The Visitor

by Brent Ayscough

  “Your favorite? A fresh start? A do over?” Baron repeated what she said like a Brazilian parrot, shaking his head.

  The waiter appeared and asked for their order.

  “What is the specialty tonight?” Baron asked in French.

  “Canard au sang,” the waiter answered.

  Baron looked at Tak and translated into English. “The specialty is Canard au Sang.”

  “What is that?” Tak asked.

  “Canard is duck,” Baron said.

  “Oh, you gave me duck in Poland,” she responded. “It was wonderful. What is the other part?”

  “It means served in its own warm blood.”

  “Baron!”

  ***

  The next morning, the couple was up in their room. Baron phoned the front desk for petite dejeuner with coffee and juice. In only a few minutes, a young lady appeared at the door with a tray of the usual breads, butter, jam, coffee, milk, and orange juice.

  As they ate, Baron opened his laptop and read messages. “I’m requested at my office in Taipei. Would you like to see Taiwan and parts of Asia? With this terror attack on the train, you might not want to continue here in France.

  “I would now prefer to leave here,” Tak said. “Let’s go to Taiwan.”

  “I’ll get busy making reservations,” he said.

  Her clothes were still in the bathroom on the towel rack drying. Baron brought them out before he started his shower. They were almost dry.

  “Tell me about your clothes. You have only this one outfit, not counting the one you bought in Poland. How do you manage with one outfit?”

  “My clothes are unlike yours. I can wash them and hang them up to dry. They are made of a material that holds a constant temperature, and if wet, they dry right away. It keeps me at the temperature that is just right for me at all times.”

  Baron blinked, stunned, then started at her. “A constant temperature? Air-conditioned and heated clothes? I could make a fortune with this!”

  She followed him into the shower. While they were both occupied in the shower, a different person came into the room who was not the same one who brought the tray. She was a woman in her late twenties with short, dark hair, black slacks, dark red shirt, and black jacket. She also wore latex gloves. She put the used cups and glasses on the tray and took the breakfast tray away. Outside, down the hall on the staircase, when no one was looking, she put the cups, glasses, and utensils into plastic bags and put them into her oversized purse. She carried the tray down the steps to the reception, and set it on a desk when no one was looking. Then she left. She was a CIA operative.

  ***

  The secure, satellite phone rang for Ralls in his Frankfort hotel.

  “Mike Winger, CIA, here. We found the girl you wanted and the baron at a hotel in Paris. They are married, and she is a baroness. We don’t have the marriage records yet, but believe it was a recent marriage by an administrative official in Berlin. We were able to get their cups, glasses, and eating utensils in Paris and have sent them for analysis of fingerprints and DNA.”

  “How did you find them so quickly?” Ralls asked in amazement.

  “We’ve been looking all over for them,” Winger answered. “Then there was the terrorist train attack the day before yesterday. The French Government collected video recordings on solid state recorders of the train terminal in Paris looking for suspects. They got a clear shot of the couple you described, sitting at a table in a café in the terminal. From that, we found them in a hotel that they checked into. They were apparently booked on the train that was hit, but missed it and went to a hotel where we found them. The next morning, we were able to get their breakfast tray from their room.”

  Ralls, shocked at the speed, asked, “How did you get the French police and government to turn over the recordings of the train terminal so fast?”

  “We didn’t,” Winger said. “We hacked into their system, as usual. It avoids all the delay and red tape.”

  “Well done,” Ralls said. “Anything further?”

  “Baron Von Limbach is well known for selling international arms and military equipment,” Winger said. “But he was never known to be married until now. We do not have any background on the woman, yet. We can’t find any.”

  “Where are they now?” Ralls asked.

  “They boarded a 747 first class to Taiwan. He has an office there as well as in Berlin,” Winger said.

  “Nice work. But please see if you can find out anything more about the woman.”

  CHAPTER 13

  Mei Ling and the rest of the staff always stood when Baron entered the office. The office was expecting General Hisa Rong-Jee--family name first, and pronounced “tsee-ah.” Two of the male employees had come from the Taiwan military. A good deal of Baron’s business was with the Taiwan military and they enhanced the contacts and communication. Since the military always stood when an officer entered the room, the rest stood as well and it became a tradition at his office, which Baron did not mind in the slightest. When he came in, everyone stood. And since many of the people that came to the office were in the military, it was an excellent policy.

  Mei Ling came into Baron’s office with a steaming pot of Oolong tea. The slender Mei Ling, wearing her cheongsam, slithered around Baron’s chair and served him the exotic tea from his own plantation. The aroma was delightful, and he had not been able to enjoy anything like it while in Europe. Even better than the aroma, the taste was extraordinary.

  “First, it is General Hisa regarding the weapon for the military,” she began. “Then, after lunch, the two Americans.” She had not met the baroness yet. “How’s the baroness?”

  “She’s busy on the Internet upstairs. She’s obsessed right now with studying about serial murderers and rapists. I won’t have her down for the meeting with Hisa, as it will be in Mandarin. However, I’ll invite her to the meeting in English with the Americans.”

  His apartment was the on the floor just above his office, with each occupying half of a floor of the building in the expensive part of Taipei. To have a nice house with grounds in Taiwan required at least an hour and a half drive from the city center. So the only way to go was in a high rise.

  “I’ve told Madam Baroness to let me know if she wants to go out or needs anything,” he added. “I want to send her with Driver Chen to the National Palace Museum. Tonight we will dine out, so make reservations for two for us at my usual place.”

  In Taiwan, Baron did not bring Lachhiman to drive, as he stayed in Europe with the Rolls Royce. And Baron needed no body guard as entry into the island of Taipei was very restricted, allowing little leeway for bad elements to enter, combined with the fact that Baron enjoyed protection from the highest ranks in the Taiwan Army.

  As Taipei was practically a synonym for a traffic jam, Baron hired a man named Chen, who was on full time when Baron was in residence, and in the traditional manner, Chen was called “Driver Chen.” He had his own small SUV, as anything bigger could not get about in Taipei.

  In a short while, Mei Ling announced General Hisa, the high-ranking officer in charge of procurement for the Army of Taiwan. Baron conducted the meeting in Mandarin, in which he was fluent, as General Hisa could hardly tie two words together in English. With Mei Ling serving tea, the meeting began.

  “Baron, as you know, I’m here regarding the competitors for the trials coming up soon for the proposed new turret to be put on our M113 vehicles,” General Hisa said. “I’d like to hear how you evaluate the French version of the competitors for the contract that you represent.”

  He referred to a contract soon to be awarded to modify the older M113 armored personnel carriers, of which the Taiwan army had over a thousand, by adding a state-of-the-art, French-made, twenty-five millimeter gun turret on one hundred of them. The purpose of the vehicle was to hustle troops and supplies to any location that the Mainland Chinese Army might invade to fend them off until the Americans might arrive with allies to save the country. In reality, however, the
likelihood of the Western World making war on China over Taiwan was next to nil. This started with President Carter, who knew so little about Asia. But, Baron thought, if it was not for the abandonment of Taiwan by the US, he would not be able to sell things like the turret. Each of the three companies had representatives coming to Taiwan for the trials, which involved sending over actual turrets by ship, with a crew to mount one temporarily to a M113, and then conducting actual field trials in southern Taiwan. Baron was the exclusive representative for the French competitor.

  “As you know from the data that we have, the company I represent has the best scores in the various competitions elsewhere,” Baron said. “In extensive testing, the French version has fewer malfunctions. We have the trials coming up here for the finalists.”

  Hisa pretended he knew how the thing worked. “Go on. Please refresh me on the specifications, so I don’t get the guns mixed up in my thinking.”

  “This weapon has ideal specifications for defense of the island. Its twenty five millimeter cannon shoots in three or five round bursts, of either one hundred fifty or four hundred fifty rounds per minute, and the length of bursts can be programmed. The thermal imaging sight can find and hit ground troops landing here from China or target running engines in enemy vehicles all by itself. The stabilization mount means it can fire while moving at full speed. There are several types of rounds. The simple one uses regular 25 mm ammo. The next is the High Explosive Incendiary. Another interesting one is the Armor Piercing Fin Stabilized Discarding Sabot, which has a tungsten inner projectile that comes out of an outer shell housing after it leaves the barrel and can penetrate Chinese tanks with ease. The tungsten projectile has a hardness of four hundred Brinell and can penetrate eighty millimeters of homogenous armor at one thousand meters.”

  Hisa, pretending he was well versed on the weapon, which in reality was over his head in complication, said, “Yes, I recall. But, don’t the newest Chinese tanks have much thicker armor? If China lands its newest tanks, will these be effective against them?”

  “Some of the newest ones have a meter of armor, but not the older ones, and even those that do have the thickest armor do not have it everywhere. Most of an expected landing from China would be the older ones, which make up the majority of their inventory. This weapon will stop most all of them. But, General, this conversion makes the personnel carriers into an Infantry Fight Vehicle, not a tank. The guns on tanks are much larger. If we put a tank gun on top of the M113 it would blow it over upside down when it was fired. This projectile will destroy any similar vehicle as the M113, any enemy field artillery, any trucks pulling artillery, stop troops on foot, wipe out older tanks, and stop even the newest tanks with the special projectile ammo. The projectile of this gun is more effective than what the competitors have. It would be very effective at repelling a mass landing of Chinese troops and equipment on our shores, and wreak havoc with their soldiers, while providing safe transportation in and out of the battlefield for ours.”

  “But, isn’t this weapon more expensive than the other two?”

  “Only slightly, including the targeting system, at four hundred eighty thousand United States Dollars each, including installation on the M113.”

  “So, Baron, tell me more about why I should be influenced to buy your weapon?”

  This was the cue Baron had been waiting for. “With the Americans, who are in the competition, they always state the price in the end user papers to get permission from the US State Department to sell such weapons outside of America. That end user permit has been known to take over six months, even to friends such as Taiwan and Israel and, in troubled areas, indefinitely. That, and the existence of the Taiwan law that makes it illegal for anyone to accept a commission on military sales to the government, makes it difficult for us to do business. The commission is usually paid by some foreign subsidiary of the company under some ruse, and the risk of leaks is high. However, the French will sell to both sides of the same war and will sign any document presented them, however false. Regarding commissions--the government, itself, does this for the business, not only the manufacturer. They will pay me my commission and, from that, you will receive your fragrant oil.”

  “How much is your commission?” the general asked.

  If they water-boarded Baron to within an inch of death, he would not reveal the truthful answer to that question. “Very small, due to the fact that my version is more expensive and, therefore, I had to agree to cut it substantially to do business. It is only three per cent on all initial purchases, and only one per cent on parts, supplies, and ammunition, and then only for five years.”

  The general assumed he was lying, as no Chinese ever told the truth in such matters, and he assumed it was probably closer to seven per cent. The truth was that it was seventeen and one-half per cent on the initial order, and three and one-half per cent indefinitely on all future sales and parts as well as ammo.

  “But you know I have my own expenses,” Hisa said. “I cannot possibly go through with the contract with your version, unless I receive four per cent myself.

  “My dear friend, Baron said, “we have had done much successful business together, and you know that I always provide handsomely. But this is a contract for conversion of one hundred vehicles for a price of forty eight million dollars plus spare parts and ammo. I obviously cannot pay out more than I receive. I have a considerable investment in the deal and many costs yet to pay.”

  “The lowest I can possibly go is three,” Hisa said.

  “As we go back such a long way and have had such good relations, I tell you what I’ll do. I will stretch my goodwill with the French gun maker to the limit and make another trip to Paris to meet with its highest officials one last time. I’ll ask them for an additional two percent, which would make it five per cent total commission. If they will, which is questionable, then you and I will split the commission at two and a half percent each. Considering my enormous expenses in putting this together, you would be making several times what I am on the deal.”

  This approach gave the general great face, the proposition elevating him to more money than Baron, and was effective. Before the general could respond, Baron added, “But, of course, the only way to get the French to pay out another two per cent would be to add it to the price, and the French do not care. That would mean we raise the initial order of forty eight million by two percent. Your fragrant oil will then be two and a half per cent of forty eight million, or one million two hundred thousand US Dollars.”

  Hisa acquiesced. “Agreed.”

  Of course, Baron knew full well that Chinese never quit bargaining and, unlike Westerners, Hisa would continue, or try to continue, to get more later. Baron had already cleared the higher price with the French, anticipating what the fragrant oil would cost. Once the contract was signed, Baron would send over a little gift to the general, probably a new Mercedes, which, in Taiwan with its high duties on cars, was very expensive. Presents were customary with the Chinese, and they especially liked Mercedes cars. In the meantime, Baron just raised the price of weapons for the country so he could have more money himself. He would also have to make some gifts to subordinate officers under the general.

  “I can have the contract prepared today and delivered to you, so you can sign it just after the trials of the French weapon and the competitors,” Baron said.

  The general left the room, and Baron summoned May Ling, “Get me those reports on the wealth of that young, American heir who is coming in after lunch.”

  ***

  The wooden door to Baron’s Taipei office was thick and secure. Two tiny cameras, one above the door, another to the side, recorded who was visiting.

  Shanta pushed the bell, as though afraid of what was inside. Mei Ling opened the door, smiled politely, and asked in English, “Mr. Saunders and Ms. Laxshimi?”

  “Yes,” Shanta answered for them.

  “Please come in. My name is Mei Ling.”

  They passed a waiting room on t
he left and then went down a hallway with work stations to the right. Several stations had computers, scanners, faxes, and office machines, staffed with both sexes of Chinese, busily working away, with eight working there that day.

  They were led into a meeting room with a sliding glass door that led to a balcony which overlooked the nearby buildings and part of the city from the next to top floor of the high building. In the center of the meeting room was a round rosewood table. Surrounding it were rosewood chairs with stuffed blue leather upholstery, set on heavy bases that allowed them to swivel and rock. On one wall was a LED screen for presentations.

  Andrew and Shanta walked over to the balcony and looked outside at the rain that was pounding down heavily in the strong winds of the storm they had left outside. A mild typhoon was arriving, and the high winds between the tall buildings could be heard as a soft howling and pulsating.

  Mei Ling stood by, dutifully waiting for orders for refreshments. “The baron is on an overseas call and should be with you shortly. While you wait, might you be interested in tea? The baron is known for having very fine Oolong tea.”

  Shanta looked at Andrew, smiling. “Oh, yes.”

  “Do you have any bourbon?” Andrew asked.

  “Yes, we keep the major liquors here.” Mei Ling disappeared and returned with the tea on a tray and a bottle of bourbon.

  Andrew saw the bourbon and let loose. “I own that one!”

  “How wonderful,” Mei Ling said. She put the bottle in front of him on the table, along with a saucer of ice and a glass so that he could pour as he wished. He took the glass, put in a few ice cubes, and poured himself bourbon. He was not interested in waiting for anyone else to mess around with tea.

  Mei Ling then turned to the tea. She first washed the tea leaves in the small pot with hot water and, while waiting, she warmed the small cups with hot water. She poured out the hot water in the cups and then poured out the tea with its rich, golden color. She passed it to Shanta.