Torching the Crimson Flag

by Conrad Brasso

  Chapter Fourteen

  Seiko Chiu thought the meeting with Mayor Landow had gone exceptionally well. It was time to move forward. As she lit another cigarette, she thought about the extraordinary years of planning that it had taken to get to this point. Certainly, they had experienced challenges along the way, but the possibilities now were endless. Losing the Emerald Wasp network had been a blow, to be sure, but there were other networks she was connected with. There had been the assassination of a trio of important people in India that had included her brother. That, too, was very unfortunate. He had been a visionary, for sure. Her family was still grieving the loss. But the vision was still in place. And then there was the funding. Things had had to be reorganized a little bit, and new shell companies had to be launched, but overall, she felt that the major players were back on solid ground.

  When her family had started The Red Flag Commerce and Development Company, they had no idea how powerful they could become. At first, they were using containers to ship legitimate products. But then they stumbled into a niche: stolen artifacts—everything from coins that dated back to Biblical times and statues from the Angkor Wat Empire, to pieces of rare art locked in museum basements. Thanks to them, these precious items were being bought by the world’s top financial families at enormously profitable prices.

  She still remembered how excited her brother had been when he met her for coffee in Hong Kong. He had been contacted by a discrete group of traders who needed their stolen art securely transported to New York City. At first, he had been vehemently opposed to transporting illegal goods, but when he realized the extraordinary amount of money that could be made, Ti Chiu’d had an epiphany. He recognized it was stupid not to work with them. All of Red Flag’s shipping containers had to be retooled to include secret compartments for stolen goods. They would ship one full of Nikes to Miami, for instance, but also include illegal art stashed in the fake walls of the steel boxes. They made more money from a handful of illegal art shipments, then they had their entire lives.

  Soon they started making a name for themselves. Word began to spread in the black market community of a shipping company that could guarantee product distribution in any coastal nation around the world. They set up shell companies that operated in distributing illegal product so that Red Flag could focus on shipping legal product so as to maintain a better front. The newly formed companies sent drugs to Brazil, pirated movies to Malaysia, fake antiques from China to Europe, and cheap weaponry to desperate third world nations that needed to stockpile. It was only in the last decade that they discovered the market for children. Whether it was couples who were infertile, wealthy Muslims who needed domestic workers, or people like Mayor Landow, who just preferred children as their sex slaves, the market was almost endless.

  It wasn't just the market, though. They had stumbled into perfect cultural situations that made their business boom. China had adopted the One Child Policy. It was a law that only allowed families to have one child. The government perpetrated the myth that it was due to population control, but it never quite made sense. With over one and a half billion people, China didn't seem that concerned with controlling their population. The policy was more of an effort to execute a complete centralization of government authority. Large families could influence communities. And the regime knew that by restricting all families to only one child, they were leveling influence within communities, thereby securing absolute power.

  What the Communist Party of China hadn't considered, was the influence of Confucianism on their worldview. Under Confucianism, males were deemed more important than females. Added to the fact that technological breakthroughs were allowing couples to know the gender of their baby before it was born, abortions of female babies skyrocketed. Many of those abortions were poorly performed, causing the deaths of even more women. Within forty years, the nation was missing a hundred million women from their population’s demographic. There were entire provinces in China where there were simply no young women. If a couple decided to keep their girl, after she was over the age of fifteen, the government would move the family to large cities to try to right the imbalance. The Chiu family positioned themselves to be the answer. Taking girls from Southeast Asia, Northeast Asia, and parts of Africa, they steadily created a train of women that the government wasn’t going to stop because they desperately needed to correct the gender imbalance.

  After several years of success, Seiko’s sister-in-law was introduced to the Chaudhuri crime family in India. The Chaudhuri’s wanted to be the Chiu equivalent in India, but they needed help with the logistics. The second most populous nation in the world had a problem similar to that of China. They, too, were missing women. It wasn’t because of Confucianism or a government policy restricting the number of children a family could have, but Indian society also valued men over women. Statistically, men were more likely to get well-paid jobs or an education, so boys were favored over girls. The Chiu family agreed to involve the Chaudhuri's and had worked out a deal. Women in exchange for bauxite. The government of India had discovered massive deposits of the rare earth sedimentary rock, deposits that rivaled those of Australia and China in size. The Chaudhuri family claimed that they had access.

  Again, the timing was perfect. More than one-half of all the components in smartphones and other mobile devices are made from mined raw materials, and bauxite is one of the most important. The aluminum oxide and gallium extracted from it is used in electronic circuits, semiconductors, LEDs, and countless other products.

  Now, Seiko’s operation was moving into new territory. It was time for her to set up a conference call with American distributors and then inform her board.

  Alexei Sokolov led the way. He made quite a show of not going through the metal detectors or making his guests go through them either. Then he made sure to stop by the reception desk just to say that his guests didn't need to sign in. He graciously invited them into a set of elevators off the left side of the lobby and didn't say a word to them as they went up to the eighth floor. When the door opened, he motioned in front of him with his arm, “Right this way, my friends.” There was another reception desk, and he repeated the same verbiage he had mentioned in the lobby.

  David and Tank recognized the routine. He was like a magician in a parade doing a card trick. Creating a distraction so he could get away with whatever it is that he was getting away with. The two men followed him down a hallway from the reception area on the floor that led to his office. It was a simple but elegant room with a desk in the middle, shelves behind him, and a round table with four chairs that sat off to the left. On the right side, was a stuffy recliner with a floor lamp and a little round accent table just large enough for a small rack of pipes, a few jars of tobacco, and a large pewter ashtray.

  “Come. Have a little drink,” he said, walking around his desk, reaching underneath and pulling out a bottle of vodka.

  “No, thanks,” Tank answered.

  “I’ll take one,” Hirsch said, graciously. “Thank you.”

  “Now, what is his name, David?”

  “Tatanka Ptecila. He’s suggested we call him ‘Tank’ to keep it simple. He’s a Lakota Native and is tremendously skilled, Alexei.”

  “Okay. Good. I have something I want to show you. It’s in that closet to your right, Tank.”

  On the far side of the recliner was a little door, and David had just assumed it was a coat closet. When Tank opened it, a light turned on, and he almost fell down a steep iron spiral staircase!

  “I’m sorry,” Alexei said, with a lip-smile. “Maybe I should’ve warned you.”

  “Where does it go?”

  “All the way down to the basement.”

  “Where the van is?”

  “Give up about the van already!” Sokolov said with a chuckle. “What you will find is much better than the van.”

  Tank was famous among his military peers for his “Spidey sense.” But the LaunchPad crew saw it a little differently. With generations of scout
s that had served this country in almost every war, and before the U.S. became a nation, the Lakota tribe of the Great Sioux Nation, he had inherited skills that could never be taught. David was watching him closely during this interaction. It’s why Bruce had volunteered to stay with the jeep.

  “Why is it better than the van?”

  “Okay, I’ll tell you what’s going on. There are people in this building who want to undermine our president.”

  David pretended to look surprised, and Alexei caught him.

  “I know, my friend. You’re no stranger to the ebb and flow of politics,” he said, handing Hirsch a glass of Beluga Noble – a smooth vodka from Mariinsk that uses the highest-quality malt spirits and artesian water infused with honey. “The battle is always about two things. Money or power. That’s my understanding anyway. As long as the money flows in the right directions, everyone is happy. But, some people are dissatisfied with the amount of power they have. They will look for any opportunity to embarrass the president and chip away at the power he has with his people.”

  “Public perception.”

  “Exactly.”

  David nodded. “So how can we help him?”

  “He wants you to know that we’re not involved.”

  “I believe you,” Tank said.

  “Me too,” echoed Hirsh. “So why can’t we see the van?”

  “Because the van has already been processed. And now, it is carefully watched by enemies of the president.”

  Suddenly David understood. People inside the embassy knew that the van was involved in a shooting incident. They’d probably hacked street security cameras, and followed it to their building. Now they were watching to see what would happen to it. If the Americans showed up, the enemies to which Sokolov referred, could build a narrative that would embarrass the Russian president. It was an election year, and every news story, social media post, and public relations campaign needed to be in his favor.

  “We don’t need to see the van, Alexei,” David admitted. “But you haven’t answered my question. How can we help?”

  “Go down to the basement,” the Russian said, turning to Tank. “The door at the bottom of the stairs will open into a little hallway. There’s nothing else there except a door straight ahead of you. That leads to another passageway. Go through that, and your first door on the right is a janitor’s closet. Someone will meet you there. He has something to give you.” He turned back to David. “You and I are going to drink. And smoke. Did you bring a cigar?”

  “I always have a cigar with me, Alexei, you know that.”

  “Great! You’ll have a cigar, and I’ll have my pipe.”

  The two men raised their glasses and touched the rims to each other.

  “Tank, one more thing.”

  The agent had taken two steps down. He stopped and turned to face Sokolov.

  “When you secure the evidence, come straight back up these stairs. It’s not an easy climb, but you’re in great shape. Make sure nobody sees you.”

  The two men sat down at the round table, and David prepared his cigar while Sokolov worked on his pipe.

  “You going to tell me what happened?”

  “Yes. Early in the morning, we got a phone call from someone who claimed to be a Russian citizen with diplomatic status. He said he was under duress and needed to get into the Embassy. He’d lost his passport, was being chased by the police for a crime he did not commit, and he needed our protection.” Alexei placed a good-sized pinch of fragrant dark fired Kentucky cherry tobacco in his pipe and tamped it down with a little golden tamper. “We had no reason to doubt him. Although we didn't know who he was, his Russian was perfect. When the van arrived at the gate, there were three Russians inside. They had the right paperwork. And there was one man they said was in duress. Our Embassy guards were ordered to let them in.”

  “Are you guys in the habit of letting in Russian criminals for protection?”

  “When they have diplomatic status, they are under our jurisdiction. You know that.”

  David nodded, lighting up his cigar and sucking in a long draw to bring the heat from the end he’d just lit, towards his mouth.

  “This is where it gets a little confusing,” Sokolov confessed as he reached for a different jar and added a pinch of Virginia burley to the custom mixture in his pipe. “The van drove down into our underground parking lot. There was an exchange, and then a different vehicle left.”

  “We figured that's what happened. Do you know what kind of vehicle that was?"

  "You’ll see on the evidence that Tank is bringing up. I haven't seen it yet.”

  David was sensing a need to be a little bit more diplomatic. Sokolov was the kind of person who gave up information as needed, but also loved the art of it all. “So, how are you doing, my Russian friend? You’re looking well, but I can finally tell you’re getting older.”

  “Ha! You can see it now, eh? I know. It’s sad, but age is catching up to me.”

  “How is Tatiana?”

  “She is doing well. Can you believe that we have been married for thirty-nine years now?”

  “It is amazing that a woman like her would put up with you for so long," David said, grinning. "Are you planning to stay here in the States? How is the upcoming election looking?”

  “I think he is more vulnerable than ever, but I’m confident he’ll win. Nobody else has the influence that he does.” He took a long draw from his pipe and blew the smoke up into the air. “I have no plans to leave. I’ve been here for twenty-seven years, have seen seventeen different ambassadors come and go, and weathered many a storm.”

  While the two men continued to chat, Tank arrived at the bottom of the nine-story staircase. In front of him was a solid wooden door. From the inside, it was painted white. There were no windows, no peepholes, and not even light coming in from underneath. The floor was a grey glossy linoleum, like the kind used in public school hallways. Suddenly the stair lights flicked off, and he was in complete darkness. He froze startled. Then he realized what might have happened. He climbed back up the stairs, and when he’d gone up three steps, the light turned on again. “Motion detector,” he explained to himself, coming back down and standing in front of the door.

  Very slowly, he opened the door a crack and peeked through. The little hallway was just like the Russian had said it would be. Before letting the door close behind him, he examined the handle. It was unlocked and would open from the outside. Tank quietly closed the door behind him and moved forward. He could see through a glass slat into the next corridor. Nobody was around. He opened the door and turned to his right. The passageway was long, with about a dozen doors on each side of it. He peeked into a room on his left. It was set up as a classroom. Maybe that’s where they did English language training for the Embassy employees, he mused. He saw the door of the janitor’s closet. It was slightly ajar.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Do you still think about the wedding?”

  Justin looked over at his wife. They’d been enjoying every moment of this second honeymoon at the White Sands campground on Prince Edward Island. After a day of lounging outdoors, they were cuddling on the couch of their rented RV.

  “I think about it every day,” he responded.

  “What are some of your favorite memories?”

  “The moment I saw you coming down the aisle.”

  Bora smiled.

  “It was so spectacular. The sun was sparkling off the waters of Waitemata Harbor. There was a gentle breeze that made your veil blow slightly to the left. But underneath it, I could see your gentle face. So beautiful. I’ll never forget it. It’s like everything was happening in slow motion. I caught the scent of the roses that decorated our wedding arch.”

  “You did not!” his wife exclaimed, giving him a gentle push.

  “I did! I really did,” he answered. “It was a very emotional moment. Like everything I’d done in my life had led me to that day. I felt peace. Contentment. For maybe the first time in my li
fe.”

  “You cried.”

  “I didn’t cry.”

  “You did!”

  “I got teary-eyed,” Justin said, laughing.

  “It’s okay that you cried.”

  “I know.” He adjusted his position so he could look in her eyes. “Everything was so perfect. All of our closest friends and family were there. And it was just magical, you know? What about you? What was your favorite moment?”

  “When we said our vows.”

  “I don’t remember,” Justin said, playfully.

  “Haha. You’d better remember. There’s a ring on your finger to remind you!”

  They laughed together.

  “What about when we said our vows? Why was it so special for you?”

  “I don’t know. I think that when you covenanted to me … it was so meaningful. I think that you know, as kids, our parents raise us, and we know they love us. But to have someone that I didn’t grow up with, someone that I am crazy about, someone that I love in such a personal way, tell me that they love me and that they’ve freely chosen to care for me and spend the rest of their life with me … I mean, it was just … something I’ll never forget.”