaponizing the transfer technology.
Renaut cut the silence. “So, if we give you an endowment, as you called it, and permanent visas . . . what do we get in return?”
Turning his attention to Renaut, Quan said, “What you really want is to develop our technology into something you can use in the field. Right?”
“Right. A mobile version would be highly desirable.”
“I can’t give you any guarantee that a mobile version is possible. It will be up to your engineers.”
“Understood.”
“In return for visas and endowment, you’ll get the machine design plans and we’ll be available to answer any questions your engineers might have.”
Bledsoe swished the contents in his glass and said, “Damn. You’re some kinda somethin’ else, Mr. Jintao.” He drained the remaining sip from his glass and rose to his feet. “I’ll see what we can do about the money and you’ll hear from me in a few hours.”
On the way back to Le Meurice, Quan reviewed his parries and thrusts with Bledsoe. He could see that Bledsoe still had one move left and it was a strong one. But so did Quan. On the occasions when the senior Jintao allowed him to attend negotiations, Quan was obedient to sit and observe and not say a word. Afterward, his father would ask for Quan’s interpretation of what he’d seen and he’d fill in details of what Quan had missed. His father ended each lesson with the same statement: “Always strive to accumulate the winning hand before entering into a negotiation. It’s much easier to deal from a position of strength—gives you the ability to walk away from the table at any time.”
To anyone else, Quan’s predicament would have seemed impossible. There he was, sequestered in Paris, with the coveted equipment nine thousand kilometers away, protected only by his loyal Scotsman. Quan was a pariah in his homeland, and now the most dangerous military complex in the world was breathing down his neck. And there was his sweetheart and their baby to think about.
He relaxed into the glide seat. A peaceful energy pervaded him and his subtle smile returned.
Von Ang closed the double doors to the balcony and pulled the heavy velvet draperies shut, blocking the chill night air. A small fire was crackling in the ornate marble fireplace and he plunked himself down on a velvet sofa next Lotus. Learning more about Paris, she read from her handheld viewer. “The name Paris derives from the Gaulish tribe known as the Parisii. The city was named Paris in 360 AD. The metropolis is home to nineteen million residents and . . .”
Quan entered the suite and removed his coat. “It’s warm in there,” he said.
“That didn’t take long,” said von Ang. “What is the problem? What do they want?”
“They were using our visas as leverage and they’re intrigued with the idea of using our equipment as a weapon.”
“You said no, of course. Didn’t you?” quipped Lotus.
“It’s complicated. Our ability to stay in the United States is predicated on cooperating with them. And for me, going back to China isn’t an option.”
“Couldn’t you move somewhere else?” asked Lotus.
“You’re welcome to stay with me in Switzerland,” said von Ang.
“Very kind, but there’s another solution.” Quan’s tone was serious. “Can you contact the editor of the conference journal? I want to submit an article for the conference daily.”
“I’ll see what I can do, but this is very short notice.” Von Ang left the comfort of his sofa in a single fluid movement and went to retrieve the editor’s contact information.
“Are we going to be all right?” asked Lotus.
“Never doubt that,” said Quan, putting his hands behind his head. “We’re on the right path and I have a plan.”
“Switzerland doesn’t sound so bad,” said Lotus, taking a sip of Chambourd.
Quan slung his suit jacket over the back of an ornate chair and sat at the desk. The view field turned on and he began to write an article. Then he fingered his way past the Jintao logo, to the secret files, initiating a file transfer protocol.
After a few minutes, von Ang reentered the room, announcing, “You have an hour—and he reserves the right to edit or reject your article.”
“Plenty of time,” said Quan, speaking quickly. “Listen, I should tell you what this is about. It’s clear that many of your colleagues want access to the equipment, so does the CSC and the U.S. military. This article will make our predicament known to the public and throw a spotlight on what these government agencies are trying to do. Even though the invention is proprietary, sooner or later one of them will get their hands on the plans. Then the scientific community will be told it’s classified and won’t have access. The best defense is passive resistance.”
“Passive resistance?” asked von Ang.
“When your opponent pulls, you let go. I’m going to publish the machine plans for everyone to see.”
“What?” said von Ang. “You can’t be serious. The machine belongs to your family and y
ou were so careful to protect it. Why would you give the plans away? You don’t have patent protection. Once the plans are in the public domain, they’ll no longer belong to you.”
“The research paper has been published. You’re going to go down in history as a pioneer and they can’t take that away from you. Let the Chinese have it . . . and the Americans . . . and whoever else wants it. For the time being, we have the only functioning laboratory. We’re way ahead with the research and they’ll be coming to us for our expertise. Ultimately, sharing the discovery is the right thing to do. I’ve always believed that.”
Lotus approached the desk. “Will this resolve your problems in China?”
“It can only help,” said Quan. “It levels the playing field. No more secrets. No more sneaking and hiding.”
“And what about Jintao Corporation?” asked von Ang. “You said they would have right of first refusal.”
“We’re still the authorities in this field. Trust me. I have a plan. It will be good for everyone and my obligation will be complete. Now, with your permission . . .” Quan turned his attention to the view field. “I have to finish this.”
Seeing the concerned expression on von Ang’s face, Lotus said, “You should trust him.”
“I wish I knew what he has in mind,” said von Ang.
The recent unpleasantness with the Chinese and the Americans put Quan in an untenable position. The invention was part of his inheritance and, after considering several paths forward, he chose the most direct way to mitigate all threats.
He hammered out a declaration and, after twenty minutes, he read his piece one last time and sent it to the journal editor. Over the next thirty minutes, he formatted the machine blueprints and posted them, with limited access, on the LÓNG website.
The next day, his letter was posted in the conference daily.
An open letter to the scientific community.
Two governments have attempted to seize our technologies. However, in the grander scheme of things, these discoveries belong to the human race. Our work in hyperdimensional space is seminal, marking the beginning of a new era in human understanding. The affirmative interest we received at the conference has caused us to realize that a greater good will be served by sharing the specifications for equipment used in our experiments. We invite you, our colleagues, to build on our work, and hope that in having these plans, you will advance the research and add to our understanding of hyperdimensional space.
Jintao Page 27