by Hock G Tjoa
“What is this about?” Kim asked. His voice was drained of any emotion.
“Well, Mr. Kim, you have caught the attention of several parties, and I thought we should meet and discuss your options.”
“Options? Who are you?”
“Yes,” said Wang, ignoring the second question. “Would you prefer to discuss your options with Viktor? Or your own government? Or the investigators of the bribery attempt?”
As Kim sat in stunned silence, Wang continued, “Do you want a few hours to reflect on these people and your relationships with them? You should know that you cannot stay here for long unless I have a reason to keep you. I do not know if your embassy has informed you, but it is assisting our police with a bribery investigation involving a very high-ranking police officer, and some fingers are pointed at you.”
“What? Is that why I am held here?”
“Ah, I am interested only in Viktor. You have had dealings with him over many years. I want to learn more. Now, I shall leave you in peace to collect your thoughts. I will return in a few hours.”
The Spymaster left, giving strict orders that Kim was to be watched in case he attempted to kill himself. But in all other circumstances, he was to be left alone and given no food or water. He was to be totally ignored, and no one was permitted to see him.
Early the next day, Wang spoke with Commissioner Wen. They agreed that Kim would be transferred to official police custody before the end of the day and that the arresting officer should inform Special Prosecutor Lin that Kim had been unwittingly picked up during a police intervention in a clash between local mobs. They agreed that Old Gong should be designated to respond to any of Lin’s inquiries.
Wang called in Second Brother Ma and, together, they telephoned Old Gong. Wang briefed them both on his conversation with Commissioner Wen then left Second Brother to assist Old Gong in reviewing the crime scene log and to write up a report of the case. He had spent most of the pre-dawn hours reviewing the agency files on Kim. These were as complete as one might wish.
Wang noted the privileged early career of his subject and reflected on his own youth. He had been a boy growing up in the provinces during the Cultural Revolution. His father was in the army, but that did not mean much. The father had joined just after the Revolution had succeeded and performed no notable Party work. In fact, he had been careless enough to give voice to what he considered the excesses of the Great Leap forward and of some Red Guards. When arrested, he had only the half-hearted support of his commanding officer. He refused to recant or to mouth the indignities and obscenities that the Red Guards required for his rehabilitation.
As his father headed to a harsh prison camp, Wang’s sister was traumatized by the Red Guards at her school. They taunted her about her “right-wing deviationist parent.” Her unthinking schoolmates piled on the taunts and insults. Wang was five years younger, and the cadres among his teachers knew him as a clever and polite little boy, so they shielded him from the Red Guards. On the playground, his friends Old Chen and Old Wen (later the General and the Deputy Police Commissioner) helped him against the silly camp followers of the Red Guards.
That the province itself was somehow protected from the full virulence of the Cultural Revolution might have helped. The schools were harassed less than those in other provinces, and when this sordid chapter in the history of modern China was closed, Wang had graduated at the top of his class. He found ready admission to officer training in the army. Wang moved with his mother into a small apartment, away from the communal outhouses and close community of the neighborhood in which they had lived for nearly two decades.
His sister was welcomed whenever she was well enough to want a “normal” life. But the traumas she had suffered rendered her incapable of the ordinary give and take of work and society. Often, she would go howling into the night or take up with the “undesirables” of society that survived even the purging fires of the Red Guards. Of his father, the family never received any news.
Wang knew that his mother suffered through all this and that she wished he would do something, even though she never asked. All she did was to admit, once, to being very sad. Wang found that his duties as a young army officer provided sufficient distractions and excuses for his lack of action. A budding romance with a young nurse in the neighborhood likewise withered through his own neglect. Old Chen and Old Wen, as they settled down, tried to “broker” a romance or two. But after a few years, they decided that Wang was a “hopeless case” and left him to his chance dalliances and occasional romances.
Whether he knew it then or discovered this later, Spymaster Wang had determined that it was his work that fully engaged him and there was no room for any other commitment. As he reviewed Kim’s files, he felt envy for the latter’s lifestyle and its flexible arrangements. But he did not judge the man.
The Spymaster walked into Kim’s room and asked that tea and water be brought in after a few minutes.
“Good morning, Mr. Kim.”
“Why am I here? Why did you attack me?”
“As we told you last night, you are a person of interest, Mr. Kim, of great interest to several different parties. You are here now, but not for long. The police have questions regarding the attempted bribery of a senior police officer. I want to know what you can tell me about Viktor.”
“Your department, whatever it is, knows more about Viktor than I do!”
“But we want to know what you know, Mr. Kim, from your years of association with him.”
“Why did you have to kill Nadia?”
“Mr. Kim,” Wang said kindly but firmly, “we both know how Nadia died. Any death is unfortunate, but you cannot hold us responsible for this one.” Wang stood up as if the meeting had reached a turning point. “What can we do to make you comfortable? Something to drink? Tea? Hot towels?” As Kim nodded, Wang rapped on the door and spoke briefly to the guard.
“May I also have a cigarette, please?”
Wang stepped back to the door and spoke with the guard. He gave the guard some money and received a pack of cigarettes that he placed on the table in front of Kim. The North Korean looked up with gratitude.
“Ah, Red Pagoda. I started smoking these in high school in Korea.” He tapped one out of the packet and offered it to Wang, who declined but lit a match for Kim. The latter appeared to fade away for a moment, indulging in the nostalgia of the stolen moments of teenage victory over adult supervision. In that brief pause, he regained much of his usual self-confidence, as well as a sense of ease in talking with the Spymaster.
Wang pulled a chair over to the small desk and sat. Kim continued,
“Thank you. I usually smoke French or American brands now, but this is familiar and comforting, even if connoisseurs claim that it is too heavy and sweet tasting.”
Wang was surprised by the change in mood of his prisoner. That pack of cigarettes had put Kim in an inexplicably relaxed, almost mellow, mood. A guard brought the refreshments in, and Wang poured out the tea and drank some himself, partly to reassure Kim that there was no attempt to drug him and partly because he had ordered his favorite tea.
“Would you please tell me what you did over the past month and your relations with Viktor?”
“I don’t know where to begin.”
“Let’s start with where you were a month ago.”
Kim reflected and said, “A month ago, I was on a plane flying from Dubai to Karachi, then from Karachi to Peshawar. From there, I was driven by a group of fierce-looking men to some village in the foothills. I met more fierce-looking men. They wanted to know how long I needed to deliver a small nuclear device.”
Wang watched closely as Kim grew more confident and spoke more, as if he was regaining his professional persona. He did not become boastful or uneasy. It was clear he found his work satisfying, in the same way that the Spymaster found his.
“Have you delivered the device?” asked Wang.
“I could have, but they advised me to wait until suitable customs
arrangements could be made. I was to await instructions regarding sending the package to Dubai, Karachi, or Kazakhstan. They mentioned the possibility of sending it directly to Kabul. I could do that too. I have arranged to deliver ordinary goods there in the past. But since they insisted on taking care of it, I assumed they wanted control over this process.”
“The bomb could be in a small suitcase. Why was there hesitation over how to get it delivered?”
“I was not encouraged to speculate on this question,” said Kim with a small smile. “My guess is that it depended in part on where the device came from. As you know, I was not the only player.”
“Did you ever meet your competition?”
“No.”
“How important is it to you or your government that you complete this mission?”
“My government told me that I would be given every level of support, including the device itself. The government naturally expected to receive most of the thirty million Euros, and that is a strong motivation.”
“What happens if you are unable to complete this mission?”
Kim shrugged and looked around “Heads will roll.”
“Did you play any role in the attempted bribery?”
“No.”
“Probably not your head, then.”
“Probably not. I certainly hope not.” Kim spoke as a man without illusions.
“So, you flew back to…”
“Ultimately to Pyongyang, but I had business to attend to in Istanbul and Vienna…some loose ends.” The Spymaster nodded. So far, Kim seemed to have accepted his fate and was telling the truth. He answered without hesitation when questioned regarding the loose ends. The Spymaster made a few notes.
“Now, tell me about your relations with Viktor. I assume you have known him for several years.” As Kim talked, Wang recalled the slim file that the vice squad had on Viktor and his stable of East European women. It was well-known that flesh peddlers the world over were involved in intelligence work. But they are incredibly hard to penetrate. Organizations like Viktor’s were built around men who had grown up together for decades and spoke not only in highly local dialects but also in cryptic fashion, evolved over time and shared experiences.
The vice squad had traditionally been given the lead in monitoring them, and it had done what it could with electronic surveillance and penetration of their support arrangements with a local criminal gang. Clearly, more counter-intelligence resources were needed to keep track of Viktor and his dealings. Closing the barn doors after the thieves had stolen the horses, Wang thought. But perhaps it was not as bad as he feared.
“Why does he have you under surveillance?”
“I do not know, but I intend to ask him about this. It may have been purely a coincidence.”
“Is that what you believe?”
“I don’t know what to believe. Nadia…” Kim made a valiant attempt at self-control and nearly succeeded. He could not control the few tears that started.
Those tears signified to Wang a sense of intense frustration, of injustice. He was reminded of his mother as she aged in the comfort of his assigned quarters, that of a senior officer in the national security apparatus. It was comfortable and secure, but lonely—no neighbors, no daughter, no husband, and a son who was not there even when he was physically present. Wang realized that his mother had felt not only sadness. She felt the caprice of fate, the anguish, and the pain of futility.
“She would only have done whatever she was ordered to do,” Kim sobbed. Wang took the opportunity to regroup his thoughts.
“What do you know of Viktor?”
“He was always helpful when one was in need of…distraction.”
“What did he do when you first met him—in Kiev, I believe?”
“Yes, it was in Kiev. I thought he had been doing what he is still doing. Procuring.” Wang saw that Kim was truthful and had not given any thought to what Viktor did, other than the obvious.
“Are you saying that you did not think of him as any more than, say, a bartender?”
“Yes.”
“But you know that many bartenders are more than what they appear to be?”
“I suppose so, but it was never important to me to ask what else he might be doing.”
“Will you help us discover what Viktor and his organization were trying to achieve?”
“Yes,” Kim replied without hesitation.
“It may take our investigations away from you and Nadia.”
Kim nodded.
“It may take many months, perhaps years.”
Again, Kim nodded.
The meeting ended after a couple more hours of questions and answers. The Spymaster told Kim that the investigation into the question of bribery would run its course. Wang would try to exercise whatever positive influence he could, but he could not guarantee any result. He assured the arms dealer that in keeping the Chinese informed concerning Viktor, Kim would not be expected to betray his country and that, by the end of the day, he would now be allowed to speak with his embassy. The transmitters and Nadia’s dresses would be returned to him, if he wished, upon his release from custody. He told him that their discovery by the Chinese would not be disclosed to anyone.
Kim would be contacted periodically. The code word would be “Kashgar.” Kim agreed but asked that the code word be “Brodsky.” So, it was.
17: THE NEW GREAT GAME
Ambassador Yu’s report to the MFA was persuasive. Whether or not the Pashtuns obtained their desired statehood, China would inevitably face a threat to the current balance of power in Central Asia. He urged that the ministry prepare for such a threat along the lines of Tang’s brief to the CPS.
Yu argued further that the MFA incorporate Tang’s suggestions in its approach to the SCO as a whole and to its individual members. He reasoned that it would be dangerous for China to drift rudderless in SCO meetings. Words could take on unintended meaning, and policies loosely worded might congeal in unintended contradictions.
Yu urged that the ministry take the lead in conversations with its allies about cooperation on security and intelligence, taking into consideration the unpredictable response of extremist and terrorist groups to the example of the Pashtuns. He suggested that the MFA consider cooperation with China’s intelligence agency to develop its own security team and operations.
At the end of the meeting of the Committee on Public Safety, held a week after Spymaster Wang’s return from London, he was able to report that two of the potential of six arms sales were in all likelihood blocked.
“Some things are beyond our control and may result in one or the other of these transactions proceeding, but we have done all that we can.”
“Is the threat completely neutralized?” asked Deng.
“No,” replied Wang. “There are four other potential sales of nuclear devices that we agreed with the British to leave in their hands. I understand that they are consulting with the Americans and will conduct joint operations on two of those. The other two arms sales were left entirely in American hands. The CIA will coordinate with the Pakistanis and the Russians on them.”
“This is less than satisfactory,” said Chairman Cai, “but I suppose we must live with circumstances as they are until we are able to change them.”
“The Ministry of Foreign Affairs believes that we should also be prepared to preserve the balance of power in Central Asia through the Shanghai Cooperation Organization,” said its representative, Assistant Minister Lin. “The MFA concurs with the analysis of Agent Tang so persuasively presented to us two weeks ago. The Pashtuns will not be stopped if they are determined to form their own nation-state. We also believe that China’s role in the SCO must be strengthened.”
Wang recognized, in this rare statement of substance by the representative from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, the ideas of Ambassador Yu as discussed with Wang and his team in London.
“How will this be received by our friends in the SCO?” asked Deng, his curiosity victorious
over the usages of tact.
“Nothing can be achieved unilaterally in the SCO,” said Lin without humor. “Our ministry will consult with every other member regarding joint operations.”
“If the SCO were to expand and include India,” observed Zhang, Assistant Minister in the Finance Ministry, “it would speak for half the people of the world. I suspect this would come as a surprise to many in the rest of the world.”
“We have enjoyed some success in our joint military exercises,” offered Deng.
“I wish I could say with confidence that our counter-terrorism efforts are as successful,” said the Deputy Police Commissioner.
“I believe counter-terrorism is inherently more difficult than military exercises,” declared Deng. This statement was so uncharacteristic of the man that it was met with a moment’s silence, during which each and every committee member looked down and studied their briefing papers.
“And most difficult of all,” said Chairman Cai, “will be the effort to find consensus with regard to the balance of power in the region. It is probably best not to call it an effort to strengthen China’s role, even if that must be what it means. I find irony in that all this has become necessary because of the aspirations and actions of the Pashtuns, who probably do not know or care much about China.”
With that little speech, the Chairman stood up to signal the end of the meeting. He caught Wang’s eye and walked over to the Spymaster. The two men shook hands as the Chairman said,
“Good job. I hope we can meet soon to discuss this further.”
As Wang left the meeting, he glanced surreptitiously at the note slipped into his hand. It said, “Dinner tomorrow. My house. 7 p.m. About Jiang.”
When the Spymaster had confided in Old Wen a month ago that he was resuming his investigation into Comrade Commissar Jiang to discover what propelled Jiang’s animus toward the Spymaster, Wen outlined what he could do to help.
