Man of Honor

by Chris Malburg

  But they won’t kill him, Jack hoped.

  Helen didn’t look up from her monitor, “Li Yong cares little about himself. It is his parents whom they will capture and torture right in front of him to get whatever it is they want.”

  Jack heard the sound of Li Yong’s rapid breathing over the speakers. The guy was in a flat out sprint. Helen’s voice issued rapid-fire directions—turn left, turn right, up those stairs, through that door—trying to stay ahead of him. There was no doubt now that Li Yong was running for his life. And his parents’ lives if Helen didn’t guide him to safety.

  The three pursuers had split up. One continued after Li Yong. The other two went left and right at an intersection. “They’re boxing him in, hon,” Jack said. Helen fired off new directions.

  Li Yong burst through a knot of teenagers in front of the Apple store, knocking them aside. Packages and people went flying. Li Yong went down, his momentum skidding him across the shiny marble floor, past the now angry kids but suddenly in the clear.

  The pursuer right behind Li Yong hit the same knot of kids. Only, he could not get through so easily. They were angry. His poorly cut dark suit immediately identified him as some sort of official. The kids were not about to let him get away without loudly complaining and blocking his path. Theirs was the new, less compliant China.

  “I need to get him outside before those other two converge,” Helen said. She issued more navigation instructions.

  “This guy,” Jack said pointing to the pursuer still surrounded by the angry kids, “knows his ass is in a sling if he doesn’t capture Li Yong. His superiors will eventually see this recording. The guy wasn’t more than ten feet away—just a few steps from Li Yong. And he couldn’t grab him. He’ll be directing traffic at some intersection before the week is out. That’s some motivation to catch Li Yong and redeem himself.”

  Li Yong’s haggard breathing came over the speakers. “He’s a computer geek, not an athlete,” Helen said. “Can’t stand much more of this before he slows and they catch him.”

  But then everyone in the Counter-Terrorism Center saw the wall of glass doors opening to the outside. Helen had kept up her steady stream of directions during the entire time

  “Nice navigating, hon,” Jack said, trying to break the tension.

  “Almost there, Colonel,” Helen said. “Through those doors…good. Right turn. You’re now on West Second Ring Road. It’s crowded there on the street. That’s good. Don’t run. But move as quickly as you can to the subway. It’s coming in just fifty meters. I might lose our com link down there. I want you to take Line 1 Fuxingmen to Exit B. Got that?”

  Huffing and puffing came over the speaker along with the sound of Li Yong’s shoes slapping on the sidewalk. “Line 1 Fuxingmen to Exit B. Then?”

  “Come up the steps. Take Bus 800 out of the district. I will have a man on the bus make contact and escort you—”

  Before she could finish, the crack of gunshots blasted through the speakers. Another monitor showed pedestrians scattering while three dark-suited men, guns drawn, ran after Li Yong.”

  “They’re just clearing the path,” Jack said. “See? They’re firing into the sky.”

  “Do not leave the main street,” Helen ordered. “Do not—”

  “They’re not shooting at you,” Li Yong said. He jumped right, running into an alley behind the mall. Throngs of people crowded the narrow space between two buildings.

  “Where’s he going?” Jack demanded.

  “People’s Number 1 Market,” Helen said. “Smart. He’s trying to get himself lost in there.”

  “You got that right,” Li Yong answered. He pushed and shoved his way through the swarm of shoppers on their way to the market. The three baggy suits were gaining on him.

  “Finally there,” Helen said. The alley gave way to the first part of People’s Market. It was the fresh fish section. CIA swiftly switched from camera to camera in the Chinese State Security system as they all watched Li Yong’s flight. Wooden boxes of iced, colorful whole fish lined the aisles on both sides. The ground was wet with the melt-off. And it was slimy. Li Yong skidded to a stop just short of a crowd around the fresh tuna. When he couldn’t get past them he yanked over one of the wood display crates, spilling fish and ice all over the aisle. The crowd swelled in indignation around the fallen inventory. The baggy suits stopped dead, right in the middle of the angry crowd.

  Li Yong sprinted through the fish section and turned left. He immediately ran into the textiles and lady’s lingerie section.

  “Well done,” Helen advised. “Much better coverage here since everything hangs from bamboo poles. You have ten vertical feet of coverage.”

  Li Yong dodged around bolts of colorful hanging fabric. He ran around literal walls of bras and panties where women were trying them on over their street clothes.

  “He’s putting some distance between the baggy suits,” Jack said. “Good boy.”

  “Take the next left,” Helen ordered. “Perfect. Go through the produce section and straight out of the market to Qiranmen Street…Nicely done, Li Yong. Make a right. Now go past the Quanjude Roast Duck Restaurant.”

  “No. I’m out in the open. Totally exposed.”

  “It’s okay, Colonel,” said Helen. “You’re clean—”

  “Clean?” stammered Li Yong. “Is that what you call it? State Security almost snatched me up for questioning. I got away by some miracle. And all you say is I am clean?”

  “Calm down, Colonel,” Helen ordered her man. “I told you nothing would happen to you and it hasn’t. You just got a little exercise. Now keep it together.”

  CIA tapped her shoulder and pointed to a white van on his screen. Helen nodded.

  “You’re almost home,” she said. “Look left. See that white van approaching? That’s ours. Soon as it stops, the side door will slide open. Get in. Quickly.”

  Jack and everyone else watched the video monitor as Li Yong dove into the van and completed his next steps toward righting the terrible wrong he had created. “Okay Colonel,” said Helen. “You did great. The first part of any journey is the hardest. Just think of all the lives you are saving. Both Chinese and American. You can talk freely now if you want—”

  “My God,” Li Yong sputtered. “You people are damn aggressive. I didn’t even pack a toothbrush.”

  Jack returned Helen’s gaze. He wanted to laugh. The guy just ran for his life from three State Security agents who would have caught and tortured him and he’s worried about his teeth? “Kid’s got brass ones; I’ll say that for him.”

  “We have tooth brushes here in your new home,” Helen said. “And I happen to know you have the access codes to Unit 61398’s computers in that cell phone in your back pocket. That is all you’ll need.”

  “And my parents? Where are they now?” Li Yong’s voice came clearly over the ceiling speakers.

  Jack saw Helen’s glance come his way. He arched his eyebrows and nodded once, as much saying, go ahead, spill the beans.

  “We are still trying to find Mom and Dad,” Helen said.

  “What? Parents are still in country?”

  “China is a big place,” Helen offered. “They’re not in any danger yet. No one will know of your defection for several days. By then we’ll have found your parents and brought the three of you in.”

  Jack studied the man’s face on the video monitor. He saw a giant wave of exhaustion flood over Li Yong. Eyes shut tight. Body slumped into the van’s bench seat. Jack checked his watch. Still mid-morning. Even so, the stress and the suddenness of beginning his extraction must seem to Li Yong like he’d just finished a marathon. Marathon’s just begun, pal.

  * * *

  Chapter 28

  “We just now picked them up, Comrade Chairman.”

  “After three days. Where? Where did you find them?” The Chairman worried that his State Security police picked up the wrong elderly couple. The country is lousy with them. The idea of physically joining his men on this hunt
began as just a glimmer in his subconscious. It had been too long since he was out in the field with his troops.

  “In the forest, Comrade. They were taking a long weekend camping trip with a Young Pioneer group.”

  “What makes you think they are the parents of Colonel Yong?”

  “They said so, Comrade. They look like the pictures we were given. And they produced correct papers with their identification.”

  God, the Chairman thought, I would like to look into the man’s eyes and question him myself. “Where do you have them right now? Where?”

  “We are still here in the forest. Both are standing not three meters away. They seem harmless. A nice, elderly couple.”

  The Chairman of the Central Military Commission felt his jaw muscles relax Yes. That is how he would describe General Yong and his wife—nice, harmless. “Hand the phone over to the father. Let me speak to him.”

  “This is General Yong. I tell you nothing. What do you want with my wife and me?”

  Forthright, thought the Chairman. Just like his traitorous son. The man still has the steel spine of a PLA warrior. “General Yong, do you recognize my voice?”

  A pause. Then, “This is a trick. You are a band of filthy Japanese terrorists kidnapping a high-ranking PLA official.”

  “No trick, old friend. And I am no Japanese terrorist.”

  “Any patriot of the People would recognize my Chairman’s voice. Your version is not even very good. Torture me. I tell you nothing. I will die with Xi BigBig’s name on my lips, his image in my eyes, and the sweet sound of his voice in my ears.”

  “Oh stop it, General. It’s me, okay? Terrorists did not kidnap you both. You are with my people from the State Central Committee.”

  “You may sound something like my Chairman but that is easily done. My Chairman is a famous patriot of the People.”

  “Thank you, General. Li Yong and I are working on a project. Very secret. Dangerous. He told me something that proves who I am.”

  “I will judge any evidence you have.”

  “Do you remember the first mathematical proof you taught Li Yong? It was Euclid’s theorem of infinitely prime numbers.”

  “Hmmm,” the General said. “He was frustrated because it required proof by contradiction. He tried for four days to disprove it.”

  “It was three days, General. Who but your son would know such a thing?”

  “Okay. Fine. Why would my usually respectful son work with the Chairman of the Central Military Commission to kidnap his old parents? Tell me that, please.”

  In spite of the urgency, a smile split the Chairman’s lips. He ached to be out in the field. He had finally turned the tables. “I need you both for a special mission. Ah, very hazardous. But of enormous importance to Xi BigBig. You are the only ones the Central Committee trusts for this delicate mission. I will personally serve as your handler. We needed to make it look realistic to anyone watching—”

  “Good work,” said the General. “We thought they were going to shoot us any minute. Is that how you treat your people working on special missions? Still, our thoughts were only for the well-being of Xi BigBig and will be until the very end.”

  “I shall pass him your sentiments. Listen General, your mission requires that you follow instructions. The men you are with and everyone else you’ll see from now on work for me. They will keep you safe. But you must do what they say. Are you and Mother up for your mission on behalf of the People—”

  “And Xi BigBig,” insisted Father, “a patriot through and through.”

  “Of course. Here is what I need you to do…”

  * * *

  Chapter 29

  Gallagher shifted in his chair. He’d rather be in his own NTSB facility unraveling these crashes rather than still here in Smitty’s office at the FBI’s Washington Field Office. “Jack is right. Homeland and the other agencies just want to mount a show trial.”

  Jack sat back down, “I already spoke with the President. We’re going to rendition him back here.”

  Crypto looked up from his laptop, “You’re cleared to bring him into the NYPD Intelligence Division & Counter-Terrorism Bureau? Really? They have all the computing and communications equipment Li Yong could ever need to stop his own attacks.”

  “Brilliant,” Smitty said sarcastically. “What about the FBI and NYPD? Either of those organizations gets eyes on him, game’s over.”

  “It has to be a hands-on rendition,” Jack said. “We cannot run this op remotely. We must be in the country and onsite to ensure things go as planned. Otherwise, our own agencies might get him and lock him up. If that happens, there will be more devastating attacks. I’m going to China.”

  Smitty nodded. “I knew it would come to this. You’re not going alone. I’m in, pal.”

  Jack waited silently as the others volunteered for this mission.

  “Someone needs to be the adult among you cowboys,” Helen said. “I’ll pack a bag.”

  When they finished, Jack said, “Officially, we do not have the backing of our agencies or our government—”

  “Unofficially, what did the President say?” Helen asked.

  “For now, we assume the only support we get comes from our friends within the agencies, but not the agencies themselves. The US government will hunt us down just as they are hunting Li Yong. We will likely lose our jobs. Forget any pension. We could end up in prison for a very long time. Or dead.”

  “Geeze,” Smitty said, “just another day at the office.”

  “Okay,” Jack said. “Let’s reach out to our network of friends, access the equipment, communications, and transport we’ll need. Plan on leaving in twelve hours. Let’s not burn any more daylight. Go!”

  * * *

  Chapter 30

  “Reason for visit?” demanded the Chinese customs agent.

  The PA speaker was right over his cubicle in the open three-story Terminal 3 of Beijing Capital International Airport. The echo from the stone floor along with the soaring glass and steel ceiling made it almost impossible to understand the blared baggage arrivals announced in four languages. It was an enormous testimony to the Chinese People’s productivity to host the world in such a magnificent facility. Stay cool, Jack reminded himself. Twelve hours in the air, now this guy. You’re just another weary passenger.

  “Vacation,” Jack said. “The wife and I came to see the sights.”

  “Why no Tokyo?”

  Jack watched the customs agent’s eyes scan Helen. With her deep dark brown eyes, raven black hair, and tan complexion, she was every inch Japanese. “Been there. Nice country. Good people.” Jack tossed his head at Helen. “But we wanted to visit someplace different.”

  Customs flipped through both their passports. He’s taking his own sweet time, Jack thought. Problem? Unlikely. Not with CIA’s Special Services Division passports. They even used real US Department of State passport stock when they made them. Then distressed them to give both passports a well-traveled look.

  Customs looked at Helen. “You step aside. Follow colleague.” He waived Helen’s passport. “We keep.” Then he handed Helen’s passport to a female customs agent who had just arrived at the cubicle.

  He turned back to Jack, “You got item to declare? Guns? Weapons?” Customs stood behind his cubicle’s counter and stared blankly at Jack.

  “What? No. Say, what’s going on?” Jack asked, playing the part of a confused innocent passenger. He watched the customs agent look up and down his 6-2, 220-pound tightly muscled frame. Time stood still at the impasse. You going to stop this mission before it starts, pal?

  “You go,” the customs agent finally said after waiting just a little too long, establishing his authority over the American. He handed Jack back his passport, waving him through. The guy had already motioned for the next passenger to step forward.

  Within five minutes, Jack saw Helen walk out of the Customs office, turn, and wave a friendly goodbye to its occupant who stood in the doorway waving back. She innocent
ly trailed her roller bag behind her.

  “Any problem?” Jack asked, catching up with her.

  “Routine,” Helen said. “Why I don’t have my husband’s last name, where I live, why I married a white man. That sort of thing. Let’s get out of here.”

  They rented a Hertz car and drove to the team’s rally point at the Temple of Heaven Beijing. It was on the low end of the Holiday Inn scale.

  “What’d you say?”

  “About?” Helen asked.

  “About why you married a white man.”

  She smiled, leaned over the car seat, and kissed his cheek. “I told the customs agent that white men are excellent lovers. She said that was advice she hoped to try one day.”

  “You used our love life as a tool?”

  Helen stared at Jack for a moment. “Women talk about everything. How could you not know that? Two things guys never discuss are their sex lives and their money. Unless they’re lying. Then it’s such a worthless conversation. So I bridged the gap between just another suspicious traveler and someone that young Chinese customs agent could relate to. We shared a laugh at something very human. She stamped my passport and wished me a lifetime of happy travels with my most excellent white man lover.”

  “You guys do a sweep before you started talking?” Jack asked. He had seen worse rooms than the one at the Temple of Heaven. Brown shag carpet, worn to threadbare in some places. Small, even for a two-bedroom suite. The place smelled musty—like it hadn’t been vacuumed or wiped down in a while. It had a single sink in an even smaller bathroom.

  CIA held up a black box about the size of a pack of cigarettes with its metal telescoping antenna extended. “Never leave home without my trusty bug scanner, Boss.”

  “Find anything?”

  CIA opened his other hand. In it were three smashed plastic discs. “One in that lamp over there; one in the telephone there,” he pointed to the desk. “And one behind the headboard in the bedroom. That’s all, Boss.”