by Randy Moffat
His blood pressure rose swiftly when he saw the short note’s straightforward signature block which indicated it was from:
Damon Murray
Terran Exploratory Space Service
The entire content was a single sentence that said, “Would like to meet and discuss matters of potential mutual interest.” That was it. As it happened Li knew that Damon Murray was the TESS head of intelligence though his capabilities were a relative cipher. TESS was too new and entity to have much of footprint and Murray himself had been a relative unknown when he assumed the position. As he contemplated the screen a java script suddenly executed and an image disguised as a period at the end of the single sentence suddenly expanded. It should have been impossible, Li had the latest antiviral technologies to screen for just these kind of activities, but it happened anyway. It was a bit of showing away Li thought, but it also added a parenthetical about Murray’s tech savvy and an underline to the abilities of his newly formed service. The image was a picture of a map with text embedded in it and a big ‘X’ on a building beside a date time group.
A thousand possibilities raced through Li’s mind. He realized that the fact that the e-mail had come to him at all meant that Murray not only knew that Li was Chinese intelligence and that he was actually important in the organization. Something virtually no one on the planet knew and Li had worked very hard to keep that way. He flushed in annoyance. This was getting ridiculous. First the nasty Hú and now these TESS upstarts.
Li glanced at his watch instinctively amused suddenly by the idea of an intelligence scavenger hunt.
They had just completed a preplanned series of ever more complex maneuvers to test the SS Tellus capabilities and she had not been found seriously wanting. She hung now in Lunar orbit. The moon herself absolutely filled the lower camera screens while Captain Dixon ran his eyes lovingly across the stars that littered his camera monitors presenting views from forward, left, right, top, and rear. The depth of the universe seemed to go on forever and it struck him with a true thrill once again that he was standing on the bridge of ship that was literally capable of bringing the stars closer! For all his compassé airs that the mantle of his rank required of him, a chill went right down through him to his core.
He was in space dammit!
He was a commander of TESS! He may ‘only’ be the second of his kind and he tried consciously to rein in his excitement. After all… whoever remembered that “Buzz” Aldrin was the second man on the moon? Who recalled the second atom bomb was flown on Bock’s Car rather than the Enola Gay? Who knew that it had been Alfred Wallace’s threatened publication of his own theory of evolution that goaded Charles Darwin after decades of sitting on his manuscript into finally bringing his little book out to become a best seller that revolutionized the world? Coming in second might sting later when considered from that rather august level of comparison. But not here… not now. He might be the first man to command a fully actualized spaceship. But space was the thing. The ultimate mountaintop. Sir Edmund Hillary could eat his heart out. The thrill went down through him again. He sighed complacently. He was home. In space.
Dixon was in command of a true space ship. The latest TESS had and one that made all previous space craft into mere baby steps leading to the bridge he stood on. He found new steel in his heart and was determined to command it with honor and distinction for TESS. Inside though, way down deep next to his hardened heart and gut he felt like a boy who had been given the greatest toy in the universe. He shrugged his mental shoulders. At this time and place it was the most remarkable thing he could imagine, the apogee of any man’s existence and he looked at having achieved it with great complacence.
In TESS complacence cannot last long.
An alarm sounded. He glanced sharply at a grouping of idiot lights. A slight drop in pressure on the port side lower. The third since the flight began. He could hear his bridge crew already alerting a team to move to seal it. Pressure leaks were part of TESS doing business as long as it still used re-tasked submarines for hulls. One day the service would have the time and the resources to build a hull from the keel up, but for now TESS’ ships were a compromise between economy, expediency and speed of production. A leaky compromise as it turned out. Dixon quirked a lip up at the corner of his mouth. Even with a leaking ship he could still have something to be smug about. He had seen Admiral MacMoran’s reports of near continuous repairs aboard the Gaia since she’s been launched. The Tellus was a atmospheric dream compared to her older sister. A Rolls Royce compared to a model T. A 707 compared to a Curtiss Jenny. He reminded himself that however difficult his life might be. No matter how hard things got. He had it easy compared to the original TESS team on the Gaia.
Two people floated up to him simultaneously to report. He got to work.
Turned out the “X” in his E-mail treasure map was a mom and pop coffee shop not far from the Boston commons.
Li squared his shoulders under his Armani suit and walked boldly in. Boldly that is, in his low-key subfusc way.
He recognized the rotund frame and signature brilliant Aloha shirt on Murray instantly. The shirt and man were squatting in a corner booth over a large latte, his shirt half hidden by an unzipped old blue polar tech with a cigarette burn in one arm and his big belly poking out the front. The man looked clueless to his surroundings while scanning an I-pad with flickering fingers. To Li he seemed just one step away from looking homeless. A perfect disguise. Whoever looks directly at the homeless?
Li ordered a coffee and got cream and sugar in a leisurely manner before walking over and sliding into the booth opposite Murray.
Murray glanced at him through his eyebrows and continued punching at some ap on his pad with his round stubby fingers as if Li and Murray knew each other well. Li caught a glimpse of the screen as he wormed his buttocks into the bench seat. Zombies were being machine gunned left and right and Murray’s eyes were busily flickering back and forth over the screen faster than his fingers.
“You are late.” Murray said. “Abominably late, Mr. Li. Twelve minutes late to be exact.” He was still not looking up and he continued to stab his index finger about fifteen times in three seconds near the center of the screen and obliterating more walking dead. Li feared that the glass on the pad would give way under the violent force of the blows.
“Couldn’t find the place. I was temporarily blinded by the glow of your shirt.” Li said sipping carefully.
Murray barked a laugh, hit a pause button then and laid his pad and its game aside. The choice of ‘pause’ over ‘off’ was telling. It was time for another more interesting game altogether. If he did not enjoy it he could always go to back to what he had been playing. Apparently Li was being tested.
“Love your English. American as apple pie.” Murray said casually.
Li scratched a cheek. The simple sentence and the sharp eyes suggested to him that Murray knew everything he needed to know about Li’s past and present. The man might look like a schlub, but the mind behind the slovenly disguise worked well. Li’s caution rose and he glanced right and left. Murray was all over that too.
“Please! Give me some credit. There is only me in here. Nothing up my sleeve. No listening. No witnesses. No recording at all…” He glanced up at the cracked bubble cam in the ceiling. “. . . other than the CCTV in the back room they keep on to try and catch stick up artists here. I think its beta tape… . built in 1982 or something.” He held up an aged video tape cartridge and slid it across the table. “I lifted the tape on my way to the can as soon as I got here. To keep this simple. I want to do some business with you… not piss you off.”
Li swallowed. For the first time he felt something less like caution and something more like fear. Murray was reading his mind. This big man was very good indeed.
“I see.” He said noncommittally and carefully sipped his coffee to show his lack of concern.
Murray looked dir
ectly into his eyes for the first time.
“Maybe you do and maybe you don’t. I am maybe one of five guys in the US who know you are Chinese intelligence. I am one of three guys who know that you sent a message to the Chinese Ministry of National Security some time ago informing them of inquiries from the field about a nasty piece of work that might have occurred to a certain ancient TESS pilot. My guess is that your message was actually responsible for alerting the clueless bastards over at Chinese State Security to begin sniffing around. Unless I am mistaken, that blood hounding will lead them like an arrow to a guy named Bo Hú. Who knows where that will lead? With luck I am maybe the only guy in the world who has yet figured how all those things are related and suspects that you are up to some kind of double game.”
The conversation was going in an ugly direction. Li looked at Murray without comment though he felt a momentary urge to bolt for the door.
“I have an excellent relationship currently with Mr. Hú and the current Ministry of National Security.” Li said mildly.
Murray grinned.
“‘Current’ . . . is an interesting word. Just as is the word ‘currently’ . . .” Li flushed. It was a slip he had not intended. He felt at a further disadvantage. Murray rolled his fingertips in a rapid cascade on the table several times. “I get it though. You are playing both sides. Biding your time. Not sure I would play it any other way myself in your shoes. So here is the thing.” He slowed the pace of his voice down to enunciate each word. “I… don’t… care!” He met Li’s eyes evenly again to convey his sincerity. Oddly Li did not doubt it. Murray held up a finger. “But! . . . But! . . . You have effectively reported an ultra right Chinese Communist politician to the Chinese Communist Party’s watchdogs, right?”
Li sipped and looking over Murray’s head he quoted a report he had once read.
“As a substitute for the failure of communist ideology, the CCP has based its legitimacy in recent years on the twin pillars of economic performance and nationalism.” He refocused his eyes on Murray’s to portray returned sincerity. “To be perfectly correct. Mr. Hú is not much of a communist. He is instead a nationalist. A person for whom China is the center of universe. He cares only about China and nothing about the party. This is perhaps a source of potential discord between the two organizations you have mentioned.”
Murray looked at him quizzically.
“So this nudge to state security to pay attention to Hú is you being a champion of the CCP? You? A near perfect fat cat capitalist? A guy who drives a Lincoln SUV the size of a battleship, owns two point five condos, a mansion in Newton and a house in Hyannis Port? Qin “Pork Barrel” Li is now a gladiator for the commies?” Murray’s eyebrow had been arching higher with each word.
Li smiled fully for the first time and responded humbly.
“I may act as a minor lynchpin for communist polity around information, but I make no claim about being a truly good communist.” He sipped his coffee in genteel innocence.
“Fair enough.” Murray nodded, leaning back cocking his coffee cup to one side. “I actually get that kind of split personality. I was an American before I came over to TESS and they are supposed to be capitalists. I suck at being a capitalist myself. Spend everything I earn on video games…” He glances down at his ensemble. “. . . and wardrobe. Still… you haven’t actually come out and confessed it… . but the way I figure this move you have no love in your heart for this particular nut job Hú. No boo-hoo for old Bo Hú. If I am right then let me lay it all out. I am here to trade information that I have on Hú and his actions to take over all of China and enlist your support by providing me some solid intel on him you might have. Oh… and most precisely I also want any information you may have on key followers of Hú. A guy called Zeng in particular.”
That surprised Li on several levels. He knew that Hú was ambitious, but had not realized that he was that ambitious. If this man said it though, Li suddenly did not doubt it. Hú was aiming very high indeed. Even higher than Li had realized when he had been dragged to the meeting in Shanghai against his will. Murray also clearly knew that Li had been sending information to Zeng.
This contact had just complicated Li’s situation, but it intrigued him as a possibility as well. Perhaps he could use it to serve his own cause. He took a chance.
“Let me simply say that Mr. Hú’s sanity is very much in question. While I cannot find it in my heart to love Mr. Lau either; I certainly would prefer him at the helm of a smooth sailing Chinese ship of state over Mr. Hú. Frankly, Mr. Hú is bad for business. Everyone’s business. Perhaps then we may have some common ground here. What do you want from me precisely?”
Murray shrugged his big shoulders.
“For one thing Hú hates TESS. We simply cannot negotiate with him. For another… I suspect him of having kidnapped Colonel Jeeter. We want Jeeter back, we want him fast and we want your help in getting him. I need five W intelligence on Hú. For example… what facilities, where are they and why are they holding him there… .”
It was like a new player had suddenly jumped into a seat at Li’s blackjack table in Atlantic City. The odds had shifted with subtlety as soon as Murray and he sat down together. Suddenly clicking dice rolled to a halt in Li’s head and he suppressed a grin.
“Let me understand this precisely. TESS’ sole interest in this affair is the well being of one aged pilot? Colonel Jeeter is all TESS wants in all of this… this… Chinese game of thrones? That seems a very… limited objective.”
Murray shrugged and put on his educative tone.
“Look… what most people just don’t get about TESS is that we are extraterritorial! Our eyes are on the stars, not the ground. In the final analysis China’s needs, wants and desires are of damned little interest to us. Our people is what TESS is made up of—not some random lines someone scribbled on the ground in an atlas and called borders.” He leaned forward making solid eye contact again. “Unlike normal nation-states… you mess with our people and you mess with us!”
Li thought about that for a minute. He realized it was a new point of view—logical in such a new entity. A unique entity he realized—with unique motivations. It meant that TESS was coming at the great game from a completely different direction than most people who played it on behalf of nation-states. A valuable insight he hoarded for later consideration.
“Why approach a minor Chinese intelligence functionary like me then? Rather than talk to me would it not make more sense to talk to or bring in more powerful allies? The CIA and FBI for example? They would certainly make strong friends.” He suggested. “It is even possible the Americans may want to know what you are planning from a foreign policy perspective. More, they have powerful forces and resources who could be of use to you. Perhaps they can provide some of those assets to assist you.” Li said logically.
Murray cocked his head.
“No FBI! We got a bad taste in our mouths for US acronyms right now.” He said simply. “The admiral… my boss, has already spoken to the American government as a whole and they have given us everything we can expect from them. We will not ask them for more.” His tone was so dismissive that Li knew this was final. There was something there he did not understand. Events perhaps he had not been privy to. Still… it was refreshing on some level to be having a conversation with a fully aware intelligence person. After dealing with the Hú organization it was like splashing cold water on his face. Someone who listened instead or talking at great length about nothing. Someone who understood quickly without useless chatter. A man who grasped everything efficiently. In his inner heart, his real heart, he realized he rather liked Murray. This could be fun rather than drudgery. Li’s smile was utterly genuine and open this time.
“As the local representative of the People’s will… . and empowered as I am by the Chinese Communist Party… let me simply say…” He leaned in close for the aside. “. . . and just between us we can overlook
the Marxist irony here… perhaps we can do some business. As it happens I have some video of a particular facility that may be of interest to TESS…”
A group of young men wove into a crowded street fair where booths sold everything you could imagine from rags to computer pads all through a wide square. In contrast the much more western style clothes of the large crowd of more than ten thousand, the men were dressed in what many would identify as highly idealized traditional Chinese garb. A top and trousers made of quilted fabric. High felted boots and a black belt with silver colored buckles and a Militia for Work logo emblazoned on both the buckle and the chest. Oriental steam punk—a sharp contrast to the ordinary citizens about them who would have passed for an average crowd in most western malls. Many militia also wore a headgear with ear flaps and most affected a wooden sword worn at 45 degrees across their shoulder… more modern weapons being denied citizens by law. A wooden sword was a good choice for the Militia. They did not legally qualify as a weapon, were not precisely prohibited by local statutory codes and were therefore technically street legal. The militia found them useful in battering opponents not skilled in stick fighting and on rare occasions when actually fighting police who were not clearly subservient to their leader Hú. The wooden swords had proved to be more than a match for a police baton—even the long ones affected by riot squads.
The men coalesced quickly into separate groups near all exits from the square. More small groups of similarly dressed men entered at five minute intervals until a few hundred were gathered and mingling. Chinese mobs are skittish though. The more attuned among the crowd shied away from the groups of militia who looked grim and purposeful against the holiday canvas backdrop of shoppers. The waves of those thus repelled were like waves in the ocean. They swept little ripples of people in front of Militia groups. These pulses of people kept the little Militia cells slightly separate even in the teeming sea of bodies. The most attuned shoppers picked up on the increasing numbers of militia about, smelled trouble and quietly exited the square. A few merchants even hurriedly closed their carts, rolled up their mats and jogged off. The square was still nine tenths full though and any sense of alarm had certainly not spread fully through the crowd yet. Then music could be heard over the crowd noise getting closer and suddenly the front end of a winding snake of humans five persons wide wound into the square through the northernmost gate. They waved neatly printed banners and carried professionally clear signs in Pinyin that more or less proclaimed the worker’s paradise and touted the infinite virtues of Premier Lau. The 2000 people in this carefully routed parade were on their way to a locale three squares south of this one where they were carefully scheduled to join five thousand of their fellows in a ‘spontaneous’ demonstration of love and support for beloved Premier Lau; father of China.
