“Why don’t I go in alone?” Paul said. “If it goes badly, you two still have a chance to escape.”
Gamay shook her head. “For better or for worse, remember?”
“This is definitely worse.”
“It’ll be fine,” she said. “Besides, prison can’t be any worse than sleeping in a van.”
“If only that were true,” Paul said. “Still, we’re overdue for an upswing in fortune, that’s for sure.”
They stepped inside and came to a checkpoint that was manned twenty-four hours a day. Several guards came up and began rummaging through their equipment. “Credentials,” one guard said.
Mel produced her network ID and began to explain, “These two are part of my new production crew. They’re . . .”
The lead guard ignored her, staring intently at Paul and Gamay. After a second of indecision, he shouted something in Chinese and waved his crew forward. The Americans were soon surrounded.
“We’re here to see General Zhang,” Paul said. “We’re here to surrender. We have something he needs to see.”
Melanie repeated the phase in Chinese.
The leader shook his head and picked up a phone. The other guards drew their guns. One of them tried to force Paul to his knees.
“Allow them to enter.”
The voice came from the shadows. All eyes turned in that direction and the frenetic activity ceased.
From the depths of the lobby, a short, stocky figure emerged. He wore a full military uniform in the pea green color of the People’s Liberation Army. His chest was bedecked with medals and his hat—his cover—was pulled down tightly, shading his eyes.
The security crew snapped to attention.
“Search them thoroughly and see them to my office,” the new arrival said.
“General,” the lead guard said, “these two are wanted criminals. They are listed on the sheet as priority one apprehensions: Enemies of the State.”
The General stared laser beams at the security agent. “I gave you an order.”
“Yes, General.”
Paul and Gamay watched the events unfold with a running translation from Mel. It was easy enough to see they’d found General Zhang.
“I guess Rudi has a friend here after all.”
Searched thoroughly and relieved of all their equipment, they were taken into the building and separated from Mel. Paul and Gamay were led up to a seventh-floor office. They were left inside on their own.
“Now what?” Paul said.
“We wait,” Gamay said. “Let’s hope General Zhang is willing to listen.”
Paul certainly hoped so. He turned and gazed out a large picture window, with its view over the building’s shell and out onto the plaza. The gray morning had arrived.
“Those windows don’t open,” General Zhang said. “So if you’re thinking of escaping . . .”
He came through the door with the laptop under his arm. Paul turned his way. Gamay stood respectfully.
“We wouldn’t have surrendered, if that was the plan,” Paul said. “Are you General Zhang?”
“I am,” the General replied. “And the two of you are Paul and Gamay Trout, members of NUMA and American citizens. Some would say you’re also spies. Certainly you’re both here illegally. And, I must inform you, that is a crime punishable by death.”
Paul doubted there would be any firing squad, but years in a Chinese gulag were not out of the question. “We’re hoping all of that can be avoided,” Paul said. “We’re not here as spies but as messengers. That’s why Rudi contacted you. He’s trusting you to hear what we have to say.”
“‘Trusting me’?” the General said. He laughed lightly, removed his cap and placed it on the desk. “Only if he’s a fool.”
“But you do know him,” Gamay said, standing up, “don’t you?”
“Rudi Gunn sent me a message. He asked me to hear you out. He implored me to listen based on our previous contacts during the Nighthawk catastrophe. You two were part of that also, if I’m not mistaken.”
Paul and Gamay both nodded.
The General sat on the edge of his desk. “I spoke to many people in your government that night. Most of them were arrogant, combative and pigheaded. But Rudi gained my respect. He spoke facts instead of positions. He sought results instead of posturing for leverage. For that reason, I’ve agreed to hear you out. But I warn you, that’s all I’ve agreed to.”
Understanding the connection between Rudi and Zhang gave Paul more confidence. “Rudi told you how to defuse the bomb that had been placed aboard the Chinese aircraft. Gamay and I risked our lives to get that information to Rudi in the first place.”
“Admirable,” Zhang said, “but irrelevant to me. You were trying to save your own cities at the time.”
“There’s truth to that as well,” Gamay said.
Zhang waved toward the seats near his desk. “Down to business,” he said. “Tell me, what could possibly be worth violating my country’s sovereignty and risking your lives over?”
“Better if we show you,” Paul said. He reached for the laptop. “May I?”
Zhang handed it over and Paul began the presentation. He went through the data methodically, explaining step by step how they’d discovered and measured the accelerating rise in the sea levels; how they’d traced it to the East China Sea and then to the deepwater mining operation. Finally, he explained the science that led them to the fissures cutting through the continental plate and the unfathomable amounts of water held in the layer of ringwoodite down below.
General Zhang watched the presentation calmly, interrupting with an occasional question but otherwise waiting patiently for Paul to finish.
“You make it sound so plausible,” he then said. “But why would the water still be rising to the surface if the mining operation has been abandoned for a year?”
“We don’t know,” Paul admitted. “But have your geologists look at the data. Have them run any test or experiment they want. They’ll come to the same conclusion.”
“And I’m supposed to believe this isn’t a desperate ploy to make us reveal the nature of the subsurface operation?”
He spoke with great sarcasm in his voice, but Paul sensed it was a perfunctory question. While he considered how to respond, Gamay took it upon herself to reply.
“General,” she said politely. “Do you really think we’d throw our freedom away on a lie? If we’re wrong, you’ll put us in prison for years until a trade is worked out. We’re not spies and we’re not pawns. We came here of our own free will, looking for answers. It was only when we were cornered and threatened that we went on the run. You asked what would compel us to risk our lives and violate China’s border. The answer is simple: to avert disaster. The same reason Rudi contacted you a year ago when your agents stole the containment unit from the Nighthawk.”
Zhang remained quiet. He seemed to be considering everything that was said.
Paul added a few thoughts. “As a high-ranking member of the Chinese security service, you might already know everything we’ve told you. In which case, the only decision you have to make is what to do with us. But if this is news, then you’re either wondering how it all transpired beneath your nose or if perhaps we’re making it up. Assuming that’s the case, might I suggest you check on our story? There are plenty of ways to verify what we’ve told you. The simplest of which is to send an ROV to the canyon and get the truth for yourself. You might also pull a file on Walter Han and see what he’s been up to.”
The General narrowed his gaze. “Walter Han? The industrialist?”
“Yes,” Paul said. “We have reason to believe the half-buried robot on the video is one of his. And we know for a fact that he’s been running around Japan attempting to prevent us and our colleagues from investigating since we arrived there.”
The General looked down and
tugged at the crease in his slacks. This news seemed to bother him more than anything else he’d been told. He turned to the windows that didn’t open and stared out through them, much as Paul had earlier.
“I’m afraid you’ve come to the wrong man,” he said finally. “If Walter Han is involved, then these events are being directed from a position far above mine.”
“And whose position might that be?” Gamay asked.
General Zhang didn’t answer.
Paul stepped forward. A reluctant ally was better than a smiling enemy and he sensed that’s what they’d found. “It’s your job to protect China, is it not?”
“Of course,” Zhang said.
“Then consider this,” Paul said. “What we’ve shown you will become obvious to the rest of the world before too long. The sea level is rising and the pace of that rise is accelerating. The cause is almost certainly the mining operation at the bottom of the East China Sea. That truth is going to come out whether you want it to or not. At this moment, and not for very much longer, you and you alone have the ability to control how that truth is revealed.”
Zhang was listening. “Go on.”
“There are two possibilities,” Paul said. “This event can be a massive ecological disaster caused by the Chinese government. Or it can be the result of a rogue industrialist putting the world in danger through his own arrogance and lust for wealth.”
“Blame it on Han,” the General said. “Find a scapegoat. That’s what you’re suggesting.”
“Save face for China,” Paul corrected. “If you play the hero by exposing the corruption and singling out Walter Han, you can protect China’s reputation. Even if he’s backed by your government in some form or another, those links can be erased. Considering the situation, our government will agree to keep it a secret. But you have to act soon. You have to get out in front of this.”
“And Han is thrown to the wolves,” Zhang said.
“Someone has to be. Why not him?”
Zhang folded both arms across his chest, contemplating silently. He did not move for a full minute and then walked back to the desk.
“You two will remain here,” he said. “I’ve sent the guards who saw you enter on an early vacation. Don’t worry, no harm will come to them. Nor to your friend the reporter. No one else knows of your presence in this building, but, ironically enough, the very people who are hunting you reside several floors above us.”
Without another word, Zhang plucked his hat from the desktop, put it firmly in place and walked out the door.
* * *
• • •
GENERAL ZHANG got off the elevator on the ninth floor of the building. He strode down the hall, arriving outside an office at the far end. A second layer of security stood at attention as he approached.
“Is the Lao-shi present?” he asked a two stripe corporal.
“Yes, sir,” the corporal said. “He’s not to be disturbed.”
“I will see him,” Zhang said.
“But sir, he . . .”
“I will see him . . . now.”
The corporal fell silent. Nothing could be worse for a low-ranking enlisted man than to face conflicting orders from higher-ups. In the end, Zhang was a general and Wen was a politician. The uniform made the difference. He snapped a salute, opened the door and stood aside.
Zhang wandered in and discovered Wen sitting on a couch, watching the morning news . . . from Japan.
Wen did not look up. “I left orders not to be disturbed.”
“So you did,” Zhang said. “I countermanded them.”
Wen was not a reactionary man—few who held such power were, as they didn’t need to be—but his frame tensed at the insubordination.
“Leave me, General,” he said dismissively. “I did not call for you. And unless your forces have finally proven competent and captured the Americans, I have no desire to speak with you.”
Wen had forced every military and police organization in the government to share in the search for the Americans. Such was his power. It was Zhang’s reason for being in Shanghai when he would have preferred to remain in Beijing, but Wen had refused him that luxury.
He stepped forward. The cap was removed once again. “The Americans have indeed been found,” he said. “And they tell a most interesting story.”
Only now did Wen give Zhang his full attention. “Where are they? I will see them at once.”
“That will have to wait.”
Wen stood up and the benign old face looked suddenly menacing and evil. “You dare defy me? I thought you were smarter than that.”
Zhang wondered if he was making a mistake. Wen was the second-most-powerful man in the country and the main architect of so much mischief. While the Chinese Premier ran the country and dealt with the day-to-day operations of the Communist Party, Wen remained behind the scenes, manipulating levers most did not even know about. He could make or break anyone, even a man as important as General Zhang.
Then again, China was no place for the timid. It was more like ancient Rome than Western governments. Power was collected and wielded. It was taken, not given. And Zhang now had a chip to play. “What is Walter Han doing for you in Japan? We know he’s a proxy of yours.”
“That question will cost you dearly, General.”
“Nevertheless, I will have an answer.”
The standoff continued. Wen stared, unused to being challenged in any real fashion.
Zhang stood rigid, holding his ground.
Finally, Wen turned away. He walked to a small table and sat down. Another half-finished game of Go was arranged on the table. Wen reached into the pot and pulled out a black stone.
“Hands where I can see them, Lao-shi.”
“Are you arresting me?” Wen asked.
“That depends on what Walter Han is up to in Japan,” Zhang said. “And on his connection with the mining disaster at the Serpent’s Jaw.”
“Ah . . .” Wen said. “So you know a thing or two.” He turned his full attention to the game board and refused to honor Zhang with another glance. He pointed a bony finger toward the television screen. “Watch the news,” he said. “Soon you will see.”
57
NAGASAKI PREFECTURE
KURT AND JOE emerged from the water on a stony beach. Tossing their fins aside, they raced across the beach like competitors in a triathlon. The similarity ended when they smashed the window of a car, silenced the alarm and hot-wired it in record time.
Speeding down the coastal road, Kurt stated the obvious. “We need to get to the Friendship Pavilion before the signing ceremony.”
“We could go to the police,” Joe suggested.
“And tell them what?” Kurt asked. “Robots that look exactly like us are going to shoot the Prime Minister? The truth will get us sedated and put in a hospital for the delusional.”
“At least it would give us an alibi,” Joe suggested. “We can hardly have assassinated the Prime Minister if we were being medicated in a psych ward at the time.”
“That won’t save the Prime Minister or implicate Han,” Kurt said. “And I intend to do both.”
“How?”
“Catching him in the act. Ripping the masks off those robots in front of the TV cameras.”
“Great idea,” Joe said. “But if we’re one minute late . . .”
“I know,” Kurt said, changing gears and charging through the traffic. “We’ll have played right into his hands one more time.”
A mile down the road, Kurt pulled over in front of a store that had yet to open for the day. He and Joe broke in and rummaged through the clothes on the rack. Grabbing some items, they raced out and drove off.
“We’re a regular two-man crime wave,” Joe said. “We’ve stolen a boat, a car and clothes all in the last twenty-four hours. If this keeps up, Nagano will be right to
claim it’s the foreigners doing all the lawbreaking in Japan.”
“Let’s hope he gets the chance.”
Kurt drove on until the traffic became impassable. The area near the pavilion was packed with visitors, members of the media and security teams. Every road Kurt turned down was either mired in gridlock or cordoned off.
“Ditch the car,” Joe suggested. “We’ll go on foot.”
Kurt parked and the two of them got out and ran. Soon they were queuing up with the crowd and then passing through a metal detector before entering the pavilion.
“Wonder how the robots managed that?” Joe whispered.
“Probably came in the back door,” Kurt said. “Betting Nagano’s ID came in handy for that.”
“Where do you think we’ll find them?”
“Not sure about the others,” Kurt said, “but my duplicate will be front and center at the signing, so the whole world will have a perfect view of the action. The others will probably be arranged along an escape route. The real question is, how do we stop them? They’re a lot stronger than us and basically bulletproof.”
Joe gave him a brief smile. “I’ve been wrestling with that question ever since I saw you wrestling with yourself, and losing.”
“And?”
“Remember the pat-down at Kenzo’s castle?” Joe said. “They used a big electromagnet to wipe out the programming from any devices we might have concealed. We can do the same to our robotic twins.”
Kurt grinned, as he always did at Joe’s brilliance. “Can you rig one up?”
“All I need is a large metal nail, an extension cord and an outlet to plug it into.”
* * *
• • •
THE CEREMONY was a formal one. But like so many things in politics, it was primarily driven by the needs of the press. TV cameras were arranged. Photographers with their tripods and bags of equipment were given floor space up front. Reporters with recording devices stood shoulder to shoulder behind them.
The Rising Sea Page 33
