by Fritz Galt
“Where are you headed?” he asked.
“Back to Hong Kong. Need a lift?”
“Like you wouldn’t believe.”
“Oh.” She paused with a finger twirling a ringlet in her dark brown hair. “I believe I can help you there.”
He heard footsteps climb up behind him. The captain had allowed May-lin onboard.
“You have already met Dr. Hu May-lin,” Alec said.
Odette nodded curtly.
The captain held out his hand. However, he was asking for her pistol.
May-lin frowned and laid the weapon in the palm of his hand.
“Now that all the introductions are over,” Odette said in her light accent, “I’ll show you to your separate quarters.”
He couldn’t exactly protest.
They passed under the bridge and entered a lavishly appointed parlor.
She led them down varnished steps to the passenger quarters. There she produced a key and unlocked Alec’s berth.
“Your key is on the bureau,” she said, and slipped her key back into her slacks pocket. Her deep red lips stretched into a grin as her thin fingers massaged the outline of the key against her thigh.
“When do we push off?” he asked.
“Within minutes. Since it’s such pretty weather, come and join us for a tan on the foredeck.”
“Am I free to explore the yacht?”
“She’s yours to enjoy.”
“I can’t wait.”
“Nor can I.” Behind her inviting eyes, he still detected the hard edge with which she first scrutinized him on the dock.
He bowed and caught May-lin’s cautionary look as the two women left, with Odette reverting to Mandarin for her benefit.
Alec shut the door and checked out the cabin.
He had no personal belongings, so the first thing he searched was the dresser. Bingo. There were clean shirts, shorts and undergarments.
Another drawer held women’s clothes, with plenty of lingerie and white silk.
Had Odette put him in her personal cabin?
He opened a tall footlocker and couldn’t resist a smile. Inside were two robes labeled “His” and “Hers.”
He returned to the dresser and searched for a swimsuit.
“What?” From behind the shorts, he pulled out a tangle of white strings. The thin, gauze-like fabric stretched easily in his hands.
Was this the only swimsuit in the cabin?
In Shanghai, Wang Lo heard a knock on his apartment door.
It was just before sunrise, plenty of time before going in to work at André’s European Consortium. His wife was stir-frying breakfast in the kitchen, so he answered in his oversized pajamas. He spun the lock and looked out. A chubby man slumped against the doorframe with a shiny metal briefcase.
“It’s from Johnny,” the stranger said, sniffing the air.
“Have you eaten yet?”
The man thought for a moment, then declined the offer. He bowed and left.
Wang locked the door and took the briefcase over to his tea table. At first he had thought it was made of aluminum. But the sides were hard as a rock. It must be made of titanium.
With extra interest, he sprang the latches.
Inside were two stapled pages and a stack of twenty more sheets of paper.
The first page of the stapled pair recorded disbursements from a single account at HongkongBank to twenty accounts spread from Chengdu to Tianjin.
The total amounted to $300,000,000.
Wang looked at the figure again and counted the zeros. Three hundred million dollars. He would have to purchase more than Kuang Hua Petrochemical stocks and spread the investment around many different companies.
He made some quick mental calculations.
Three hundred million invested with a forty percent return would yield one hundred and twenty million dollars overnight. What did General Li intend to do with all that money? Buy the island?
Attached to the printout was a letter of authorization signed by General Li.
Wang flipped through the stack of separate pages. Each contained an account name, amount and access code so that he could access the money to buy the stocks.
He might not have time for breakfast. The stock market would open in a few short hours.
Chapter 32
Natalie stood on the fringe of Ta-an Park in central Taipei.
A muted orange sun rose slowly over the smoking city. The smell of rain-dampened cinders mixed with the fresh smell of grass. Her heels sank several inches into the soggy field.
She was lucky to find a place for the helicopters to land.
Not only were helicopters banned in Taiwan for civil defense reasons, there simply were no open spaces in the densely populated city. Since the Nationalist government in exile had planned to return to the mainland ever since 1949, they let the city grow helter-skelter and didn’t plan for parks, highways and other needs of a growing population.
Finally, to accommodate emergency evacuations as much as for recreation, the city sent bulldozers to carve an open area out of the tangled maze of alleys, military barracks and slums.
It may have provided Taipei’s citizens a place to relax, but the park also made one heck of a landing pad. A dozen helicopters could land there at once.
At last, Natalie picked up a unique sound for Taipei, the throbbing thunder of distant choppers.
She caught a glint of sunlight reflecting off a windscreen at high altitude. Twin-rotor transport helicopters were descending into the chaos. As per her instructions, the lead pilot headed for the northeast quadrant of the giant park. When the chopper’s wheels finally touched the tender blades of grass, the first American troops in twenty years spilled onto Taiwan.
With a disheveled director of the American Institute in Taiwan and an equally tousled vice president of Taiwan by her side, Natalie felt a tingle in her spine. After decades of isolation, Taiwan was reconnecting with a long-lost friend.
A team of navy medics in fatigues and white armbands leaped from the bay door and jogged toward the waiting group. They held down their helmets with one hand and clutched doctor’s bags in the other.
She stepped forward to meet the first soldier to arrive.
He halted, set his bag on the wind-flattened grass and saluted. “Colonel Blake, Seventh Fleet Medical Corp.”
“Natalie Pierce, Economic Counselor, American Institute in Taiwan.” She offered her hand and the colonel shook it.
“Boy are we glad to see you. As you can see, we’re desperate.”
She turned and introduced the director and Vice President Chu.
“Welcome, boys,” Bronson said. “You have your work cut out.”
“We’re ready, willing and able.”
Vincent Chu gave the medic a humble bow, deep gratitude etched in his pinched expression.
Sure, hundreds of American military advisors visited Taiwan regularly each year. But these boys weren’t there to sell weapons or oversee exercises. An actual response to a military crisis was far more significant to the Taiwan authorities. It demonstrated America’s true commitment to their security.
Colonel Blake seemed to sense the gravity of the moment and wiped a piece of scrambled egg off his unshaven chin. “So, which way, ma’am?”
“Our vehicles are waiting.” She pointed to a line of vans on Hsin Yi Road with their Chinese drivers standing by. “We’ll start with the American compound first.”
“Whatever you say, ma’am.”
The men fell into line behind him, and Natalie felt like a mother duck leading the pack.
Helicopters were landing all around. The park’s young trees tossed in all directions under a second assault of wind.
“I understand there’s no embassy here,” Colonel Blake said.
“That’s right. We don’t have official relations with Taiwan. However, you’ll find a lot of Americans needing medical attention here. Our staff is relatively large and many American expatriates have shown up at the inst
itute for care and shelter.”
As they neared the street, Colonel Blake could get a closer look at the damage to the city. “What hit here? Looks like napalm.”
“Wind, rain, earthquake and lots of fires,” she said.
Five-story apartment complexes lay open and exposed like gutted fish. Stunned citizens wandered in shock down the boulevards that had turned into narrow footpaths through the rubble.
“Mostly we have burns, broken limbs, lacerations and shock,” she said. “We have no doctor.”
“At all, ma’am?”
“None. Who could have anticipated all this?”
He looked grim.
She noticed most of the soldiers glancing around the city with dismay. Colonel Blake stared at his combat boots as they sloshed through the final puddle. Perhaps like her, he could hardly face the misery.
However, she reminded herself, he was a naval medic. He was trained for warfare and needed to narrow his focus to the job at hand.
Steve Novak hobbled up to them like a crippled bird. He pulled Bronson Nichols and her aside.
“Excuse me, Vincent,” Bronson said, and was led away.
“I don’t want to get your hopes too high,” Steve said in a breathless whisper. “But we just monitored an argument over an independent radio station. My assistant tells me a foreigner was actually in the studio wringing a confession out of the station manager. The man wanted to know why the station was pleading for help from China.”
“What radio station was it?” Natalie asked between her teeth.
“Voice of the People. The manager is Rocky Ouyang.”
Harvey Talbot scanned the headlines of the South China Morning Post. It confirmed the bad news.
“My Whole World Died in an Instant”
Taiwan Reels from Double Tragedy
Then his office phone rang.
Harvey grunted as he leaned over to pick it up, and an operator said, “Bank of China, can you hold?”
“I can.” He leaned back heavily in his chair at the American consulate in Hong Kong to collect his thoughts. His long-time friend, Mr. Tsai at Hong Kong-Shanghai Bank, had come through with a confidant at the Chinese government-owned Bank of China. If all went well, she would trace Ouyang’s money and stop the transaction in Shanghai, all in exchange for an American visa. While he waited, he reviewed his understanding of international currency exchange.
The general in Taiwan would have sent New Taiwan Dollars to a brokerage firm in Hong Kong. That firm would deposit the money in a renminbi-denominated account, probably taking a five percent cut on the exchange.
The Hong Kong brokerage would then wire a bank transfer to somewhere in China, perhaps laundering the money to several accounts.
Eventually, all pieces of the transfer would terminate in the hands of one man or company in Shanghai. That entity would then purchase the Class A domestic stocks, which were at record low prices that week.
“Wei? Mr. Talbot?” came a hesitant female voice.
“Yes?” Harvey said. “Speaking.”
“I’d like to meet you somewhere. Perhaps for lunch.”
He was an informal kind of guy, and had little time for clandestine meetings or pleasantries over lunch. “No meetings. Let’s talk now.”
“I need to see a visa.”
“You’ll get a visa.” He felt he had the upper hand. After all, his consulate held the keys to the woman’s future. “Now talk.”
“The money in question was sent to a certain trader.”
“Can you tell me his name?” he requested.
“You will provide the visa, yes?”
“Of course. I’m as good as my word.”
“The trader is in Shanghai. His name is Wang Lo. He received the access codes this morning.”
Harvey let out his breath. “His company name?”
“Private trader.”
“Give me his address.”
“I don’t know any more.”
He waited.
“Please hold,” the woman said.
All he heard was a duet between two women in a Chinese opera. Gongs, cymbals and drums pounded home their emotions.
“Wei?” she said, picking up again.
“I’m still here.”
She gave him the man’s address and phone number in Shanghai.
His thick fingers trembled with excitement as he wrote them down. “When did he receive the money?”
“This morning.”
“Okay, you may give me your name.” He couldn’t count the number of American visas he had given to informants.
“The visa isn’t for me,” the meek voice said. “It’s for my boyfriend.”
Chapter 33
Eli Shaw awoke in Shanghai slightly disoriented, with bicycle bells ringing in his ears. He rolled out of bed and walked toward the sunshine that beamed at a high angle through Stephanie’s tall windows.
“Eli, get back in bed.”
He pulled back the lace curtains and revealed a tree-lined street that ran through the old French Concession.
A blaring ship’s horn boomed off the cosmopolitan Bund.
Through the morning’s haze, he could make out the lethargic Huang Pu River flowing past granite domes and a clock tower.
The city was an awe-inspiring example of China’s growing economic power. Towering skyscrapers dwarfed the former foreign settlement, heralding China’s future on a grand scale.
He began to sense the frenzied atmosphere on the street below. Everybody wanted a piece of the action.
“Eli?”
He turned back. An athletic, yet impossibly buxom figure stirred beneath the sheets. Nowhere in the country was there a lovelier pair of…eyes.
“I’m here,” he said. “Just looking at you, Steph.”
“You can get a closer look under the sheets.”
“I’m afraid we have work to do.”
“We aren’t going to the consulate, so we don’t need to punch a clock. Let’s take my Yamaha when the time comes.”
“No, thanks. It’s a taxi for me.”
She pouted.
He kneeled on the bed, lifted her chin and kissed her full on the lips. “We can take your motorcycle if you like.”
“I’m simply being practical,” she said.
Right. She wasn’t just interested in helping him out. She just wanted a little excitement.
So he crawled under the sheets, and that’s exactly what he gave her.
Half an hour later, he lay exhausted in bed while she took a shower. The telephone rang and he picked it up.
“This is Harvey,” the voice said.
“You found me.”
“I won’t ask whose number I’m calling right now.”
“And I won’t tell.”
“The trader’s name is Wang Lo.” Harvey read out the private trader’s address and telephone number.
Eli jotted it down on a slip of paper. “That’s fast work. For our part, we also got a lead on the stocks he’ll be buying.”
He wouldn’t mention Kuang Hua Petrochemical by name over the telephone. Any eavesdroppers might start a buying spree.
“So you’ve got all the pieces you need to prevent the transactions?” Harvey said.
“That’s right.” Eli stood up. “We’re going in this morning.”
“You’d better. The papers say China has an expeditionary force lined up on the shores of Fujian Province.”
Eli slapped the paper with the name of the trader. “Maybe this stock transaction is all they’re waiting for.”
“I’m sure you won’t be the only one there today.”
“I’ll watch my back,” he said, and hung up the phone.
“And so will I,” Stephanie said as she brushed past him with her warm, clean, naked body.
He tried not to notice. “We have our lead. Do you know where this place is?” He showed her what he had jotted down.
“That’s easy. In fact, it’s right by the consulate.”
“L
et’s get there before the securities exchange opens.”
She jingled her motorcycle keys before her finely toned form. “Shall we go like this?”
Fifteen minutes later, Eli clutched Stephanie’s black leather jacket tightly as she jumped her motorcycle over curbs and sped down rickety sidewalks.
She had tucked her long, flaxen hair under her collar and, with helmet visors, their ethnicity was concealed from the public. However, the black and chrome motorcycle was a rarity in a city of bicycles and taxicabs.
As she approached the correct block of Huai Hai Zhong Road, she throttled down to a snorting halt. A revolving purple-and-white checkered sign indicated a barbershop in Building 209. Above that were three floors of dilapidated apartments.
Eli jumped off, and said, “Wait here.”
He walked up to a red British-style phone booth. He dropped in a one-renminbi coin and dialed Wang Lo.
“Wei?” a man answered.
“Wang Lo?”
“Yes?”
“A delivery for you.”
“I’m not expecting—” The phone went dead.
He returned to Stephanie.
“I think I tipped him off,” he said.
“You tipped off the whole neighborhood.” She tossed her head toward a white BMW sedan that had gunned to life.
“Give me three minutes,” he said. “Then drive around back and wait for me.”
“It’s your life.”
Eli strolled to the apartment entrance beside the barbershop. The wooden door pulled open with only the slightest tug. He stepped inside and lifted his visor. His eyes adjusted quickly to the gloom.
Wasting no time, he climbed several flights of stairs to the topmost landing. There he found a sign with hand lettering. “Wang and Associates.”
He knocked. There was no response. He tried the door knob. No luck.
He pressed against the door with all his weight. It didn’t budge.
At last he reached into his pocket and pulled out his tan diplomatic identity card. It slipped easily between the door and its frame. A lock disengaged and the door swung open.