The Thought Cathedral

by Nathan Williams

  “Ready to go?” Xiang asked.

  “Yes, let’s get moving.” Lee rose from the sofa, grabbing hold of her winter coat and purse that had been lying next to her.

  “You look fantastic,” Xiang said.

  Lee was wearing a black polyester sleeveless V-neck dress which extended down to just below her knee. She wore a matching black semi-sheer long-sleeved jacket with bell sleeves and black high heels—appropriately conservative for the occasion.

  As Xiang approached, Lee studied him in his formal black suit with a thin black tie. “Thank you. As do you.”

  They made their way outside of Xiang’s apartment building, where a cab awaited them. Xiang had insisted on a cab, since they were both in formal clothing. The ride would be a short one. Once she’d arrived at his apartment, Xiang had finally told her where they were going. Ambassador Li had requested his presence at a meeting of venture capitalists. The event was being held on a combination cargo/passenger ship that had been converted and remodeled into a cruise ship. It was corporately owned, Xiang had explained, and currently anchored for an extended period of time in one of the piers on the west shore at Midtown.

  The two of them rode the cab in silence for a few moments. Xiang was sitting on the driver side rear seat, Lee on the passenger side. He’d rolled the window down and lit a cigarette.

  Lee again pondered whether to broach the topic of the incident in the Four Corners the previous week. She’d been given Agent Frank’s blessing, even her encouragement to bring it up with Xiang. It was, as Frank had pointed out, an issue that would, and should, be brought up in a normal relationship. It would probably be more suspicious not to address it.

  “Xiang, I need to ask a question about last Friday at the Four Corners.”

  “Oh? Yes, of course. You can ask me anything.”

  He’d removed the cigarette from his mouth, tapping it outside the window to release some ash.

  “I’m confused about what happened in that little alcove with the painted walls.”

  “Yes, I remember. We took you back there when you fell ill.”

  “Yes, well, I remember Phua, Susan, and yourself asking me all kinds of questions. What was that about?”

  Xiang frowned, slipped the cigarette into his mouth, and took a pull. “Asking you questions?”

  “Yes. Multiple questions.”

  “Well, Phua and Susan were, I think, curious about you. They’re friends of mine, you know.”

  “I know, but they kept asking me these questions. Over and over.”

  Xiang’s facial expression seemed to be one of genuine concern.

  “We were concerned about you. By asking all of those questions, I think those two were trying to keep you awake and alert. Just trying to help you through it, hoping it would pass.”

  She looked Xiang in the eye as he said it. As usual, she couldn’t read him. “They were such strange questions, though. Asking me about socialism and Chinese dissidents. I wasn’t sure, I guess, what to make of it.”

  Xiang smiled and leaned back into the seat. “Youhong and Susan are cerebral people. They enjoy those kinds of philosophical topics. It’s just who they are.”

  They rode in silence for a while before Xiang turned to her again. “Lyn, I’m really sorry about that whole incident. I’m still not sure what happened. To be honest, it really scared Susan too.” Silence again for a few moments. “I’m really sorry. I was hoping we could move on from that.”

  Lee didn’t respond. Ten minutes later the cab, which had been traveling northbound along 12th Avenue, made a left into a parking structure alongside the Hudson River piers at 45th Street. Xiang paid the fare and led her through the structure to a pedestrian ramp leading to Pier 87. Xiang slid out of the cab, but Lee remained seated. Xiang, now out of the cab, stooped at the waist to look at her.

  “Will you come with me, Lyn? Please. The Ambassador will be very pleased to see you again.” Xiang extended his hand toward her. She gently opened the door and climbed out.

  “You’re good to go?” Xiang asked. Lee clasped Xiang’s hand. “Yes, I’m good to go. I’m looking forward to it.”

  “Excellent. We’re going to board a vessel called the Imperial Empress. It’s owned by Beijing Capital Industries, a Chinese tech conglomerate. They’ve loaned their boat to the Chinese embassy for this event.”

  Lee followed Xiang up a circular incline, along the walkway for a few meters, and onto the dock itself. It was a spectacular day in Manhattan. The sun shone through some low-level clouds, and a slight breeze rustled her dress as they traversed the dock.

  On her left, a ship rose high above her. “Imperial Empress” was scrawled in black script on its massive hull. A set of portable stairs ascended from the pier up to a small entrance into the boat’s hull.

  “After you,” Xiang said. “Don’t look down.”

  Lee started up the stairs. She pulled her coat and scarf tighter around her as the breeze was cold coming in off the water. She immediately disregarded Xiang’s advice and looked down below her. She estimated it was forty or fifty feet to the water below. She was relieved when she passed through the little doorway onto terra firma, Xiang following closely behind.

  Xiang led her through a narrow passageway in a direction leading them toward the front of the boat. At the end of the passageway, there was an English letter B carved into a tile as well as a Chinese character painted on in Mandarin, the Mandarin equivalent of the number 6. B Level, Lee thought. The presence of English letters made her think the ship must’ve originally been built in the West.

  They ascended three flights of stairs, moving from A Level to Level 1, which appeared to be Level 8 in the Mandarin. Beginning with Level 1, small windows began to appear in the stairwell, providing a view of the ocean. At this point Lee realized they were now in a deck that was located above the main hull. Thus it appeared that, in the English characters, the levels below the waterline were labeled with letters, while those above were labeled with numbers. Coming toward them along the hallway in the opposite direction was a Chinese man dressed in military fatigues. Lee turned after the soldier had passed them by and observed him as he continued down the stairs, out of view.

  They progressed up to Level 3, where Xiang led her out of the stairwell and into a spacious, brightly lit room. There were a number of men and women in formal attire standing in small groups, chatting with one another. A series of tables with hors d’oeuvres and drinks were set up around the perimeter.

  “So this is a sort of ‘meet and greet’ for venture capitalists and researchers?” Lee asked.

  “That’s right. There’s a mix of investors and researchers here. There’s Marcus Tong along the far wall over there.” Xiang pointed to a tall man dressed in a black suit. “He’s the CEO of MicroGambit, a software firm based in Shanghai. And then there’s Zhouzi Fang, the CEO of BioStart, a venture capital company in Shanghai that specializes in biotechnology. Oh, and next to him is Cai Yonghuan. Cai used to be a professor of physics at Beijing University, but quit that job to help start up a company called Green Dragon Imaging. And the fourth man there is Wang Jianzong, the CEO and founder of East Asian Capital, another venture capital firm.”

  “What does East Asian Capital invest in?”

  “They’re high technology, but they spread it around. I know they’ve already invested heavily in mobile technology, particularly in some of the Chinese companies trying to gain a foothold into the smart phone market in China. I know they’ve been trying to get more into semiconductors. I just spoke with Wang the other day, and I know they’re very interested in two of the major components of smart phones, in particular; that being the operating system and battery. In fact, I’m pretty sure that’s why he’s over there talking to Marcus Tong.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Wang told me they’re very interested in MicroGambit.”

  “Is MicroGambit developing an operating system for mobile phones?”

  “Indeed, they are. It’s been u
nder development for at least two years now. If Tong is being truthful, most of the major Chinese carriers are showing interest. Apparently, many of them prefer working with a Chinese company rather than importing the technology from overseas.”

  Xiang plucked a couple of crackers and some cheese from one of the tables.

  “That rotund man over there with the cigarette is Tang Diyi. He’s the mayor of Zhengzhou, a prefecture-level city in Henan province in north central China. Zhengzhou is experiencing rapid growth thanks, in part, to Tang’s economic policies. He’s been doing everything he can to attract tech companies, particularly manufacturing companies, to the city.”

  Rotund was definitely the word to describe Tang, Lee thought. She estimated the man was at least three hundred pounds. He was dressed immaculately in a black tuxedo, complete with a pocket watch hanging from a silver chain around his neck.

  “How big is Zhengzhou?” Lee asked.

  “It’s a prefecture-level city and the region is also home to one of the tech development zones set up by the central government in the late nineteen eighties. So, it’s a very large city.”

  A sudden movement caught Lee’s peripheral vision and her attention was drawn toward a short, thin man with a shiny bald head who’d burst into the room. He stopped abruptly, intently scanning the crowd. A moment later, the man approached Xiang, extending his hand to introduce himself. The man’s tuxedo fit loosely over his thin frame, but his movement as he approached seemed effortless. He seemed to vanish from his proximal position near the door, appearing suddenly, almost preternaturally, in front of Xiang.

  For his part, Xiang instantly recognized the man and extended his hand as he broke into a warm smile. “Mr. Lobsang, this is an unexpected surprise!”

  Mr. Lobsang had also dressed for optimal formality in a black tux and bow-tie. He bowed curtly before Xiang and shook his hand. “It’s very nice seeing you again, Dr. Wu.”

  “Mr. Lobsang, this is Lyn Lee, a friend of mine.”

  Lobsang was thin, but not in a lanky way. He seemed athletic. Lee imagined his lithe frame wrapped with sinewy muscle. His shiny brown skin was taut against his high cheekbones and, Lee noted, his complexion was darker than the typical Han majority, more similar to the minorities that lived in mountainous regions high in the Himalayas in northern China. However, it wasn’t quite as dark as the typical Sherpa, either. His eyes crinkled into thin lines as his thin mouth extended into a friendly smile.

  Lobsang took Lee’s hand in hers and squeezed. His grip, which belied his meager frame, was firm. “It is a pleasure meeting you, Ms. Lee.” Lobsang clasped her hand in his, bringing it up to his face, where he kissed it gently.

  “Likewise.”

  “What kind of misfortune has befallen you, Ms. Lee, where you’ve been dragged onto the Empress by this rogue?”

  “We often argue about which of us is more disreputable, Mr. Lobsang. We wear it like a badge of honor.”

  Lobsang smiled and shifted his sharp gaze from Lee back to Xiang. “Xiang, I was hoping I might run into you tonight! I know you’re happy where you are, but this hasn’t kept me from shopping your skills around. There are oceans of opportunity in China, but the currents are continually changing. I think I may have found a couple of opportunities—trenches, if you will—where the tide is high and the waters for you run particularly deep.” Lobsang’s thick skin folded into a craggy smile.

  “I’ll admit, Lobsang, it is comforting to know there’s someone like you who seems to always have my best interests at heart. I’ll certainly listen to any opportunities you’ve managed to unearth for me.”

  “Excellent. I know the Ambassador agrees that we need our best and brightest back in China.”

  “And where, may I ask, have those Beaufort winds taken Mr. Lobsang over the past few months?” Xiang asked.

  “Oh, here and there. Hong Kong, for a while. Dubai. London. Toronto. Paris for a few days. I spent a month in Bangalore, India and then a few days each in Singapore and Vietnam. Oh, and I can’t forget Moscow. Where you find certain expertise, you will find me.”

  Lobsang’s English, Lee noted, was nearly flawless. When he spoke, he over-accentuated each word, the movement of his lips revealing shiny white molars. She noted also the concisely executed ‘s’ in expertise—how it rolled crisply off his tongue, like a soft whistle.

  “Speaking of expertise.” Lobsang said. “Have you had a chance to reconsider Shenzhen Optical Industries? Your knowledge would transfer right into what they need. And they’re willing to offer partial ownership in the company.”

  “It tempting from a purely financial standpoint, Lobsang. It really is. But the work they’re doing isn’t something that interests me right now.”

  “Okay. How about Beijing Motion Picture Consortium. They need someone who can bend light for movie effects. It might be something fun to do for freelance work. Nothing full time.”

  “Lobsang, you’re truly irrepressible.”

  “Anyway, I’m wanted just now out on the pier. We’ve got some people flying in from China. When I get back in, I’ll introduce you to some more people.”

  “Thank you. We’ll be here waiting for you.”

  Lobsang darted quickly out of the room.

  “Who is that guy?” Lee asked.

  “Lobsang is a private consultant. But a very unique one. And in great demand.”

  “Unique in what way?”

  “He’s a facilitator. He connects people who have need for expertise with people who have that expertise. But it’s at a very high level. There are very few people who have the expertise he’s able to acquire.”

  “I’m surprised that he’s private. My first assumption is that he must work on behalf of the C.C.P.”

  “No, not Lobsang,” Xiang said. “For the most part, he’s sympathetic to the C.C.P. cause. So much so that he’s a trusted source for many senior members of the party. However, he does some stuff that’s illegal and some not endorsed by the Chinese government.”

  “Such as?”

  “He’s not above working with groups of people who are either off the grid or even working against Chinese interests. At least, to a point.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “I mean, for example, the Russian mafia. Or with certain members of the Hong Kong government who aren’t looked upon favorably by the C.C.P. He’s also done some work with Cuba, for example, and countries sympathetic to socialist causes.”

  “Terrorist organizations?”

  Xiang seemed surprised at this suggestion. “No. Not terrorist organizations. I can’t imagine that. It’s not who Lobsang is. And, besides, all of his Western contacts would abandon him if he did that.”

  “Where’s he from?” Lee asked. “I mean, how did he get into the position he’s in?”

  “I’m not exactly sure,” Xiang said. “Lobsang only makes himself known to people he trusts and, even then, he’ll only reveal as much information as is absolutely necessary. The Ambassador told me he first made a name for himself as a young mountain guide in the Himalayas. He was a gifted mountaineer. He was climbing the highest peaks, including Everest, at only fourteen years of age. He apparently then attracted the attention of a businessman from Shanghai who convinced him to come and work for him. From there, I’m not sure.”

  “I had thought from his facial structure that he was an ethnic minority, maybe from the Tibetan plateau, but his skin isn’t as dark.”

  “I noticed this as well. I think probably one of his parents is Han, while the other is a Sherpa or some other minority.”

  While they’d been conversing with Lobsang, the rotund Tang Diyi had made his way clockwise around the hors d’oeuvre table, picking out pieces of food. Tang made one last stab at a neat pile of napkins on the table before extending his right hand toward Xiang.

  “Hello, there.”

  Xiang replied, “Hello, Mr. Tang.”

  “Oh? You know my name? I’m afraid I can’t say the same of you.”


  “I’m Dr. Wu Xiang, and this is my friend, Lyn Lee.”

  They two of them shook Tang’s hand.

  “Dr. Wu, I think I’ve seen you before, tagging around with Ambassador Li. Are you an acquaintance of his?”

  “I’m an old family friend from Shanghai.”

  “I see. The Ambassador has spread goodwill to more people than even Confucius himself.” Tang laughed heartily. It was a quick laugh, and with no hint of modesty.

  “The Ambassador is very good at his job,” Xiang said.

  “Agreed.” Tang turned to Lee. She sensed he was curious about her. “And what brings the two of you onto the Empress tonight?”

  Xiang said, “The Ambassador requested my presence here to help him effectively communicate with the scientists and investors. There’s a lot of techno speak—science-ese, if you will—that I can help him with.”

  “I understand. You’re a scientist yourself?”

  “Yes, that’s correct Mr. Tang. I’m a physicist with Brooklyn Venture Capital here in New York.”

  “Ah! I understand now why you’re always with the Ambassador. I confess that I, like the Ambassador, get tangled up a bit as to the technology.”

  “How about yourself, Mr. Tang? What brings you on board?”

  “I’m here primarily as a recruiter, Dr. Wu. We have a lot going on in Zhengzhou these days. We’ve done much to attract companies doing research in emerging technologies, but we’re always looking to add to the list. I’m always on the lookout for talented scientists and entrepreneurs.”

  “What all have you got going on in Zhengzhou?” Xiang asked.

  Lee listened to Tang attentively for a few minutes as he discussed his home city, which was located in north central China at the gateway between the Song Mountains to the west and a vast area of plains to the east. After a few minutes, Tang offered to take them around and introduce them to some of the other participants in the conference. Sensing a chance to excuse herself, Lee tapped Xiang on his sleeve and let him know she was going to explore the boat a little on her own. Xiang was reluctant to agree and softly fought her, but she wasn’t about to give him a choice in the matter.