by Hock G Tjoa
“There are risks in sending more than one agent, but perhaps these dangers have been exaggerated by the myths that have arisen around spy craft, myths that were dictated by the requirements of fiction,” said Wang, who despised spy thrillers and refused to read any book in that genre or watch movies of that nature. He often expressed his belief that they romanticized and idealized mundane, sometimes dangerous, and usually illegal and immoral actions.
“A couple would attract less suspicion, and two men or women together might not attract any more. Chances for success are increased with two operatives instead of one. In any case, make your own appraisal of Sergeant Major Li when you pick him up and deliver him to General Chen’s camp.”
“If he should go on any mission, it would be easiest to prepare him here.”
“One step at a time, Administrator Hu.” Wang moved to sit in an easy chair in a corner of his office. “We can cover, at most, only two of the arenas that you have identified for the Pashtun arms deals. Let’s review your recommendation regarding the others.”
“We will need agencies with the resources to act in those locations we cannot penetrate ourselves. This will dovetail with what I believe are the Analyst’s recommendations about the geopolitical challenge presented by the Pashtun uprising,” said Hu.
“I have not yet reviewed the Analyst’s recommendations,” Wang said. “But I am heartened to know that the two of you work so well together.”
“You recruited us both in the same week, sir,” Hu protested, blushing slightly. “That was nearly twenty years ago.”
“Yes, yes. Cooperation is much better than dissension in the workplace.” Then the Spymaster said, “I am very grateful to you both.”
Hu took that as his cue to leave.
“I think Analyst Tang is waiting to see you.”
Wang waved him off. Hu, as he left, held the door open for Tang, who walked in with a file.
“World peace in such a thin file?”
“The concept is easy; the execution is hard. Besides, I believe you already have a copy of my brief together with supporting documents.”
“Alas, I have not had time to read the fat file you prepared for me.”
Wang explained the discussion he had had with Assistant Minister Zhang of the Finance Ministry on his ride from the meeting of the Committee on Public Safety. “I have decided on a visit to our British counterparts and hope that will dovetail with what you and Hu might recommend.”
“We are intelligence officers. World peace is for statesmen as I have outlined in my brief,” said Tang, shaking her head. “Our place is in the battle lines.”
“Of course. But statesmen, like most people, dislike being told what to do. Our mandate is to present the facts as we know them. We shall then take whatever actions fall within our mandate. Peacemaking will not be one of them.” He held up a hand and waved it as Tang walked over to a trash container with her files.
“It is, however, possible that statesmen will view our actions and resources as inadequate,” he said with a smile. “They might then decide that they have to make their own plans. If or when they ask for our poor ideas, we should be ready.”
“You have always told us not to waste energy with politics.”
“Not to be concerned, yes. But that is not the same as being unaware. ‘Right awareness’ or ‘sati’ is, I believe, one element on the eightfold path of the Buddhist toward liberation.”
Tang and Hu had long ago agreed that it was best not to react to Wang’s occasional leap into an area of literature, philosophy, or religion that seemed incongruous to their work. They both agreed that it would only encourage him.
“Your visit to the British would concern only operational matters, then,” she said.
“Yes, only operational matters, but ‘my’ visit? I thought that you and the Administrator might want to accompany me. Three pairs of eyes would be better than one in assessing their reaction, and your participation now will also prepare you for the time when you will have to deal with them on your own.”
“They will conclude that this is a serious visit.”
“That is how we want them to see it. We have come because we have information of a serious nature that we wish to share with them. They know, or we shall tell them, that we cannot handle all the possibilities ourselves. If they have the good sense to know their own limitations, they will then inform the Americans or the Russians or….”
“What if they do not take the right actions?” Tang asked.
“Whatever they do or do not do, we can only do what we can do. Is it not said somewhere that it is better to perform one’s own karma badly than someone else’s karma well?”
Another of the Spymaster’s leaps into the esoteric, thought Tang. One should never stray beyond the boundaries of one’s competence; besides, the agency was short on super-heroes.
She asked, “Well, what do we tell them of our own operations?”
“Everything they wish to know, without certain details, such as those about our sources, of course. We shall have time to review our talking points on the plane.”
“What is our cover?”
“Good, Analyst Tang, you still think like an operative. But you have not questioned why we are going to the British instead of the Russians or the Americans.”
“Because the Russians will spend too much time analyzing our motives before they do anything. They are distrustful in general and in particular of anything we Chinese might originate.” Tang had risen to pace along a wall, gesticulating. She looked to the Spymaster, who nodded to encourage her to continue.
“As for the Americans, they are already too busy saving the world and would regard our information as second rate. They will receive the same information from the British differently.”
Wang smiled and nodded like a proud father.
“You have taught us well, Spymaster.”
Wang allowed himself a small smile. When he became the assistant to the then spymaster, Hu was already an operative, and Tang was among the first batch he recruited and trained. Recruits to the agency were selected from a pool of volunteers from the army and police, then vetted and trained. Both Hu and Tang survived several operational assignments before they gravitated to their current roles as head of operations and of analysis. He said, “We will make a private ‘social call’ on the Chief of British Intelligence in the tradition that was established between their previous chief and me. Our call will be timed to coincide with the working session between our Finance Ministry and theirs. I expect that will gather more headlines.”
Tang nodded as she absorbed the information. She leaned against a wall.
“There is a saying in the West,” continued Wang, “that one should call no man happy until he has died well. But it is an old saying and perhaps forgotten even by those who first expressed the thought. We, however, should bear its lesson in mind.” Wang straightened up in his chair and said, “This is the first time for our agency to undertake a mission that has global implications. We may not see all the threats. A tribal people has reached out for powerful weapons and appear to be ready to make their aspirations known. What they do will affect the geopolitical balance of Central Asia. Many who observe what they do will be tempted to do similar deeds.”
The Spymaster got up. “In a week or a month, the course of history will change. The Pashtuns may have their weapon or not. But the world will have absorbed their example—other tribes or races will agitate for sovereignty or self-determination. There might even be new words for these ideas. Because China is where it is and contains the peoples that it does, we will always live in interesting times.”
One week or one month.
9: OLD FRIENDS
(A private residence in Beijing)
The Spymaster’s mobile phone rang, and he smiled as he recognized the number.
“General.”
“Don’t you ‘general’ me, Old Wang. You know my daughter has just graduated from university. She and my wife will
never forgive ME if you do not show up for dinner tonight!”
“I will be there, of course, as promised.”
“Mrs. Chen remembers your last promise. You did not show up, and it was four months before we saw you again.”
The Spymaster laughed a soft and contrite laugh. He shook his head at the memory of that breach of etiquette but added in a teasing tone, “I am about to leave for a very critical meeting in the West, but that will not be until tomorrow, and I will be back in three or four days…”
“Don’t you dare even think about it! Saving China or the world must wait until after tonight.”
When the Spymaster, Army General Chen, and Police Deputy Superintendent Wen gathered as Old Friends, the bonds among them were almost tangible. They had grown up in the same neighborhood and attended the same schools, staying together in the same classrooms, over ten years.
The General had been the biggest boy in first grade and had taken both Wen and Wang under his wing. Wen was a studious, hard-working boy throughout school but at the end of primary school, he missed two years with a bout of tuberculosis. Fortunately, he recovered and rejoined his old friends, despite being in a different grade. When he graduated, he took to the police force like a teenager in love. Wang was more of a loner and often moody until Chen talked him into engaging more in physical activities and mixing with his classmates. He never became as gregarious as Chen but made a great effort to interact with his classmates, and he threw himself into martial arts exercises.
Since school, the three had kept in touch, and the dinner was, indeed, to celebrate the graduation from university of the General’s daughter. But it was also an occasion for them to put their heads together to consider the question of Comrade Commissar Jiang, Wang’s enemy within the Party.
The Chen and Wen wives were also from the old neighborhood, although not from the same age group. Mrs. Chen graduated two years after the General, and they had been married ever since. Wen’s first marriage was to a colleague in the police force. It was his grand passion, but evidently not hers. So, Chen and Wang had helped him pick up the pieces of his life when his wife left him in the fifth year of their marriage. Three years later, Mrs. Chen adroitly introduced him to her classmate, Shu, who had divorced an abusive husband and struggled as the single mother of a rambunctious young boy. Wen’s fate and happiness were thus sealed.
But the four of them had not managed to change Wang’s status as a bachelor. Chen and Wen gave up trying years ago. But their wives did not. Shu—Mrs. Wen, in particular, was tireless and persistent even when she let her husband or Mrs. Chen do the talking.
“What about that Wu girl we always saw you with?”
“She was too good for me.”
“That’s what you have said for years. What does that mean?”
“There is no point talking about a hypothetical situation, Mrs. Chen. She is happily married with a clever son and a beautiful daughter, both doing very well in school and will no doubt bring honor to their parents. Everyone agrees they will be a source of comfort for decades.”
“Brother Wang, you are not waiting for her husband to die before marrying the widow, are you?”
“Sister Chen, why would a woman who has nursed and buried one husband seek the aggravation of taking on another old man?”
“You might want to meet my sister-in-law,” said Wen as his wife came up beside him. “My wife’s younger sister.”
“She saw how I was treated and swore she would never marry.”
“I know better than to get involved with anyone’s personal affairs or choices,” said Wang quickly.
“Oh, I think she regrets making such a vow.”
“Really?” Wang said all politeness and gallantry.
“Yes. She did not want to be the battered bride or even the ordinary wife, but she has discovered that she likes men.”
“Ah,” Wang replied, his eyebrows raised. “She’s had many boyfriends, perhaps? Where does she find them?”
“Don’t be unkind.”
“You and she should be aware that I am not good at sweet-talking. I am also very clumsy at gift-giving.”
“She works for the Party but tends to champion unpopular causes.”
“That is an unusual way to meet men.”
“Brother Wang,” said Mrs. Wen, “you know what I mean. Party cadres are easily frightened. I thought you might be made of sterner stuff.”
“Sister Wen, at my stage in life, I have found my equilibrium…”
“You should meet her, anyway. She is lively, even sexy, and not at all needy.”
Mrs. Wen opened her mouth to add more but the guest of honor interrupted this match-making.
“Uncle, come sit with me and tell me what I should do next,” said the General’s daughter.
The Spymaster was not above accepting this helpful distraction and amiably sat down at the table of honor.
“Young lady,” said Wang, “you are aware that your parents are wise and loving.”
“Yes, uncle, and they tell me they want only the best for me—but what should that be?”
Wang glanced at the General, who gave a small shrug and rolled his eyes. Wang took a deep breath and asked, “What do you want to do?”
“I don’t know! Jobs are not easy to get these days, but I think I am done with school for a while.”
Looking again in the direction of General Chen, he caught his friend in the act of exhaling a heavy sigh while patting his wife’s arm to console her as their daughter prepared to leave home. Wang said, “Perhaps you might like to work at one of the ministries doing research or helping in some way?”
“Do you think I could? Would I be able to travel?”
“It depends. Besides, when you are twenty—”
“I’m twenty-five.”
“Twenty-five. You will not have everything your own way. Your father is fifty-five and a general, yet he, too, has to follow orders.”
“You don’t have a boss.”
“Actually, I do, but they hide well,” the Spymaster said with a firm smile.
The young woman nodded and asked, “Which ministry?”
“Let me give this some thought,” said Wang reassuringly as he thought to himself and discuss this with your father.
“Oh, maybe the Ministry of Foreign Affairs?”
“You think they will send you to serve in Paris or Rome? It is more likely you’ll end up in a consulate in Addis Ababa or dodging bullets or changing bandages…”
Young Miss Chen made a face as Wang continued. “There are many ministries that have staff traveling all over the world, even the Ministry of Agriculture.”
“Oh, I hope it won’t be that ministry. Farmers!” After this outburst, typical of urban youth dismissive of the idiocy of rural life, the conversation trailed off until dinner ended. The women got up and cleared the dishes, and the men retired to the General’s study.
“Well, I am glad you’ve ended your sparring lessons. The Sergeant Major said he is considering your invitation to work for you.”
“Only if you give your consent, General.”
“I don’t understand Comrade Commissar Jiang’s attitude,” interjected Wen. “What did you do to earn that man’s hostility?”
“I wish I knew. When it first blew up, I made some discreet inquiries but did not pursue the matter. We first met about five years ago when I was still trying to recruit from the ethnic minorities of China. You know I was trying to lay the foundation for acquiring intelligence assets in Central Asia. Jiang was the Coordinator of Agricultural and Industrial Development of the provinces in the west and northwest where the Tibetans and the Uyghurs are present in large numbers. He is about ten years older than we are and highly regarded by the Party for his work in developing those difficult provinces.
“In one of several meetings about recruiting agents among minorities, I said in frustration that I wished I had a deputy for the effort, and a week later I received an application for that position from a man nam
ed Kong with a recommendation from Comrade Jiang. I remember this very clearly, as if it were yesterday.”
“Kong was an inspector in the police force then,” said Wen. “I assume you investigated and interviewed the man.”
“Yes,” said Wang. “But there was no official vacancy to be filled. In the end, I concluded that I had spoken rashly about my need for a deputy and that Kong was not suitable.”
“Jiang’s reaction to this decision was extreme,” said Chen.
“It is just as well that Kong has been promoted to Superintendent of Police in Shanghai—the announcement will be made very soon,” said Wen.
A maid came in to see if anyone wanted sweets or refreshments, then Wang said, “I think I shall resume the investigation to find any connection between Jiang and Kong, especially in view of Jiang’s pending promotion within the Party.”
“There are files we have gathered that can help,” said Wen, “but I should distance myself from this investigation as much as I can. Perhaps it will be best if I find out who has the most knowledge of the files on Jiang’s past, and you determine who in your organization has police contacts to follow up on this.”
“Thanks,” said Wang. “Tell me in a week. I’ll be back from my trip by then. We will find someone with investigative experience to coordinate with your man.”
As Wang and Wen prepared to leave, the latter said with some embarrassment, “By the way, you must know that my wife has not given up on matching you up with her sister.”
“Neither you nor Old Chen have given her any encouragement, have you?”
“Heaven forbid!”
“Women are stronger than men, more persistent anyway,” said Wang with a smile. “What branch of the Party does Younger Sister Shu work in?”
“In the Department of Organization. She meets many men there.”
“I see. Perhaps you can tell Mrs. Wen I might be able to come to dinner in a month…”
Wen stopped their movement toward the door and said distinctly, “I will tell her that because she will not stop pestering me otherwise. But I should warn you that she will remember, and after two or three weeks, she will pester us again.”
