CHAPTER 7
MONDAY
Wuhan, China
NATPAC picked up his phone the moment it rang.
“Yes Lieutenant?”
A voice on the other end said something.
“They are inserting an operative? North Korea? Northeast Coast?”
He listened more.
“Look into it. Do whatever you can to figure it out more precisely.” He slammed the phone down and lit a cigarette.
NATPAC was a Major in China’s People’s Liberation Army. He did not look the part in any way. Frail and thin-boned, he looked like someone for whom performing a pushup equated to torture. The dark hair on his head looked tired and was dying, given his smoking and drinking habits. But NATPAC wielded a different muscle than his body, and it was one of the most powerful forces in China. He led the Chinese Army’s electronic espionage group. They were the government’s hackers. The lieutenant he had spoken to was one of China’s top computer scientists and hackers. He could do a handful of pushups.
NATPAC was a username – he had put up every protection possible to safeguard his real identity. He was in the business of stealing the information and identities of others. He had a particular taste for intelligence from American government agencies and companies. But he was to be known only as NATPAC.
The call he received this evening threw him into a frenzy. His hand shook as he smoked his cigarette. He stood up, walked in a small circle, sat back down, and stood up again.
Do they know?
His skin crawled as he imagined that America might now get involved in his affair. Could it be a coincidence that a spy is being dropped near – the facility?
He quietly despised America. Through all of history, China had always been the world’s greatest superpower. The things China invented alone demonstrated its greatness.
“We invented the compass, gunpowder, paper, and printing,” he often thought to himself. It was a joke that the West was proud that Gutenberg invented the printing press in the mid 1400s. China had actually invented moveable type printing in the mid 1000s. Throw in a few more of China’s key inventions: the fork, the noodle, paper currency, crossbow and gas cylinder and it becomes obvious China invented everything the West loved most, he thought. And somehow they became the Superpowers. America, with its loud and uneducated populace was somehow ruling the world and directing everyone in it. From birth, he was taught to remember China’s old glory and to despise America. Today, he could not even think about America without feeling sick.
He looked out of his window. Wuhan looked like a mix between clean traditional Chinese architecture, bleak communist industrial landscape, and a commercial land of neon signs luring people into shops. As he observed the cityscape, he hoped that his fifteen-man team could figure out the rest of this puzzle. He needed to know what the Americans knew and where they were going to insert this so-called operative. Maybe this is a blessing, he thought. We can catch an American spy and get everything out of him. We will hack into his mind with our torture techniques – after all that is what torture is, hacking. Maybe we’ll get the CIA’s deepest secrets. He gave a sigh thinking about his team. They can figure it out, he thought. The men in the other room were some of the greatest intellects in this country. The computer was an extension of their minds.
NATPAC pulled out a bottle of Kaoliang from his cabinet. Kaoliang, a Chinese liquor made from fermented sorghum, was his drink of choice. For most westerners, even heavy drinkers, the first time they tried Kaoliang typically was also their last. But NATPAC drank it often.. Its rough, gag-inducing taste made him feel strong. He once heard Americans who tasted Kaoliang call it Cow Dung instead of Kaoliang. How obnoxious, he thought.
He did not move away from the window. He stood in the dark. He did not like turning on the lights because they hurt his eyes.
One day, we’ll be the only superpower again.
But he might not be there to enjoy the future if America had figured out his secret, he thought. His fragile heart started racing – or at least it started trying to race.
“We need to do something. We can’t let them find our secret,” he thought.
He put down his Kaoliang and picked up his phone. He made the phone call he had to make.
Devil's Fork Page 8