“Yes, Mr. President.”
While Dr. Joseph walked Aaron to the door, he said, “Very impressive, counselor. I’m pretty sure we can find a spot for you on the President’s staff if, no when, this all works out. I had no idea you were so knowledgeable about immigration policy.”
Chief Joseph called out to a secretary, “Please get Aaron and the President’s speechwriters together to start working on tonight’s address.”
Aaron said, “Chief, we might have to change the speech a lot depending on what Kimbo says.”
“Understood. Just get started on whatever you can.”
Chapter 33
The Premier of China welcomed Zhou into his office with a scowl. “Why are you incompetent?”
Zhou was dreading this report. He had believed he would take over the program after a few more successes and expand it. Now this shitstorm. He would be happy if he was able to simply stay alive and be shunned; he could still enjoy the money he squirreled away in banks under false identities in Europe and the United States.
“There was no cure for the flu to obtain. The source was credible; it was approved by my superiors. The mission was a go. The operative knew about her parents and despite the CIA’s efforts, we kept them in China. We have our leverage.”
The Premier exploded. “Had our leverage! We can’t do anything to them now. We would be butchers on the world stage at a point when we need to secure contracts from Russia and the rest of Europe. Sure we can get some of our oil from Iran and make deals with the rest of the Middle East, but we cannot give any so-called U.S. allies any reason to choose them if we have a global trade conflict.”
“Premier, I am sorry. There are risks in any operation.”
“Do you have any idea how many operatives there are? How many of our brightest children we have sent away and have provided us with invaluable information?”
“Hundreds?”
The Premier calmed his temper. He wanted to shout ‘three thousand four hundred and twelve’ but held the information. “Whatever the number, there are less now. Those that wanted to leave the program will be emboldened to leave. This President Shortree seems stronger and smarter than we expected.”
“We have a few days before we meet with him, right? Can we offer up some of our weaker links and divulge them? Make a deal?”
“Of course that’s our plan, you idiot. But the President is planning something. We have heard one of your assets, Kenji Bo, has landed in Washington D.C.”
Zhou looked stunned. Kimbo was one of the oldest spies in the program. He had been reliable on every request that every previous handler ever made.
“You looked surprised,” Premier Mao said.
“I am. He was a loyal asset. He has always provided me with everything I asked for. It was even he who suggested we call upon Xiaowan for the influenza cure…” Zhou began to explain, when he realized in that instant that Kimbo set him up.
The Premier recognized the look on Zhou’s face. It took every ounce of restraint for him to stop himself from slapping Zhou for it. “He set you up.”
“It must be. I will go to Washington D.C. and take care of him,” Zhou said, racking his brain to recall the dossier on Kimbo. Only child, parents both deceased. No significant ties to China and no wife or children in the United States.
“You will?”
“Yes, to show all other assets what will happen if they cross us. I will take care of him and Xiaowan Lerma personally.”
“And further an international incident. You are an idiot. But maybe, in time, you will cause them both to have accidents,” the Premier said, showing the first hint of approval. He then asked, “How old are her parents?”
“Seventies.” Zhou knew better than to question why that was asked.
“Maybe we do send a message. Let’s give one a heart attack. Then, in due time, you will go to the United States to…make things right,” the Premier plotted. A small smile showed his amusement.
Zhou thought, ‘What a wicked and evil man,’ and smiled in return. “I will go to the Gongs’ house immediately. I will swap out one of their medications and will stay to ensure that one of them ingests the poison that will mimic a heart attack. If they have no pills that I can substitute, I will poison a drink.”
The Premier waved the back of his hand at Zhou. “Don’t mess this up.”
Zhou took that as his cue to leave.
Premier Mao picked up his phone and thirty seconds later Wong Ka Kui, the Program Director, entered his office. Wong asked, “Did he have any important information?”
“None. He believes that Kimbo set him up and intended to expose the program. We know that Kimbo is headed to Washington D.C. and Xiaowan is at the White House with her rascal of an attorney. We need to figure out how to proceed before Tuesday.”
“Our program has brought us invaluable information. At this point, it may have run its course. If I may speak frankly?”
Premier Mao nodded once.
“Our country requires trust for trade in the global market. We have more high-tech manufacturing in our country than any other in the world. If Apple believes we have a vast program for stealing proprietary information, they may pull their factories out of China. If others also do that, it would be devastating to our workforce and impede China’s rise towards superpower status.”
The Premier nodded again. “So what do we do?”
“If I may suggest, put me on trial for running the program.” The Premier looked intrigued at the suggestion as Wong continued, “I will give you the names and identities of a few dozen of our lowest import operatives, those we believed were not loyal to China and the program, and we provide that list to foreign countries. After a trial, I will be sentenced to life in prison. And in a few weeks after the matter is forgotten, I will be sent to live at home under house arrest.”
“Why not sweep this under the rug? Make a trade with President Shortree to keep it a secret?”
“The President has called for a press conference today. He will be discussing the program. I believe he will expose it.”
“As do I. What of Zhou?”
Wong Ka Kui shrugged.
“He is going to Xiaowan Lerma’s parents’ house to kill one of them right now.”
Wong looked puzzled. “Her parents are at the program’s recruiting office.”
“I know. I like your idea. Zhou was your second in command. He informed you of his plan to seek revenge against the parents and, seeking my forgiveness, you prevented it. That will make releasing you to house arrest more politically palatable.”
“I will scrub all meeting records involving you and your predecessor. Kenji Bo knows much about the program, but he does not know about the chain of command. We can keep this contained and in time, if the opportunity calls for it, call up assets when all is forgotten.”
“What do the operatives know? How much information about the program is shared? How many people have details?”
“They are compartmentalized. They know nothing other than that their parents received money and assistance and they got a chance at Western education in exchange for their promise to provide us with information.”
“And how many handlers can they identify?”
“There have been forty-three handlers in the program’s history. There are currently twenty-seven. Many have never had contact with their assets; they only kept tabs on the assets. I have ordered a review of all contacted assets. It will take some time to know which handlers could be exposed. I think it’s safe to say that all of Kenji Bo’s handlers will be exposed. The others, I am not so worried about.”
“Who were Kenji’s handlers?”
“Zhou, Leehom Wang, and myself.”
“Leehom Wang, what do we know of him?”
“That he was a member of the program. He worked at IBM in the 1980s and brought back to China information on personal computers. After he feared his cover might be blown, he came home and worked for the program as a handler. He has since started
a computer manufacturing company, Blenovo.”
“I had no idea Leehom was part of the program. His computers sell all over the world. With his position in the program, people will think Blenovo has continued to steal manufacturing secrets from all over the world. This is bad.”
“But also common,” Wong said. “Top tech firms are known for taking each other’s top talent. No one at IBM will deny that Leehom was incredibly smart and driven. I think it gives us a chance to downplay the significance of the program, to say that Kimbo is lying and picking on a great Chinese company. We can use the free market against itself.”
“How so?”
“Much of our industry is State-run. We hire people to fill positions based upon their experience. When the CEO of Yahoo, Marissa Myers, left Google, she did not forget everything she learned and saw at Google. In fact, she was hired because of what she learned there. When we hire someone who worked at General Electric or BMW, it is no different.”
The Premier nodded. “Foreign exchange programs are based upon the premise that people learn from the exchange. Our program could be innocent, a way to train people to think like the West. Leehom could be an example of what is good. He was never caught?”
“Correct.”
“We could offer that Zhou took things a step too far in order to take a shortcut this one time because of the possibility of curing the flu. Zhou was willing to push things even further, to murder, which led to his death because we protected our citizens. Even the parents of a former citizen deserve our protection,” the Premier thought aloud and smiled.
“Premier, I think you have a plan that will be beneficial to the country and your administration. I am at your service no matter what it requires and can only hope to live out my days in as much comfort as circumstances allow. Maybe in the mountains somewhere, with fresh air and a pile of books.”
“That will be arranged. We will, as the Americans say, make lemonade from these lemons. We will show the world that the 1.3 billion people of China have no need to steal from anyone. We advance without doing so because we have the brain power and world class companies such as Blenovo and Baidu. This is a story manufactured by the West to complain about how advanced China has become over the past ten years under our leadership.”
Wong smiled. “And the west is scared because so many people who are educated and employed there return to China because our opportunities for success now exceed theirs.”
“China is the beacon of the future. We draw the best and brightest for the opportunity to work in the biggest country in the world. Very good. I’m sorry your retirement won’t be as glorious as you deserve. Your contribution and service will not be forgotten.”
“I’m just sorry we had to abandon the program. We have had much success.”
“And we will have many more. What time is the President of the United States speaking? Should we make a statement beforehand?”
“Premier, perhaps you should meet with your political advisors. I will start scrubbing files to ensure there is no connection between Zhou and his espionage and the rest of our country.”
“Quite right. Go get started, please. I will send someone with you who will report back to me. It is best if we do not speak again.”
“Thank you Premier. I will serve China and you in any way that I can.”
Premier Mao nodded, shook his hand, and then gave him a hug. He sent Wong on his way with one of his trusted aides to assuage any doubts that Wong was sincere in his efforts to take the fall and serve China.
Wong left the office believing his life and country would survive this uncovering. Moments later, Premier Mao was joined by his staff of advisors. After nearly an hour of discussions that mirrored those President Shortree was having in Washington D.C., Premier Mao learned that Zhou was arriving at Xiaowan’s parents’ building.
Xiaowan’s parents live in the center of Beijing, on the seventeenth floor of a twenty-two story high-rise. Zhou entered the parking lot after waiting on the street until a resident opened the garage to allow him entry. He slammed on the gas and followed the car in before the gate could close.
He drove down one level and searched for the parking spaces he knew to be Xiaowan’s parents’ from the several times he surveilled or met with them. Xiaowan’s father’s car was missing and her mother’s car was parked.
Zhou figured that since it was Sunday, the couple was most likely together in his car. Zhou had no idea that they had traveled to Macau and were diverted away from their home and into government custody.
He kept his head down as he walked through the garage, aware of the cameras. Zhou understood that his visit would be caught on tape. He carried with him a plastic bag from Meiyijia, a convenience store from just down the street.
Zhou smiled at his new plan. He would go kill the old lady, which would make the bosses happy. Then he would leave the country and go into hiding just in case they were going to double-cross him. He would soon be half a world away enjoying French fries with mayonnaise and fresh air at a little café along a river in Amsterdam.
Zhou waited outside of the elevator for a minute, looking at his cell phone. He pressed the button out of frustration. Unsurprisingly, no elevator came because he did not have the electronic key card necessary to activate the elevator.
He heard a car pull into the garage but it did not come down to his level. He jogged to the stairwell and pulled on the handle. It was locked. He looked at the lock, withdrew a leather pouch from his Meiyijia bag, and pulled out a 999 key. Zhou was never great at picking locks. He had good hand-to-eye coordination, which led him to be cocky, but his cockiness was hollow.
Zhou tried to place one 999 key into the lock but it was too big. His second fit. A 999 key is a key where all the ridges are cut to the lowest point so that it will fit in the slot and all the pins would rest on the key. Because the key isn’t set at the correct height, the tumblers won’t click in place to allow the lock to be opened. But if a 999 key can be slammed just right, it sends the pins upward and, with a perfectly timed twist of the key, the lock will open.
Bumping a lock requires less skill and patience than picking a lock where pins are pushed into place. This is why Zhou intended to bump the lock. He looked around for a rock or something wider than the little flashlight he had in his pouch that could be used for the bumping.
He didn’t see anything besides the flashlight and his gun. He set everything down, took a calming breath to focus, and then struck the back of the key with the flashlight using his left hand while trying to turn the key with his right. The key didn’t budge. He tried again. And again. And again. With frustration mounting, he started striking the key with the back of the flashlight horizontally. On the fourth strike, he noticed that the key turned an eighth of an inch. He reached out his hand to quickly continue the turn, and turned it the rest of the way until the lock was open.
Zhou pulled the bump key out and looked at the lock. It was scratched and dented. The forced entry was obvious. The key was bent but would still work so he dropped it back in his pouch and put that in the plastic bag.
He decided to bypass the upper garage level and head for the lobby in case someone heard him banging away in the garage. From the stairwell, Zhou listened for any sounds in the lobby. He waited. Silence. Minutes seemed like hours in the cool stairwell. When his patience wore thin, he opened the door and walked by the elevator bank to the mailboxes where he fidgeted around to give himself time to scope out the lobby; it was completely empty.
A stack of menus from a local restaurant was nearby. He picked one up and pretended to be reading it while he waited near the entrance of the building. A few minutes later, he started reading the offerings and thoughts of ginger roasted duck made him hungry.
He was about to place a call for delivery, since he was waiting so long, when he noticed an attractive twenty-something year old woman returning from a walk with her little white fluffy dog. Zhou made eye contact, then pushed and held the door open for her. “Xie
xie,” she said with a smile.
Zhou nodded a ‘you’re welcome’ and went back to the mailboxes pretending to be busy. When she was twenty paces ahead of him, he put the menu in his plastic bag and followed her to the elevator. She held up her electronic key card to call the elevator, pressed the button, and the doors opened.
Zhou jogged a few steps and made it into the elevator before the doors closed. He pressed the button for the nineteenth floor. She was on the second. He smiled at her, thankful she was too lazy to walk up one flight of stairs.
She looked at Zhou as if to invite a conversation. Noting that he did not want to pet her dog or engage in small talk, she departed on the second floor without saying a word. Zhou exited on the nineteenth floor and felt his pulse rise. He was anxious about what he would have to encounter and how hard this lock would be to pick. If he mangled it with repeated bumping like the last lock, Xiaowan’s parents would see it and know to be cautious.
He reached the door and pulled on the handle. The door was unlocked. With his head tilted slightly back, he inhaled deeply with hearty relief. He gently opened the door and closed it behind him. He walked past a row of slippers and shoes stationed at the front door and looked into the kitchen.
“Boom,” was the last thing Zhou ever heard. A solid slug was fired from a twelve gauge shotgun and lodged in his sternum. The shock wave jolted his heart and stopped it from beating immediately. The gunshot was fatal. Even if his heart was restarted, Zhou would have died from cardiac tamponade as the blood filled up around his heart. Zhou would have also died from blood loss. Had the shooter known he could have performed CPR to try to restart Zhou’s heart, he might have done so just to watch Zhou die painfully. Again. Instead, Zhou’s death was instant and painless.
Chapter 34
“What?” Aaron Baker asked.
Aurora was in the speechwriters’ room telling Aaron, “You heard me, Zhou Zhang is dead. And the Chinese media has reported to the Associated Press that he was perverting an educational program to steal corporate secrets for his own personal profit.”
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