by Sam Waite
David didn't look happy. "The mainlander, Wu, has been giving me a hard time."
"I thought you said he couldn't touch you, since you're from Taiwan. You're free."
He glowered. "We are free now, but maybe not for much longer. Things are changing. My father told me to come back."
"You said it was my fault."
"It's your fault that Wu is giving me a hard time, but not the rest."
I stayed quiet on faith that he would get to the point soon.
"Don't ask me how I know this, because I can't tell you. It would put someone in my family in danger." He leaned so far toward me that his chin was almost on the table.
I had to put my head close to his to hear his whisper, as I tried to decide whether to head for an exit that read "Escape from Conspiracy Nuts" or hang around to see how fanciful things could get.
"There has been a power shift in China."
"A silent coup?"
"Not the kind that topples the leader, but you could call it a top-down coup. The president has been arresting potential rivals to consolidate his power. He's also increasing military spending by double digits and building up the navy to assert territorial claims in the South China Sea and East China Sea."
"But that's over islets to claim mineral and fishing rights. It doesn't threaten Taiwan."
David sat back and stared at me. There was a sense of exasperation as though I was a student who refused to do his homework.
"There are two things neither the president nor the generals will tolerate: democratic reform at home and independence for Taiwan. But that's not all of it. Ever since Chang Kai-shek fled to Taiwan, The PLA, the People's Liberation Army, has been saying reunify, reunify. Now, some of our leaders talk about claiming independence. There is a psychological as well as strategic need for the PLA to take Taiwan. If they do not, they lose legitimacy. Someday, they will crush us. After that the American presence in Asia will be irrelevant. The western Pacific will become China's pond."
Not so fast lad. "I'm not a hawk, but I think the U.S. might have some suasion in that regard, nuclear-powered fleet, ballistic missiles, bases in Japan, Guam that sort of thing."
David sneered. "China can make America back off without even an argument, much less a fight."
"How?"
"I can think of a thousand ways. Which one do you want to hear first?"
A thousand was a big number. I expected he was exaggerating, but I didn't ask him to recite his list.
"Maybe you already know one," he said. "Did you find out anything more about the liquefaction process? That's why I asked you to meet me."
That zinger was over my head. David thought China's sulfur-eating bug would intimidate the U.S. I would have preferred to head for the conspiracy nut exit, but David had helped me, so I told him where things stood.
"Yesterday, I sent a sample to a lab in the States that can analyze the bacteria. When I hear back, I'll let you know what they found. That is, if I can. It might be a sensitive issue."
"How can you be so sure it will even get to the lab?"
"Express delivery, guaranteed, I paid extra for the service."
David had already glowered and sneered. This time he snorted.
"Do you remember I lost the sample you gave me? I think Wu took it."
"I'd guessed as much myself."
"OK, you think I'm talking nonsense don't you."
"Umm..." He had me there.
"So how do you think Wu knew to look for it?"
While I sat in confused silence, he shook his head, stood, and turned away.
"David—"
He looked back, gave a sardonic smile and stalked out the door.
"—I'll get the check."
I had wanted to ask David what he thought the answer to his own question was, but I expect if he'd had any idea, he would have told me. On the way back to the hotel, I wondered if Cervantes had been at the chateau with PDVSA's Ruiz and the Saudi. Gavizon had taken himself out of the picture, afraid of Venezuelan jackboots. I had thought about calling him anyway, but when I went home Alexandra had my undivided attention.
"I've been doing some reading." She held up her book so I could see the cover.
"I know what that is."
"Then what are you waiting for? Get undressed."
She didn't have to say that twice. The book was a guide to shiatsu therapy, the same treatment that I had given her last night. She straddled my lower back and worked her way down my neck. So far, so good, but she lost her oomph when she got to my shoulders. They were wound as tight as wire rope.
"Harder."
"I can't press harder. I would break my thumbs."
"Use your heels."
"Are you serious?"
"Mmm." If we were going to do it at all, we may as well do right.
Alexandra braced her hands against the wall and dug her heels into my trapezoid muscles, but it still wasn't enough to get to the pressure points.
"Shift your weight, one leg at a time." Left, right, left, there it was. I put my mind in neutral as the tension found its own channels of escape. By the time she had strolled down to my hips I was in a semiconscious state.
There was that call I had intended to make to Gavizon, but he wasn't working for me anymore, so what was the point? He might change his mind and rejoin the team though. It was worth a try. To call or to succumb. Moving lower, Alexandra rested her shins on the backs of my thighs, pressed her palms against the backs of my knees, and worked her way down to the knotty joints and tendons of my ankles. Whether to call was no longer an issue. My body vetoed that notion. It was a good thing it did.
If I had known what Gavizon had to say, it would have taken a great deal more than a massage for me to get to sleep.
Chapter 26
"How was it?" Alexandra already knew. She was just fishing for a compliment. I was happy to oblige.
"On a scale of one to ten, about a googol."
"What's that?"
"Ten to the hundredth power."
"C'est très bon." She nuzzled my neck and raked her thumbnail across my cheek stubble. It sounded like someone playing the comb in a gut-bucket band. "Stay here. I can take care of that."
Alexandra left and came back with a hot damp towel. She wrapped it across my face and neck and pressed her hands against it. After a while, we went to the shower and she shaved my face slowly, gently and thoroughly. We washed each other and returned to bed to atone for our previous night of celibacy.
It was late morning by the time we'd finished breakfast, and I checked my phone messages. One was from Gavizon. I hoped he was back on the job.
"Any word on your contact, who went missing? That's just personal concern. I'm not asking if you can still get information."
Gavizon apparently didn't care how I meant it. He ignored me.
"I need to know the whole story of what you're working on. You should have told me how big this was. How did a cabron like you get on a case like this?"
That was a question I couldn't answer. Trevor died without telling me why he'd hired me, but I was pretty sure it wasn't to investigate bitumen liquefaction, forex trades or Chinese politics. Maybe he just wanted a body guard. I brought Gavizon up to date on most of what I knew. I left out parts that were still critical or might put people in danger.
He made little noises, clicks and aspirations, during the telling.
"Is someone trying to depose Maduro? The level of paranoia is going up fast," he said when I'd finished.
"Not that I know of. I don't even see a fit."
"The contact in Maduro's office was my niece. She's safe, for now anyway. A driver went to her desk and told her that Maduro wanted to meet and that he would take her to see him. She said she needed to use the restroom and escaped."
"How did she know the driver meant trouble?"
"She works in the man's office. That puts her in the position of learning things that she shouldn't. She also knows that more than a few of Maduro's chauffeured guests
have disappeared."
"Did your niece run from general paranoia or does she know specifically what Maduro was worried about."
"At the time she didn't. After thinking about it though, the best guess she could come up with relates to the liquefaction."
"She knows what makes the bacteria work? That's highly valuable information. I've sent a sample to a lab in the U.S., but if she knows already, we might be able to make her a very wealthy woman."
I felt like I was on the brink of putting together a few stray parts to a puzzle that was becoming more complex the more I looked at it. Gavizon quickly disabused me of that notion.
"You've got it backwards, Mick. The process doesn't work. The bacteria does OK in the laboratory, but not in the field. I'm not even sure it was ever intended to work, but the Chinese and Maduro are telling the Saudis that it does. That's what the trip to Orinoco was about, to demonstrate how the bugs gobbled sulfur in the ground. It was a setup."
"Why?"
"I don't know."
I didn't either. Nevertheless, I did know that nations often pulled a bluff either to look stronger or weaker than they really were. If the process didn't work, that meant China was trying to appear stronger than it was. Venezuela most likely was being used as a minor player.
Number one, fact: China and Venezuela were in league in a liquefaction scam.
Number two, reasonable guess: The Saudis were a mark.
Number three, supposition: This was building up to be the biggest confidence scam since Eve ate the apple. In that case I wouldn't want to be in Saudi shoes against China. When it came to war strategies, military, economic or otherwise, Sun Tzu wrote the book.
Maybe Trevor and Sabine had found out. In stakes like this, what were the lives of a couple of consultants? Despite the grim outcome of that realization, I felt a sense of relief. Finally, their murders had a rational context besides jealous rage and guilt-driven suicide. With context and motive in place I had hope of fitting other parts of the puzzle together and ultimately finding out who did it or maybe even who ordered it done.
When I hung up, Alexandra asked me what our agenda was for the day.
"I think I have an idea why your colleagues were killed."
Her gasp was scarcely audible but her confusion was obvious. "Sabine?"
"And Trevor."
"But, I thought that was known. There were the notes from Trevor. They were having an affair, Mick. Her secretary verified it. I verified it. Geir too."
"I accept that, but I think I have a better motive. I'm not sure how far to go, but they might have been killed for knowing too much about the Venezuela study."
Alexandra's face reddened. "It's my safety we're talking about. How much to tell me shouldn't be your decision. Ignorance-based protection is not a viable option for me."
"I just found out that the liquefaction process doesn't work. It looks like China is working with Venezuela to scam Saudi Arabia. I'm not sure how, but I would guess that, for someone, it's important enough to justify murder."
The red drained out of Alexandra's cheeks almost as fast as it had darkened them.
"Now that you know, can you think of anything China might be trying to do?" I said.
She didn't respond. She just looked up at me as her cheeks grew ashen. Finally, "No."
"When I last met David, I had a feeling that he knew more than he was telling me. Now I also know more. I want to see him again. Maybe between the two of us we can work out a few scenarios."
"Now?"
"Yes, now."
"Don't go." Alexandra sat on my lap and put her head against my shoulder. "Stay with me Mick. Whoever, they are, they broke into my apartment. I hadn't accepted that. I wanted to believe that Trevor and Sabine died in some kind of love tragedy. If it had been true, then I would have been safe. Three days, that's all that's left. Let's stay here together. We don't have to leave the apartment." She gripped my hair and pulled my cheek to her lips. "Stay. Protect me."
I savored the thought of doing just that. Three days of doing nothing but relishing the time with Alexandra, a woman so beautiful, I felt lucky just to have seen her.
Three days of hiding, of burying my head in the sand.
I lifted Alexandra in my arms as I stood and lay her on the bed.
When I stepped backwards toward door, it was hard to analyze her expression. Shock, distress, sadness.
"Why?" she said.
I shrugged. Anquiro ergo sum? It was as good a reason as any, but one that I couldn't explain. I looked back at Alexandra before I closed the door behind me.
She was crying.
Chapter 27
I called David. "I have new information that I got from someone in Venezuela. I know it's important, but I don't know exactly how it fits in with the bigger picture. You might be able to help with that."
"I told you not to call me, again."
"If it wasn't critical, I wouldn't have. China's up to something that might affect Taiwan."
How could he say "no" to that? He didn't.
"I'll meet you, but outdoors, in public where're there are a lot of people."
"Wherever you want, David."
After a moment, he said, "Le Petit-Pont, the Little Bridge. Do you know it?"
"Yes."
"Repeat it."
Alexandra was stirring awake.
I covered the mouth piece and jabbed my finger toward the phone in exasperation. "I know it David, Le Petit-Pont crosses the Seine from the Left Bank to the Isle de le Cite, Norte Dame. All tourists know it. What time?"
"How long will it take you?"
"Twenty minutes."
"I'll be there in forty."
Despite my exasperation, I had to admit that the bridge wasn't a bad idea. You could see all approaches. You also had multiple exits—straight ahead, straight back or, in desperation, over the edge to the river, doable for a swimmer.
The only problem with Le Petit-Pont was that it could be approached quickly from either end or both ends. There would be little time to decide whether to run or to jump. The other problem was approaches to the bridge provided concealment. That could make an escape easier, or it could accommodate an ambush.
I arrived first and scanned the streams of tourists going to and from Notre Dame Cathedral. The bridge was a better meeting site than I had considered. There were police in abundance to protect the nation's heritage. The sky was nearly cloudless, and a brilliant sun gilded the highpoints of statuary against backdrops of shadow.
I dropped a pebble off the bridge. Its fall to the Seine was short. A jump wouldn't be dangerous, but the water looked cold. I'd try to stay out of it. I dropped another pebble and another. There weren't many of them. As I looked for a fourth, I saw David headed my way.
"What did you find out?" He was dressed lightly for this time of year. He also wore sneakers.
"Looks like you're ready to run," I said.
He glanced down at his shoes, but he didn't say anything. I guess he wanted me to answer his question first. He looked skeptical when I told him that the liquefaction process didn't work.
"Wu threatened me. He would not have been so excited if it didn't work."
"How would he know?"
"His father can find out anything that has to do with Chinese officials."
Chances are David started looking for his own "conspiracy nut" exit as I started telling him about my theory of a gigantic confidence scam. If he did think I was nuts, he didn't let it show.
"I don't know why they would try to trick Saudi Arabia into thinking they can liquefy bitumen cheaply," he said.
"Do you know anyone you can ask?"
David bristled as though his initial instinct was to tell me to jump in the Seine, but instead he remained silent until a calm visibly settled through him. It was the first time I'd seen him when he wasn't at least a little agitated.
"I'll ask my father. The risk in these times is very high. There's a strong independence side in our politics. I think most Tai
wanese accept the status quo, but if the independence movement wins enough support to declare Taiwan a nation, who knows what China will do? Few people believe that it will invade us, but think about it. The rationale for invasion is ten thousand times greater than America's reasons for invading Iraq. Even so, America invaded."
Inflation was creeping into David's speech. The last time he used a number for emphasis it was only one thousand ways for China to make America back down.
He leaned over the rail and stared into the river. "Tell me everything about this investigation of yours."
There was very little that I left out, from the supposed motive for the deaths of Trevor and Sabine to the thin payoff range and enormous profits of the dollar forex trades. He was attentive throughout.
"I'm not the right person for you to talk to. I'm a chemical engineer, but I will ask my father. In Taipei it is the middle of the night now. I'll call and wake him up. As you say, there isn't much time. I'll contact you as soon as I know something."
"David."
"What?"
"Who's your father?"
"He is the deputy director of the National Security Bureau, Taiwan's intelligence service."
David might have been wrong about one thing. Chances were he was exactly the person I needed to talk to.
We parted, and I walked to Notre Dame. Construction of the cathedral began in 1163, yet today it remained a living church with services and consultations and areas of respite, if not solitude. I went inside. The somber dark enveloped me, not like the soothing blanket I had naively sought, but like a hunter's net cast over prey. Youthful memories of post-confessional solace clashed with those of iron-willed nuns angry at their charges for no reason other than their own subjugations to the perversions of celibacy.
I sat in a pew, clasped my hands and bowed my head as though in prayer. In fact it was a pose of combat. Once more, I fought the battle of apostasy, a strange and personal war. Clergy have the absurd notion that fear of damnation is a useful weapon against the logic of disbelief. It wasn't fear that kept people faithful; it was guilt. At least in my case, it was. My grandmothers, who had taught me the great lesson of caring, were believers. It was hard to betray their faith.