by Allan Topol
Mei Ling recalled with pride that she had thwarted General Zhou’s Operation Dragon Oil. It was only because she had delivered to Elizabeth Crowder a copy of Zhou’s agreement with Iran that the Americans were able to foil his plot.
Afterwards, she fled to the house of friends in the country outside of Beijing where she went into hiding to escape General Zhou’s wrath. Once she learned that General Zhou had left China in exile, she returned to Beijing and resumed her life, spending time with the country’s political elite.
The car began moving again, only to stop thirty seconds later. Normally, she would have been cursing the traffic, but today she had something else dominating her thoughts. How odd the call was that she had received this morning from President Li. “I want you to come and see me,” he had said. “It’s quite urgent and confidential.” She had no idea what he wanted.
An hour later, the interminable drive ended. After she was ushered into President Li’s office, overlooking Tiananmen Square, all of his aides quietly withdrew. It was only Mei Ling and President Li.
He looked pale, ashen, and was moving slowly. He’s a sick man, she thought, trying to remember the last time she’d seen him. It must have been two weeks. He looked bad then, but nothing like this.
He pointed to a sofa in a corner of the office. She sat while he slumped down in a leather chair facing her. His skin seemed chalky white. She was afraid for him. She wanted to say, “What’s wrong?” But it wasn’t up to her. It was his meeting and he was the Chinese president. She had to be patient.
“I’ve been diagnosed with colon cancer,” he said.
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Actually, the doctors made the diagnosis some time ago.” He paused and took a deep breath. “Perhaps I didn’t want to believe it.
I thought by ignoring it, I could make it go away.”
“I’ve done that from time to time myself with medical issues,” she said, sounding sympathetic.
“Well at any rate, it’s become aggressive. My primary doctor has wanted to do surgery for some time. But I found another doctor who thought he could treat it with herbal medicine. So I tried that in an effort to avoid surgery. It hasn’t helped. I’ve run out of options. I’m having the surgery in five days. The surgeon believes they can save my life.”
“I’m very happy to hear that.”
“I’ve kept all this confidential. Even my top aides don’t know.”
She wondered why he told her. She had never considered herself close enough that he would confide information like this.
As if reading her mind, he said, “I’m afraid I won’t survive the surgery.”
“But you just told me that your surgeon believes he can save your life. You should accept his judgment. He’s the expert. Of course you’ll survive. And recover.”
“You don’t understand.” President Li’s voice was weak.
She leaned forward to hear him.
“Or I’m not making myself clear.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I’m convinced something will happen to me in the surgery. That I’ll die.”
She was stunned. “What do you mean?”
“We both know General Zhou. He’d give anything to become
president of China.”
“But he’s in exile.”
“His brother’s here. And extremely powerful.”
“Put soldiers in the operating room.”
“I will, but they’ll be useless. That’s not how Zhou and his brother will do it. They’re too smart. There will be a medical accident. An unexplained cause of death. The same way your husband supposedly had a heart attack. That’s how they do things.”
“You should thoroughly check everyone who will be in the operating room.”
He smiled faintly. “I’ve thought of that. It can’t be done exhaustively.”
“Then have the surgery done abroad. In the United States, Paris, or London.”
“Do you know how bad that would look from a PR standpoint?”
“Then please tell me what you want me to do. How I can keep such a dreadful thing from occurring? How I can save your life? I’ll do anything.”
He closed his eyes and leaned back for a long moment. When he opened them, his face was distorted. “Sorry, sometimes I have waves of pain.”
“What can I do?” she repeated.
“Nothing about the surgery. But afterwards.”
“Afterwards what?”
“I’ve spoken with members of the Central Committee. I’m convinced that if I die during the surgery…”
“You won’t die.”
He ignored her words and continued. “That a majority of them will support you to be the next president of China.”
“They would never accept a woman.”
“I thought that initially. But I realized from these conversations that I was wrong. People on the Central Committee admire your work on the Politburo and the Foreign Policy Advisory Committee. Also, I’ve let them know privately what a key role you played in thwarting General Zhou’s Operation Dragon Oil. They would prefer you to General Zhou.”
“Has he been talking to members of the Central Committee about the Presidency?”
“His brother has. And spreading around money. Should I die, a group within the Central Committee wants to bring General Zhou back from exile and make him president. Right now, I believe they are a minority, but…”
She finished the thought for President Li. “I’ve learned never to underestimate General Zhou and his brother, Zhou Yun. They are capable of anything.”
“I agree. If you challenge him for the presidency, you should have armed guards around the clock. You’ll be putting your life at risk. Are you prepared to do that?”
She nodded her head vigorously. “Anything to prevent General Zhou from becoming president.”
Paris
Before the plane from Jakarta touched down at Charles DeGaule, Craig went into the lavatory and looked into the mirror. Dreadful, he decided.
He had bandages on his forehead and chin. One eye was almost closed. His face, like most of his body, was every possible shade of black and blue from the roll down the hill. And he was limping from bad bruises on his upper thigh.
Half an hour later, when he walked off the plane at four in the afternoon, he immediately saw Elizabeth standing at the gate. She didn’t rush forward, but stood stone-faced, gaping at his bruised face.
He approached her and pulled her off to the side. “You’re still angry.”
“It wasn’t just that what you did was stupid.” Her tone was sharp. “You didn’t give my opinion the least bit of consideration.”
“Will it help now if I tell you I’m sorry? That you were right? I should have listened to you.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “We walked into a trap. I’m the only one who made it out alive.”
“I was sure you would never come back.” Her voice had softened. Tears were running down her cheeks.
“Look, I’m sorry. I really am. In my obsession to get Francesca’s killer, I lost my judgment. I don’t want to lose you, too. I hope you’ll forgive me.”
“You look awful.”
Ignoring the stares of bystanders, he kissed her passionately. Then he pulled back. “I couldn’t call you from Indonesia. I was afraid the government was monitoring all calls. I assume the Italian Embassy informed Giuseppe of my travel plans under an alias, and he called you.”
They began walking as they talked. “That’s exactly what happened. Your car and driver are at the curb. Giuseppe and Carlos are waiting for us at your office. When the meeting’s finished, they’re both flying home this evening.”
“After that,” Craig said, “let’s head back to the apartment. I can’t wait to get into bed with you.”
“We’ll see about that.”
“Okay, maybe dinner first.”
He wrapped an arm around her. To Craig’s pleasant surprise, she didn’t pull away.
When Craig walked into his offi
ce with Elizabeth, he saw Giuseppe pacing and a grim-faced Carlos.
“You were the only one who made it to the Italian Embassy,” Carlos said. “I assume my four men were killed.”
“Zhou set a trap. We walked right into it.”
Craig explained what had happened in meticulous detail. At the end, he said, “All four of your men performed bravely. I couldn’t have asked for more. Please convey to Prime Minister Zahara and their
families my deep appreciation and regret.”
Craig got a knot in his throat as pictures of the four flashed into his mind, and he thought of Manuel’s six-month-old son.
“Thank you,” Carlos replied.
“How come we didn’t know about the Chinese troops?” Giuseppe asked.
“You’re being kind, my friend,” Craig replied, “by using the word we. What you mean is how come I didn’t know. How could I have screwed up so badly.”
No one responded.
“On the long plane ride to Paris,” Craig continued. “I’ve asked myself that over and over. What I’ve concluded is that the latest satellite photos I had of the compound were two days old. My friend Betty at the CIA was operating offline. Unfortunately, she couldn’t get later ones. The Chinese troops must have moved in after the last set of photos was taken.”
“But knowing you,” Giuseppe said, “you’re not giving up on General Zhou. I’m sure you have some other way of getting at him.”
“Maybe you want to go back to Bali again with four more Spanish soldiers,” Elizabeth said sharply. “This time, all five of you can perish.”
“I don’t think I’ll try that again. But General Zhou’s not planning to spend his whole life in Bali. Once he moves, we may be able to get at him.”
“And how will we know that?” Carlos asked.
“I think we have the technology here without having to involve the CIA. At least, I hope so.”
Craig hit the intercom. “Get me Marie,” he told his secretary.
Two minutes later, a statuesque blonde in a powder blue sweater and tight navy pants walked in holding a small computer. Craig introduced Marie to the others. Once they were all seated around the table, Craig said, “I have precise coordinates for a residential compound on the island of Bali. I want to monitor all cell phone conversations between anyone in the compound with anyone on the outside. Can you do that?”
“Absolutely,” Marie said without hesitation. “We have satellites I can use to do precisely that. I’ll be able to tell you who is on both ends of the call.”
“Will you be able to record the calls?”
“Yes.”
“It’s likely they’ll be speaking Chinese,” Elizabeth interjected.
“Glad you told me that. I have a machine that does simultaneous translation from just about any language. I’ll hook it up.”
“Sounds like what we need,” Giuseppe said.
“Exactly. One other thing, Marie,” Craig said. “Besides sending me a recording of the calls, can you have a written transcript prepared?”
“I also have a machine that will do that.”
“Isn’t modern technology wonderful?” Giuseppe said.
“Only when it works,” Craig responded.
Taking deep breaths periodically during another marvelous dinner in the Hotel Bristol dining room, Craig finally relaxed by the time the waiter brought a plate of chocolates along with the espresso. Craig savored the last drops of the 2005 Chambolle Musigny by Dujac before turning to the chocolates and espresso.
During the meal, as they talked about many different subjects, Elizabeth’s book, rivalries and infighting at her newspaper, new restaurants to try in Paris, anything other than General Zhou, he sensed her anger dissipating.
But then, without any warning, she looked worried again. He knew he wouldn’t like what was coming next.
“You know, Craig,” she said sternly, “You’re almost fifty.”
“I haven’t even had my forty-seventh birthday.”
“Let’s not quibble. Don’t you think it’s time to let the younger
people do the field work. Put their lives on the line while you direct operations from headquarters.”
“You think I’m too old for a young man’s game?”
“I didn’t put it that way. But let me ask you this. Twenty years ago, would Craig Page have walked into that trap?”
He started to respond by telling her that he couldn’t get up to the minute photos from Betty and that was the problem. But he swallowed the words. Perhaps she had a point.
“Listen, Craig,” she continued. “I love you so much. I don’t mean to hurt you. I just don’t want to lose you.”
“I know that.”
“Better to quit too early than too late. You have to know when to hold ‘em and when to fold ‘em.”
“I’ll think about it,” he said. “I really will.”
He wanted to change the subject. “Let’s go to Corsica for a few days. Neither of us has ever been. I hear it’s beautiful in the spring. Flowers will be in bloom.”
“Now that’s an idea.”
“Can you get away from the paper?”
“You bet. I won’t even take my stuff for the book. We both need a vacation.”
He signaled the waiter for the check.
Once they entered the apartment, she raced to the hall closet. “What are you doing?” he asked.
“Deciding what to take to Corsica.”
Though his whole body ached, he snuck up behind her, wrapped his arms around her, clutching her breasts, and kissed her on the back of the neck.
“Packing can wait,” he said softly.
She pulled away and said, “I shouldn’t even let you have sex with me. I’m so angry at you for going off to Bali and almost getting killed.”
“But I did suggest a vacation in Corsica.”
She smiled. “Well, okay.” Then she kissed him, pressing her body tightly against his.
He winced from the pain. She pulled away and said, “You’re not going into bed. You’re going to soak in a warm tub with some bath salts.”
“It’s large enough for two.”
After he soaked alone for fifteen minutes and was feeling better, she came in and sat behind him. He leaned back against her.
“You’re a damn fool,” she said.
“But you love me.”
“I guess so.”
He desperately wanted to make amends for the pain he had caused her. But not if it meant foregoing a chance to get Zhou—if he ever had another chance.
Moscow
Orlov was an impatient man. He hadn’t heard from Androshka in days and he was becoming concerned that the great plan he had devised and presented to Kuznov would never get off the ground. Perhaps Androshka had been puffing when she told him how General Zhou, her lover, would be the next president of China. Or perhaps, Zhou, even if he did succeed President Li, would never take his Russian mistress back to Beijing.
If either of these occurred, Orlov knew he was in deep trouble with Kuznov. The Russian leader was cruel, vicious, and vindictive. Not someone whose hopes could be raised only to be dashed.
Orlov recalled his meeting at Kuznov’s country house. He had killed a guard to gain entry to the Russian president. That was all the pretext Kuznov needed to order Orlov’s arrest and a long prison term under the so-called justice system in the new Russia.
Kuznov might not even waste his time with a choreographed prosecution. One day, Orlov might step off a curb in Moscow and be mowed down by a beer truck.
Orlov refused to be a sitting duck. If Androshka couldn’t come through for him, he intended to get some false papers and head off to Chile. Once he’d heard Sukalov, his former boss, say that Russians with money were welcome there.
Time to find out whether he was staying or going. He called Androshka on her cell. “Can you talk?”
“Zhou’s out on the verandah. Thank God you called.”
She sounded hysterical.
; “What’s wrong,” he asked.
“We’re still in Bali. We were attacked by the Director of EU’s Counter Terrorist Agency, Craig Page, and some Spanish soldiers. There was a terrible shoot-out in the middle of the night.”
“Are you okay?”
“It was awful.”
“Are you hurt?”
“No. I hid under the bed until Zhou and his men drove them off.”
“And Zhou?”
“Not hurt either, but angry that Page got away. He’s also furious at me. He’s convinced I gave away our location to Page.”
“Did you?”
She hesitated. “Of course not.”
He knew she was lying. He could always tell. “When will Zhou be going back to Beijing to become president?”
“I ask him that every day.”
“What’s he say?”
“Soon. He can’t wait to get out of this hellhole. And I can’t either.”
“I heard Bali was supposed to be a paradise.”
“Don’t believe everything you hear.”
Orlov felt relief. At least their plan hadn’t been derailed. “You’ll call me as soon as you know something.”
“For sure.”
After ending the call, Orlov returned to his research. He had succeeded in KGB projects because he was thorough. He always knew whom he was dealing with. In this case, he had to learn as much as he could about General Zhou. Androshka had supplied recent information when they met in March in the South of France at Zhou’s villa.
She explained to him how Zhou, as Commander of the Chinese Armed forces, operating without the knowledge of President Li, had joined with Iran in a plot to cut off the flow of imported oil to the United States. Zhou’s discussions with Iran had taken place in Paris, which was where Androshka had first met Zhou. When Craig Page, working with Elizabeth Crowder, had foiled his plot, President Li had banished Zhou from China.
He moved to Paris and the south of France and asked Androshka to live with him. He was biding his time until, with his brother’s help, he became president of China.
In the meantime, Androshka told Orlov, Zhou was searching for another opportunity to get revenge on Craig Page. She had explained that Zhou had joined with Ahmed Sadi, a French Muslim, calling himself Musa Ben Abdil, intent on retaking a part of Southern Spain for the forces of Islam and defeating Page, who was then EU Director of Counterterrorism.