by Randy Moffat
The centimeters thickness of Antonin’s skin and skull separated his mind from comprehending that a collective TESS effort was being made to solve the same problem near him. In the TESS bat cave a distance of six hundred meters was sometimes as great as ten million miles between human minds.
Murray was looking for something; thumbing through dozens of PDF files sent by the US secretary of state other agencies.
Jeeter’s last known location was a hotel room near Goleta on the California coast.
The room had been treated as a delayed crime scene by the FBI and a detailed investigation of the room made after Bear had energized the US’ maximum assistance and effort that had been focused wonderfully by TESS plunging an artificial meteorite into the Atlantic off the Carolina coast. A trickle of reports had become a flood. Both Bear and Murray had pretty much ignored most reports sent by the FBI assuming they would be part and parcel of a hurried fiction thrown together to mask any American involvement while they quietly ‘found’ Jeeter and returned him after having held him all along.
The question that was bugging Murray after his interview of Agent Matthews was What if the reports weren’t a fake? It was difficult to explain, but he actually believed Matthews when she said that there had been no discussion of synchronizing her mission of accessing TESS’ inner circle with a newsworthy kidnapping of someone like Jeeter. Of course the FBI might have been playing bigger game. They might have simply have not told her, but Murray thought the idea unlikely. Operationally she might have had to take action or adjust her actions within TESS based on the parallel events occurring and not knowing that something as newsworthy as a kidnapping was going to be shouted in tandem with her own timeline struck Murray as a risky approach. Not impossible… just dangerous and poorly coordinated. Poor coordination was not generally a hallmark for American intelligence operations. It meant that someone else might be responsible. Who?
He scanned the report three times and then spotted something in the fiber report that made him think. Hemp. Cannabis sativa had apparently originated historically in China. China and North Korea were world leaders in hemp production and fibers used to make cloth in China tended to have a higher concentration of hemp in place of cotton than cloth made elsewhere. Hemp fibers had been found three places in the hotel room which causally suggested people wearing Chinese made clothes had been in there. This was merely incidental evidence; but the locale of the fibers meant more… two of the fibers were from a chair had been overturned in the room. A blood sample that had been shown to be Jeeter’s had been discovered on the carpet right next to that chair. Even more significant—one of the hemp heavy fiber clusters was caught on a screw on the bottom of that chair, an unusual position if it had come casually from some previous room customer. Most customers would have left samples on the seat cushion cracks or the arms of the chair, not hooked around a screw on the bottom. If you looked at the fibers and the blood without a jaundiced and unbelieving eye then the upturned chair at least suggested that Jeeter had been seated in it as perhaps two men or three men rushed in. He had risen only to be tackled and the three tumbled over the chair while they knocked Jeeter unconscious which had left his blood on the carpet. In that scenario one of the assailants had left a few hemp heavy fibers on the screw-head under the cheap office style chair during the resulting tussle to subdue the old man. It was a minor point. Something that made him think. Not enough. He needed more.
He kept looking and found the corroboration he needed buried in the DNA report. There was many samples in the room especially a large concentration on the rooms bedding that had nothing to do with what he was looking for. Wrong type of DNA. When will hotels start using really hot water to wash sheets?
More importantly there had also been a dozen blood splatters on the carpets… . concentrated around the chair and on a path to the door. Nine of the droplet spatters had been matched to Jeeter, but three were from an unknown individual. It made Murray smile. Like any tracker it told a story if you know what you were seeing. Even at 70 plus years old Jeeter had made one of them bleed a bit. It was what convinced him suddenly that the FBI had actually not faked this particular report. Duking it out with a bunch of kidnappers just felt like Jeeter.
The extra blood spots were important. Based on archaeogenetics the blood spots that were not Jeeter’s contained concentrations of the Y chromosomal haplogroup O-M122 with overlays of the O3-M122 and a tinge of the M119. Eastern China for sure with a strong odor of it being Han Chinese blood.
Chinese fibers and now Chinese blood on the same scene.
Of course it could still be the FBI. There were Chinese-American FBI agents. The US was a polyglot society made of people from around the entire earth who had fled to the statue of liberty as tired, poor and yearning to be free. Still… it smelled wrong for the US. Why send a US agent in to grab Jeeter wearing Chinese clothes? Why use physical violence when you have more technological means at hand? A simple taser would have been cleaner than tussling about with Jeeter like a junior high wrestling match while he gave you a bloody nose.
A glance at the map showed that Goleta was on the Pacific coast. Near a small harbor. A scenario arose to fit these facts. A group of thugs grab a guy, knock him out, drive him to the harbor, throw him on a boat, then transfer him to a freighter or other ship somewhere off the coast and away they go to China. Literally Shanghaied. There was suddenly a strong hint of a Chinese connection there.
Murray did a quick check of freighter movements from the US to China within twenty four hours after Jeeter was snatched. He was surprised to discover that there were 13 of them. Traffic was heavy as the US shipped away its treasure to China in exchange for cheap goods. Easy enough for the Chinese to include an unconscious American in that flow.
It was circumstantial, but taken collectively something stunk. Stunk like MSG.
Murray’s finger flew over his keyboard looking for levers to influence people and calling in favors that would give him eyes into China.
Zeng was their weak point. Li was staring at him through a secure video link. After that last meeting Li had sworn he would never set foot in China again if he could ever avoid it—particularly if Zeng was typical of the current Chinese Politicrati.
Lit had a strong degree of self criticism built in. He knew his distaste was partly perverse. Based on inner conflicts within his own character. The teeming masses in China had depressed him on his last visit. He had forgotten them until forced to go back. China had so many more people in it. Shoulder to shoulder. They seemed everywhere. His sense of spaces had shifted to those of an American. Wide open vistas and fewer people per square kilometer. He was also aware of the irony of a being born Chinese and becoming bored by the more or less homogenous physical sameness, but Li had been corrupted by the wide variety of physical types in the US. He liked seeing blond, red and brown skin and hair now and then that did not come from a bottle. And in his heart a pair of blue eyes the color of glacial ice on a woman just made his loins tighten. Like most humans he was a creature of his environment and China was no longer it. Irony on irony he was a lynchpin of Sino-espionage positioned in the heart of a land he loved while working for a land he longer much cared for. A stranger in a strange land that he now preferred.
‘Hú’s hooligans’ was the mental label Li had recently assigned to his theoretical allies. This was an important video meeting. Li wanted to poison the well here and needed to do it carefully and transparently. He must avoid being obvious about it. They must draw their own conclusions—not be fed them.
“Zeng!” Li said peremptorily. “You have been examining the lists of materials I have been sending you?” Knowing well that Zeng the idiot was likely doing very little else.
Zeng made a head gesture of arrogant affirmation.
“They have been most enlightening.” He said. “We have been mirroring them and buying everything on your lists while we attempt to figure out what TESS does
with them precisely. We are making excellent progress on the puzzle.”
Meaning that they were staring at a Rubic’s cube and did not have a clue how to solve it Li thought contemptuously. Li complimented him sagely instead.
“Well done. Well done! Comrade. And the used cyclotron they acquired from Princeton University? That was not significant?”
He was reminding him of all his own important ‘finds.’ Items he had been aware of for the better part of a year. Foisting them off as new discoveries to these losers in China—impressing them with his deep knowledge and commitment to the cause. Reminding them of just how useful he was.
Zeng looked annoyed.
“Of course it was… clearly TESS generates particles to create the Petrovski effect that warps space time… . this we have suspected for some time… . but the value of the cyclotron on its own… . without its settings or its connections to the other items on the list are of limited… .”
Li interrupted him.
“And the last item? I asked you if it might be of interest?”
“Last item?”
“The Casimir device?”
Zeng looked thoughtful.
“That was very interesting… . we are engaged with the idea of course… the Casimir connection is obscure… we are uncertain… .”
“All this makes me wonder if we are on the right track at all.” Li put on his best speculative face and gave a huge sigh and strong overtones of impatience. “Who knows if the Casimir thing is worth the trouble? For all we know it was part of a failed side experiment back in their early research. I can see that this process of bringing over all their technology and piecing it together like a puzzle is going to take a very long time isn’t it? We might never be successful in backward engineering it just from the materials alone.” Li kept his tone neutral and caught just the hint of the wince that Zeng demonstrated around his eyes. Zeng did not want his master Hú agreeing with that assessment. Clearly Li had inadvertently mimicked what Hú was saying sitting over there side by side with Zeng in China. Li also grasped in an instant by Zeng’s subtle gesture that the man was still stringing Hú along. Placating him. Building up a story about how patience is required in science.
And Hú could be one scary asshole. A dangerous game. But a snippet of insight could be used as an intellectual lever on Zeng. That lever could be used to move Hú where Li wanted him to be.
Time to help Zeng out.
“Very well… . of course I am certain you have already considered the detailed list of TESS support missions I sent you.”
Zeng looked distant. He had obviously ignored it. Then after a few seconds he focused and looked curious.
“Support missions… ?” He tried to hide his puzzlement at the question.
“Well… what I mean is I am sure you have considered the nations that they support with missions to space. I notice your schematics of the engine room are primarily based on speculative modeling. To get a look into an actual engine room would certainly clarify things—tell you how all the pieces that I have provided fit together. It need not be a long look. Even a brief look would be very helpful? I assume you have considered boarding their ship or some similar operation?”
“Of course! Of course. The leader and I have discussed this many times…” Zeng’s acerbic answer practically accused Li of trying to ‘teach grandma to suck eggs.’ He was clearly making this up as he went along, but a grain of truth existed somewhere in it. “The TESS landing schedule is too varied though. The idiots who have attacked them before have made them far too cautious. Their landings and takeoffs are too difficult to predict and react to with sufficient force. It has been discussed and ignored. The great leader has rejected the notion of boarding them since it would require heavy military forces to fight through their protection and in the end they simply might activate their drive and disappear to space.”
“Oh yes…” Li said agreeably thinking that the last person he had heard referred to as ‘great leader’ was Mao. “I know their landing sites are too varied. Here on Earth it is far too difficult to focus resources quickly enough and the fact that they constantly change them about and screen them strongly does complicate things. Still… there are their mission execution points out in space. Those cannot be changed very easily since the close ones are usually for dropping satellites into orbit or repairing them. They do a lot of satellite work and satellites by their nature must be placed in precise locations. China has our own space program and… ah well… . I am sure you and Hú have considered this and have the situation well under control… it is not my responsibility to think about it or propose things to those who are far ahead of me…” Li picked up some papers from the desk in front of him as if dismissing the stray thought and changed the subject. “I have also found a reference to a laser system and perhaps some software that TESS may have acquired in the old days.” Li hesitated a moment, struck for a moment that something that had happened a little over a year ago was now “the old days.” It was as if TESS had somehow become a division of time itself. Before TESS and after TESS. Certainly for some people TESS had become an obsession and historical point of reference. Frankly, Li realized with a jolt… . he was one of them. How odd.
Zeng was nodding energetically now, but looked rather distant himself. Li’s idea had finally struck home for Zeng and he was processing the notion.
“Yes… . Yes! Certainly a laser system could be important.” The Chinese idiot replied distantly. “Send me what you can as quickly as you can…” Zeng said pro forma. His eyes were flicking from side to side. He was thinking very hard about something else entirely and not really heeding.
Li hid his contempt, convinced Zeng would have been just as eager if Li had mentioned play-do and an erector set instead of a Laser. He was totally focused now on reasoning around what Li had let ‘slip.’
Li nodded wisely while gritting his teeth to keep from smiling, the image of the supportive subordinate to the core.
Li knew without a doubt that he had planted his dagger. It had gone home smoothly as a random thought in mid-conversation.
“It will take some time. I must send out agents… .” He explained some more general ideas but Zeng was clearly not really listening and the meeting ended abruptly when he made excuses and switched off.
It was time for patience now. To wait for the seed to germinate fully in the night soil of Hú and Zeng’s minds. Li smiled. “Patience was born in China” as the duke said. Li doubted most Chinese even knew who the Duke was.
Murray called Maureen in her office and got lucky. She was in it. She had come down to Earth for a three day logistics conference and then planned to return to orbit. It was still Admiral Wong’s shift down dirt side right now and Murray knew she was reluctant to leave Bear for even that long. He cupped his lower face as if stroking his beard to cover his secret smile. For some reason his two admirals being as desperate as love struck teenagers to be with one another was pleasing to him. They had created something Murray saw as the most amazing creation that humanity had ever put together. Then they acted like high school sophomores after their first kiss. It was endearing somehow. A human face on what was a super human accomplishment.
“Admiral… .” He hesitated.
“Yes, M?” She asked brightly, speaking around her teeth at the nickname. Murray ignored it.
“I need your expertise.”
That got her attention. Flattery always greases the skids.
“Doing what?”
“I need the names of three of your best and brightest supply personnel who know international regulations and licensing. I want to see if anyone is exporting any items for making a McMoran engine from world suppliers to any unlikely location or group. It is kinda outside my group’s expertise. I have my suspicions but need supporting evidence from logistics…”
She left time for a very thoughtful silence.
; “No can do, Chief.”
“Errr… . Why not, Admiral?”
“It would mean I would have to give out a list of materials for the drive to people who are outside the circle.”
“Ahhh!” Murray groaned. He should have seen that of course. “Couldn’t we… ?”
“No.” Maureen answered succinctly.
“So we can’t do it then?”
“I didn’t say that… . I cannot give the list to others, but I can look around myself… . after all… I pretty much invented the damn list in the first place.”
Murray laughed.
“Nice!” He said.
Every politician derives their power from somewhere.
Bo Hú was no exception. It could be characterized that he can come out of Rural disaffection. Hú had been born as the poor son of a pig farmer in a dry Gansu village. He had spent his time as a mayor of a small city and later a provincial legislator and then risen to a Ministry following the twisting path that wended through the corridors of power. His message had always been simple though… framed and presented for the meanest understanding of the rural underclass. As China had moved forward and shifted its industry and manufacturing processes out of the 17th century and into the 21st… she had always moved towards consolidating her wealth and social systems in her urban centers. Except for a short period during the cultural revolution when hardened peasant soldiers were briefly in charge, the cities became the promised land. Most recently she had been undergoing a complete industrial renaissance during which the powers that be had recognized also that she was only marginally able to feed herself and had actively limited the movements of rural people into the growing population and manufacturing centers unless cleared to do so by the government. Farmers needed to grow food. This control prevented those in the country from raising their economic status or sharing easily in wealth possessed by the increasingly educated and wealthy elites inside the urban centers that were now off limits to them. By regulation farmers were generally required to remain on the farm where they crouched in their 3rd century houses and huts and watched the 21st century media showing them the wonderful lifestyles of China’s rich and famous. Showing the have-nots something they would never be—haves. The poor country mice began to be more and more disaffected and easily responded to Hú’s message as their champion.
