by Bobby Akart
“Will you be assisting us as we travel?” asked Harper.
“Oh, no. Your travel arrangements have been made by others with an expertise in that area. My job is to escort you this far and wait until your point of contact arrives.”
Kwon, who’d stood with his back against a wall, had said practically nothing since their arrival at the embassy. He added, “And observe us.”
“Pardon me?” the woman asked, feigning misunderstanding of his statement.
“Your role is to observe our mannerisms and attitudes,” he replied. He studied her body language. “My guess is you have a psychology degree. Further, you’re well trained in martial arts. You’ve become adept at making casual conversation while your eyes dart from one mark to the other. Even while you portend to sit casually in this chair, your body is somewhat tensed and you’re capable of springing into both a defensive and offensive attack posture.”
The woman smiled. “Dr. Li, you have quite the imagination.”
Before Kwon could respond, not that he planned to, a light tap at the door interrupted his conversation with the covert operative. The woman had been an agency employee for more than a decade since finishing her doctoral studies in psychology at UCLA.
As two men in dark suits entered the conference room, she rose and excused herself. She locked eyes with Kwon one more time before exiting. The two shared a look of mutual respect.
“Dr. Randolph, Dr. Li, I am Charles Downs, deputy assistant secretary for Transnational Affairs and Public Diplomacy. This is station chief of the Central Intelligence Service, Brad Levy.”
The four of them exchanged greetings and then settled in around the conference table. Levy took the floor.
“First, I want you both to know that I was against this operation, at least initially. Let’s make no mistake, I’ve read your personnel files and have nothing but respect for your capabilities. Especially you, Dr. Li. However, the Chinese military and police forces are operating in a heightened state of awareness. This disease is spreading and they’re working every angle, as is customary for them, to cover it up from global scrutiny.”
Harper interrupted. She didn’t like being marginalized. “If I do my job properly, then there will be nothing to scrutinize. Dr. Li and I are looking to the CIA to pave the way for us to enter China with at least a head start on their advanced technological tracking system.”
“You will have that, Dr. Randolph. I can assure you that we have nothing but professional respect for what you are trying to accomplish. Your mission arises out of China’s penchant for secrecy. We understand that. Everyone here is committed to serving our country, and that means we have every intention of helping you succeed.”
“Thank you,” said Harper. She leaned forward to rest her arms on the table. She directed her remarks to the CIA’s head spy in Beijing. “Mr. Levy, I appreciate your concern for our safety, but we’re ready to get started. Infectious diseases don’t call a time-out in the middle of a race.”
“Understood,” he said. Then he turned to Kwon. “You’ll leave the embassy without a weapon. Upon arrival, if you deem it necessary, you can obtain one from our CIA safe houses. However, I must caution you, they are near impossible to conceal from the extensive surveillance system utilized in Urumqi. After the Uyghur uprising, the city was swept of weapons—and the Uyghurs, I might add. Urumqi is one of the most-watched major cities in China.”
Kwon simply nodded his acknowledgment.
“Okay, then,” interjected Deputy Assistant Secretary Downs. “Let me take you upstairs to meet Dr. Eloise Blasingame and the other two members of her CDC team. After that, we’ll talk about your travel documents and dossiers.”
Chapter Thirty
U.S. Embassy Complex
Chaoyang District
Beijing, China
Harper was the first to enter the much larger conference room on the top floor of the main embassy building. Several temporary workstations had been created around the room in the form of cubicles. Whiteboards were scattered about with notes concerning regions of China and entries marked presumed positive, confirmed, and dead.
“Dr. Blasingame, may we interrupt?” asked Downs. “Your counterparts from the States have arrived.”
Harper didn’t wait for the career CDC epidemiologist to say hello. “It’s even more true in person.”
“What’s that?” asked Dr. Blasingame, and then a look of recognition washed over her face. “Hey! You’re a younger, prettier version of me.”
“Hush, doppelganger,” she said with a chuckle. “That’s what I called you when they showed me your photo. Are you aware we’re trading places for a little while?”
“I am, but I’m also very envious. I’d give anything to be out there with you, but I’d only be an extra set of hands. You’re hunting down a killer. I’m more like the CSI people back in the lab.”
Harper smiled. She was glad that the senior epidemiologist wasn’t upset at being excluded. “We all have our roles, and quite frankly, chasing patient zero is one I relish. Naturally, I’d prefer a different venue.”
Kwon and Dr. Blasingame were introduced, and then he was asked to join Levy to meet with the agency personnel who’d prepared their dossiers. This allowed Harper to discuss the outbreak with the epidemiologists who’d been expelled from China’s CDC.
“Tell me what you know,” she requested.
Dr. Blasingame approached the whiteboard centered in the room and Harper followed. “All we have is from CIA intercepts of social media posts and chat room conversations. The media clampdown is unprecedented.”
“Worse than Wuhan?”
“Absolutely. The Chinese CDC and their propaganda machine learned a lot from the pandemic. One, there are no consequences for their subterfuge. Two, they can gain economically from the world’s suffering as a result of their secrecy.”
Harper studied the whiteboard and pointed toward the word Urumqi, which was located at the center of the whiteboard. “This is where we plan to start.”
“That’s a logical place because the physician we’ve deemed the whistleblower, Dr. Zeng, is … um, I mean, was employed at the First Affiliated Hospital in Urumqi.”
“Was he fired?” asked Harper. “He’s the first person I want to talk to.”
“We don’t know. Our friends in the CIA tell us that he disappeared several days ago after posting a series of enigmatic messages on social media. The chat rooms where they were contained exploded with conversation about the possibility of another major outbreak leading to a pandemic. The Chinese police clamped down on the posts about the time we were tossed out of their CDC complex.”
Harper had a concerned look on her face. Her primary lead had disappeared. “Do you think he was arrested? Or even killed?”
“Nobody knows. It hasn’t stopped the conversation, however. Based upon what the CIA has relayed to us, the epicenter of this outbreak may actually be in Tibet. Possibly Lhasa, the capital.”
“Are these chat rooms and social media posts reliable?” asked Harper.
“The CIA analysts seem to have insight into how they work and especially into the person behind the post. Chinese government hackers infiltrate the group and try to spread disinformation. The CIA seems to know how to differentiate them from the rest.”
Harper was frustrated. She’d already hit her first brick wall. “Do you think we should bypass Urumqi and go directly to Tibet?”
Dr. Blasingame walked over to her cubicle and handed Harper a large envelope. “This is a detailed summary of what we know as well as a list of people affiliated with, or known associates of, Dr. Zeng. It’s a much better start than going to Lhasa, where you might end up wandering around aimlessly. We have absolutely nothing on who is reporting on those cases.”
“Thanks,” said Harper.
“Oh, one more thing,” began Dr. Blasingame. “The only news reporting on the illnesses in the Chinese state media acknowledged that an outbreak has occurred, but that it was limited to those
who may have come in contact with yaks. A team of European epidemiologists have accompanied the Chinese CDC personnel to the northeastern part of the country to investigate. I believe that to be a waste of time and misdirection. The hot zone is in the western parts of China.”
Harper nodded and began to thumb through the reports, when the door to the conference room opened.
Levy and Kwon returned with two CIA analysts in tow. Harper was handed another plain manila envelope. Then Kwon gave her a dinosaur, figuratively speaking.
She chuckled before speaking. “Does this thing even work?” She held up the battered and scratched Blackberry phone. She turned the iconic cell phone over and over in her hands while she studied it. Harper hadn’t seen one since high school.
“Yes,” Levy replied. “It’s Android powered, but it still has the guts of the original Blackberry devices from twenty-plus years ago.”
“What are we supposed to do with it?” she asked.
“It will perform basic functions such as text messaging and phone calls. Plus, it’s designed to include all of the social media apps and other applications, which will make your travel through China somewhat easier.”
Harper turned it over and studied the back. It appeared to have been dragged along the concrete by a car. “Why is it beat up so badly?”
“Any Chinese officials you encounter will presume this device to be inferior and not worthy of inspection. Unlike Americans, the Chinese people don’t have the wherewithal to trade phones every year or two.”
Kwon asked, “SIM cards?”
“Very good, Dr. Li,” replied Levy. “The Chinese surveillance state relies heavily upon the integrated circuits that identify mobile devices to track anyone in the country. The use of subscriber identity modules, or SIM cards, was largely abandoned with the advanced technology developed by Apple. May I?”
He reached his hand out to take the Blackberry from Harper. He slid the back of the phone open and popped out the SIM card. He explained, “We have given each of you three SIM cards to be removed and discarded throughout your investigation. Based upon our understanding of your travel plans, you’ll use this one until you clear the security checkpoint in Urumqi. Then you’ll replace it with another. This will effectively eliminate your being tracked through possession of the phone. After that, you’ll find two more SIM cards that have been assigned a five-digit code and a phone number. SIM card three can be changed in the event you leave the country. This will notify us of your departure and cut off any further tracking by the Chinese government.”
“What about the fourth one?” asked Harper.
The CIA station chief paused. “If you are in danger of being apprehended, then insert the fourth SIM card and discard your phone. It will begin to melt the internal circuitry within thirty seconds.”
“Well, that’s very Mission Impossible,” quipped Harper.
“It is,” said Levy. “Dr. Randolph, you have to understand. You’re on your own out there. We have to treat you no differently than any other deep-cover operative of the U.S. government. Dr. Li understands this. If you are captured, you will be disavowed. I need you to confirm your understanding of this.”
Harper took a deep breath. It was gettin’ real, as they say. “I understand.”
Levy glanced down at his watch. “I want to place you on the last flight to Urumqi. The airport is fairly quiet at the end of the day, and the security personnel are watching the clock, awaiting the end of their shift. Please get something to eat, study the materials you’ve been provided, and consult with the analysts who’ve accompanied me.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Underground Great Wall
Urumqi, Xinjiang, China
The citizen journalists were all abuzz in the main karez beneath the hospital. Dr. Zeng and his wife had settled in, and each had adopted a role within the underground community. His wife relished the opportunity to act as a mother figure to the students in exile. Dr. Zeng was an icon in their eyes although he maintained they were the true heroes. He’d given them a cause and an opportunity to flummox the Communist Party.
There was another person who’d been instrumental in giving the citizen journalists a voice. Despite living in the functional equivalent of a giant water tunnel, the group needed computer technology and other supplies to keep their undercover journalism operation going. This required money, and they relied heavily upon a financial benefactor who was supportive of their activity. They had just learned that their money source might soon dry up.
Ren Zhang was a multimillionaire. A retired real estate tycoon who’d never been shy about sharing his feelings toward the Communist Party leadership or any other persons in power, right down to the administrators of hospitals.
Ren was angered by a recent decision of the Beijing government to enact a hugely controversial security directive in Hong Kong. Using the rubber-stamp parliament under the thumb of the Communist Party, a law was enacted to bypass Hong Kong’s legislature. The law declared a ban on sedition, secession and subversion of the central government in Beijing. The move would allow the Chinese government to crack down on any form of anti-government protest but was largely seen as an erosion of Hong Kong’s autonomy.
Hong Kong lawmakers retaliated in kind by adopting a national anthem in spite of the Communist Party’s explicit threats not to do so. As a result, widespread unrest broke out in Hong Kong that became increasingly violent and disruptive throughout the night.
Ren, who was politically astute, saw the parliament’s activity as a distraction from the news reports related to the mysterious illness that was emerging in the western part of the country. As he had often done in the past, he took to social media to go on a rant.
He referred to President Xi Jinping, easily the most powerful leader in modern Chinese history, as a clown. He commented on the president’s address to parliament when the Hong Kong Sedition Bill was voted upon.
He said in his social media post that President Xi was not an emperor standing before the parliament in his new clothes, a veiled reference to the Hans Christian Andersen fairy tale from the early nineteenth century. He said the president was nothing more than a clown stripped naked for all to see, yet insisting he was an emperor.
He went on to say the Communist Party control over the parliament and the country’s lack of a free press and free speech had led to the burial by China’s state-run news media of another burgeoning viral outbreak.
To be sure, Ren Zhang had a megaphone and millions of Chinese listened to his every word. He’d had a busy night making the rounds on Chinese social media. And then he vanished.
At first, the citizen journalists were convinced he’d gone into hiding, as he had several times before. Many times, he’d traveled from Beijing to Urumqi to seek refuge in the Underground Great Wall. They’d waited throughout the day, not only for him to post something to prove to his loyal followers that he was safe, but also to rejoice in his sudden appearance in the karez.
Neither occurred.
As day turned to night, the group became increasingly concerned. There were rumored sightings of him on the high-speed bullet train from Beijing to Urumqi. Despite his wealth, he was a frequent traveler aboard the hard sleeper, the name assigned to the less expensive, bunk-style train operated by China Railway High-speed. The other type of CRH train car, known as a soft sleeper, was similar to what you might find on an Amtrak passenger train in the U.S. or train travel across Europe.
The concerned journalists immediately left the relative safety of the aqueduct tunnels and made their way above ground to assist in the search for Ren. They staked out all of the depots for public travel between the two cities as well as some of the hotels Ren was known to stay in. Soon, a discreet army of two hundred citizen journalists were canvassing the city, hoping to assist their beloved benefactor.
Dr. Zeng, seeing the disappearance as an attack on free speech by the Communist Party, didn’t share the hopeful mindset of the young ideologues. He saw Ren’s
disappearance as the government’s way of stifling dissent by making the problem disappear. It caused him to look for a quiet place alone while he reflected on his plight. After he thought it over, he sought his wife and nephew. The three of them, while wholly supporting the cause of the dissidents, needed to make an unemotional decision without getting caught up in the excitement surrounding Ren.
“Wife, nephew, I am seeing a repeat of the events of a decade ago. The Party continues to disavow its inherent system failures in dealing with viral outbreaks. They punish those, like me, who try to deviate from official orthodoxy or even reality. They continue to commit the same mistakes while expecting a different outcome.”
“It is the same, husband. They will never disclose information regardless of the consequences. We agree there should be more openness and transparency. However, we cannot demand it.”
Fangyu agreed. “It must be forced. Ren knows this. His mistake was getting personal in his criticism. It is a common mistake that serves no purpose.”
Dr. Zeng wasn’t so sure. “Perhaps he wanted to be arrested. He believed China needed a martyr. Until now, he was but a gnat in the president’s ear. With the direct insults, he could no longer be ignored.”
His wife squeezed his hand. “Husband, what is troubling you? Are you concerned for Ren? Or for yourself?”
He nodded and allowed a slight smile to come across his face. “I tried to warn my colleagues. Fangyu circulated the posts and the information on WeChat. Some have shared their information with us while others have not.”
“We are doing our best, Uncle.”
Dr. Zeng squeezed his nephew’s shoulder. “You are a hero to me. You are making your best efforts, but my refusal to speak out, in my own voice, is delaying the ability to learn about this disease from others. I must speak in my own voice. I must be brave like Ren.”
