The Rice Thieves

by William Claypool

  “What is it without Company support?” asked the Admiral.

  “The numbers are still about 12 percent for each year without the Company buyouts of the private equity plays. You know, sir, I’m pretty damned good at my day job.”

  “Jun still loves you?”

  “Yes. He now wants me to manage the money of a few of his friends. That’s one of the stated topics of conversation on Thursday.”

  “What are you going to tell him?”

  “It depends on who the friends are,” she said, smiling at the Admiral. “I may need a real job after this operation.”

  Pauling turned back to Chen. “As far as you know, the Liu boys have kept their own counsel as to where they stole these seeds?’

  “Yes, sir. The brothers are very discreet. That’s how they stay in business. We know they’ve contacted the Ministry of Agriculture and have arranged that their seeds will be planted on one of the government farms in Hunan Province. The farm workers told my contacts that these were new seeds from Thailand. I guess that’s what the brothers are telling the government.”

  “Does the government know the seeds were stolen?”

  “Yes and no,” said Chen. “I suspect they know the seeds were stolen. They won’t try to prove it. Plausible deniability on their part is very important.”

  “No one except the brothers knows the seeds are from the U.S.?” asked the Admiral.

  “The brothers, and likely the uncle,” said Chen.

  “Oh yes, the uncle,” said Pauling. “Too bad about that.”

  “It would make sense for them to bring the seeds to his little farm on Lantau before going anywhere else with them. However, we have not confirmed that,” added Chen.

  “Okay, that goes on your ‘to do’ list as well,” said the Admiral.

  “Yes, sir,” said Chen. “The brothers would never tell the MOA that the rice was from the U.S. New technology in rice from the U.S. would not be popular with the Chinese government.”

  “Are you sure these are our seeds that your men in Hunan were hearing about?”

  “No sir. Not yet absolutely certain, although the timing was right.”

  “Okay,” said the Admiral. “We want Sloan to see the plants from that government farm and the Lantau farm. Do you think we can examine those specimens without raising any attention?”

  “Yes, my guys are ready to pull the samples and let Sloan have a good look. They can certainly spot the plants that are spreading like weeds. Sloan can confirm that they’re ours,” said Chen.

  “Do we think the plants are well established over there?” asked the Admiral.

  “We have nothing confirmed now, but my men suspect the rice is being grown in three sites, all on a small scale.” answered Chen.

  “Okay,” said Pauling, “Once you have been able to prove that the plants are well established in multiple locations, we’ll clean things up.”

  “I understand,” said Rorke.

  “Okay, that’s it,” he said. “Confirm that our rice is in those fields and we’ll go from there.”

  “Yes, Admiral,” said Rorke.

  “Give me frequent updates of your progress. Call on the message line. When you’re ready to finish the job, call me on a safe line to brief me on the particulars.”

  “Yes, sir,” said Rorke.

  “Lastly, try to keep Buddy Jerome in check. I know he’s a pain in the ass and he’s a serious loose cannon. It will work out eventually. Until it does, we have to keep him happy.”

  “’Happy’? How do you want me to keep him ‘happy’?” asked Rorke.

  “Well, Sam,” said the Admiral, “As you said, it’s hard being a girl, but I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

  CHAPTER 14

  They flew to Hong Kong under separate bookings and on different flights to avoid any unnecessary suspicion at customs. Franco and Chen left that day. Rorke and Sloan would travel the next day. Their covers were all largely true. Franco and Sloan were tourists, Chen was doing business on a work visa, and Rorke was an investment advisor with clients in Hong Kong.

  Franco was still uncomfortable with the situation and his unfinished conversation with Rorke. He didn’t know exactly how he was supposed to control Sloan, or even what that meant.

  Franco was still troubled as to why a few rice seeds commanded this level of attention. Still thinking over his last conversation with Rorke, he wanted to call Admiral Pauling to better understand what was going on. Unfortunately, he had been told that all communications had to go through Rorke unless there was an emergency. None of this felt right to him, and he wondered if he had made the right choice in accepting Pauling’s offer and leaving Stewart Island. He hoped he would feel better about it when he met with the team.

  After landing and clearing his bag through customs, Franco found his way to the Airport Express train and after only a short wait was able to board the train to Hong Kong station. Following the half-hour trip, he briefly wandered around the train station until finding the shuttle bus to his hotel. Franco went to his room, dropped onto his bed, and resolved to fix his jet lag before meeting the others in two days.

  ***

  They were to rendezvous at his hotel for drinks. Its popular upper floor bar was often packed with westerners because it offered great views of Victoria Harbor. It was normal for Americans to be there. At 4:15, the bar was nearly empty, quiet before it hit its happy hour stride.

  Franco was the first to arrive. A few couples were scattered about in the lounge area. They all looked like tourists to him. Franco sat at the bar and ordered a beer. He was the only one sitting there. He was a few minutes early, and anxious to move forward with the job. As he understood it, he would be available for counseling the professor until Sloan identified the stolen plants, to confirm the theft. After that, Franco would load Sloan on a plane back to the U.S. What Rorke, or Pauling, would do with the information wasn’t anything he was supposed to worry about.

  About three quarters through his beer, Sloan came into the room and walked up to him, smiling.

  “How was your trip?” he asked.

  Franco shrugged. “Like any trans-pacific flight in economy—cramped and long. How was yours?”

  “Rorke flew me first class. It wasn’t bad at all.”

  Franco shook his head and lowered his voice to Sloan, “First class? That woman has it out for me. I know it.”

  “I’m sure it’s nothing personal,” Sloan whispered back to him. “My cover as a successful consultant demands that I fly in the pointy end of the plane.”

  “I don’t think that’s all there is to it.”

  “You shouldn’t make too much of it.”

  “Right. Did she tell you what our strategy is to find this elusive rice seed? Finding a few seeds of a special rice in China sounds like a fool’s errand if ever there was one. Are we supposed to go door to door?”

  “Don’t sweat it, Rorke will have a plan. She’ll figure it out,” said Sloan.

  “I don’t share your faith in that woman.”

  “Mike, take it easy. It’ll be fine. She knows what she’s doing.”

  “I’m just not an optimist when it comes to dealing with a prima donna,” said Franco, and he took another sip of his beer.

  Sloan spoke as Franco was drinking. “This whole rice thing has me pretty excited. Think about it. Buddy Jerome might save the developing world from hunger with a fast producing, high yielding strain of rice. The funny thing about it is, he has no idea of what he’s done.”

  “Well, the rice has been stolen, so however you make money on seeds, it’s going to be hard to do.”

  “Buddy’s lawyers filed all the intellectual property disclosures on the rice technology and when they find that the seed was stolen, they can demand royalties and damages from the thieves or maybe the Chinese government. Of course, Buddy does
n’t care about the money aspect as much as he does about the bragging rights he’ll have over his biotech friend, Shelly.”

  “Wouldn’t it be easier for Buddy to sue the U.S. government for allowing his seeds to be stolen in the first place?”

  “I don’t know. The government may be off the hook as part of the consent decree since Buddy broke the law.”

  “I guess it’s not our problem,” said Franco.

  “No, it’s not our problem. Still, you have to admit that introducing a new technology to help feed the world is an amazing and wonderful advance.”

  “Let’s focus on the small issues, like seeing how far these thieves went with their ill-gotten goods, no matter what their potential.”

  Sloan was quiet.

  “Are you really going to be able to identify this super rice?” Franco asked him.

  “I’d say that I’m about 90 percent accurate. Differences in the leaf morphology from usual rice can be very subtle.”

  “I guess that 90 percent will be okay with Rorke. You’d better be right. I get the impression you really don’t want to be on her shit list. You’ll be flying economy class with me.” Franco finished his beer.

  “Yeah, I agree that isn’t where I’d want to be.”

  “Where are you staying?” Franco asked, as he put down his glass.

  “I’m in this hotel. How about you?”

  Franco shook his head. “I’m here, on twelve.”

  “I’m on twelve, too,” said Sloan. “How’s your view? I look out over the Harbor.”

  “Not great,” said Franco. “I look at another building, and I listen to an ice machine all night long. I tried to change rooms; there were none available. I think Rorke arranged it like that.”

  “You worry too much,” said Sloan.

  “What are you drinking?” Franco asked, as the bartender approached.

  “Club soda,” he said.

  “And I’ll have another beer,” said Franco.

  The barman nodded and left them alone again.

  “Where are Rorke and Chen staying?” Franco asked.

  “I have no idea,” said Sloan. “You can ask her in about ten seconds.”

  Franco looked up to see Rorke walking across the lounge floor.

  She wore four-inch pumps, a tight blue dress with a deep neckline, and was made up for a night on the town.

  “Hi,” said Franco as she approached. He looked her up and down and asked sarcastically, “Are we seeing Buddy again tonight?”

  She did not respond to his question. “Franco, I need a very dry martini with three olives. Meet me at the table. Come with me, Paul.”

  She did not wait for Franco to respond, or for Sloan to move, before turning and walking back into the lounge.

  Franco considered telling her where she could shove her three olives. Instead, he ordered the drink as he was told and thought about the check he’d receive when Rorke said his job was over. When the barman returned with their drinks, he carried them to the table.

  She took the martini without saying “thank you” and continued her conversation with Sloan. Franco sat in an open chair.

  “Paul, can you identify the plants if they’ve been out of the ground for 24 hours?”

  “Yes, although the more they dry, the harder it is to be certain of the striation pattern on the leaves. Rice normally has parallel leaf veins that go straight up in sort of a north-south pattern. Our rice has a leaf vein pattern that varies a little, more north-east-south-west, and occasionally is almost netted. The pattern is more obvious in mature plants, but can still be subtle.”

  “Aren’t we kind of missing the elephant in the room?” Franco asked Rorke. “How are we going to find out where these plants are to begin with?”

  “Be quiet, Franco,” she snapped, without taking her eyes off Sloan. “Now, Paul, how long will this drying take? Can we stick the plants in a plastic bag with a little water to slow the decomposition?”

  “Not too much water,” said Sloan. “If they’re sloshing around, the plants become macerated and the leaves are the first to decompose.”

  “Do you think you can identify them if we bring them to you within 24 hours?”

  “Yes, I’m pretty sure that will work.”

  “Okay, that’s helpful. “

  She turned to Franco for the first time. “Now, Mike, you thought you could make a useful contribution?”

  Franco worked to collect himself and to remove his strong temptation to douse her with his beer. “What I was saying,” he began slowly, “is that I have not yet heard how we are going to find the plants over here at all. Do we have a magic rice plant GPS we are going to use?”

  Rorke gazed at him with her beautiful face and those disarming green eyes and said softly as she placed her hand over his on the table, “Yes, Mike, in a manner of speaking, we do.”

  “Sam, would you mind explaining that?” asked Franco, very pleasantly aware of her hand.

  She looked at her watch and said, ”No, soon it will be clear. I’m meeting a friend here in a few minutes who might be able to help us out. When he comes, please remember your cover story and try not to say anything too stupid. Let me do the talking for all of us.”

  “Sure thing,” said Franco, gritting his teeth. “By the way, where’s Hal?”

  She shook her head and Franco was worried she was going to change out of her sweet mood again. Instead she quietly said, “Hal is doing a few errands now. He’s just fine.”

  She looked up as a tall, well dressed, and exceedingly handsome Chinese man entered the room and walked toward their table. She smiled warmly at the man as he came over to them.

  She stood and said a few phases in Chinese.

  The man looked at her and said in perfect English, “I’m impressed, Sam. Your Cantonese is now almost as good as your Mandarin.”

  She gave him a kiss on the cheek.

  “I’ve been practicing for you,” she said, and turning to Sloan and Franco said in English. “These are two friends of mine from the States, Mike Franks and Paul Silver. I learned they were here when I bumped into Mike at a Starbucks this morning. They were just leaving. I’ve told them all about you, so they have you at a disadvantage.”

  They managed to keep the surprise out of their expressions.

  “It’s nice to meet you both,” he said. “Any friend of Samantha’s is a friend of mine. Welcome to my city. I hope you are enjoying your stay,” said Jun.

  Rorke interjected, “They only arrived yesterday from the U.S.”

  “How long are you staying?” asked Jun.

  “We’ll be here a week,” said Sloan, after catching Rorke’s eye.

  “Barely scratching the surface of this wonderful place,” said Jun. “Are you traveling to other places beyond Hong Kong?”

  “No, just here and back to the States in a week,” said Sloan.

  “You too?” Jun asked Franco.

  “Yes,” said Franco.

  “Where is home?” asked Jun.

  “Chicago,” said Sloan.

  “Me too,” said Franco.

  Jun spoke, “Sam may have mentioned that I spent a few years studying in Chicago. I love the city. It’s been years since I was back. I was expecting Al Capone, gangsters, and all sorts of mayhem when I went. I was a little disappointed not to see any of that, to be honest. It’s still very colorful and the architecture is beautiful.”

  “Al Capone is gone and yet we still have plenty of gangsters, although most of them are in elected office,” said Sloan. “Shall we sit, and can we buy you a drink?”

  Jun looked at Rorke, who kept her eyes on his as she spoke to her colleagues, “I’m sorry, guys, we a have an early dinner reservation and we can’t stay. We have to be going.”

  Jun watched her as she picked up her purse, then turned to the two men.<
br />
  “Very nice meeting you both. Please have a wonderful time in Hong Kong. There is no better place on earth.” Jun shook their hands once again and walked with Rorke out of the lounge.

  Franco and Sloan stayed standing until they left the room.

  “Did you know that was coming?” asked Franco. “Who was that?”

  “I have no idea,” said Sloan. “If he’s our guide to the stolen rice, he might be one of the thieves?”

  “That would be rather convenient,” said Franco.

  “He seemed like a nice guy.”

  “For a thief; if that’s who he was.”

  “I’m telling you, this rice and these brothers might just help feed the world and save a lot of hungry people,” said Sloan. “Are you ready for dinner?”

  “Sure, let’s eat,” said Franco, adding, “You know, if Pauling has these brothers in his sights, they may want to try to save themselves first.”

  CHAPTER 15

  The three men moved with precision and purpose, none speaking, as they walked quickly up the darkened dirt road. The night was humid, and the heavy air swallowed any small noise they made as they traveled. They walked in single file, about ten meters apart, well off to the side and almost in the brush. There was no moon. They were dressed all in black. They were invisible.

  The road bled into a small lane and they turned onto it. About sixty meters down the road was a small shack of a house fronted by a covered porch. The three gathered around the house and peered in. All was silent within, only a small yellow entrance light giving shape to the porch. A half-empty bottle of whisky sat on a small wooden table on the side.

  At the top of the lane, two of them headed for the rice paddies that lay beyond the home. The third stayed, watching for any movement or stirring within. The man at the house occasionally saw a glow from a red flashlight close to the ground. One of the men then left the paddy and walked the dike to the small hillside beyond. The soft glow of his red light was visible for just moments at a time. In a few minutes, the two men rejoined their colleague and they left as they had arrived. It started to rain, as was hoped, to further wash away any sign of their presence.