by Allan Topol
Page managed to thwart that plot as well. Orlov learned this in a brief, surreptitious call which Androshka had made soon after she and Zhou arrived in Bali.
That was Zhou’s recent history. To learn about his earlier life before Androshka, Orlov turned to Mikhail Primokov, a friend and former Deputy Director of the KGB Research Department. Obtaining information about Chinese leaders was difficult, but Mikhail managed to compile a dossier for Orlov.
He had learned that Zhou’s father had been a close confidante of Mao as well as being the Chinese Director of Energy. During the Cultural Revolution, Mao turned on the father and banished him to the countryside where Zhou’s mother died.
Meantime, Zhou and his older brother Zhou Yun, both teenagers, remained in Beijing and formed a tight bond as they survived. Eventually their father was reinstated by Mao and became head of the Chinese National Oil Company, and later, following Mao’s death, a powerful industrialist in the new, economically booming China. When their father died, Zhou Yun took over his industrial empire while his younger brother, by two years, pursued a military career, eventually becoming Commander of the Chinese Armed Forces.
At the end of the dossier Mikhail wrote, “General Zhou is arrogant, driven, and power hungry, but at times creative and brilliant. You deal with him at your own peril.”
Bali
General Zhou was angry.
He rarely disagreed with his brother. Even when Zhou Yun had urged him to accept President Li’s offer to leave China in exile after Craig Page uncovered his plan with Iran to cut off the flow of foreign oil to the U.S. and President Brewster threatened military action, General Zhou had followed his brother’s advice and gone to Paris. Albeit reluctantly.
And he couldn’t remember being angry at Zhou Yun. But today, he was furious. General Zhou was still in Bali. They were talking on an encrypted cell phone. General Zhou had just told his brother about Craig Page’s attempt to abduct him from Bali and the bittersweet
victory he had achieved with his Chinese troops. Bittersweet because Page had somehow escaped.
At the end of that discussion, General Zhou asked his brother when President Li was having his surgery for colon cancer. Zhou Yun had said, “I don’t want to discuss this topic on the phone.”
That infuriated General Zhou. He had to know what was happening in China. And he had to know now.
“But these encrypted phones are state-of-the-art,” General Zhou protested. “One of your companies manufactured them. You told me the code can’t be cracked.”
“Correction. I told you it was extremely unlikely. That’s the most that can be said about any encrypted system.”
“Fine. I’ll take the chance.”
“With so much riding on what happens, that’s not a wise decision. We have to assume Page is picking up all your conversations. This one included. And the CIA has the highest deciphering capability.”
General Zhou was trying to keep his anger in check. His brother couldn’t be intimidated. He was capable of simply hanging up the phone.
In a calm voice, General Zhou responded, “Page isn’t with the CIA. His EU agency has relatively few high-tech resources.”
“He could go to the CIA.”
“Norris hates him. We know that from our own source within the United States.”
“It’s too risky.”
“That’s my decision,” General Zhou said forcefully.
“If you lose, then I lose.”
“That’s not right. You’ll still be one of the wealthiest and most powerful industrialists in China, regardless of who the president is. But my whole life is on the line.”
General Zhou heard a deep sigh at the other end of the phone. A good sign. He’s coming around.
“President Li’s surgery is scheduled to take place next Monday morning, ten o’clock.”
“What have you arranged?”
There was a long pause.
“I want to know,” General Zhou insisted.
“The anesthesiologist has been paid off. He will mix potassium chloride with the anesthetic. Then he’ll appear to be doing everything he can to save President Li. No one will suspect him. The medical examiner
is with us as well. He’ll conclude it was one of those unfortunate
situations that sometimes occur in surgery.”
“Excellent.”
“Now tell me what’s happening in the Central Committee. For their selection of the next president.”
“I’m having more difficulty than I imagined.”
“Who’s opposing me for the presidency?”
“Mei Ling.”
General Zhou was incredulous. “That wench?”
“Don’t underestimate her. She has President Li’s backing.”
“But can’t you pay off enough members to lock up a majority of the votes?”
“I’m close. But not there yet.”
“Well, offer more. You only have three days to get it done.”
“It may not be possible. Not everyone’s for sale. We need an alternative if she has more votes.”
General Zhou was thinking.
“Have Mei Ling murdered,” he finally said. “Make it look like an accident.”
“You sure you want me to do that?”
“Absolutely. We can’t let the Presidency get away. Meantime, I’ll have Captain Cheng fly back to China. He’ll talk to my closest friends in the military. He’ll line up their support. With Mei Ling out of the way and support from the military, the Central Committee will have to pick me as president.”
His dream was almost a reality.
Corsica
Craig couldn’t remember the last vacation he’d had, and he thoroughly enjoyed the first day he and Elizabeth spent on Corsica.
Ah, Corsica. France’s Isle of Beauty. A hundred and ten miles long and fifty miles wide, plunked down in the Mediterranean nine miles north of Sardinia, located between Southeastern France and Northwestern Italy. The place that savvy, wealthy Parisians went to avoid the crowds in the south of France.
Corsica. The birthplace of Napoleon. Ruled by one power after another for more than two thousand years until Napoleon asserted French control in 1796.
With so much to see and do on the island that had everything—beaches, mountains, ruins, and great food—Craig and Elizabeth decided to start in the north, spending a couple of days in Calvi at La Villa, a small luxury hotel with forty rooms. On Saturday, they rented a car and explored mountains, stopping for lunch. Then they returned to Calvi and walked along the beach. They had a superb dinner at La Villa in the veranda dining room overlooking the Bay and the Citadel, which had resisted the onslaught of foreign armies over many centuries.
When they returned to the suite, Craig dimmed the lights and reached for Elizabeth.
“You’ll have to wait,” she said. “I left my purse in the dining room. I have to go back and get it.”
He didn’t remember her having a purse, but he wasn’t observant about those things. “Listen, call over there. They’ll hold it for you.”
“I’ll feel better if I get it now. Only be a minute. Why don’t you take off your clothes and stretch out on the bed.”
When she made up her mind to do something, there was no point arguing with her.
Five minutes later, she returned. She was carrying a bowl and a spoon. “What’s that?” he asked.
“Chocolate mousse.”
“Yeah. We had it for dessert. It was great.”
“Well, I want some more.” She put the bowl down and was undressing. “I intend to get your cock hard, spread mousse all over it, and lick off every bit.”
And she did just that. Licking and sucking him until he came in her mouth.
Afterwards, to get cleaned up, they took a double bubble bath. Back in bed he returned the favor, going down on her. They spent another hour making love until neither one could move.
As she fell asleep, the last words out of her mouth were, “That mousse was sure good.”
>
At six the next morning, Craig woke up and left a note on his pillow for the sleeping Elizabeth. “Went for a run. Be back for breakfast.” He tucked his cell phone into his pants pocket and ran half a mile down the hill, to the sea. They planned to spend a week in Corsica unless one of their jobs called them back to Paris. He hated dragging the phone everywhere, but he had to know if anything happened with General Zhou.
His bruises had stopped hurting. And he was feeling marvelous. He was running barefoot on the deserted, soft, sandy beach enjoying the breeze and cool air when the damn thing rang.
Craig stopped and yanked the phone out of his pocket. As he did, he was a mixture of emotions. He hated having his vacation interrupted. But he knew no one would call, certainly not at this hour, if it wasn’t important. And they might have a lead on General Zhou.
Craig saw from caller ID that it was Marie.
“Sorry to disturb you,” she said.
“Don’t worry about that. What do you have?”
“General Zhou had a phone call an hour ago with his brother Zhou Yun in Beijing. It lasted twelve minutes and forty three seconds.”
Craig was bursting with excitement.
“Can you forward a transcript to my Blackberry?”
“Unfortunately not. The words were encrypted. I have two of our top techies on the way to the office now to try and decipher it.”
“Let me know as soon as you have something.”
For a few seconds, she didn’t respond. Then she said, “You should know they’re not optimistic, but I promise they’ll try everything.”
Climbing the hill back to the hotel, Craig thought about the call. His instinct and experience cried out: this is important. Something must be happening, or about to happen involving General Zhou in China.
And he wouldn’t be able to find out. The CIA experts would probably be able to decipher the call, but that wasn’t an option.
Dammit! Dammit!
He had to find another way.
Elizabeth was just stirring when he returned to the suite. He waited until they were having breakfast on the patio to tell her about the call from Marie.
“I guess our vacation just ended,” she said glumly. “Oh well, it was fun. All twelve hours. I’m not surprised. And if I’m dumb enough to be disappointed, well, that’s my fault.”
He raised his hand. “Whoa. Whoa. We’re not going back to Paris. Not because of this. But I would like you to make another one of those calls to Carl Zerner, your reporter friend in Beijing. Be sure to make it sound like nothing more than one reporter calling another, in case his calls are being monitored.”
“Sure. What do you want me to tell him?”
“You’re doing an article on the top leadership in China. Ask him if there are any major developments on the horizon. “
“Sounds innocuous enough.”
She finished a cup of coffee and went into the suite for her cell phone. Back outside, she placed the call on speaker so Craig could listen.
“Liz, good to hear from you,” Carl said. “You’re lucky you found me in China.”
“Why? What’s happening?”
“I was supposed to be reassigned to New York, which I desperately want. I’m sick of China, but then I stupidly told my editor that I’ve heard unconfirmed rumors that President Li is seriously ill. That provoked an immediate response. ‘You’re staying until you can clarify his health situation.’ So here I am. What can I do for you?”
Craig was mouthing the word, “Yes.”
She repeated Craig’s question about major developments in Chinese leadership.
Without missing a beat, Carl replied, “Nothing so far, but if President Li is really seriously ill, then anything’s possible.”
“Who’s his likely successor?”
“None of my sources has coughed up a name. So I haven’t been able to write an article on the subject.”
“Will you let me know when you do?”
“Absolutely.”
When she hung up the phone, Craig said, “That call was very worthwhile. President Li being seriously ill is valuable information.”
“I don’t believe Carl.”
Craig was puzzled.
“About what?”
“He’s heard who’s being considered by the Central Committee as a possible successor to President Li. He won’t tell me until he’s written his own story on the subject, which gets past the censors and appears in print.”
“But he’s your friend.”
She laughed. “Among reporters who work for different newspapers, friendship only goes so far.”
“Fair enough. But we still learned plenty. I’ll bet anything General Zhou and his brother are mixed up in the question of who the next Chinese president will be if President Li is forced to resign for health reasons. They have to be manipulating the process for General Zhou to succeed President Li.”
“You think General Zhou would be able to grab the Presidency?”
“With that scum, anything’s possible. And if he succeeds, it would be a disaster.”
Bali and Beijing
General Zhou hadn’t been able to sleep. All night, he lay in bed staring at the cell phone he and his brother used for encrypted calls, willing it to ring. Next to him, Androshka was snoring softly. Finally, at five a.m. he heard the “Beep… beep…”
He grabbed the phone and raced with it into the other room. His brother said, “Everything is all set. President Li’s surgery is firmly set for ten this morning. I’ve sent a plane to pick you up at Denpasar Airport. It should be there in an hour.”
“Good. I’ll wake Androshka. We’ll leave now for the airport.”
After a pause, his brother said, “Why do you want to bring her?”
“Because I do.”
“Leave her there with some money. That’s all she wants.”
General Zhou was boiling. This wasn’t his brother’s business. “End of discussion.”
“I’m afraid she’ll be worse than excess baggage. Detrimental to you.”
“I’ve decided. She’s coming.”
“Alright,” Zhou Yun said with a tone of resignation, “But move fast. I want you to be in Beijing, ready to take charge once word leaks about President Li’s death.”
Mei Ling used her friendship with Yin Shao, the Health Minister, to gain access to the glass enclosed observation tower overlooking Operating Theater Number 3 in the Beijing hospital. Typically, this observation tower was used by medical students watching an operation. But this morning, the patient was President Li. Mei Ling and the Health Minister, a physician, were the only ones in the observation tower.
The two of them were seated immediately in front of the glass when President Li was wheeled into the operating room on a gurney. Mei Ling thought the Chinese president looked pale. Fear was written on his face.
Armed soldiers were standing in each of the four corners of the room, tightly gripping automatic weapons. That was good, Mei Ling thought. But then she recalled what President Li had told her: “That’s not how they’ll do it.”
As she looked down at the medical team moving around, doing their jobs, a shiver ran up her spine.
In the next few seconds, a team of ten, doctors and nurses, all Chinese, assembled around a table. Mei Ling watched them prep President Li. He was given anesthesia, which put him to sleep. He was hooked up to several monitors. The entire surgical field was exposed and swabbed with Betadine to sterilize the site.
The primary surgeon made an incision in his stomach, and Mei Ling, glancing at each of the members of the team, thought everyone looked tense but fully in control. This must be going okay, she thought. She glanced at the Health Minister who was nodding. Perhaps President Li’s fears were unjustified, she wanted to believe.
Then suddenly, in the flash of an instant, the operating room turned to chaos. The surgeon was screaming at the anesthesiologist. Some of the nurses and doctors began rushing around. Others were watching monitors anxiously.
/> The Health Minister shot to his feet.
“What’s happening?” Mei Ling cried out, rising as well. The Health Minister pointed to a large monitor next to the operating table.
“You see those wide complexes on the monitor?” he asked.
“What’s it mean?”
“Venticular Tachycardia.”
“I’m not a doctor. That means nothing to me. Explain it in words I can understand.” Her voice was cracking with emotion.
“President Li’s gone into cardiac arrest. Look at the monitor. It’s a V tach. He has no pulse.”
A nurse handed the surgeon a defibrillator and he pressed the plates against the chest wall. He announced “Clear,” in a loud voice. Everyone stepped back. He shocked the patient. “Now ventricular fibrillation.”
They tried for several more minutes. They gave three more shocks and three rounds of epinephrine.
Finally, they gave up.
It was obvious to Mei Ling that President Li was dead.
She was terrified. “General Zhou killed President Li,” she stammered.
The Health Minister looked appalled and nodded his acquiescence.
The door to the observation tower opened. Mei Ling turned and stared at Wei Fuzhi, a member of the Central Committee, a close friend and supporter of hers for the Presidency. Wei was carrying a black leather briefcase.
“President Li is dead,” she told Wei, who didn’t seem surprised.
“I have to talk to you,” Wei said. “Alone. Please.”
She nodded to the Health Minister who quietly drifted out of the room.
“President Li’s dead,” she repeated. “General Zhou killed him.”
“I know that, but we have another problem. One we have to deal with immediately.”
“What’s that?”
“I’m confident that a majority of the Central Committee would support you if there were a free vote.”
“Won’t there be?”
“General Zhou has the support of the military. A few days ago, he sent Captain Cheng to firm up that support. General Zhou’s in a plane right now on his way back to Beijing due to arrive at an air force base in three hours. The military won’t let anyone else be chosen president.”