by Hock G Tjoa
Second Brother Ma grunted and smiled in satisfaction as Zvi replied, “That is very well put, Mr. Wang, and very reasonable. I believe that your counterpart in Israel will have no trouble with that.”
“Perhaps the two of us should meet soon.”
“Perhaps that can be arranged.”
As the meeting broke up, Wang said in an off-hand tone, “There is a Tibetan temple in Beijing that I have wanted to revisit. Also, I have never been to a museum on Gulangyu Island near Hong Kong. Ah, so little time, so many places in my own country to visit.”
Two months later, the Spymaster, under the cover of a schoolmaster interested in Buddhist shrines, met with the deputy head of the Israeli intelligence service and Professor Meier, posing as American tourists, at the Lama Temple in Beijing. They spent several hours in a nearby hole-in-the-wall tea house while Hu, Tang, and Second Brother Ma dropped by at various times in the afternoon to sit casually at a table next to them, occasionally to interject or answer a question. The “meeting” confirmed that both sides undertook to answer the other’s questions within the parameters Spymaster Wang had outlined earlier. Over the years since, various questions and answers passed between them.
The most recent had to do with an arms dealer in Operation Kashgar.
14: THE NORTH KOREAN DEALER
(A suburb of Shanghai)
The North Korean arms dealer, Kim, had been the first to trigger that alarm. He arrived in Shanghai on the same day that the Spymaster and his party returned to Beijing from their journey to London.
Kim arrived in a small, old airplane. [JP2]His flight had been brief and uneventful, from one tightly controlled part of the world to another possibly less tightly controlled part of the world.
He looked forward to a week of relatively greater freedom in Shanghai. He had a couple of friends to visit, old school and army chums now on various missions for their country. He usually managed to do a little shopping and pick up gifts for his mother and sisters. Of course, he would indulge in a taste he had developed in his earlier career in the North Korean foreign ministry serving in Eastern Europe—that for blondes of well-nourished proportions.
Passport control presented no issue as Kim was scrupulous with his documents, although he could also count on the alliance between his country and the People’s Republic. This was true also of his passage through customs control. Kim never tried to smuggle anything into or through China. Not only did he have nothing to declare, he brought nothing with him except for his briefcase. His bodyguards, Ban and Kang, would have all their hardware cleared in a diplomatic pouch as pre-arranged by their Embassy.
Kim’s life in North Korea offered every comfort and protection that the state could provide. In China, he would enjoy the protection of the local police in addition to that of his personal bodyguards and the security detail from his embassy. His two bodyguards were from the elite corps that protected the leadership of the state. They would each take a twelve-hour shift. The security detail from the embassy consisted of three two-man teams that would each take an eight-hour shift. Perhaps the Eastern European flesh peddlers had made additional arrangements as well because he was one of their most important, profitable, customers. Kim had heard that there were negotiations between them and a local underworld gang. He smiled at the irony of organized crime teaming up with state police on his behalf.
He walked through the busy airport, oblivious to discreet video, and personal tracking of his movement to the curb, and paid no heed to anyone who followed his car as it sped off to his safe house. He was only mildly irritated to find that they were stuck in a traffic jam that seemed to stretch in every direction as far as the eye could see. It could mean an extra hour for him to brush up on Ukrainian, so he put on the earplugs of his mp3 player. Then, he paused, changed his mind, and speed-dialed a number.
“Hello,” said an accented voice, neutral in tone.
“Viktor, Kim here. I wondered if Nadia might be available in an hour or so—we are stuck in traffic from the airport. Also, I wondered if she might be available for a week.”
There was a slight pause before Viktor responded, “Of course, Mr. Kim. I shall call you back if there is any problem. If not, you can expect Nadia at your place in an hour and a half.”
Kim heaved a sigh. This was a new development. He met Nadia, her working name, in Kiev more than ten years ago. They continued to meet from time to time until Kim returned to North Korea. A couple of years later, she showed up in Shanghai, and they had resumed their occasional dalliance. But he usually only saw her for a night or two and there had always been others. Now, life might be getting complicated.
Nadia had the radiant look of Renoir’s women. She might have just stepped out of one of his paintings, minus fifteen kilos. She was always affectionate and positive with never any hint of professionalism. If she bore any scars, physical or emotional, from her life, Kim had not detected them. She was comfortable with silence, happy to chat, and was not embarrassed to admit ignorance of anything.
She never inquired about Kim’s work, even when he spoke of his frustrations and stress, and whether he was able to spend an hour with her or a day, she accepted the situation with equanimity and good cheer. When they first met, he was nearly thirty and she was in her early twenties. The years had been kind to her. She might have gained some gravitas but not an ounce of avoirdupois and only a couple of barely noticeable wrinkles.
In a following car, Agent Li, formerly the Sergeant Major, compared his notes with those of his Shanghai police liaison, Old Gong. This police liaison had been arranged with Commissioner Wen, the Spymaster’s friend on the Committee on Public Safety. Old Gong belonged to the national command for counter-terrorism that did not report to regional authority, the Shanghai metropolitan police command. The police detail assigned to protect Kim would be from that metropolitan command.
Li was aware that he had much to learn about following a suspect from his seasoned police companion and was relieved to hear that he had committed no serious errors. The policeman, on the other hand, was impressed that the intelligence agency had asked for his assistance. Inter-agency relations, even inter-departmental ones within the police force, tended to be on the short side of courteous.
As Kim arrived at his safe house, another car drove up, and Nadia stepped out with a small valise. She smiled, slipping an arm through Kim’s, and the couple entered, followed discreetly by the bodyguards. Kim showered as Nadia made herself comfortable; then they embraced and slipped into bed hungrily.
“I have missed you, Nadia.”
“It is good to see you, Kim. I am glad you are safe.”
At about the time Kim started going to school, his father began service in the elite corps that provided bodyguards to the Great Leader (Kim Il-Sung, no relation). By the time the Eternal President passed away, Kim’s father was well-established in the hierarchy of the Party. His standing paved the way for Kim’s progress through the army and then in the Foreign Affairs Ministry.
Kim was not exempt from the political indoctrination and military training required of all, but his father’s influence put him into the most favorable positions possible and under the most sympathetic mentors he could have had. It also made life comfortable for his mother and his sisters.
The postings to various embassies in Eastern Europe were far from luxurious. Like many other North Koreans abroad, Kim was expected to generate hard currency for the State. From generic smuggling to drug running, Kim quickly moved to arms dealing. He had a flair for negotiations. His very first customer was desperately in need of ammunition of certain kinds, not readily available. Kim checked with North Korean Army Logistics, learned who were the most likely suppliers, and tracked down their recent and not so recent purchasers.
He was dogged in his pursuit of details and enjoyed the give and take of the bargaining process. For this customer and many others to follow, he learned who had inventory to spare, and he had the instincts that led him surely to the limits of each
exchange. When these transactions were concluded, Kim’s earnings for the State accumulated to a substantial amount; even more valuable was the enhancement to his reputation. That is what provided him with customer referrals and repeat business.
The confusion in the states newly independent from the Soviet Union furnished him with many of his solutions. Kim was willing to work incredibly long hours and, perhaps even more important, he was mentally agile enough to consider the possibility that three or four trades might be required to provide the optimal solution for any one particular customer.
On one occasion, he created a daisy chain of deals involving six parties—a beleaguered drug cartel in South America with cash to burn, a cash-strapped African warlord willing to part with some of his inventory, two rogue elements in different Middle Eastern armies, a cynical sub-contractor working for the west, and an Afghan warlord. Each party required two weeks work, compressed into two days for Kim. In the end, each party got what it wanted at a slightly higher price than it had originally been willing to pay. Kim’s legend grew wildly, but he was thoroughly exhausted.
Now in the fifteenth year of his career as arms dealer, he learned about the Pashtuns and the opportunity to earn thirty million Euros for a product his country manufactured. This was, for him, the equivalent to what had famously, fatuously, been described at a world-historical moment as a “slam-dunk.”
“Nadia, would you tell me your real name?”
“Why? Nobody uses it anymore.”
“What is it? Surely, you don’t use Nadia for your passport.”
Nadia stared at Kim with doubt and impatience. Kim grinned back, but his eyes shifted uneasily away from her face. What am I thinking?
“I’ll tell you, anyway. It is Oksana Brodsky. But you know my life. I must live one day at a time. It is easier to stick to Nadia.”
“Thank you, Nadia—Oksana Brodsky. Perhaps you are right.” Kim swallowed hard and asked, “Would you like to go shopping tomorrow?”
Nadia beamed with pure delight and nodded, setting her curls to bounce. The arms dealer said, “I need to visit with a couple of friends, so I’ll drop you off at a nearby shopping mall and pick you up after a few hours. Get yourself three or four dresses.”
“Will we eat out?”
“What would you prefer?”
“If you don’t mind, I’d like to get all dressed up but eat in.”
“That’s fine with me. I’ll have Ban order for us.”
“And not Chinese food, if you can manage, please.”
“We can manage that.”
They embraced again, and Kim resumed his exploration of Nadia’s voluptuous curves, luxuriating in pneumatic bliss.
As Kim prepared to leave the next morning, Ban asked to confer with him. His bodyguard, bagman, and confidant had served for more than six years. Only in the last year had Kim been assigned a second personal bodyguard, Kang, a sign of his growing importance to the State. Ban had a troubled look.
“I found these four transmitting devices in her clothes. They can be placed anywhere.” He added with a stern tone, “I also found four more, one sewn into each of her dresses.”
Kim’s face took on the color of ash. He paced frantically in a small circle as if performing a ritual to ward off evil. “Do you have any idea how or why this has happened?”
Ban shook his head. “I don’t think the embassy or our security service will know either.”
“I will have to confront Viktor. I have known Nadia for more than ten years and not once has she expressed any interest or curiosity about what I do. Does Kang know?” Kim said nodding towards the room where the bodyguards slept.
Again, Ban shook his head.
“Good. Let’s leave it as it is for now. You take care of her things. Kang will be with me during the day. Get some rest.”
Ban frowned and asked, “What’s for dinner?”
Kim explained what Nadia had requested and left him to make the arrangements through the usual embassy security channels. Kim, Nadia, and Kang left, followed more or less discreetly by security from the embassy, the Shanghai police detail assigned to Kim’s protection, and a couple of other cars. In one were Agent Li, Old Gong, and Second Brother Ma, assigned to assist and supervise Li.
Li noticed there was one other car following Kim. “Who are they?”
“Excellent, Agent Li,” said Second Brother Ma. He turned to the man from police counter-terrorism, Old Gong, and asked, “Do you know them?”
“No,” said the policeman. “They look somewhat familiar from my days in the vice squad.”
“Ah, that is helpful—it confirms my hunch,” said Second Brother Ma. “I believe that they are from a local mobster gang working for or with the Eastern Europeans. I shall look further into this. Other than that, the events of this day should be quite, uh, uneventful.” All would not be lost. Agent Li would learn much of a practical aspect in spy craft from Old Gong and Second Brother.
Kim spent most of the day visiting his old friends. He listened carefully to their conversations in the hope of picking up a clue as to what Ban’s discovery of the transmitters in Nadia’s valise might mean. However, not expecting much, he was not disappointed. He felt in his bones that Nadia had nothing to do with the surveillance prepared for him. She would have no choice about following instructions from Viktor. But who pulled the strings on Viktor?
Sadly, Kim realized that this development hammered the last nail on his fantasy of escaping with Nadia. It had been a fantasy grown over the past year, but he had not been able to envisage the endgame. He had not even been able to determine if Nadia would go or wanted to go with him.
A thought wrenched him back into his everyday reality. When will I hear from the Pashtuns?
15: JOURNEY TO THE WEST, POST-SCRIPT
(London)
The evening after their meeting with the British Spy-mistress and her colleagues, Wang, Hu, and Tang changed into casual clothes and went into the city.
“We look like students,” exclaimed Tang.
“Too old,” said Wang.
“You look like a lecturer,” answered Hu.
Wang grinned his thanks and said, “You remember the briefing about London’s CCTV system? Let’s try to avoid it – good operational practice!”
“Professor!” called Zvi, as they converged on a Middle Eastern restaurant near Russell Square. “You seem headed to my favorite restaurant. May I join you?”
“But of course. You can help us with the menu. We thought we should try something new tonight.”
“Where is Second Brother?”
“It’s his turn to babysit so he could not come out to play, but Hu should be here soon—he thought he remembered a shortcut.”
“Good, if we can find a fifth, they might let us eat in their little room.” They entered as Hu arrived and found Yigael, the head of Israeli intelligence, waiting in line. The maitre’d led the five to the “little room.” It was indeed a small room, a corner of which served as the business office, for special guests. But it was a secure room, regularly swept for eavesdropping devices.
“We should order first. The, um, non-specialist clientele here tends to be impatient.” After they presented their orders, Wang asked, “How are Professor Meier and Layla?”
“Unfortunately, Layla was killed two weeks ago. As far as we can tell, she was not the target, and it was purely coincidental that she walked by a bus with a suicide bomber.”
“Our condolences.”
“Yes. The professor is sorry he cannot be here himself. He was most distraught to receive your query and ultimately decided to trust me with the information,” said Yigael with a faint smile.
“It worried us, not because this action directly threatened us but because it is one of six arms deals of this nature. The Pashtuns seriously want to get this weapon.”
“None of this actually threatens China, does it?” Zvi asked.
“The pawn does not, but the bishop might,” said Yigael, correcting his young
colleague. Everyone at the table nodded, catching his drift.
Wang nodded and glanced at Tang who entered the conversation, “Our concern is what the Pashtun move opens up. Will it embolden the Islamist or terrorist factions in neighboring countries, or will it start a geopolitical struggle at a higher level, or both?”
“We are concerned as well,” said Hu very carefully, “that if our agency could find this activity, another agency might also.”
Wang added, “We do not consider ourselves capable of neutralizing every one of the six arms deals, so we have just come from telling the British about four of them. This is one of the two items that we did not disclose to them. We told the British that we considered ourselves capable of dealing with these. We are not, of course, able to deal with this item directly.”
Yigael’s face registered the shock of recognition. “I thank you for buying me some time. It is complicated.”
Large platters, redolent of nutmeg, ginger, and roast lamb appeared, so everyone gave up the effort to make conversation for the time being.
“Oh, good, the vegetarian stuff for Wang and Tang. The lamb for me, please,” said Hu.
“To life,” said Yigael with his glass raised. It was only water, but everyone echoed the toast no less fervently for that. After a minute or two, he continued, “I must congratulate you on finding a deep cover operation we have undertaken—to penetrate the world of our militants.”
Wang said, “We are grateful to be taken into your confidence and regret causing you any inconvenience.” Yigael nodded but still had a sour look.
