***
Rorke and Hal knocked on his door just before dawn. Despite their earlier call alerting him to their arrival at the hotel, it took Sloan a minute or two to open his door and let them in.
“What’s going on?” he mumbled, sleep still heavy in his voice.
Rorke ignored the question as she walked into the room, and said to him, “Paul, I want you to look at these plants. Tell me if they are from our seeds.”
Hal pulled out seven small plastic bags of leaves from a larger sack. Each bag was labeled. He laid them out on the desk in Sloan’s room.
Sloan went to his nightstand and removed a magnifying glass. He opened each bag in order and removed the plant fragments within. When he finished with each specimen, he placed it in one of two groups. After examining all seven, he spoke to them.
“These are very fresh. I assume they’re local.”
Hal and Rorke said nothing, waiting for Sloan to speak again.
Sloan noted their stony silence and said, “Specimens A, C, D, E, and F are definitely from Buddy’s seeds. Specimens B and G are probable—actually, highly likely. I can’t be completely certain. If I were betting, I’d say they were too.”
Rorke looked at Sloan. “Thanks, Paul,” she said. “Today is a free day for you. Tomorrow, I may have more specimens for you to examine.”
Hal retrieved the bags and placed them in his larger satchel.
“I’ll call you later,” said Rorke, and she and Hal left the room.
She walked with him down the hallway to the elevator. Neither spoke until the lift brought them down to the lobby. Once in the lobby, she led him to the coffee shop that was just opening for the day. They took a table as far away from any new patrons as possible.
“Okay, Hal,” she said. “Tell me what he identified.”
“It was pretty interesting. Three of the five definite samples were from the hillsides off the sides of the paddy. The rest were from the paddy.”
“It’s spreading.”
“Yeah, I think if we went back there in the daylight, we’d see it all over the place.”
“Jun and Chao will be thrilled.”
“Yup. I bet the Ministry will be pleased as well. They’ll probably plant more of it.”
“It’s going to be hard to pinpoint any theft. Especially if it grows in other paddies.”
“Nearly impossible,” agreed Hal. “And I don’t think there’s any doubt about it moving into other rice paddies.”
The waitress came by and they stopped talking until she took their order and left.
Rorke changed the subject. “What did you learn about the old man?”
“Nothing new. Liu Quan is just a quiet old man who likes to tend his small patch of land. He farms three mus of land—or about a half-acre. He grows his rice, and a few vegetables. He never graduated beyond the Cultural Revolution thing in the 60’s. He seems to like whiskey; I did learn that about him. Otherwise, there wasn’t much we didn’t already know.”
“Who takes care of him?”
“As far as my people can determine, Jun and Chao are his only living relatives. They arrange for delivery of groceries to him on Tuesday and Friday mornings. He has two men who help him in the field on Tuesday and Thursday mornings.”
“How often do the brothers visit him?”
“I don’t think very often, maybe once a month.”
“What else does he do?”
“Not too much from what I can see. He lives off the land, occasionally listens to music, and probably thinks deep thoughts all day long. From what my guys say, he doesn’t own a TV or even a cell phone.”
Rorke thought about what Hal reported and then said, “The longest window is from Friday afternoon until Tuesday morning.”
“Yes, although it may be even longer because the delivery man typically just puts the grocery bags on the porch early Friday mornings and then leaves.”
“We should do it on Friday,” said Rorke.
“I think that will be the easiest,” said Hal.
“Let’s plan on that,” she said. “I’m going to have Jun take me to Guangdong and I’ll take pictures to help confirm the rice is there. Will you be able to have your people bring those plants over for Sloan to inspect?”
“That shouldn’t be too much of a problem, although it may take a day,” said Hal.
“When will the specimens come in from Hunan?”
“I think we’ll have them the day after tomorrow, if all goes according to plan.”
“We’ll make sure Sloan is available then. What about Chao?”
“I’m going to look for a little nightlife tonight down on D’Aguilar Street and Lan Kwai Fong. He should be there, if he stays true to his habits. I’ll have my people out looking. We’ll find him if he shows up.”
“Good. I have a business meeting today with big brother and I’ll confirm that I’m on for the visit to Guangdong.”
“Will Franco be briefed on this?”
“No. Franco doesn’t need to know any of this. What he doesn’t know won’t hurt anyone, particularly him.”
***
After Chen left, Rorke pulled out a disposable phone. She called a local number and after a few rings, a woman’s voice said in Cantonese that the recipient was not available and that a message could be left.
Rorke was not expecting a person to answer and was prepared to leave the message. “Confirmed at one site,” was all that she said at the tone. She switched off the phone, knowing she would dispose of it later that day.
CHAPTER 16
Franco was asleep in his hotel room when his cell phone woke him. It was Sloan.
“Mike, I’m sorry for calling so early, but I wanted to catch you before you started your day.”
“No problem,” muttered Franco through the sleep still foggy on his voice. He tried to focus on the clock in front of him. “I’m up. What’s going on?”
“I just wanted to tell you what I was doing today, since Rorke has nothing scheduled for us. I wondered if you had any interest in joining me?”
“Sure. What are you doing?”
“I’m going to be a tourist today. I want to see the City Museum and then meet an old academic colleague for lunch. Do you want to join me?”
“Okay, what time?”
“I’d like to catch a Kowloon ferry at around 9:30 and walk up to the museum.”
“Sounds great. Should we meet in the lobby?”
“No, I want to take a walk first. I’ll meet you at the Star Ferry Pier, the Central Terminal about 9:15.”
Franco wondered whether he should join him for the walk, then decided that Sloan was safe on his own. “I’ll see you at the ferry,” he said.
The Star Ferry Pier was not far from their hotel and Franco arrived early. He bought himself a cup of coffee, and ferry tickets for both of them.
He sat off to one side of the waiting area and watched the commuter crowd start to build for the boat. All the people seemed consumed with themselves and their day-to-day lives. Most of them had distracted or detached looks about them.
Sloan arrived a few minutes before the ferry departure and waved to Franco before joining him in the waiting area.
Franco returned the gesture as Sloan approached.
“I bought the tickets,” said Franco, anticipating Sloan’s question.
“Thanks,“ said Sloan. “I was running a little late.” He was slightly out of breath as he spoke. “Nigel, the guy we’re meeting for lunch, called and I stopped walking to speak with him. He kept me on the phone a little longer than I planned. It’s been a few years since we last spoke, and he wanted to start catching up before lunch. We were post-docs at Cornell and were nearly inseparable in those days. It was before Peg and I met. Unfortunately, Nigel and I fell out of touch after I left academics.”
&n
bsp; Franco glanced at his watch. “No worries.”
Franco looked past Sloan, scanning the pier. It was out of habit, rather than searching for anything specific. He did see a man whose appearance merited a closer look, however. The man appeared to be trying too hard to be interested only in his newspaper. Ever suspicious from years of training, Franco honed in on the man and continued to monitor him.
After the ferry docked and the arriving passengers disembarked, Franco kept the man in sight while they boarded. He sat on the upper deck along with Franco and Sloan, although he was well toward the stern and out of their sightline. The harbor was calm now, with rain in the forecast. Clouds completely hid the mountains behind the Kowloon skyscrapers. The top floors of the buildings were barely visible as they made the fifteen-minute passage across the harbor from Hong Kong Island.
At the Tsim Sha Tsui ferry terminal, Franco continued to maintain his vigilance. As his fellow passengers left the upper deck, Franco spoke to Sloan.
“Paul, do you mind if we let the crowd thin a little before leaving?”
“Sure,” Sloan answered, as he stood at the rail and watched the people leave. “We’re in no hurry.”
Franco looked to the pier and saw the man he noticed disappear into the crush of late commuters on the street.
“Okay, now I’m ready,” Franco announced. “Too many people.”
They walked the mile to the museum changing course frequently through the narrow streets of the district. Franco chose the route that would have several opportunities for side streets and the ability to look back easily.
The uneven sidewalks were narrow and crowded. The shop owners took up a large share of the walkways with their storefront stands, which funneled the crowds more tightly. Franco continued to keep a lookout, but saw no more of the man. After a block or two, he began to relax and engage Sloan in conversation.
“Tell me about your colleague,” said Franco, remembering Rorke’s mandate to keep Sloan under control.
Sloan maneuvered around his fellow pedestrians. Unlike the U.S., where people mirrored driving habits and walked on the right, the sidewalk throngs seemed to walk randomly, and it took more concentration to avoid running into other people.
After a few steps in the crowd, Sloan said, “His name is Nigel Fong and he’s a Brit or at least he was born and lived in England for most of his life. He was at Cambridge before I met him at Cornell. After his post-doc, he went back to the U.K. and took a faculty position at Cambridge. I had thought he was a lifer there. About three years ago, he fell in love with one of his post-docs. She’s Chinese and they decided they could both live in Hong Kong. He says they’re both very happy here. He is at the University of Hong Kong now. His lab is well funded, and he said he made the transition from England to China a lot more quickly than he thought he would.”
“Good for Nigel,” said Franco, not terribly interested unless Nigel was part of a smuggling ring.
Franco continued to maneuver them in and out of side streets, lengthening the trip while satisfying himself they were not being shadowed.
When they arrived at the museum, Franco took a final, long look around again before they entered. There was no sign of trouble outside, and there were no overly interested observers in the museum.
After almost two hours in the museum, Franco was more than ready to leave. He looked around to see if they could exit by a different door without tripping an alarm. Since that turned out to be impossible, they backtracked. Once outside, Franco again looked carefully at the street and saw nothing suspicious.
All during the museum tour, Sloan provided additional facts about the city of Hong Kong, supplementing what was presented in the museum itself. Franco barely listened, preoccupied and wondering why someone, most likely Rorke, would have them followed. The seeds were already stolen, and there would be little he or Sloan could do to worsen the situation. Did they suspect Sloan was in on the theft?
As they started to walk back toward the ferry terminal, Franco had another thought. He stopped Sloan and said, “Paul, I got a blister from these shoes. I wonder if we could catch a cab?”
“Of course,” said Sloan.
“I have another favor,” added Franco apologetically.
“What’s that?”
“Would you call Nigel on your cell phone and confirm the restaurant and the time?”
“I just e-mailed him yesterday with that information.”
“I’m sorry,” Franco persisted. “I’m just a little compulsive about these things. Would you mind calling?”
“Okay,” said Sloan, reluctantly.
Franco listened while Sloan made the call and knew that if Sloan’s phone were tapped, a surveillance crew would be at or near the restaurant to listen in on their lunch conversation.
“Thanks,” he said, when Sloan was done. “I feel better now.”
Franco hailed a cab. When they were situated in the back seat, Franco turned to Sloan. “I wonder if I could bother you for one more thing. We have time before we’re supposed to meet Nigel and I’m kind of interested in what they’ve done to the old Kai Tak airport site. I flew in and out of there when I came to Hong Kong before they built the new airport. It was a great airport, very convenient, if you made it in alive—scary, short, lots of obstructions, frequently marginal weather. The Cathay Pacific pilots earned every dollar working out of there. It’s only a few minutes from here.”
“Okay,” said Sloan. ”Since we’re tourists today. Although, seeing an airport re-development project is not exactly on everyone’s bucket list, we have the time.”
“I appreciate your patience, Paul.”
When the cab pulled out from the museum, Franco looked behind to see if they were being followed.
“Are you expecting someone?” asked Sloan.
“No,” said Franco. “Just an old habit.”
“I wish you’d stop looking around. You’re making me nervous.”
“Funny, it has the opposite effect on me,” said Franco, as he took another look behind them.
They drove to the old airport site before going back to the center of Kowloon. The streets were packed with the lunch rush, and they left the taxi a few blocks before the restaurant. They were ten minutes late when they arrived and their guest was already seated.
Nigel was charming and interesting. Inevitably, the conversation steered to botany, as Franco knew it would. He surprised himself by being interested in what they were discussing. He enjoyed the lunch up until Sloan said he had heard rumors about a new strain of fast growing, drought-resistant rice that could make triple cropping possible. Nigel pressed him on it. Fortunately, Sloan didn’t divulge any more information.
When they had entered the restaurant, Franco had a suspicion about two men seated one table over. Franco let his eyes travel to them during the exchanges between Nigel and Sloan. After a few minutes of listening to the plant discussions, he was not just suspicious of the two men; he was sure they were listening and probably recording every word. More disturbing for Franco was that they had been expecting them at the restaurant.
What the hell was going on? They either had access to Sloan’s e-mail, or could monitor his cell phone, or both. They probably had a tracking device on Sloan as well, possibly on him too, Franco thought.
On the way home in the cab, Sloan started to talk about his friend Nigel Fong. Franco interrupted him.
“Paul, you have to know that we are being watched over here.”
“Mike, I think you’re a little paranoid. This is not North Korea or Iran.”
“No, I mean our people are watching us. You have to understand that.”
“I think you’re exaggerating.”
“Listen, I’m not exaggerating, and I need you to promise me something.”
“Maybe.”
“No, this is way more than ‘maybe.’ I want you to p
romise me that you won’t talk about this project or anything remotely related to this project with any of your pals over here. I know all the science is very interesting, but you just can’t discuss it. If you have a strong need to share anything with your colleagues, please run it by me first.”
“Mike, censorship is very ugly, particularly for an academic.”
“Yeah, lots of things are very ugly. You have to do this.”
Sloan hesitated before saying, “Okay, I will.”
“Good,” said Franco.
This was starting to feel much bigger than stealing rice seeds. Franco needed to have a conversation with Rorke, and soon.
***
Jun felt good about the day even before the call came. He had been looking forward to his investment meeting with Samantha Rorke for weeks. After all, what was there not to like about the meeting? The hours spent with this beautiful, intelligent woman who continued to make him wealthier always made this one of the better days on his calendar.
He was cleaning dishes from the small lunch he had prepared when the telephone rang.
He answered, and heard a voice he did not immediately recognize.
“Jun,” said the caller excitedly, “I have wonderful news.”
Jun, now interested, was still not sure whose voice this was.
“Yes?” he said, cautiously.
“Jun, this is Zhang Wei and I just received news from the Minister about the Thailand rice.”
“Oh, yes?” said Jun, now fully engaged.
“Yes, the Minister is so impressed with the test crops that he has ordered the remaining seeds to be planted on our government farms. These are the large farms in Jiangxi, Sichuan, and Anhui provinces. Your rice will be the most exciting development the Yangtze valley has seen in a long time. The Minister is extremely pleased with the way the Thailand rice grows.”
“I am delighted to hear that. Thank you very much for calling.”
“I am also pleased to tell you that we have begun to process your fee for finding this important rice for us.”
“I am very grateful,” said Jun.
The Rice Thieves Page 13