“Well, anyway, I went over to ask the guys what they were doing and they told me to get lost. One of them showed me some kind of military ID. I think you should come over here and take a look at this. Something doesn’t seem right.”
Jason looked down at his watch. I could use one of the corporate jets and be there in an hour and a half. “Hold on a second, Benny.” He walked to Crystal’s bedroom and quietly stuck his head in to check on her. She’s sound asleep, he thought. I’ll leave her a note and alert Janine in case there’s an emergency. I can be back here in about five and a half hours and she’ll never know I was gone. Seeing Crystal’s cellphone on her nightstand, he picked it up and programed Janine’s cell number in it, adding the numbers 911 to the end of Janine’s name that he added to the contact list. I’ll let her know in the note that if something happens to contact Janine first.
He shut the bedroom door and stepped back into the living room. Talking softly he said, “Okay, Benny. I’ll be there in a couple of hours. Keep an eye on things.”
Thirty minutes later he was resting in the beige leather tuck-and-roll seat of Soltech’s Cessna Citation jet as it lifted off the San Jose International Airport’s runway on its way to Nevada. He thumbed through a Sports Illustrated he had brought with him, but his mind wasn’t on pampered athletes. Somebody’s about to get an ass chewing, he thought. I never authorized the uncrating of the solar panels. We’ve got a month or so before they’ll be needed at Copper Mountain. That project’s just getting underway. It’s going to be months before all the wiring, underground inverters, and odd work will be done, before we can even place one solar panel. He stared out the window into the darkness. Would Mei have authorized this work? If so, why? Uncrated, those panels can easily be damaged. This makes no sense.
After the plane landed at Stead Air Force Base, Jason came up to the cockpit and directed the pilots to where the Soltech hangar was located. It was lit up from huge floodlights in front of the hangar and from the lights hanging from the ceiling on the inside. He instructed to have the pilots taxi the jet a hundred yards away from the C-47, which was still parked in front of the hangar, its nose still in the open position. Once the jet stopped, Jason scurried down the stairs and walked up to the massive hangar, keeping to the shadows. He could hear the sound of a vehicle inside the hangar, so he opened the main door on the side of the building and cautiously peeked inside.
Stacks of Soltech solar panels, with small fillers between each panel, rose from the floor of the hangar to the ceiling on the far wall. Opposite the panels were the wooden crates the panels, ten to a crate, had been shipped in. A young Chinese man with a dirty baseball cap over his head and earphones in his ears operated a forklift, which lifted up two wooden boxes from the stack. The man then backed up the forklift and headed toward the C-47 on the tarmac. He passed two sentries guarding the entry of the plane. Two other young men, also Chinese, were smoking cigarettes and laughing at the far end of the hangar, their backs to Jason.
The noise from the forklift echoed around the hangar, and the exhaust covered Jason in a gray smoke. None of them—the forklift driver, the men smoking, or the sentries—had seen Jason, so he slowly walked over to the stack of wooden crates.
He checked over his shoulder and, seeing no one was paying attention to him, reached down and slid open the lid of the crate sitting on the top.
His eyes widened and his heart started racing. Holy crap! he thought. There has to be a hundred assault rifles in here. He reached down to touch one just to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. He wasn’t. Stepping back, he looked up at the stack that towered eighteen feet above him and whistled softly. This is not some small potato operation.
Men’s voices shouting and cursing made him turn to his left. He saw the two men smoking the cigarettes running toward him, screaming at him in what he assumed was Chinese. They skidded to a stop in front of him and pushed him backward, all the time screaming and yelling. One of the sentries, hearing the commotion, came racing over, his rifle up at his shoulder ready to shoot.
Jason held his hands up and shouted, “Hold on! Hold on! I’m with Soltech! I’m the president of the company!”
The men were still yelling excitedly and gesturing wildly with their hands. Jason’s heart was doing double time as he stared down the sentry’s rifle aimed at his forehead. He was sweating profusely. A thought came to his head and he yelled out to the sentry, “Madam Chen! Madam Chen!” The guard looked at him with a puzzled expression. The other men stopped their yelling and looked at him.
Jason slowly reached back to his back pocket with his left hand, keeping the right in the air. The men started chattering excitedly and gestured for him to raise his arms. Jason pulled out his cellphone and yelled again, “Madam Chen!” The sentry slowly lowered his gun as Jason opened the phone. He tapped his contact list and pulled up a name on the screen. He showed them Madam Chen’s name and pointed to himself. “I’m with Madam Chen!”
The forklift came roaring around the corner and pulled to a stop in front of the group, and the driver shut the engine off and jumped out. “Who are you?” he demanded. “What are you doing here? This area is off limits to anyone who doesn’t have the correct credentials.”
“I’m—I’m Jason Ballard,” he stammered as he lowered his arms. “I’m the President of Soltech, which is owned by Madam Mei Chen.” He pointed to the stack of solar panels in the corner of the building. “Those are my panels.”
The driver turned to look at the panels then said something in Chinese to the other three men. They nodded as if they understood. He turned to Jason and pointed at the entrance of the hangar. “I’m sorry about the confusion, Mr. Ballard, but this is a restricted area. You’re going to have to leave.”
“Where’s Benny Teller, the warehouse superintendent?” Jason asked as he lowered his hands and his breathing returned to normal. “I was supposed to meet him here.” He turned and scanned the hangar to see if there was anyone else around. Does Mei know about this? he thought. Someone high up has to have authorized this. What the hell is going on?
“I don’t know who Benny Teller is,” the driver answered, his jaw set and his tone firm. “There was some skinny guy snooping around here earlier but we ran him off. You need to leave, sir. Now! These are orders form Madam Chen.”
Jason saw the intensity on his face and decided he’d better do as he was told. “Okay, I’ll leave. But I want to know what’s going on here and who authorized this.”
“Take it up with Madam Chen,” the driver said, sneering. “Now, get out of here!”
Jason headed out of the hangar, walking a wide arc towards the C-47. Checking behind him, he heard the forklift fire up and watched the other men head back into the hangar. After he made it past the entrance, he turned left, away from the spotlights. He ducked under a wing and walked around to the tail section of the plane, examining its exterior. Even though it was dark, he recognized the logo of the government of China on the tail.
As he rounded the back of the plane, he felt a hand grab his arm and push him forward. A man’s voice spoke softly in his ear. “Don’t make any noise and do as I say.” For the second time Jason’s heart raced. Oh no, what have I gotten myself into?
The man steered him away from the plane and the hangar, and they walked in the dark until they reached a dark van a hundred yards away. Jason’s mind raced as he wondered what the guy was going to do with him. The door to the van opened and Jason was pushed inside.
Two other men, both dressed in dark shirts with the sleeves rolled up, were seated on a bench on one wall. One of the men indicated to Jason to sit down next to him. “Mr. Ballard,” he said as he pulled a silver badge out of his coat pocket and held it up for Jason to see. “I’m Special Agent Mark Namath. This is Agent Pete Clark.” He then pointed to the bald black man in his mid-forties who had escorted Jason to the van, “And that is Special Agent Willie Wilson. We’re all with the department of Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms, or ATF for short. You’
ve walked into one of our operations. Agent Clark did the Benny Teller imitation to you over the phone. We wanted you to come here to this warehouse so we could explain how you’re going to help us. We tried to intercept you when you got off your plane, but you moved too fast. Sorry to scare you.”
Jason took a deep breath. “I wasn’t sure what I had come across. I have no knowledge of what’s going on inside that hangar other than my company has shipped thousands of solar panels here to be placed on a job nearby.”
Agent Namath watched him talk, his hands folded in his lap. The other two agents had slipped on headphones and were back watching the monitors on the walls. “We know that. We’re monitoring everything that goes on inside the hangar and we heard your conversation with those people in there.” He leaned forward, his face growing serious. “You were lucky. Those military personnel don’t mess around. They have no problem putting a bullet into trespassers.” He smiled. “Of course, we wouldn’t have let that happen.”
Jason pointed at the TVs around the van. “So you guys have been monitoring the activity around here? What have you found and what do you need me to do?”
“This is part of an ongoing gun-running operation that we’ve been tracking for some time,” the agent answered. “We’re trying to find out who’s behind it. We know where they get the guns, but we’re not sure what the ultimate destination is for them. You said you were the President of Soltech, right?”
Jason nodded.
“Why would your company be using a Chinese military plane to move your products?” he asked. “Who authorizes that?”
Reaching for a legal pad sitting on a countertop under the monitors, Jason started sketching out a company schematic. After he was finished drawing, he walked the agents through the hierarchy of Soltech, the Communist government, and Mei Chen’s position in both. He explained Inter-Power and the Copper Mountain project and their presence at the airfield in Nevada. When he was done, he set the pad back on the counter.
Agent Namath looked at the others and then spoke. “What you’ve showed us has been very educational, but we need your help in pinning down and catching the players who are behind this. We would like your cooperation.”
“Do I have a choice?” Jason asked, looking from face to face.
Agent Namath smiled. “Of course you do. We’re not going to force you to help us. But your company and your solar farm could be in jeopardy if we find either of them are willing participants in a gun-running scheme. We think that your company is legitimate, but someone is using it to front the gun operation. We also know from past experience something this big has more than one big player involved.”
Jason swallowed hard. “So, what do you want me to do? I’m not privy to the operations of the Chinese plane. That’s my boss, Mei Chen’s, department. I don’t know where it goes from here.”
“Here’s what you can do for us,” Agent Namath said, moving to the edge of his seat. “We know your boss, Mei Chen, has some involvement here. You’re close to her. Get us as much information as you can about her dealings and who she does business with. Anything and everything you can get your hands on. We’ll determine if it’s worthwhile information. There’s also evidence she’s getting help from people in the United States government. There have been some suspect dealings with the Copper Mountain lease with the BLM. There has to be a connection between who she’s dealing with and how the guns get to this spot. Who is that person? Start with her closest aides and work outward from there. We think there might be someone back in China or Hong Kong that might be pulling the strings. Or there might be someone closer to home, possibly in the government.”
“Okay,” Jason said nervously. “How do I contact you with anything I discover?”
Agent Namath handed Jason a card. “You can get me day or night at this number. We’ll also be watching out for you to keep you out of trouble. We’re not dealing with Boy Scouts here.”
Jason studied the card. “Great. It’s comforting to know you’ll be watching me.” He looked back at agent Namath. “Does this operation have anything to do with Andrew Dillon’s murder?”
Agent Namath stared back at him. “We’re not sure yet, but there’s some belief that these events are related. Stay alert and stay in touch.”
THIRTY
The stuffed heads of antelope, wildebeest, and water buffalo—all shot on various African safaris—protruded from the walls of the massive living room. A zebra skin lay stretched out on the plush white carpet, a hand-carved cherry wood coffee table sitting over it. David Wilson sat on his black leather couch looking up at the flat screen TV on the wall, the remote control in his hands. The Monaco Grand Prix, one of the premier formula one car races in the world, was down to the last ten laps, and Damon Belch, the dashing young British race car driver who had captured the hearts of his countrymen, was in the lead. As the race wound down to its final laps and Belch was comfortably ahead, David tossed the remote to the leather chair and stood up. Looking down at his watch, he said to himself, “It’s past noon. I think it is time for a celebratory drink.”
Meandering to the long mahogany bar on the other side of the room, he poured himself a double shot of Glenlivet over a few ice cubes. This was his favorite suite, which he used exclusively. It was thirty-five hundred feet of pure luxury at the top of the Grand Hyatt. As he sipped his drink, he moved to the two French doors leading to the exterior deck and stepped outside, putting on a pair of sunglasses he had in his breast pocket as he went. The sun beat down on him as he moved over to the railing and looked down to the street twenty-seven floors below him.
The building sat just outside of downtown Hong Kong, and even though this was a Sunday, the area was bustling with activity. Car horns honked every two seconds, along with shouting and yelling from a nearby construction site where work went on twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. Standing in a short-sleeved shirt and khaki shorts, he felt a soft breeze blow over his face, a relief from the dry heat.
I can never get enough of this view, he thought. Hong Kong is such a vibrant city and I’m sitting right in the heartbeat of it. There is no amount of money in the world that would make me give this up. He turned his head and watched a group of cyclists biking through the nearby park. What a beautiful day. I should be sharing it with a beautiful woman.
The image of Mei Chen’s face came to his mind and he smiled. Oh no, not you, Mei. You are beautiful, but way too dangerous for me. Ever since I turned you down to be my business partner, you’ve gone from steamy vixen to tiger shark. People like you need to be kept at a safe distance.
His thoughts were interrupted by a set of sirens, and he looked to his left to see where the source was coming from. Three white and red police cars, lights flashing, came screaming around a corner and skidded to a stop at the entrance to the hotel. Two camouflage-colored jeeps with two soldiers inside each, followed right behind them. Six uniformed policemen stepped out of the cars, along with the four military personnel, and raced into the hotel.
This can’t be good, David thought as he took a long sip from his scotch. He spun around and headed back into the suite. I guess I should find out what this is all about. He picked up a couple of glasses sitting on the counter and set them in the dishwasher. He looked about the room and, satisfied everything was in order, headed to the master bedroom to change.
He rifled through his closet and settled on a dark pair of slacks with a light blue shirt. Before he could finish changing his clothes, he heard a loud rapping on the front doors. Opening the doors, he saw the two soldiers standing in the doorway, the four policemen behind them, and all of them with their hands on their weapons. David looked them over, then turned to the one soldier who had more stripes on his shoulder.
“To what do I owe the honor of hosting Hong Kong’s and the government of China’s finest?” he asked in a pleasant tone, trying not to show any nervousness in his voice.
“Mr. Wilson,” the soldier said to him curtly as he stepped forward onto the m
arble floor of the entry, “we have a warrant for your arrest.” He held up a signed piece of paper and waved it in front of David’s face. “We would appreciate it if you would come quietly so no one gets hurt. Especially you.”
David felt the hair on the back of his neck rise. This has to be payback from Mei Chen, he thought. She’s going to try to steal my hotels from me one way or another. He held his hands up in protest. “What is the purpose of my arrest?” he asked. “I haven’t broken any laws. You can’t just come into my house and drag me away without telling me what I did.”
The soldier put the arrest warrant in his pocket and declared, “You are under arrest for crimes against the government. You will be given a fair trial and will have a chance to express you innocence in a court of law. Now please, come with us.”
“That’s a bunch of rubbish,” David spat. He turned and moved back toward the living room. “I’m going to call my lawyer. This isn’t legal. I haven’t broken any law.”
He had almost made it into the living room when he felt a crushing blow to the back of his head, knocking him to the ground. His head immediately started pounding and his vision blurred. He could feel warm blood running down the back of his neck as he tried to stagger to his knees. Another blow to his head sent him slamming face first into the marble floor.
The soldier stood over him as David stared at his spit-shined black boots. “Mr. Wilson, I don’t think I made myself clear. You are to come with me now. There is no need to call a lawyer. Now get up and get moving before I am forced to have my men carry you out.”
David struggled to stand up, putting his hand to the back of his head in a vain attempt to stop the bleeding. His eyes grew wide as he tried to clear his head. Is this Mei’s idea of a payback for turning her offer down? This can’t be happening. Things like this don’t happen in Hong Kong.
He was pushed roughly out the front door and half-dragged, half-walked to the elevator. When they got to the ground floor and made their way through the lobby, a crowd of people gathered to watch the spectacle. When one of the military men dropped his rifle to his waist and gave a menacing glare to the crowd, they quickly dispersed.
The Money Is Green Page 18