She smiled at that. “Would you like to join us for some real Moscow coffee?” She turned and pointed at a few young people at the far end of the room. A young man who’d been at the lunch the other day raised a paper cup to him.
“Maybe I should have your boyfriend arrested for telling you who I am,” he said, giving her an icy stare.
“That one? He’s not my boyfriend,” she said. “And I know exactly who you are, comrade Vladimir. I am this embassy’s counter-intelligence unit head.” She pushed her head forward, her eyes unsmiling. “We are getting younger, yes? And that means you can talk to us without breaking your mission protocols.”
“And start by coming over for coffee?” he asked.
“Yes.” She stood and headed for the group, who were all now staring at him.
49
Manhattan, June 5th, 2020
Rob and Faith ran as quietly as they could back down the corridor. By the time they reached the turnstile, the laughter and voices were gone.
“They must have come the other way. Do you think it was her?” said Rob.
“Probably,” said Faith. “Let’s try to catch up to them.”
She tapped a room card on the metal panel by the door. They pushed through and ran on to the elevator.
The door opened, but it took a long time.
“What floor?” said Rob.
“Ours.” Faith pressed the button for the thirty-fifth floor.
“We could knock on her door,” said Rob. “If that was her, she’s probably just gone into her room. I bet it was her. The elevator takes a long time to get down from thirty-five.”
Faith smiled. “You knock on her door. Tell her you want to find out about Jackie. She’ll see there’s no one with you. Tell her if she doesn’t speak to you, you’ll be going to CNN and telling them she’s a Chinese spy who spread the virus in London.”
“What if she doesn’t answer?”
“Put this under the door.” Faith held out a business card she’d pulled from her pocket.
It had the name Senator Harmforth on it, a United States Senate seal, and his cell number.
“How did you get this?” asked Rob.
“Long story. Just say you know who she’s been meeting.” Faith pointed down the corridor. “Suite 3562. If she knows we’re onto her, it’ll be easier to get her to come over. Just remember,” Faith’s voice lowered, “tell her we’ll protect her. And tell her she’s about to be called back to Beijing and purged. They all live in fear of ending up in a camp for something they didn’t even know was against the rules. And in her case, she’s definitely broken the rules.”
Rob headed down the corridor. When he looked around, Faith was gone. He reached 3562 and listened. He heard nothing, not even the sound of a TV in some distant room. Did he really want to do this? Knocking on the hotel door of a Chinese agent to get her to defect was a big step.
He put his hand near the door, held it still.
He had to do this.
He rapped twice on the door. Nothing happened. He rapped again, even harder. He thought he heard a noise through the door. He couldn’t be sure. He held up the senator’s card to the peephole.
“I need to speak to Gong Dao,” he said, loudly.
Nothing happened. He listened, turned away from the door. The sound of indistinct shouting filled the corridor. Someone had turned on a TV news channel. It must be showing a Black Lives Matter demonstration. He pushed the card Faith had given him under the door, then rapped on it again.
A door down the corridor opened and a doctor in a blue emergency room outfit came out of the room and went down the corridor, fast, glancing at him only once.
And the door he was knocking on opened. It was on the chain. A voice said, calmly, “What you want?” It was the voice of a young Chinese woman.
“I need to talk to you,” said Rob. “My wife died in London a few weeks ago. Someone from your embassy there called on her before she died. I want to find out if the person sent to visit my wife was infected with the Coronavirus. I’m trying to find out why she died. Please, help me.”
“Your name Dr. McNeil?” asked the voice.
“Yes.”
“Your wife not dead,” came the voice. “Now please, leave me alone.”
50
Washington DC, June 5th, 2020
The Eye of the Ocean restaurant on 42nd Street had a jet-black marble frontage, elaborate gold lettering, and gold double-sized main doors with giant red eyes embossed on them. The doors were closed. There was no notice in the window.
He rapped three times on the door, then twice. Nothing happened. He looked up at the skyscraper above the restaurant. United States flags ran in a row above the frontage. Had they not got the message?
He waited.
A taxi cruised by. The driver, a man with a cap and a blue face mask, stared at him.
The door of the restaurant opened. A young woman held it open two inches.
“Yes?” she said.
“I’m Wang Hu. I was told you could help me. I came from Beijing.”
“We only serve few people now,” said the young woman. “But you can come in.” She bowed, opened the door for him.
After he went inside, she closed the door and led him up a wide wooden staircase with an elaborate gold handrail carved with dragons on each side.
At the top of the stairs, she turned right and pushed open the sliding door to a large room with a black marble-topped bar at the far end. Behind the bar were glittering bottles of alcohol of every type. White leather stools stood in the front of the bar. Tables, with chairs standing on top of them, filled the room. The wallpaper had yellow dragons on it.
“Please, wait here,” said the woman.
He sat on one of the stools. A painting behind the bar showed a scene from an old Chinese restaurant, probably in Shanghai, with slim Chinese beauties in flapper dresses and hair bands, and men wearing fedora hats and baggy suits.
“You like our private bar?” came a voice. He turned. The woman was probably over seventy, but still beautiful, with her hair in a black bob, with one side lower than the other, like a knife. Her outfit was a plain black dress.
She bowed, stopped well away from him. The face mask she wore was pure white and had small filters at the side.
“It is not often we get a visit from the Ministry of State Security,” she said.
“I’m sure you get plenty of Chinese state visitors,” said Wang.
“A few. Not many. My name is Lian. What can we do for our esteemed friend?”
“Are you connected with the friends I met in Beijing in Ghost Street?”
She held her right hand up, raised her little finger the same way the woman in the restaurant on Ghost Street had done.
He nodded. “I am here on a personal matter, Lian. I need to gain access to the Millenium Hotel near the United Nations. A friend of mine is staying there. I want to surprise her. I need access to the hotel, that’s all.”
“Your friends at the ministry can’t help with this?”
“I cannot ask their help for a personal matter.”
Lian shook her head slowly from side to side. “This will not be easy,” she said. “Do you know this woman?”
“We are old friends,” said Wang.
Lian shook her head. “I cannot help a man who wishes to violate one of the flowers of the middle kingdom.”
Wang raised his voice as he spoke. “There will be no violation.”
“You swear to that?”
“Yes.”
She bowed low. “Will you perform a simple task for us, when we ask you, Mr. Wang, if we help in this matter?”
Wang looked down at the polished wooden floorboards. He could feel that this was a moment where his life might change. His decision now could put him in their hands forever. Should he agree to her terms? His breath shuddered in his throat as a vision of one perfect night he’d spent with Gong Dao came to him. How could he say no?
He nodded.
; “Please say it clearly for the camera,” said Lian. She pointed at the glistening security camera in a corner of the ceiling, facing them.
“I will do as you wish in return.”
“You must love this woman very much,” she said.
He didn’t reply. He was already regretting what he’d committed to. If only he hadn’t gone to Gong Dao’s hotel in Washington. If only she hadn’t teased him, dismissed him, perhaps he’d still be there, doing the job he was supposed to be doing.
“Your promise will be tested,” Lian said. “But we will not ruin you.” She smiled. “We will even help you again in the future.”
He turned, looked at the bar. “May I take a shot of that one?” he pointed at a bottle wrapped in old brown paper, with a golden string tied around the neck and a triangular golden label.
“Our best Guotai? You have good taste, Mr. Wang. Each of the seven times this one is distilled, they use golden sorghum as a filter.” She went to the end of the bar, lifted a part of the counter, and went behind it. She took the Guotai bottle down, opened the string, took the stopper out of the bottle and poured a little into a wide-necked crystal glass. She passed the drink to him.
“Raise your glass to the success of this mission,” she said. “I will be back soon.”
Wang sipped, savoring the mellow taste of the Guotai.
51
Washington DC, June 5th, 2020
Vladimir raised his vodka glass, looked at it. “This is good vodka,” he said. Then he knocked the vodka back.
“The best,” said Katerina, the embassy counter-intelligence unit head. She downed her shot, poured them both another. The rest of the group had disappeared, heading back to an apartment they shared.
Vladimir raised his glass to his lips, then put it down. “What is it you want from me?” he asked. His tone was wary now.
“Why should I want anything but you and your company?” said Katerina with an open smile.
Vladimir put back his head and laughed. Two people at a far table stopped eating and stared at him.
“Stop it,” said Katerina. “You look like one of those old-timers who went mad after working at Laboratory X.”
“How do you know I didn’t work there?” He put the undrunk glass of vodka back on the table and pushed it away a little.
“OK, smart guy, there is something you can do for me,” said Katerina.
Vladimir made a winding motion with his hand, as if to pull something out of her.
She leaned toward him. “I know you are on a top-secret mission,” she said.
“I can’t confirm or deny that,” said Vladimir. His gaze held steady on her eyes.
“I heard you are tracking someone who came from the United Kingdom.”
“I can’t confirm or deny or deny that either.”
She shook her head and her hair spun around. “Are you enjoying yourself?” she asked when she stopped.
“No,” he replied, but he was smiling.
52
Manhattan, June 5th, 2020
Rob put his foot in the crack between the door and doorframe. “I don’t believe you,” he said.
The door closed, then burst open. A young, slim, Chinese woman in a low cut cocktail dress was on the other side. She had her smartphone out and was filming him.
“Everything you say and do is going into the cloud. What is it you want?” Her tone was clipped.
Rob put his hands up as he passed her and let the door close behind him. When he was fully in the room, he turned to her.
“I’m not a danger to you,” he said.
“You have two minutes. I’m expecting someone.”
He backed into the center of the reception room. The suite layout was the same as his room.
“How do you know my wife isn’t dead?” he asked. It was the best opening line he could think of.
“Someone told me about your big goose chase,” she said. She stayed standing near the door.
“That’s it?” Had he started this right?
“Yes, sorry. I can’t help you any more.” She reached for the door handle.
“Maybe I can help you,” he said. Perhaps he should get straight to it.
“I don’t need your help.”
“I heard you were about to be called back to Beijing.”
Gong Dao shrugged, but he noticed a slight flicker across her eyes, her eyelids fluttering.
“Please go, right now,” she said. “I will scream if you don’t. There are people I know in the suite opposite. They will come and rescue me. You will be arrested.”
“There’s no need to scream.” Rob raised his hands. Had he blown it? “Just two more questions, please. Answer them and I will go.” He paused. She stared at him.
“Did you visit my wife while I was in Paris?”
She shook her head, looked him in the eye. “This mission of yours is doomed,” she said.
“Please answer the question.”
She stared at him, then said, “Yes, I did visit your wife.” She shrugged, as if it was unimportant what she’d just admitted to.
“Why?”
“To return an item you left behind on your previous trip to Wuhan. It was a simple call to your door. I did nothing wrong.”
“She got sick soon after.” He spoke slowly.
“I have answered your questions. What happened to your wife after my visit is not my responsibility. You will go now.”
Rob took a deep breath, pointed at Gong Dao. “I will go, but first you should know, there is a purge starting in Beijing. Those who’ve broken rules will be going to re-education camps.” He spoke slower now. “I’ve been told to offer you a way out.”
Gong Dao shook her head. “I need no way out.”
Rob’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He took it out, turned it on. A picture of an older Chinese woman filled the screen. Chinese characters were overlaid on the image. Text was underneath. Show her this.
He held his phone out for Gong Dao to see the picture.
“You think pictures of my mother will make me betray my country,” she shouted. “You are wrong. Get out!”
Rob’s phone buzzed again. It was a text message this time.
53
Manhattan, June 5th, 2020
Wang walked down the wide stairs of the restaurant. At the bottom stood a young Chinese man in a black suit. He looked like the ideal bank worker.
“Come, you can share my room at the Millenium,” said the young man in American-accented Mandarin. Wang followed him through the main room of the restaurant, down a corridor, and through a fire door into an alley with garbage cans lined up on each side.
The young man didn’t talk. He checked the fire exit was locked after Wang came through and then led the way down the alley. At the next street, he turned toward the East River. At a crossing, they waited for the pedestrian light to turn green. There was no traffic. The young man glanced at Wang.
“Are you really with the Ministry of State Security?” he said, softly.
Wang nodded without looking at him.
“I will be studying all night in my room,” said the young man. “Will you return late?”
Wang didn’t reply.
“There are two single beds in the room and one desk. If you watch movies on your phone, please use earbuds,” said the young man, as they crossed the road.
Wang nodded.
A few minutes later, they went through the front door of the Millenium. The young man showed a card and they passed the security guards, who just looked them up and down. They didn’t seem to remember Wang. They took the elevator up to the thirty-third floor. The young man opened the door to his room. It was small. Books were laid out on the floor and on a table.
“You are studying for exams?” said Wang.
“Yes.” The young man started tidying up his books.
“You have clean towels?” said Wang.
“Yes, every day. Check the bathroom.”
Wang went into the bathroom. He replied to t
he message from the driver he’d received earlier.
I am delayed, he wrote. Then he sent the message.
After he’d showered, he dressed and opened the small plastic pill container he’d received in Washington. The tablets inside were about the size of a small pimple. He took three out and put them into his trouser pocket. There was nothing else in the pocket.
He looked at the Chinese instructions on the pill container. WARNING, it read. Do Not Exceed the Stated Dose.
He exited the bathroom and put his jacket on.
“See you later,” he called out, as he left the room, knowing full well that he would never see the student again. He paused outside the room, looking down the corridor one way, then the other. He’d swap everything to be in that young man’s shoes, to be starting again. Not to be trapped by ambition and desire. And to know what he knew now about life.
54
Washington DC, June 5th, 2020
Vladimir knocked back the vodka. “I don’t intend to make a fool of myself, young Katerina, by asking for a trip to your room. If you have a plan for what I can do to help your mission, put it out on the table and I will see what I can do.”
Katerina looked sad. Mock sad. She took her phone out, spoke quickly in Russian, telling someone to go home.
“Your boyfriend was waiting to take a picture of me in your room with my trousers down?”
Katerina shook her head. It didn’t look convincing.
“I know every trick we play on each other,” said Vladimir.
“No tricks. Can you just answer a few questions?”
“Go on.”
“We’re working on a big cyber op. Do you know about it?”
“I heard we can access their Homeland Security watch lists and some other things.”
“We’ve put a lot of work into this, Vladimir. I hope whatever Moscow has asked you to do doesn’t compromise us. We don’t need anyone from Moscow messing things up.”
“I can see why they selected you for this important job.” He looked down at her breasts.
“I’m not an idiot,” she said, angrily. “Look at my face.” Each word was separate and loud.
The Conspiracy II Page 15
