China Dolls

by Rob Wood

  “But the United States is still the world’s number one oil destination,” Cochrane said. “It consumes more than one out of four barrels produced in the world. If you’re looking for a market-jarring target, the U.S. is it.”

  “But where? The Alaskan Pipeline? That supply could be easily replaced via oil tankers docking on the West Coast. The Gulf Coast refining complex? It’s spread out over several states. And since 9-11, Homeland Security has toughened the defenses against saboteurs. If you’re triggering the bomb with any of the likely explosives—nitrates or TNT, plastique, detonating cords or military RDX—the sniffer dogs will get you.”

  “When it comes right down to it, we don’t know much,” sighed Cochrane.

  “It’s a puzzle, wrapped in an enigma.”

  “What we have is a scenario,” put in Lily Zhang. “We have the remarkable behavior of Colonel Cao Kai, who’s moved from career military to capitalist entrepreneur. I didn’t foresee that. And what are his investment positions? A stake in a fraudulent energy company—and a stake in Shanghai Marine Fittings and Valve—a ‘blue chip,’ as you Americans say. Two very different moves.”

  “Which investment came first?” asked Cochrane.

  “Shanghai Marine Fittings and Valves.”

  “So maybe he was getting his feet wet, building up some know-how before he ventured into building the house of cards that is Sunrise.”

  “Building up know-how?” Lily shook her head. “I told you before, fraud is not that difficult in China.”

  “I’m just saying . . .”

  “You’re speculating. We also know that Cao Kai is determined to invest in oil futures. We know he is linked with stolen nuclear material, if not in fact personally responsible for the theft.”

  “What will he do? Where will he do it and when?” asked Cochrane. “We are speculating across a wide range of alternatives. We don’t know anything for sure.”

  “We know one thing,” said Lily. “We know where Cao Kai is going to be at a date certain. In New York. Dazzling investors with the merits of Sunrise BioFuels. I suggest we confront our adversary directly.”

  “What makes you think he’ll tell us anything?

  “As I observed on another occasion, ‘We won’t ask nicely.’”

  “We’re going to just walk into a Wall Street dog and pony show?” Purdy was skeptical.

  “Yes,” said Lily simply. “ Do you still have your duplicate passports from your intel kit?

  “Yes.”

  “Then you are set to travel back to the United States. The fact that we are all presumed dead should be a great asset in moving about secretly.” Turning to Cochrane, she said, “May I have one of your passports, please?”

  “But this is me . . . and that passport identity is Karen Swenson.”

  “A good actress loves a challenge,” smiled Lily.

  Later, flying out of the Kashgar Airport, it was hard for Cochrane and Purdy to keep their eyes off their travel companion—light brown hair streaked with blond, full and shoulder length. The soft, tan complexion of a sportswoman, and the aviator glasses that darkened in the sun all managed to say ‘stylish’ and ‘intellectual’ at the same time.

  Best of all, from Purdy’s point of view, was a delightful beauty mark, a small spot at the corner of her well-turned lip. As he glanced from one to the other of his companions, Purdy felt like an incredibly lucky young man. He fell asleep, dreaming happily.

  36

  FAILURES

  They were up somewhere about 30,000 feet, on a northward course that would take them over the pole and south toward North America and New York. Those passengers who could sleep were asleep. Others, not so fortunate, contended with the dull throb of the engines, the vapid diversions of magazines and video. Cochrane turned to see Lily Zhang staring out of the window, as if there were something there besides the darkness and the pewter bank of clouds far below.

  “You look like you can see the future.”

  Lily turned and shook her head. “I am far too preoccupied with the past, I’m afraid.”

  “And what about that past?” asked Cochrane, frowning. “You know, I have felt a bond with you ever since we met, Lily. And I have enormous respect for what I see as your fearless risk-taking . . . largely on our behalf. I thank you. Yet I don’t have a real sense of what makes you that way.”

  “I assumed someone like you would have used their intelligence gathering skills to dig out all there is to know about Lily Zhang.”

  “Oh, I tried. Make no mistake about that. “

  Lily sighed. “So, what do you want to know?”

  “Who are you? How did you get to be this way? And what do you know about Cao Kai?”

  “I am the beneficiary of many failures, Cody. Before the law changed, my parents could have had many children. My father herded goats and sheep in the northern grasslands. He needed help. I was the only child: the first failure. As a result, I learned about hard work. I learned about running a pack of dogs to protect against wolves and leopards. I learned to ride. I was good at what I did. Then the grass gave out, and the herd died. It was inevitable. Beijing did not understand the risks of overgrazing in a cold, arid steppe. They were Han farmers from the south. But we had to do what they said.

  “And then I was sold.”

  “What?”

  “That’s how it seemed to me, anyway. I was strong and athletic. My parents received a stipend when the government took me from them and began training me in gymnastics. Cao Kai, the area’s senior PLA officer, recruited me. Technically he was running security for Sinopec—the national oil company doing exploration in the West. Unofficially, he had an eye out for all the girls. His interests, of course, were different than the government’s. Already they were anticipating the likelihood of Olympic games staged in Beijing. No effort was spared to assure that China looked good. Did you know that many young people had plastic surgery to conform to the Beijing standard of appropriate looks for its Olympic chorus lines?

  “No.”

  “It was crazy times, believe me. I learned about risk then. Do you know what a Gienger release is?”

  “No.”

  “My specialty was the high bar—a little more than nine feet in the air. In a Gienger, you swing upwards and execute a backflip half turn up in the air away from the high bar, then catch the bar on your return. I did it out of a one-armed giant swing. Not many people can do that. And I was just a kid, still in Urumqi.”

  Cochrane shook her head in amazement. “I’ve got just one word for you: Gulp!”

  “It was good for me,” murmured Lily. “In many ways. As a potential Olympic resource, I was watched over, safeguarded. Cao Kai didn’t just take me as he did anyone or anything else he wanted in Xinjiang. Although he wanted to.

  “What happened then?”

  Lily shrugged. “Another failure. A growth spurt. I grew right out of contention. In the blink of an eye, I was too big and too old.”

  “And then what happened?”

  “Well, Cao Kai came back in the picture in a big way. He was hanging on my arm, ogling, whispering suggestive things—behaviors that have not changed to this day.

  “You may know that Beijing is suspicious of the “free” in free markets. It is government practice to incorporate communist party cells in the organization of private business. Cao Kai serves that purpose in Zhang Enterprises. But, of course, the relationship is more nuanced. Cao Kai suffers from lust. Lust and nothing more.

  “He always expressed a disdain for who I was and what I was—a Uighur. He took me to Shanghai and a drama school there. It was a classic . . . what do you call it? A ‘casting bed maneuver?’ But he didn’t count on the fact that I could manipulate officials at the school who were also interested in me. These people were influential and many of them knew people who were involved in drugs. It’s the new thing for elites. The drug people were very powerful. It was sufficient to neutralize Cao Kai, though he never really went away. We have been doing this dance for
a long time. I wish I could escape. He makes me feel dirty, ashamed of who I am.”

  Lily paused, glanced at her beautifully manicured hands, and resumed.

  “After drama school there was a stint as a contract actress with TVB. Cao Kai loved those period melodramas they churned out. This led to film roles. Film roles led to money. I invested—first in property and hotel management, then interior and landscape design, then in real estate. Film roles guaranteed celebrity, which was also useful. Women in big industry are unknown unless they have connections. For example, Li Xiaolin. She’s CEO of China Power International, but she also happens to be the only daughter of a former premier.

  “Anyway, times change. When China began experimenting with capitalism in earnest, I was there with ready money.”

  “Sounds like a story of real achievement.”

  “It was a failure. I never saw my parents again.”

  37

  PLANS AND PROSPECTUS

  Cao Kai and his backers had selected a hotel near Grand Central Station in New York—the Millennia. Two glass-walled towers rose from a promenade at street level. The lobby was done in hotelier excess: pillars clad in gold-brushed aluminum, red and cream carpet, and floral bouquets that would have beggared a small garden. A reception desk stretched what seemed the width of a football field with uniformed assistant managers and receptionists ready to swipe credit cards, book rooms, and summon bellmen.

  A lobby marquee already announced the affair—“Sunrise BioFuels: New Markets, New Fuels, New Opportunity”—scheduled for the following day in the Embarcero Room.

  Cochrane made her way to the room, walking past as if she had other business. She glanced in to see beyond the maintenance staff and their roaring industrial rug sweepers to the meeting planners and players beyond. There was a young woman who looked like she could be Diane Keaton, once she grew up. She was scowling at a clipboard, as if it were the Rosetta Stone. So intense was her concentration that she silently mouthed the items on a checklist. AV people were wiring a podium. A big man, mid-forties, leaned casually against a wall, his expensive suit coat open around a rumpled midriff that was one éclair away from a paunch. He casually clicked through the exhibits in a slide presentation.

  “Target acquired!” Cochrane whispered to herself as she moved on. Interesting, she thought, how the biggest difference in people here and in China was weight.

  In their hotel room, Cochrane, Purdy, and Zhang reviewed their options and plotted strategy.

  “I feel we’re too exposed,” said Purdy. “Too many variables are unaccounted for.”

  “It’s risky. We might not even hook up with a Sunrise contact,” said Cochrane.

  “Cao Kai’s here and I want him,” said Lily. Her determination carried the day. Her words showed how close they were to their goal.

  After five, Lily slipped into the hotel bar, wearing an Armani sheath that flattered her figure, wrapped with a cloud of Chinese Pashmina, at once businesslike, modest, and feminine. All these new purchases were charged to the hotel room. “Thank goodness for an upscale boutique in the lobby,” she said to herself. “I’m glad Cao opted for class.”

  Lily took a seat at the bar and ordered a martini mixed with Tanqueray and Blue Curacao. She was the only woman at the bar with a martini that matched her ensemble. Not surprisingly, this was the subject of rumpled-midriff’s opening line, as he moved in from his side of the bar.

  “Purely random chance, I assure you,” laughed Lily. “In fact, I’m surprised you noticed it, Mr. ____?

  “Vitello. Al Vitello,” the man said. “Are you here on business?”

  “Yes. My associates and I are in real estate. There are now so many purchase opportunities for foreign investors in the United States. I’m afraid the recent market has not been kind to you.”

  “Actually, my firm represents many foreign investors. We do Investor Relations and PR. We’re assisting with a private placement opportunity tomorrow. Sunrise BioFuels: it’s run by this really interesting Chinese guy, a general or something over there in China.”

  “Funny, you don’t look Chinese,” smiled Lily. “Are you an expert in alternative fuels, then?”

  “Hardly. My expertise is communications. I do the initial company review and make the pitch. I used to be in television, you see. We stress that the initial impression must be clear, animated, friendly—the same formula that works for Regis and Kathy Lee. Then I become a moderator, field questions and refer them to the lawyers and accountants. Or, Mr. Cao Kai—although his English is not as good as it could be.”

  “And Mr. Vitello . . . Al . . . do you think this is a good opportunity?”

  “Absolutely. I don’t pitch things I don’t believe in.” Vitello jumped at the chance for subtext. He very much wanted Lily to know: “I am not a skuzzy barfly. You can trust me.”

  “Well, if you’re interested—I’m interested,” said Lily, her eyes lighting up.

  “You should come. Do you have the time?”

  “For the right offer, I’ll make time.”

  “Well, the presentation isn’t open to just anybody. There are registration papers to sign, stipulating financial responsibility, and limiting your disclosure of what you hear in the presentation.”

  “I’m happy to sign. Just leave the papers at the desk for Karen Swenson. That’s me,” Lily smiled “Would it be too much trouble to get three passes? I’d like to bring some colleagues.”

  “No problem at all,” Vitello assured her.

  “Maybe we can meet here tomorrow after the presentation,” Lily smiled. “If I like what I hear, I’ll let you buy me a drink.”

  “Deal!” Vitello said.

  Lily reached over and stroked the top of his hand. She could almost feel his pulse jump.

  “Tomorrow then,” she smiled and left, leaving heads turning in her wake.

  38

  “LONG TIME NO SEE”

  The private placement was being catered. Trolleys loaded with satay, fiery Sichuan barbecue, stuffed dumplings, along with more conventional shrimp, chicken salad croissants, and canapés rolled down the corridor toward the Embarcero Room.

  “That Chinese food looks pretty authentic,” Purdy observed. “Do you suppose Cao made it himself?”

  “Vitello’s firm either knows a good caterer or…”

  “Lily, I was making a joke!” Purdy rolled his eyes.

  “Or, Cao has tapped a contact here in Manhattan, “replied Lily, matter-of-factly.

  “Now it’s you who must be joking” said Purdy. “Cao must have worked pretty fast to develop such a contact.”

  “Not joking. The Chinese government maintains contacts among many overseas Chinese communities. Officially, they view all Chinese as one people, in or out of China. Besides, there are the intelligence benefits. The only stipulation is that you can’t be for Taiwanese independence—or anyone else’s for that matter.”

  The three of them flashed their conference badges and entered the room that had been decorated specifically to manipulate investor reaction. First there was a bar located at either end of the sumptuous table of hors d’oeuvres. People were already beginning to mill about. On the opposite wall, across a sea of round tables set with coasters, press kits, and note pads, was a plastic model of a biodiesel facility. It was perhaps fifteen feet long, designed it seemed for “Barbie does biodiesel.” Lily noted that it was far more complete than Cao’s real facility in Dalian.

  “Are you Mr. Vitello’s friends? Would you like some coffee?” asked a Chinese who was functioning as maître’d, snapping his fingers to attract a waiter.

  “Yes and yes!” said Cochrane eagerly. “Where I come from it’s way too early for cocktails.”

  “Very good,” smiled the Chinese. “This house blend is excellent, he said pouring from a gleaming carafe, while the waiter stood at attention. “Cream? Sugar?”

  “Black all around,” said Purdy

  Lily made a face but graciously accepted a cup. She preferred tea.
r />   “There’s been a change in the program,” whispered the maitre’d. “You might want to consult the agenda in the press kit. We had hoped to have someone from the State Department. Now we have a speaker from Commerce instead. Speaking on international trade, you know.”

  Purdy, Cochrane, and Zhang took seats near the back of the room, and, as prompted, studied the agenda for the meeting.

  When the meeting started, the celebrity undersecretary from the Commerce Department commanded the attention of everyone in the room.

  “This Administration believes in world trade—fair trade without punitive barriers. . . This Administration believes in international cooperation in both diplomatic and commercial initiatives . . . .”

  ‘Purdy,” Cochrane said, “I don’t feel well. I need the Ladies’ Room.”

  “I’ll walk you out,” he said, standing and pulling her chair out.

  Lily watched them go. Their footsteps seemed a little unsteady. Something did not seem right to her. “I’d better go and check on Cochrane myself,” she thought. She saw the coffee cups. Only hers was untouched.

  Out in the corridor she was just in time to see elevator doors closing around two gurneys, pushed by Chinese caterers. Each gurney was draped with a tablecloth that obscured what could have been mounds of empty plates or the profile of a body.

  She made a move toward the elevator, but was stopped short by a familiar, leering voice.

  “Lijuan, my dear. You know the Chinglish expression, ‘Long time—no see?’”

  She turned to confront Cao Kai, bookended by two of his thugs. He walked toward her, smirking. “Really, Lijuan—a beautiful woman investor who materializes at the eleventh hour. Don’t you thespians call it ‘deus ex machina’? And this beautiful woman needs a prospectus for each of two friends? Didn’t you think I would be suspicious?”

  While she was forming an answer, Cao struck her in the gut. She doubled over with a grunt. One man caught her, the other covered her nose and mouth with a damp cloth. She was trying to place the smell, when she blacked out.