by Fritz Galt
Then suddenly, Natalie’s face appeared on the screen.
Chapter 11
Alec Pierce cruised just below the surface of the ocean with May-lin gliding beside him.
Myriad black-and-white striped fish trailed behind. The occasional cluster of seaweed cast a swaying shadow on the ocean floor.
He felt a tap on his shoulder. May-lin signaled for him to rise.
He broke the surface and tilted his snorkel back, paddling in place.
“Is he not pretty?” May-lin asked.
“Hard to believe it’s planet Earth.”
“Let us be going in. It is past six o’clock.”
He checked his diving watch. No matter how long he lived there, he’d always be surprised by how early the sun set in the tropics.
“One more dive and I’ll follow you,” he said.
She nodded and swam off for the dock.
He took in a lungful of air and headed for the rippled ocean floor. Silence rang in his ears like a street full of squealing tires. He’d have to acclimate his entire body to the peaceful life.
He burrowed his hands into the floor of the lagoon and sifted the white sand through his fingers. Then his lungs made an involuntary effort to breathe.
He clutched a handful of sand and pushed off for the surface. Before he reached it, his hands were empty. One last look back revealed a dispersing cloud of sand.
He surfaced to see May-lin’s nearly bare backside as she bent over to pick up her mask and flippers.
She flicked some loose strands of hair over one shoulder and turned to look at him.
“Mamma mia,” Alec said under his breath, and waved to her.
Her smile reminded him of the Formosa Air hostess.
“Wait right there,” he called.
By the time he had climbed up the ladder, he expected to see her dry and fully clothed. Instead, her hair clung like streams of water to her neck and breasts and her bikini was still pulled askew over whatever it bothered to conceal. She gave him her full attention.
“What a muscle man,” she said.
“What a babe,” he returned. “Do you want to share my towel?”
She drove a sharp elbow into his ribs. “Being careful,” she said. “You are my associate. No funny stuff.”
It wasn’t going to be an easy research mission.
She turned and began to stroll briskly past the beach and through the palm trees to the hotel. He tried to maintain his balance as he jogged to catch up. An hour of weightlessness had left him unsteady on his feet.
“Let’s grab a seat for a few minutes,” he said as they reached the restaurant bar. He directed her to a table under a thatched grass umbrella.
“You are always wanting to relax.”
“If you can’t relax here, you can’t relax anywhere.”
A waiter stopped by.
“Two San Miguels, please,” Alec ordered.
May-lin sighed and sank into the seat facing the beach.
The sun’s last rays illuminated a vase of flowers and fell full on her face.
“Such nice flowers,” he said. The island’s name, Lan Yu, meant “Orchid Island.” Each table was graced with delicate, pink orchids on slender stalks.
The beer arrived and May-lin gulped down half a glass.
She could match him beer for beer. But it wasn’t a contest.
He plucked a blossom from the flower arrangement on the table and tucked it into her hair just above her ear.
The contrast of her light skin and dark hair accentuated the tender beauty of the pink blossom.
“Xie xie,” she thanked him in a sweet voice. For an instant, the hard-driving woman became as delicate as the orchid.
Alec had lived in Taiwan for a full two years, and Chinese women were still an enigma to him. He could never tell when they were being flirtatious or merely feminine.
He usually had no clue as to May-lin’s intentions. Her double-meanings, her refreshing innocence and her scanty dress usually spurred on a strong hormonal drive. But then he’d have to stop and ask himself if she was merely being feminine and Chinese.
What was a guy to do?
Keep a clear head and watch out for more hit men trying to bump him off. That was what.
He would have to put his libido on hold.
He took a big swig. He would have to think of her as just another drinking buddy, someone slightly more pleasing to the eye than most of the beer-happy slobs he shared time with on Taipei’s Snake Alley.
“Our last beer,” she said, and held up her empty glass.
He was confused. “Why our last?”
“Because tomorrow we are diving, so no more drinks today.”
“You sound like a public service announcement.”
“A what?”
He smiled inwardly. She was nothing if entirely homegrown. While many of her colleagues at the university had received their PhDs in America or Britain, May-lin was a local phenomenon.
“Never mind. Just a silly reference,” he said. “I’m hungry. Can I treat you to dinner?”
“Tonight we are eating on the entire crew. I have reserved the table for seven o’clock. I am introducing you with the divers then. We are moving up on the schedule. Tomorrow we make our first mapping.”
He stopped short of finishing his beer. “But I thought the testing wasn’t finished.”
“We really must begin tomorrow.” She rose to her feet and shoved in her chair. “Our research swings into full action.”
“I guess that means our vacation is over,” he said, exaggerating his disappointment. “Our official duties begin.”
“No, I am very stimulating. You will like.”
“Yeah, I’ll try to enjoy it.”
He leaned his wet head of hair back against his rattan chair and looked over the tranquil ocean. He was reminded of the times he had read about the South Seas as a youth. There was a poem.
“Red sky at night,” he quoted.
She pulled him to his feet. “Sailor’s delight.”
How did she know that?
She laughed teasingly and bumped him. “See. Even some sayings I am knowing.”
Within seconds, he had become comfortable with her soft skin against his. But he would have to concentrate on the subject at hand.
“Oh, you just made that line up,” he said, trying to recover himself.
“Of course I did not. I know the expression.”
“Then what’s the rest?”
She thought for a moment. “Red sky in morning—”
“Sailors get horny,” he said, exasperated.
She wagged a finger reprovingly.
“So, maybe the sailors are horny.” He got up and led her back to the hotel. “Especially after a night of delight.”
“Alec Pierce,” she said with mock severity. “You are coming to a bad end.”
Retired Air Force Colonel Gabe Starr strode unannounced into Bronson Nichols’ office.
“What the—” Bronson began.
“Turn on your TV,” Gabe said, with a nervous twitch of his eye.
Oh, no. Not the twitch. Bronson turned on the set. A file photo of Natalie Pierce appeared on the screen.
In rapid-fire Chinese, the announcer reeled off his news story.
Bronson’s Mandarin was good enough to get the gist.
The announcer read from a script against a backdrop of F18s flying off an American aircraft carrier and file footage of Taiwan defense forces scrambling into their fighter jets.
Something about America announcing a new policy. One China, One System. Dropping support for Taiwan’s military defense. Disarmament of Taiwan.
Bronson felt his heart racing.
“Sir, are you okay?” Gabe said, worried.
Bronson found his desk chair just as his knees buckled under him.
His ship was foundering.
“Where’s Kevin?” he asked. His press spokesman had better be watching.
Natalie walked down the carpeted hal
lway and contemplated all that Professor Lien had divulged about his expectations of Alec Pierce. Maybe it was time to take Bronson’s advice and keep her nose out of other people’s business.
Normally, she didn’t get involved in Mick and Alec’s work. And for good reason. Not only was it entirely their own business, but she hated deception, subterfuge and machismo, which probably explained her strained relations with the CIA and the political and military sections of AIT.
On the other hand, Alec was her brother-in-law. His safety was something she did care about, and she wanted to learn as much as she could for his sake.
She took a deep breath and entered the science attaché’s office.
Inside, an overweight Sean Petit sat tinkering with his latest supercharged computer.
She stood in the doorway and cleared her throat. “Got a sec?”
Without looking up, he kicked a secretarial chair her way.
She straddled it and scooted toward him. “I’m interested in who’s funding a particular science project at National Taiwan University. Is that something you could look up for me?”
“I can,” the beefy man said, still absorbed in his work on the computer.
“Will you?”
“I will.”
It was like talking to a computer. “How will you look it up?”
“I can post e-mail on the university net.”
“Just like that?”
He turned to her suddenly, his thick fingers poised over the keyboard. “I’m waiting.”
It took her a moment to realize that he had already logged in to the university system while they were speaking.
Why did men always leap to her assistance? Was it just another sexual thing? Or was it because of her commanding air, her note of authority? Or was it simply because she was his boss?
“Okay, it’s a project in the geology department. Studying underwater volcanoes. They’re mapping the ocean floor.”
“That’s all I need to know,” she said.
“I’ll drop a line to my buddy in the disbursement department there, and we’ll read his reply in the morning.”
“Fine.” It was more than she had asked for. “I am interested in the nationality of the people involved, as well as their names.”
“All of that is in the public record. Should be no problem.”
“Thanks,” she said, and stood.
“I’ll drop off your answer tomorrow morning.” He swiveled and returned to his computer.
He was going to carry the answer all the way down the hall?
Then she caught his eyes studying her stunning, eager figure reflected in an otherwise blank screen.
Men.
Stepping out of the office, she bumped into a harried looking Kevin Yew, AIT’s spokesman.
He shot her a nasty look and continued fussily into his office without so much as a “hi-ya.”
Who put the bug up his ass?
Then she realized he had just left Bronson’s office.
After meeting with Kevin Yew, Bronson was floored.
Each and every afternoon newspaper had picked up and printed the story from the China News Agency. Furthermore, the airwaves were full of conjecture and half-baked theories. Not a single television or radio station repeated Natalie Pierce’s comments without massive doses of alarmed commentary.
The presses’ reaction fell along two lines. The media controlled by the ruling Nationalist Party saw Natalie’s remarks as America’s turning their back on Taiwan and called for an immediate military buildup and national alert. The Democratic Party, similarly unnerved, called Natalie’s remarks an intentional undermining of their attempts at democracy and independence and called for a national plebiscite for independence.
It was time for Bronson to turn to the big guns.
He grabbed the phone and told the AIT operator to get the State Department’s Assistant Secretary for East Asian and Pacific Affairs on the line.
“It’s five in the morning there, sir,” she said.
“Have the Ops Center wake him up if they have to.”
Five minutes later, he was speaking with a groggy Paul Townsend, the Assistant Secretary of State.
“Paul, we’ve got all hell breaking loose here,” he began.
“Okay, you’ve got my attention.”
“Our economic counselor let a few stray comments slip, and the press has picked it up and amplified it.”
“Like what kind of comments?”
“Like predicting unification before the millennium.”
“We don’t make those sorts of predictions.”
“Tell her that. I just got a full briefing from my press spokesman.” Bronson went through all the bad news. Finally, he picked up the afternoon paper and stared at the screaming headline. “The press is blowing all this out of proportion. They’re calling it a shift in official policy. There’s all sorts of wild speculation.”
“That’s your problem, Nichols.”
He threw the paper back onto his desk and stared at a poster on the wall. It was a blowup of an American stamp showing troops from the Gulf War wrapped in an American flag.
“Paul, the unfortunate thing is not Taiwan’s reaction. That damage is done. People here now believe that the United States is weak on Taiwan. What I’m worried about is how China will react.”
“Why? You’ve been overly paranoid about China for years.”
“Paranoid? Or clear-eyed? I’ve built a career on China containment. A successful career, I might add.”
“Okay, listen. I’ll call Mallory in Beijing and give him a heads up.”
“We need more than that. And fast.”
“You want us to issue some sort of official retraction?”
“AIT is not official, so how can you issue an official retraction for something we said? We need President Damon to come out publicly and state our position.”
“Won’t that give this bogus story more credibility than it deserves?”
“Nip it in the bud, Paul,” he said. “That’s what I’m saying. Don’t give China a green light for anything. Make it abundantly clear that we’re behind Taiwan. We don’t want China to pull another Kuwait while we aren’t looking.”
“Okay. I’ll brief the secretary of state first thing this morning.”
Dr. Morisot entered a gaming parlor from a crowded sidewalk along Chunghsiao East Road.
The myriad colored lights flashing and reflecting off of mirrors and the bells that rang around the room confused him for a moment. What were all the men doing at the strange machines?
The proprietor walked up to him.
“What are these games?” Dr. Morisot asked.
“Pachinko. Gambling,” the man said. “Legal. You want to try?”
He shook his head, still intrigued.
Then he heard footsteps behind him. Turning, he saw a small man in a sweaty green shirt. Morisot wrinkled his nose at the garlic smell and was about to turn away when he saw the man bow.
“Dr. Morris,” the man spat out in heavily accented English.
Close enough. “You have something for me?”
The man held out a red envelope with both hands, bowing again.
Morisot plucked it out of his hand. “What’s in here?”
“It is a shit of paper.”
“What’s on it?”
“It is a letter with the signature of General Li. It authorizes transfer of his money.”
“Does it mention Johnny Ouyang’s name specifically?”
“It says ‘Mr. Johnny Ouyang.’”
“Very good. I’ll send it to Johnny overnight.”
Morisot opened his briefcase against one knee and slipped the envelope inside.
When he looked up, the man in the green shirt was gone.
Chapter 12
There was no response when Natalie rang the doorbell, so she took out a key and let herself into her apartment.
It turned out Mick was relaxing on the balcony and hadn’t heard her enter. He had the
China Times Express in his hands and a glass of Coke by his side. A fan was wedged in the balcony door and directed at his bare chest.
She smiled. What little he knew.
She tiptoed into their bedroom where she set her briefcase down, removed her silk suit and lacy bra and slipped into a loose T-shirt and faded jeans. Then she stepped out onto the balcony.
“Hi, honey.” She straddled him and sat facing him in his lap.
He sat upright and removed his sunglasses. “Natalie, where on earth have you been? I couldn’t reach you.”
“I went to see Sean Petit shortly before I left on the van. Why? What’s up?”
He folded back the newspaper so that she could see the front page. “U.S. Drops Defense Pledge.”
“Oh…my…”
He leaned forward and gave her a kiss. “Welcome home, honey.”
She fell into a nearby chair and grabbed his Coke. “What’s the TV reporting?”
“You don’t want to know. Just answer this question. Have we changed our policy?”
“You, too? What is it with everybody today?”
“I don’t know,” he said, his eyes scanning the horizon. “Sounds like the panic before a storm.”
She picked up the paper and found her name in the first paragraph. “Looks like the storm has already hit, if you ask me.”
His heavy black eyebrows knit together with concern. “What did Bronson say?”
“I haven’t even talked with him. All this has happened in the past few hours. It’s news to me.”
She tried to keep from hyperventilating. She had to relax and find the right perspective. “Someone’s blowing this whole thing out of proportion.”
“Don’t worry about the press,” Mick said. “That’s not your job.”
“I know. I should stick to my own job. But that’s where things went wrong.”
“So you said the wrong thing.”
She read more of the article. “That’s another problem. They are misquoting me. I said nothing about a ‘joint government’ between Beijing and Taipei.”
“What did you say?”
“That’s the thing. I can’t remember exactly what I said. Something about cooperation.” The speech was coming back to her. She was at the climax and everyone was clapping. “Oh yes, then I saw Hank Lin leave the luncheon. He must have reported the story back to the China News Agency. But even they have to get official approval before releasing a story such as this.”