by Fritz Galt
“I see,” Alec said, summoning up as much politeness as he could manage. “I’m sorry.”
He bowed and stepped off the bridge.
The captain grunted and slammed the door in his face, leaving Alec to contemplate the yellow line.
Mick examined Admiral Shi’s proud bearing as the old man selected a driver for the fourteenth tee.
Shi had barely broken a sweat all morning. Despite his pro golf clothes and confident demeanor, the rail-thin military man could not have performed any worse at the sport.
Shi must have been a handsome young seaman at the time the Nationalists were routed on the mainland and escaped to Taiwan.
The Communist Chinese were still trying to stomp out his ilk and liberate the island.
Apparently, the uniform had suited him well, because he made a career of the navy under the exiled government on Taiwan.
But Shi’s rise through the ranks had been slow. Only in recent years as senior command peeled out of formation had his promotions accelerated.
Many former officers joined the lucrative arms trade, bringing their foreign employers the sensitive information they needed for bidding. And with their personal friendships within Taiwan’s military establishment, they had an insider’s edge on winning contracts.
It said a lot that Shi still wore the uniform, and he deserved to be proud of his rank.
The military golf course was one of the few perks given an honest man in the military. Too bad Shi wasn’t much of a golfer.
Shi tightened the glove on each hand and reached out to address his tee shot. The club made a firm knocking sound, and the low drive bounded off the fairway into a stand of areca palms.
“There goes another ball,” Mick said.
“We’ll find it,” Shi said firmly.
“You don’t want a mulligan?”
“Play on.” He gestured for Mick to tee off.
Mick’s game wasn’t stellar, but at least he could stay on the fairway. He lined up a beautiful drive halfway to the green. Then, at the last moment, he somehow twisted his wrists slightly and the shot rolled into the same palm grove.
Shi grinned at Mick’s “mistake.”
As the admiral steered the cart down the edge of the beautiful fourteenth fairway, Mick admired the view of the strait.
Admiral Shi had spent a career defending it. The work called for steadfastness and rewarded the seaman with tedium. Since the mainland wasn’t visible from Taiwan, it was easy to be fooled into thinking that the watery horizon stretched forever. What was the payoff for such vigilance?
“Here,” Shi said, and wheeled his golf bag toward the woods.
“Happy hunting.”
“Humph,” was all Mick heard.
Shi and a two-iron disappeared into the forest of thin palm columns.
A minute later without warning, Mick heard “Fore!” bellowed from somewhere behind him. He ducked under a tree, expecting a ball to ricochet off the concrete-hard trunks and bean him in the head.
There was the metallic knock of a club. Some grass flew overhead and a ball bounced down the fairway.
Mick sighed with relief. “Good shot.”
He had a bad angle, too. He bent over his ball and fired away. It dribbled onto the fairway, not much farther than Shi’s.
Shi emerged from the shadows and spotted the two balls resting side by side. “You see? We’re still even.”
Was he just trying to humiliate Mick? “The only reason you’re out here is to beat me.”
“You’re the enemy.” Shi grinned in self-satisfaction. “In this game, you have only one enemy. That’s the way I like it.”
“Unlike the navy,” Mick said.
Shi turned to him, his heavy black eyebrows raised. “What do you mean?”
“The military has all sorts of enemies,” Mick said. “Not only the People’s Liberation Army.”
“The PLA is the only enemy I know of.”
Mick chose a three-wood and approached his ball. Wordlessly, the two men advanced their balls another fifty yards. Mick could have thrown his golf ball farther.
“Are you saying that America is our new enemy?” Shi said, jogging to catch up.
“Not at all.” Nobody was going to misconstrue Natalie in his presence. “Look, you’ve got contractors trying to cheat you, radio stations trying to demilitarize the island, politicians who steal government funds, and any number of military officers on the take. I’d say you have more on your hands than the PLA.”
Shi knew all that. He was currently head of the navy’s procurement division, a much sought-after job on the island. But he remained faithful to his duties and was considered a creditable commander.
The fiercely independent military prosecutor’s wing had found no fault with him while dozens of his underlings in the past several years had landed in court and, swiftly thereafter, prison.
Mick could count on Shi’s honesty. He also knew that the admiral’s two daughters were already pursuing advanced degrees in America, and he hoped to retire there soon. An American visa was one incentive to keep men on his good side, and on the good side of the law, for conviction of a crime meant a visa rejection. End of story.
Mick took a chop at his ball. It sailed high and landed a mere pitching distance from the green. Shi’s ball bounced several times and rolled further, just short of the green.
“Impressive,” Mick said, and joined him for the walk to the green.
“I warned you,” Shi said. “I play to win.”
As they approached the green, they passed a short distance from the next tee.
Just then selecting his driver was the dapper, if elderly, foreign minister Ye Pai-sung and another older gentleman that Mick didn’t recognize.
Shi tipped his visor. The foreign minister saluted, and issued a complaint. “You’re pushing us too fast.”
“Mr. Ye,” Shi said, “if you think we’re quick, you should see those sixty-year-olds behind us.”
The men shared a laugh, but Shi wasn’t kidding. A foursome was hot on their heels.
“Who’s the other man?” Mick asked Shi under his breath.
“An oldie but goodie. He’s Kang Nan-an. You probably know him only by his first name, Nan-an. Running for governor next election.”
“I should have consulted my history books. His party will never nominate him. Governor Huang has the reelection locked up.”
“Don’t count on it,” Shi said with a heavy sigh. “Nan-an may be old, but he has enormous resources.”
“What? Money? He’s been a government servant all his life.”
Shi shrugged. “Now he’s got lots of it.”
“Who’s backing his bid?”
Shi carefully dried the brim of his visor. “Don’t be surprised,” he finally said. “We are.”
“You? The military? You funnel funds to him?”
“No, of course not. All our money is strictly accounted for. We don’t buy politicians. That’s for businesses.”
Mick nodded, somewhat skeptical. Shi’s explanation left the impression that the military could award contracts to businesses that in turn bought the politicians. He wasn’t sure he wanted to pursue the subject any further.
Instead, he raised a different subject. “The governorship isn’t that big of a job. I’m surprised that Nan-an would come out of retirement to run for it.”
“The governor could play a major role. Legally speaking, he has a bigger job than the president.”
Mick filed that thought away for future reference. The national government in exile represented all provinces of China, and the island of Taiwan was just one such province. Under that setup, both the provincial governor and the national president had the same jurisdiction. Perhaps Nan-an felt that provincial rights were just as strong as the nation’s.
A stroke later, and they were both on the green.
Shi leaned over his putter so intent on winning that sweat now dripped from his neck.
Mick rocked on his heels and
looked around. It was a beautiful day. After the uncompromising heat of the city, the gusty ocean breeze was refreshing.
Forceful and straight, Shi’s fifteen-foot putt ignored the terrain and rammed into the cup with a hard, metallic plop.
“Hmm,” Mick said.
Shi stepped lightly over to the hole and removed his ball. He stood back to examine the ball, a smile on his lips.
“Will you stop that?” Mick spat out. “Just watch me sink this.”
He had to make a ten-footer. He pulled back the putter and tapped the ball. It rolled just shy of its mark.
He ignored Shi, and nudged the ball into the cup.
“Four holes to go,” Shi said, marking his scorecard. “You’re down one stroke.”
“Admiral,” Mick said. “I’m well aware of that fact.”
He had spotted a bench shaded by healthy cypress trees.
“Let’s let these racehorses play through. We can sit out a turn right here.”
“Need to rethink your game?” Shi suggested.
“No. Just trying to slow you down.”
They strolled through the rough to the bench. Mick pulled a can of Coke out of his golf bag, and the admiral reached for a Pocari Sweat.
They toweled off, and Mick popped the cool Coke can open.
“I need to bring up a delicate subject,” he said at last.
He could see Shi nod, but felt uncomfortable nonetheless.
“An army captain committed a murder yesterday. I happen to know that he’s guilty, because I witnessed the crime.”
Shi’s eyebrows shot up. “I was informed of a civil investigation.”
“Maybe the case doesn’t fall under the military’s jurisdiction, but another matter definitely does. Captain Leng was meeting his brother, Leng Shi-mung, who is here on China’s negotiating team. The two met in private in Peitou yesterday.”
Shi huffed. “Contacts between military officers and mainland Chinese may well be unlawful. But in this case, they are half-brothers, as you know. And they met on our turf, the Republic of China.”
“They have met before. From the way they communicated with each other, I could tell that they already knew each other.”
Shi’s challenging demeanor lost some of its confidence. “Impossible. Leng Shi-mung has never been here before. If they met under any other circumstances, that would amount to treason.”
“That’s the way I see it. If they met in China or in a third country, Captain Leng would have broken the code of military conduct.”
He paused to let it sink in, then continued.
“Which leads me to a second point. The two exchanged a message.”
Shi’s frown increased.
“The half-brother handed Captain Leng a message that read something like this: ‘August 8-15. No PRC support. Shanghai Class A.’”
“Strange. What do you think it means?”
“I was at the Foreign Ministry this morning. They can’t make heads or tails of it. Our embassy in Beijing is also working on it. We’ll have it cracked before long. However, according to the dates, whatever it’s referring to will happen tomorrow.”
“We need to know before then,” Shi said.
“I agree. And one more question. Can you find out the captain’s exact responsibility in the army?”
“No need to wait for that.”
Shi’s eyes no longer focused on Mick. They were trying to penetrate the clouds amassing over the eastern hills.
“Captain Leng is a personal adjutant to General Li, Supreme Commander of Taiwan’s Armed Forces.”
Chapter 15
Alec Pierce spent the afternoon at sea working to keep the divers safe and Rover on track. Their robot had won the hearts of the crew for her flawless performance.
He was just hauling the last diver onto the platform when he turned his attention to the weather. A blanket of clouds extended across the sky and cast a shadow over the platform. They were thirty miles from shore and the sea was developing swells of up to three feet high.
A crane mounted on the platform lifted Rover from the sea. To Alec she looked like a helicopter that had lost its rotor blades. She settled gently on her twin pontoons, and he supervised the crew securing her to the platform deck.
Five minutes later, he stood aboard the Dolphin watching as she towed the platform back to the island. Waves obscured any trace of their wake.
How bad was this storm going to be? Too bad he hadn’t read the weather forecast.
The crew trickled into the ship’s cabin to warm up. Left alone, Alec edged around the ship and began to mount the steps to the bridge. The beeping sound that he had heard earlier in the bridge was still strong.
He paused to look back at the dive site. From that height, he could see a white speck on the horizon, another ship. Strange, no other vessel was assigned to their operation. Yet it was approaching the spot where the Dolphin had been.
He climbed a few more steps and strained to hear inside the bridge. The beeping gradually began to fade as they steamed back to port.
What was that beep? Was it the radar picking up a nearby fishing trawler? Why was it fading?
He looked back. The white ship maintained the same distance from them, so that couldn’t be causing the beep.
Suddenly he felt the movement of air. A hand slapped the rear of his Speedo.
“Got you.”
“May-lin! Don’t creep up on me like that.”
“Don’t move. You’re under arrest.”
“Don’t joke around.”
The two points in her T-shirt jiggled against his back. Alec rolled his eyes and turned slowly to face her.
She had changed out of her wetsuit into a pair of short pink shorts and a white T-shirt bearing the picture of a tropical sunset.
“I take it your work is finished for the day?” he said.
“No, not finished. This is just a break.” She turned away to the ocean. Her hair flew in the wind and a mysterious, satisfied smile spread over her lips. She was looking at where they had been.
“Do you see that ship?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“What do you think she’s doing?”
There was no response. The white vessel was moving into the area they had just mapped.
“The aide to Taiwan’s military supreme commander?”
Mick sat across from Director Bronson Nichols and nodded.
“Is the brother of the Chinese negotiator?”
“Half-brother,” Mick corrected him.
“And they met at the cemetery today?”
Mick nodded again.
“And he killed a cab driver?”
“That pretty well sums it up.”
Mick was interested in Bronson’s reaction as he absorbed the news that the leadership of Taiwan’s military might be undermined by the Chinese.
“So what does this amount to?” Bronson asked, clearly distracted by other news of the day. “Under the table diplomacy?”
“It all depends on the meaning of Leng’s message to his half-brother,” Mick said. “Sorry to take up your time, but I thought you ought to be informed of this.”
“Of course I should be informed of this,” Bronson said, leaning forward accusingly. “Why shouldn’t I be?”
“You’re a busy man these days.”
“Thanks to Natalie.”
Mick would prefer that Bronson didn’t hold his antagonism toward Mick and his brother against Natalie, but Bronson pursued the subject.
“Damn Reds,” Bronson said. “Up to no good. If only your wife would realize that. It feels like she’s a traitor in our midst.”
“It does look like China is meddling,” Mick said. “But let’s see how it plays out.”
“Just keep it under your hat. I don’t want any more running around cemeteries, watching people murder other people, chasing people by bus. At this sensitive moment in our relations with Taiwan, the United States is totally hands off.”
“Okay, I’ll stick with
analysis. Once we decipher the message, we’ll know what all this amounts to.”
Bronson studied the Chinese message Mick had jotted down for him. “Convince me that this is any of our business.”
“It is our business only if it turns out that their negotiator represents some faction within China and his half-brother represents Taiwan’s military, thereby connecting China directly to Taiwan’s military. If there is some secret deal that we don’t know about, we might need to revise all our assumptions about cross-strait relations.”
“All right, I’ll buy your little teaser for now. Who’s working to decipher this message?”
“I sent it to our embassy in Beijing.”
“Who exactly?”
“A fellow named Eli Shaw. I sent it for his eyes only. He’ll be discreet.”
“Let’s hope someone can decode this damned thing,” Bronson said, tossing the sheet of paper back to Mick. “I can’t figure out what it means.”
“Same here.” Mick would have to do his own investigation, but how about his boss? “What about Bill Fellows? How much do you want this to get around?”
“Not him. Not now. We’ll tell him eventually. The real question is how to keep you out of trouble. I’m not in the business of shipping coffins back home.”
“That would be the consular section, sir.”
Bronson glared at him.
“Listen,” Mick said. “I’ll simply work my contacts with MOFA and the military. No more funny business.”
“Ah, the military. That’s where Defense should come in. Let’s bring in Gabe.”
Mick tensed. “Not the colonel, sir.” Colonel Gabe Starr was a bit too high-profile for that sort of investigation. What he needed was some help with the legwork. “I’d bring Steve in first.”
“Novak? Okay. You’re cleared to bring Steve in on this. It could be that they’re already working on this case from another angle.”
“Right. And one more thing. It’s also a political question. What do you know about Nan-an?”
“Ah, Nan-an,” Bronson said, sitting back and reflecting. “He was a cabinet member when I was a young student here in the late fifties. This return to politics comes out of the blue. Running for governor,” he mused. “He doesn’t stand a snowball’s chance in hell.”