China Star Page 11

  “No! She’s ill,” Elizabeth said in Cantonese.

  Tang grabbed Elizabeth by the hair. “So it’s true. The west-ocean mongrel does talk.” He pulled her away. “Get back to your station.” He kicked the old woman in the side. She groaned but didn’t move.

  “Stop it. You’ll kill her.”

  Tang raised his boot to kick the woman again, and Elizabeth locked her arms around his stubby leg.

  “Please. She’s an old mother. Think of your own mother.”

  Four Finger Tang paused, just for an instant. The whistle screamed, signaling the end of the work day.

  “Eh, she’ll be dead before nightfall,” he said. “Not worth bothering about. If you’re so interested in her welfare, she’s yours.” He turned and walked away.

  Elizabeth patted the woman’s face. “Mother Wei. Are you all right?” The woman didn’t respond. Frantically, she glanced around at the prisoners leaving the field and waved to one of the men. “Brother, can you help me?”

  The man shrugged and came over. The two got Wei Ling to her feet and merged into the procession of prisoners returning to their cells. When Elizabeth’s cell came into view, the man melted away into the crowd, leaving her to carry the full weight of the woman. She struggled through her cell door and eased the woman down to the concrete floor before collapsing beside her. Four Finger Tang closed the door behind them and glanced through the barred window.

  “Please,” Elizabeth said. “Some water for the old mother.”

  Tang shrugged and walked away. A few minutes later the cell door opened and Big Ears Wu shuffled in, carrying a plastic pail of water and a cup.

  “Thank you, brother,” Elizabeth said in Cantonese.

  Wu stared at the two women, then shuffled out, clanging the cell door closed behind him.

  Elizabeth made a pillow of straw and placed it under Wei Ling’s head. She drew a cup of water, supported the woman’s head, and placed the cup to her lips.

  “Drink, mother.”

  The woman took a sip, coughed, and sighed. “I cause you too much trouble.”

  “Don’t talk polite.” Elizabeth tore a piece of cloth from the hem of her prison uniform, soaked it in water, and placed it on Wei Ling’s forehead. “Lie quietly, now. I think you may have a broken rib. You must let it heal.”

  Wei Ling closed her eyes and after a few minutes seemed to fall asleep.

  Elizabeth crawled to the nearest corner and leaned into it, arms locked around her knees, then watched the old woman sleep. It felt good to have another human being in the cell with her. After three months of forced isolation, she was puzzled by the sudden change of heart, but she wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Just the sound of Wei Ling’s breathing was comforting. She felt exhausted from working in the fields all day, but she resisted sleep. What if Mother Wei woke up and needed her? After watching her sleep for the better part of an hour, she tilted her head into the corner and closed her eyes, just to rest them for a minute. . . .

  The clink of something skipping across the floor brought her awake. The angle of the moonlight coming through the slit in the wall was higher now. She must have been asleep for several hours. She glanced around and saw what looked like a small pebble with a piece of brown paper wrapped around it, bound with white thread. Wei Ling moaned and shifted her position. The pebble must have struck the old woman when it was tossed through the window. Elizabeth crawled noiselessly to where the object lay, snatched it up, and crabbed back into her corner. She cut the thread with her teeth, unrolled it, and held the paper up to the moonlight. She instantly recognized the familiar letters. Her breath caught in her throat.

  “Midnight tomorrow. Be ready.”

  She clutched the note to her breast. Tomorrow at midnight. So soon. She couldn’t believe it. She looked at the date on her watch. June 12. She would actually be leaving this hellhole in a little over twenty-four hours. She couldn’t imagine how it would happen. Would marines storm the island? Would paratroopers fall from the sky? She felt instantly energized, but her joy was overshadowed by the responsibility she’d just taken on.

  Elizabeth looked at Wei Ling sleeping peacefully. How could she leave the old woman? Without someone to look out for her, she’d surely die. On the other hand, she’d probably die anyway. And if Elizabeth insisted on bringing her with them it could put the rescue in jeopardy. She could only imagine Charlie’s reaction to that proposal.

  She watched Wei Ling breathe softly for a few minutes and came to her decision. It would break her heart, but she’d have to leave her new friend behind. The stakes were simply too high. She wiped a tear from her eye, tore the note into pieces, placed them under her tongue, and fell into an uneasy sleep.

  James Lao peered through the windshield of the Z-11 helicopter as it broke through the yellow haze over Guangzhou. In the dusky light, he recognized the layout of the CAT laboratory compound on the bank of the Pearl River. To the south, he could make out the payload processing facility, the H-shaped building closest to the water’s edge. The command and control ship Zenith stood moored to a dock near the facility, waiting to receive the payload. Inside that odd-looking building, and soon to be aboard that ship, was a device that would change the world and his place in it forever.

  The light helicopter hovered over the asphalt landing pad in a whirl of dust and leaves and settled down with a whoosh of hydraulics. The single turboshaft engine throttled down, and the copilot scrambled to open the door. James gathered up his briefcase, released his seatbelt, and stepped off, glad to be free of the infernal thing. He had little confidence in Chinese-built aircraft. He instinctively ducked his head and quickly walked to the edge of the heliport, where a contingent of dark-suited executives stood waiting to greet him.

  “Chairman Lao,” Chin Fei said over the idling helicopter. “Your visit brings us great honor and joy.”

  James stared at the line of dark suits. He’d made it clear that he wanted to dispense with protocol on this visit. He didn’t want to be tied up with a series of formal briefings by these bureaucrats, each bent on protecting his own turf.

  “You’re very kind, Director Chin,” James said, “but I fear my visit is a great trouble for you.”

  “On the contrary, it’s a great pleasure. May I be among the first to congratulate you on your promotion to senior colonel?” Chin looked at him curiously. “It would be a great honor for anyone, but especially for one so young.”

  Bad news travels fast. Envy and mystification chased each other across Old Chin’s face. The rank of senior colonel in the PLA was equivalent to a brigadier general in the West. How did one get promoted from lieutenant colonel to senior colonel in one jump? And especially at age thirty-two? If Chin knew it had been a direct promotion ordered by the prime minister himself, he’d die of jealousy. James watched him squirm.

  “Thank you for your kind thoughts.”

  “I hope your trip was a pleasant one,” Chin said.

  Business trips were never pleasant; they were either efficient or inefficient. By that measure, James considered himself off to a good start. His personal Cessna Citation had departed from Hong Kong International on schedule and had landed at Baiyun Airport in Guangzhou slightly ahead of schedule. A PLA helicopter was sitting at the end of the runway where it was supposed to be, engine running, waiting to fly him to the lab. That was the level of efficiency he had to achieve at every stage of the operation, from now until the successful completion of the launch.

  “Yes, thank you.”

  “Come. We’ve prepared food and drink for you.”

  No doubt. To a small division of China Aerospace and Technology, a visit from the chairman and managing director was nerve-racking. They’d try to keep him out of the way and under control with the usual gambits: briefings, food, and the endless toasts of bai jiu, the explosive 120-proof rice drink old Chin loved. James had permitted himself that frivolity on a previous visit, but not this time. There was too much at stake.

  The only
way to ensure a successful launch was to be highly visible at every step of the way, from the lab that built Raptor, to the payload processing facility, to the command and control ship, to the launch platform on the equator. There was no substitute for being there, probing, questioning, showing interest. The Americans called it MBWA, management by walking around. It was a technique he’d learned at Stanford.

  “Thank you, no. I’d like to see the payload now.”

  “But the department heads have prepared briefings for you, Chairman Lao.”

  Briefings that would drone on and on and tell him nothing except what they wanted him to hear. James needed to see and touch the payload, meet the technicians who worked on it, and look them in the eye as he discussed the progress of their work in their normal work environment. It was the only way to see what was really going on, find out what if any the problems were. In America, this kind of interaction between executive and worker would be called leadership, but in hidebound China, it was considered unseemly. If China was going to find its proper place in the world, China would have to change.

  “Perhaps another time. I don’t wish to keep these honorable comrades from their families any longer.”

  “As you wish,” Chin said. The director nodded the line of mandarins away, the loss of face evident in their expressions. Chin waved his hand, and a white Ford van with the CAT logo on the door pulled up to the entrance of the heliport. James would have preferred to walk the short distance to the payload processing facility, but he held his tongue. There was no point in upsetting protocol any more than was necessary.

  The van pulled up to an H-shaped building that resembled a blimp hanger. A safety horn sounded, and a steel tambour-type door on the left side of the building groaned and began to move up on motor-driven tracks. James left the van and walked toward the shadows of the cavernous entrance, Chin scampering behind. He adjusted his eyes to the light. Technicians in blue jumpsuits swarmed around a large cylindrical body positioned on a stainless steel dolly.

  “Here the satellite’s being prepared to be mated to the launch vehicle,” Chin said behind him, catching his breath.

  Raptor looked very different from the last time he’d seen it. The satellite had been transported to Hong Kong for final testing and James’s demonstration to the prime minister, then shipped back to the payload processing facility in Guangzhou for final preparations. He retrieved a schedule from his coat pocket and ran his eye down the list.

  “Has fueling been completed?”

  “Yes, Senior Colonel. An hour ago. The technicians you see here are in the process of encapsulating the satellite within the payload fairing.”

  The payload fairing, a device similar to the nose cone of a rocket, served double duty. It would protect the satellite from the elements, and attach it to the launch vehicle.

  “When will that be completed?”

  “By eleven p.m. tonight,” Chin said. “The encapsulated payload will then be transferred to the Zenith.” He dabbed at his forehead with a handkerchief and nodded toward the giant ship’s superstructure, visible from where they stood. “That will end our responsibility.”

  James felt sure old Chin would be glad to see it go. Raptor was a hot potato that had brought too much high-level attention to his lab.

  “From there on, it’s a great puzzle to me,” Chin said. “My expertise is in laser technology, not rocket science. Is it true what we hear, that the rocket is 200 feet tall and will be launched at sea? How is this possible?”

  James smiled noncommittally, gratified by the director’s puzzled expression. His strategy was working. He’d insisted on a launch at sea. Launching on the equator was a straight shot into orbit, and the fuel savings would permit a heavier payload to be launched into the higher altitude required by Raptor. But a sea launch also lent itself to breaking the project up into several small pieces. He wanted as few people as possible to have the full picture.

  Chin rubbed the back of his neck. “It sounds fantastic.”

  James had to admit that it did, like a scene out of an American movie. The launch pad, a converted deep-sea oil-drilling rig, had been modified at a shipyard in Indonesia and was on its way to the launch site as they spoke. At 500 feet long and 300 feet wide, with a submerged draft displacement of 60,000 tons, it was the largest self-propelled, semi-submersible vessel in the world.

  “Don’t believe everything you hear,” James said.

  The lab director stroked his chin.

  “For such personal attention from the chairman himself, this satellite must be of singular importance.”

  James eyed him, cautious now. Chin knew more than he should about the launch, but he and the other scientists who knew the satellite’s capabilities assumed that it would be launched as a purely defensive measure. They had no idea that it would be put into use almost immediately, and that its launch would be a world-changing event.

  “All our projects are important,” James said.

  “Yes, of course,” Chin said.

  Above the noise of the factory, James heard his cell phone chime. Glad to be free from the inquisitive Chin, he flipped it open and looked at the screen. A call from Beijing, not one to be ignored. He pressed the phone to his head and walked outside into the cool air.

  “Senior Colonel Lao speaking.”

  “So it’s Senior Colonel Lao, is it?” General Lao’s voice came clearly through the headset. “Enjoy it while you can, Senior Colonel. If that launch doesn’t go off as scheduled, it’ll be Private Lao, cleaning fish at a post in Tibet, and I’ll be alongside you.”

  James smiled at the apprehension in his father’s tone. Parents always thought their children were incompetent idiots.

  “It’s good to hear your voice, Father.”

  “You won’t think so when I tell you what’s happened. Your American cousin is causing big trouble.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Fox News Channel reported that an American senator’s daughter is being held in a Chinese prison. CNN and the networks have picked it up. They’re doing hourly bulletins about her, whipping up public sentiment. The whole country’s clamoring for her release.”

  “Let them clamor,” James said. “Cousin Beth is quite secure and will remain so until well after the launch.”

  “She’d better be. Obviously, we can’t release her, no matter how much pressure they bring to bear, but the leadership is concerned. Questions are being raised about moving up the launch date, perhaps shifting to a land-based launch to speed things up.”

  “No,” James said, a little too loudly. “A conventional land-based launch isn’t possible, given the technical constraints of the satellite. It must be done from the equator.”

  “Can you assure me that Elizabeth Grayson is secure?”

  James hesitated. To mention the American ship that had set out in an amateurish attempt to rescue his cousin would only panic the leadership into doing something that might upset the entire plan. And the rescue would never happen. He’d planted Zhao Lan, the most experienced assassin in the PLA, aboard the American ship. The “escaped prisoner’s” empty raft had already been sighted by the helicopter that had dropped it in the ship’s path. He looked at his watch. The captain and half the crew were no doubt dead by now and Zhao in command.

  “Yes, Father. You have my personal assurance that she’ll remain secure.”

  “You’d better be right,” General Lao said. “Americans are unpredictable. They’ll stand by while half a million people die on another continent, yet a small thing like one of their citizens being held can compel them to do something foolhardy.”

  James agreed. He understood Americans, knew what they were capable of doing. He’d be glad when the launch was over, and his cousin had ceased to be an issue. Then the Americans would have much bigger things to worry about.

  “Please assure the leadership that she’s secure and the launch will go off exactly as planned.”

  “Assure them yourself,” his father
said. “I want you here for the next meeting of the CMC. It’ll be held before the full commission in the Huairentang at Zhongnanhai on the fourteenth, beginning at 0800. You’ll make a presentation to the commission, assuring them that security has not been compromised and that the launch is on schedule.”

  James felt a web of fear in his stomach he knew would spread throughout his body. His father was vice chairman of the Central Military Commission, but the chairman was none other than the president of China. To be called to Zhongnanhai, the power enclave where the party leadership lived and worked, was considered a great honor among the uninitiated, but James knew better. He’d grown up in the famous compound and knew that many people called to Zhongnanhai never made it out alive. Mao’s own secretary had committed suicide there during the Cultural Revolution. He hesitated, but it was impossible to object.

  “It would be my honor to address the commission.”

  James pressed the end button on his phone. He wasn’t worried about the launch, but his cousin’s security was now more important than ever. He brought up his security chief’s number on the screen.

  “Major Zhu speaking.”

  “Major, this is Senior Colonel Lao. I want the current status of the American ship.”

  “Yes, Senior Colonel.” There was a pause. “The ship is traveling at a speed of approximately fourteen knots. It’s currently 190 miles from the easternmost island in the chain. We calculate that at the present rate of speed, it will reach Turtle Island tomorrow morning at-”

  “What the hell are you talking about? Why hasn’t the ship turned back?”

  “I don’t know, Senior Colonel.”

  “You don’t know? What do you mean, you don’t - when did the ship take our man aboard?”

  “We have no way of knowing the exact time of the pickup, Senior Colonel, or even if, in fact, there was a pickup. All we know is, the empty raft was sighted approximately eight hours ago.”

  Eight hours. Something had gone wrong. It wouldn’t take the fabled Zhao Lan that long to dispose of enough unarmed civilians to take control of a small ship. Think. An empty raft didn’t necessarily mean what he’d thought it meant. Maybe Zhao hadn’t been taken aboard at all. Maybe the fool had slipped off the raft and drowned. He didn’t want to think about the only other possibility - that he’d underestimated the American ship captain.