“Ben, what is interesting is that some calculators made in China, which makes the finest calculators in the world, sometimes come up with different answers. For example, I have an imported calculator, I think it may even be an HP, that comes up with the answer you have suggested. I also have a very fine Chinese calculator that tells me that fifty percent is within reach.
“But there is a third type of calculator, one specially programmed to give the user the answer that he or she wants to hear. Our Politburo has some of those. I believe they exist in Washington as well. They are what your government uses for their long-term budget calculations.”
Ben chuckled and again leaned forward, signaling Xue that he got the message.
“Those calculators are very common in the world,” Xue said. “You use them for budget projections, we use them for five-year plans. But no user ever complains when the answer does not meet reality. Complaining would mean they would have to use another calculator, and no one ever wants to switch from one that always gives the politically correct answer.
“By the way, the Politburo’s calculators, and even my HP, give an identical answer to another question that has been put to them. What is the outcome of a trade war between our two countries? The answer is quite clear. No matter how many times we do the calculation, the answer is always negative. It is negative for us. It is negative for you. We learned that in the Trump era, but as things turned out they were more negative for us. Fortunately, though, you have regular elections.
“So both the Politburo and our illustrious staff at the People’s Bank of China are very concerned about the antics of a group in your country called Enough Is Enough. They are trying to provoke a trade war. They are picketing various retail stores that sell goods imported from China.”
“I am aware of the group,” Ben said. “Your word antics is quite appropriate.”
“Our intelligence services indicate that those so-called antics are about to escalate later today in the eastern Pacific. We understand a flotilla of boats intends to surround one of our container ships bound for the port at Long Beach. They will make it impossible for it to proceed.
“I will tell you that our military and our Politburo will consider this an act of war. There is very little understanding in China of what a civil society actually means. I may know that Enough Is Enough is completely independent of your government. But it doesn’t seem that way to most Chinese government officials, and it certainly will not look that way on Chinese television. The demands for war will rise.”
“Xue, you are a remarkably well-informed individual. I am quite certain that our domestic intelligence services are unaware of that.” He checked his watch. It was five here in London, noon in Washington, nine in the morning on the West Coast. There was a chance he had gotten this information in time to get the word to the States. But for Li’s sake, he needed to stay, finish playing this out, and pray for time.
“Xue,” he continued, “I apologize. But I want for a moment to return to your original question you asked. I will, of course, do all I can to get your daughter into Yale, but I am concerned about your whole family. Is there some way your wife can accompany your daughter to New Haven to help get her set up at school?”
“Perhaps, once I return to China. I’m the man they really want there.”
“Of course,” Ben said. “And you shall return with a diplomatic success of sorts. You will have single-handedly arranged for the American Navy to terminate the blockade of the cargo ship and head off a war. That may not make those itching for a war happy, but it should cover any questions about your loyalty to China.
“I also firmly believe that future negotiations along similar lines will occur in the future. You will be the natural individual to lead negotiations over the subject. Those negotiations might be timed with a meeting of central bankers to defuse the economic situation.”
“You are very prescient, Ben. Though I am not sure that I would be the choice to attend such meetings. But I understand the possibilities. We can only see what transpires. Thank you for your understanding. We will doubtless meet again soon.”
As the two rose to shake hands, Ben could tell that his counterpart was not fully convinced another meeting would ever happen. But, nonetheless, he left with more than he hoped. Odds were good that both Li’s wife and his daughter would be safe.
* * *
Deng Wenxi landed at one of the small airports that Zhao and Su had installed to cater to the higher-end traffic from China. It was only a two-hour ride from the Chinese border and tour buses catered to those of lesser means.
He was dressed in an expensive business suit with no sign of his military rank. Here he was simply known as Mr. Yam. The plane belonged to one of his companions, who referred to himself here as Chen, a wealthy businessman who shared the same tastes as Deng. Theirs was a symbiotic relationship. Deng provided the legal cover and protection, and, in return, he enjoyed these outings whenever he could arrange them.
The two men entered the hotel with three younger men in cheap suits who served the role of bodyguards. The entire entourage was treated like royalty and were greeted by the manager himself.
“The usual arrangements, gentlemen?”
They were shown to two suites on the top floor, at the end of the hall and across from each other. The three guards tripled up in an adjacent room. Security was not going to be an issue.
“Business meeting downtown over lunch,” said Chen. “Care to join me? I will introduce you as another potential investor in the area. Then some recreation tonight.”
Deng said, “Strangely, I do want to play some blackjack first. Need to clear my head.”
Chen said, “I know how busy you have been in your official capacity. The Americans are beginning to sweat, or so it seems. You have them on the run.” But he did not believe the last part. He was too good a businessman to ignore that markets had stabilized and that was not a good sign. On the other hand, he valued the protection Deng offered and would not even consider offending the man.
Deng merely grunted as they headed off to a business lunch.
* * *
As soon as he had given his formal goodbyes to Li Xue, Ben immediately searched out Edith.
“Ben,” she said urgently, “you need to—”
“Edith, I’m sorry, but this is urgent. Do you still have a secure phone from the days when your father resided here?” Ben knew that they did, and it had nothing to do with Edith’s father. These people were as thick as thieves with British intelligence.
“Of course. Yes.” She led him to a back room and left him behind a closed door.
His call was to Bernadette. He told her first about the blockade of the Chinese cargo vessel. If the administration wanted to stop a war, it would either have to intercept the boats before they surrounded the cargo ship or somehow scare them away. It would be a bad news story either way.
Then he told her that CIA and State would have to keep up their end of the bargain on Li’s family. The call was short and sweet, with Bernadette promising to deliver the intel as soon as she got off the phone with him.
When he was finished, he made his way out and wandered the house until he found the Spensleys in their media room, staring at the screen that took up one wall. Across the bottom of the image was a red banner with white lettering: BREAKING NEWS.
“Edith,” Ben said. “I’m so sorry for being abrupt. What were you trying to tell me?”
She took his arm and led him to an overstuffed chair. “You need to see this, I think.”
On the screen, the BBC was broadcasting a scene off the California coast. U.S. Coast Guard helicopters were circling a freighter loaded with cargo boxes. Around the freighter was an array of boats. Most surprising was that a Warriors for the Planet flag was flying from the freighter. The voice was reporting that U.S. naval forces were headed to join the mission.
“American citizens and members of the environmental group Warriors for the Planet have successfully boarded a C
hinese merchant freighter and seem to have control of the vessel. Any potential for war between the U.S. and China has been greatly enhanced as a result of this action and there is little room for miscalculation.
“The ships are outside of U.S territorial water, but Beijing has called this a case of high seas piracy. Apparently the U.S helicopters arrived just minutes after the boarding. There appears to be a standoff. The White House issued a statement that the President and his top advisers are monitoring the situation closely.”
“When did this happen?” Ben said.
“It came on as you were seeing Mr. Li to the door,” said Graham.
On the screen, a scruffy man in torn jeans and a man bun walked up and down the deck of the cargo ship, waving a protest sign and a middle finger for the benefit of the news helicopters.
“Shit,” said Ben Coleman. “I was too late.”
“You knew about this,” Edith said.
“Li just told me. That’s why I had to use the phone. I thought I could get the info back home to stop this. Damn it.”
“Sometimes things are beyond your reach, no matter what you do,” Graham said.
Ben knew that Graham and Edith both could tell stories about that and was about to sit and watch coverage of the piracy when the Spensley butler entered and whispered into Edith’s ear. She looked up at Ben.
“This may not be your night. You have a phone call. On our secure line.”
Following protocol, Ben followed the butler back to the study. The handset was laying on the table waiting for him to pick it up.
“Ben Coleman,” he said.
“Ben, Hector Lopez here. We’re sending a private jet for you. The first commercial departure won’t get you here until midafternoon tomorrow, and we’re having an all-hands-on-deck meeting tomorrow at the White House. This ship hijacking has got everyone’s tights in a bunch, and the President wants you there to give your take on things, given your meeting with Li today.
“The plane will arrive at Luton around four your time and is prepared for a fast turnaround. Should get you back to Dulles by seven Saturday morning. One of our cars will fetch you, take you home to freshen up, then straight to the White House.”
“The Warriors for the Planet move has thrown gas on the fire, hasn’t it?”
“Unfortunately. That was piracy. At least that is how we at the Agency see it. The Chinese are right on that one. How do we expel American citizen pirates from a vessel they control in full view of the media?”
“Damned if I know,” said Ben. “Guess I’ve got a transatlantic flight to think about it.”
“There will be an embassy car to take you to Luton, pick you up around three. No traffic at that hour, that’s for sure. Don’t stop for any more bank runs and get here in one piece.”
“Will do.”
As he walked back into the dining room, Ben thought about how to break the news that he was leaving early. He suspected they’d understand, but still. A mere twenty hours in London. They’d want to offer him consolation in the form of wine, but he didn’t dare. It might turn his jet lag into whiplash if he weren’t careful. Lunesta would be a better choice for the flight home.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
THE YOUNG MEN THAT BOONSRI assembled rose as Bob and Tom entered the room. She had given each $100 as advance payment and promised a like amount after the meeting. That was about the rate Deng paid and this was a lot less painful. The three appeared to be about sixteen to seventeen, slight and undernourished as most Laotians looked to Westerners, but still solidly built. Boonsri acted as translator.
“Thank you for seeing us,” said Bob. “We’d like to ask you some questions. There is no need to be embarrassed.”
Without translating Boonsri said, “They won’t be embarrassed. Bob. It is not as culturally taboo as it might be in the States. And it is not taboo at all since they were supporting their families. But they are scared that the authorities will find out.”
Bob got the point. “We are not here with the police and we are not here with the Chinese. We just want to hear your stories.”
Tom added, “The man who hurt you is evil. If you help us, you may never have to go see him again. But we are going to need your help.”
Boonsri translated and doubtless expanded on their meaning. The boys removed their shirts. “They told me earlier that this happened a month ago, when Deng was last in town. The black and blue marks have disappeared, but you can still see the effects.”
Each young man had permanent souvenirs from their ordeal. The welts had covered over, some completely so there was only the smallest sign remaining. But a number had ripped deeper into each boy’s flesh. They had gotten some rudimentary topical treatments, but it would not be enough. The scarring would be permanent.
Then the words poured out of each boy’s mouth. “They did it to all three of us at once. Made us take off our clothes and stand against the wall. Our arms were extended up against the wall and our legs spread. It was like we were under arrest.
“Then they began to touch us. It was more like a police search than anything involving passion. They fondled our private parts.” Boonsri had chosen a delicate translation of what the boys had likely said. “But then they turned us around and made us do it to ourselves while they watched.
“When they thought we were not doing it to their satisfaction one of the men would use his belt and hit us across the butt or the back, wherever he felt like. This continued until we were finished. It really hurt and sometimes you would have to stop when he hit you. But you learned not to because if you did stop, he would hit you again and again.”
Bob asked, “Did they ever sodomize you?,” not knowing exactly how that would be translated by Boonsri.
Boonsri translated and came back with a surprising set of answers.
“He didn’t. He never even lowered his pants.”
“After touching us he let us do all the work.”
“We never had to touch him.”
“I’m not sure if he could.”
“Me neither. That’s why he beat us I think.”
“Some of the men handcuffed us to the bedposts and put gags in our mouths. Then Yam began to beat us on our shoulders and our butt. His friend joined in, each taking turns and going from one of us to the other. After they had their fun with one it was on to the other. Six to eight lashes at a time before moving on.”
“How long did this go on?” asked Bob.
The boys looked at one another quizzically and then spoke to Boonsri, all three taking turns. You could see tears in their eyes as they told the story.
“They really don’t know,” she said, then began translating once more. “Maybe two hours at the most. They guessed they each got fifty to sixty lashes. The pain was intense, and they began to become delirious. When the men saw that, they stopped the beatings and removed the handcuffs. They were allowed to get dressed. It hurt too much to put their tee shirts on but the men made them cover up. Then they were led down the back stairs and driven back to the village. They were warned that if they ever told anyone what happened they would be back for more, and it might not stop.”
Bob took out his wallet. “Ask them if we can take pictures of their backs. They can leave their pants on. The backs are enough.” He used the cell phone the Agency had given him to take some pictures and handed them each $200 on top of the money Boonsri had given them.
As they walked out Bob put his arm on Tom’s shoulder and said, “Let’s get the bastard. I am all in.”
Tom’s rejoinder was the same. “All in, it is.”
* * *
Ben and Bernadette entered the Oval together. Ben suddenly realized that although she had been in the residence, she had never before been here.
And there was an etiquette issue. Should they sit together or separately? The President solved that by putting the economic side on one couch, Ben first, then Steinway. The foreign policy staff was on the other couch—Lopez first, then Dianne Reynolds, then Bernadette. A
ttorney General Eric Flynn sat next to Steinway.
“Thank you all for coming,” said the President. “Eric, why don’t you start off by briefing us on the legal situation regarding the ship?”
Flynn began, “Piracy statutes apply to those who boarded the ship. In addition, we have conspiracy and racketeering charges that should stick to the leadership of Enough Is Enough. The same might apply to Greenpeace, although that one is tenuous. The flotilla did carry their flag, but it is far from clear that Greenpeace leadership authorized it. My instinct is to stick to the cases we can win outright. There might be too much blowback if we stretch.
“Then there’s the not-insignificant matter of taking the ship back without bloodshed. Maybe we can get the co-conspirators to talk them down in return for a lesser charge.”
Dianne Reynolds added, “The Chinese will want the pirates prosecuted. Doing so can be both a signal of good faith and a bargaining chip.”
“Let’s not forget our other bargaining chip,” Lopez said. “Bernadette’s instincts were right about the waiter. He does have an uncle, just not one who is a restauranteur. The so-called Uncle Zhou happens to be head of Chinese military intelligence, none other than General Deng Wenxi. As things turn out, the young man is one of his favorites, one being groomed for big things.”
The President smiled. “Well, right now the nephew is being groomed for life in a seventy-one-square-foot prison cell.”
“Sir,” Hector said, “our prisoner realizes full well that he is more valuable as a bargaining chip than as a prison inmate. No chance of making him talk. He has a career ahead of him, though it will be in Beijing as an analyst, not in America.”
“He will be arraigned on Tuesday, Mr. President,” the Attorney General added.
“Well, our hand just got stronger,” the President said, “both here at home and with the Chinese. Ben, you had an interesting conversation with Governor Li I understand, and by the way, I made sure that Yale will cooperate.”
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