‘Thanks so much for this, Coop. I owe you.’
‘You don’t owe me anything, except dinner with my girls when you’re next over here. They miss you like hell, you know. And, Bear, just once in your life, listen to an old bugger like me and stay out of trouble.’
‘I promise. Merci beaucoup,’ Bear said, her smile widening as she put down the phone. Glancing up at the wall clock, she quickly got up from her chair, shoving her purse and mobile phone back into her handbag. Slipping on her shoes, she was turning to leave when out of the corner of her eye she noticed an email appear in her inbox. She was about to ignore it, but then changed her mind and clicked it open. It was a message sent through the company’s secure intranet from one of their divisional branches in the Democratic Republic of Congo.
Beatrice,
We need some help here. Early this morning, we obtained a small quantity of a mineral I haven’t seen before. The vendors couldn’t tell me what it was either, only that it came out of a place north of here called the Ituri Forest. Anyway, Accounts aren’t going to like this as we had to pay a small fortune for it, but it was worth the price. I think this might be something totally new.
We’ve been running tests all day and think it might be a concentrated derivative of tantalite. Can that be possible? What’s strange is that usually tantalite is found alongside columbite, i.e. coltan, but this seems to be something else. And I can’t find any references online.
Can you get up to Goma in the next couple of days? I want to keep this quiet and stay clear of sending anything via courier. Get Kimberly to approve and let me know your arrival times.
Pieter
Bear stared at the message, her body rigid. Someone had been systematically crippling coltan mines around the world and now this – a concentrated derivative of coltan discovered in the Congo. There had to be a connection.
Reading the message once again, she paused on the last sentence, feeling her stomach tighten. Goma. Why did it have to be Goma? That was the one place in the world she wanted to avoid – the place where her father was. And now, after all this time, it looked like she would be going back there.
Chapter 9
GENERAL JIAN SAT hunched over a vast wooden desk, his face almost touching its surface. A single shard of light shone down from one of the high windows, its luminescence making his cotton shirt glow a brilliant white. Above him, dust motes hung in the beam, suspended in the perfectly still air. The room had a sense of undisturbed calm, like a long-forgotten storeroom in the vaults of a museum.
In the centre of the table lay a large glass dome. The crystal was beautifully ornate, with a finely crafted handle on each side, shaped like the wings of an angel. Inside the dome were three large butterflies. They sat perfectly still, with their wings closed, revealing only the moss-coloured undersides of their bodies and their symmetrical ‘eye’ markings. Occasionally, one of them would slowly open its wings and a flash of iridescent blue would gleam in the light. The colour had a fierce metallic sheen which seemed to glow brighter as the wings parted.
Jian sat with the side of his head pressed against the table, waiting for the butterflies to reveal themselves. He didn’t blink for several minutes.
‘General. May I present Xie Zhaoguo?’
A man shuffled into the room, stopping only a few feet beyond the entrance. Slowly turning his head, he squinted, trying to adjust his eyes to the prevailing darkness. Shapes began to appear in the half-light and he soon realised that almost every inch of the walls was covered with wooden picture frames. There were hundreds of them, stretching high towards the domed ceiling.
‘It is a pleasure to meet you, General,’ Xie said, smiling awkwardly. There was no response from the man at the table. Only the back of Jian’s head was visible as he bent forward, rapt in concentration. Xie waited, the seconds passing slowly. He coughed politely. ‘And my apologies for disturbing your work.’
His voice was soft and light, with an air of sincerity which made Jian slowly turn away from the table. With the light directly behind him, his face remained in shadow, black eyes set deep in his skull.
‘It is always a pleasure to receive a member of the Guild,’ Jian intoned, his voice devoid of emotion.
Xie shuffled a little further towards the table. He moved slowly as if unsure he would be able to make the distance, and paused for a second just beyond the well of light. He waited, staring at Jian for several seconds before finally stepping forward to reveal a rounded face with dark rings visible under the eyes. Years of living with incurable insomnia had left Xie looking exhausted, with perpetually pallid, dry skin. Despite his relative youth, lines had already etched their way deep into the corners of his eyes, turning his expression into something approaching surprise.
‘Butterflies,’ he said, a faint smile appearing on his lips. ‘They call that entomology, right?’
Jian looked at the tired squint and dishevelled hair, wondering exactly how old Xie was. He could be anywhere from his mid-thirties to fifty.
‘That’s the generic term for the study of insects. For butterflies and moths, it is lepidopterology.’
‘Lepidopterology,’ Xie repeated, pronouncing the word slowly as though he were trying to commit it to memory. Jian watched him, detesting the idea of exchanging pleasantries with a Guild member. Usually, they got straight down to business, expecting him to account for every last yuan he’d spent on the satellite launches.
As Xie casually rested his hand on the table, Jian’s eyes followed the movement. He took in every detail; the little finger on his left hand curling upwards, the knuckles pressing against the wood, whitening the skin over the bone.
‘So what are these ones, then?’ Xie said, raising his other hand. His forefinger pressed against the domed glass, leaving a small smear on the perfectly clean surface. Jian’s eyes hardened.
‘They’re called Blue Morpho from South America,’ he answered, his voice softening despite himself. He found even the names of these rare butterflies simply intoxicating. They had arrived only this morning from Colombia and were going to be the pride of his collection. As he spoke, one of the butterflies slowly peeled back its wings in a shimmering, electric blue burst, refracting the white light from the ceiling like a mirage. The colour was rich and indulgent, broken only by delicate lace-like veins fanning out across the surface of the wing and blackening their tips.
‘Beautiful,’ Xie said, peering closer. As he said the word, Jian froze. He turned towards the butterflies, staring at them indulgently.
‘Yes,’ he breathed. ‘Quite beautiful.’
The butterfly closed its wings, the blue suddenly replaced by drab green.
‘They spend much of their time flying low through the canopy,’ Jian said, his head tilting to one side. ‘The contrasting colours make them look as if they appear, then disappear, with each beat of their wings, while the green perfectly camouflages them in the forest. It’s how they confuse predators.’
‘Is that right?’
‘Yes,’ Jian whispered. ‘That is right.’
With his left hand, he pushed back the top of the glass dome, sliding his right hand underneath. His fingers inched towards the nearest of the three butterflies.
‘But if you should so much as touch their wings, they would never be able to fly again. The natural oils on your fingers strip away the microscopic scales that produce the colour, and the wings are so finely balanced that if even a few scales are missing, it fatally disrupts their flight.’
As he spoke, Jian’s black eyes narrowed in concentration and the tip of his tongue poked out. The butterfly went to move off, then paused for a second longer. Jian’s hand skilfully slid out, pinching hold of its body between thumb and forefinger. The butterfly went rigid, then gradually its wings opened, quivering in reflex.
‘You must partially break the exoskeleton, but take care not to crush the thorax,’ Jian explained, his voice a hollow whisper. ‘It paralyses the muscles that articulate the wings.’
Xie could hear Jian’s breathing deepen. His usually blank expression had changed. There was a rare intensity to his eyes that glowed brighter as the life was gradually snuffed out of the butterfly.
‘Wouldn’t it be easier to use a killing jar?’ Xie asked. ‘Isn’t that how it’s normally done?’
‘Ethyl acetate is for novices,’ Jian replied, without looking up. ‘This way you get to feel it.’
He then drew the dead butterfly out from under the glass dome and, with meticulous care, moved it across to the open wooden frame ready beside him. There was a space with the butterfly’s genus and species already inscribed neatly beneath, but before laying it down Jian stared at the creature. After a long pause, he finally looked up.
‘Beauty is so ephemeral,’ he said. ‘It exists only for a moment, a fleeting moment. That is why it is so difficult to capture.’
Xie stared at him curiously. ‘But does beauty need to be captured?’
‘Yes!’ Jian exclaimed, as if he had been personally insulted. ‘Otherwise how can you ever keep it?’
Xie remained silent. Not wanting to show his surprise, he looked up at the hundreds upon hundreds of frames displayed across the walls and wondered just how many butterflies they contained. It must have taken years to assemble such a collection. Whatever the General was, he certainly wasn’t a standard product of the Chinese army.
Over the last year, certain factions within the Guild had alluded to some ‘unusual’ elements in Jian’s behaviour. It had been decided it was up to Xie to determine the nature of these and, more importantly, whether they in any way compromised the Goma Project. He’d read all the reports and gone through the transcripts, but even now, after such a brief introduction, he already felt that the reports fell well short of accurately describing the man. Jian was clearly multi-faceted, and such types rarely played by the book.
Xie was about to say something to break the silence when Jian suddenly scraped back his chair and signalled for him to follow. Marching on ahead, he led Xie back along a corridor and out on to a wide veranda. A panorama of Beijing’s northern suburbs fanned out before them, the rooftops bleeding into skyrises as they stretched away into the heart of the city. A table had been set with wine already chilling in a cooler.
As soon as they took their places, two servants glided on to the veranda, laying down delicate soufflés and pouring out the wine. Xie stared at the array of cutlery and decided to wait for Jian to start.
‘So what exactly does the Secretariat President wish to know?’ Jian began, dabbing the corner of his mouth with a napkin.
‘It is actually more for my benefit, General. I was hoping you might be able to explain the Goma Project to me, as I’ve only recently been transferred to the Secretariat President’s office.’ Replacing his fork on his plate, Xie waved his hand casually. ‘Mr Kai thought it would be better if I heard it directly from yourself. To get a better sense of it all.’
Jian’s expression remained fixed. Did he really have to explain the minutiae of the Goma Project to some halfwit office junior just because Kai couldn’t hand him a damn’ file? He took a huge gulp of his wine, to wash away the dryness in his mouth. The powerful aftertaste of the Montrachet’s Burgundy grape rose up in his throat and he shut his eyes briefly, revelling in the taste. What would the Guild think of next to waste his time?
‘So how much do you know already?’ he asked.
‘Please, assume that I know nothing,’ Xie said, his voice softening further in apology. If he was going to study Jian, he needed to hear him describe the project from the very beginning.
Jian swirled the wine in the well of the glass before taking another gulp. Pursing his lips, he drew in air through the liquid as he had once seen the sommelier do on a trip to France. The force of the alcohol hit him straight away and he quickly set the glass down on the table, wondering why on earth the Europeans practised such a bizarre ritual. Settling back in his chair, he began to speak.
‘For many years now, the American military have owned and operated a Global Positioning System or GPS using low-earth-orbit satellites. From anywhere on the globe, these satellites can triangulate your position and tell you exactly where you are. But it is not just about navigation. Some of their basic missile systems use GPS for targeting, as do many of the UAVs.’
‘UAVs?’
Jian’s lips pursed tighter. ‘Unmanned Aerial Vehicles – or drones, as they are more commonly known. The Americans are the only ones who have this system and can encrypt it or even switch it off any time they like. So, in response, other nations have been building rival systems, predominantly the Russians with GLONASS and the Europeans with Galileo. My division of the PLA was tasked with launching a Chinese version and, after two years of production, we are under a month away from the final launch of the BNS – the Beidou Navigation System. Almost all the satellites required have already been put into orbit by my team.’
‘And the Americans know about this?’ Xie asked.
‘Of course,’ Jian snapped. ‘How do you hide a satellite launch?’
Xie nodded thoughtfully. ‘But if this is a military operation, how is the Guild involved?’
‘Money,’ Jian said, rubbing his thumb against his fingers. ‘A single satellite launch represents an outlay of nearly 150 million US dollars, which means the entire system will cost over 3 billion. With the upgrade of the air force’s J-11 strike fighters, budgets have been stretched across the board, and so we brokered a deal with the Guild to finance two-thirds of the satellite launches.’
Xie nodded again, but his expression made it clear he was struggling to keep up. Finally bringing the fork to his lips, he tasted the starter.
‘This is delicious,’ he said. ‘What do you call it?’
Jian stared across the table, his frustration bubbling through into his voice. ‘It’s called soufflé. It’s French.’
Xie took a huge forkful, gulping down the entire portion.
‘Delicious,’ he repeated, smacking his lips loudly.
‘I’ll have the chef send over the recipe.’
Xie leaned forward across the table, his forehead creasing like a man who has recently misplaced his car keys. ‘So all of this because the Guild wants a GPS system?’
‘No, not at all. It’s a carefully guarded secret amongst the PLA’s top brass that each launch contains two satellites. One for the BNS and another for a new mobile-phone network. They are designed to work concurrently and, with the expensive part of the operation being the launch of the actual satellite, both sides will be saving money. But, most importantly, the Guild wanted to launch their mobile network secretly.’
‘And why would they want to do that?’
‘Because what they are launching will do nothing less than revolutionise the entire communications industry. Every single phone will be a satellite phone, communicating directly with our BNS system.’ Xie’s expression didn’t alter and Jian leaned forward in his seat, waving his arm for emphasis. ‘Don’t you get it? Every mobile phone will be usable from anywhere in the world; in the middle of the ocean, up a mountain, in downtown New York … anywhere. And with the same signal strength.’
‘But aren’t there already satellite phones?’
‘They exist, but the handsets are huge and expensive. Ours will be just like a normal mobile phone but using high-frequency bursts to communicate with the satellites. Best of all, they will be only a fraction of the normal cost to operate. This …’ he paused, eyes fixed on Xie’s ‘… changes everything. And I’m not just talking about phones here. Imagine every laptop communicating at over 50 megabytes per second from anywhere in the world. There would be no more Wi-Fi, hotspots or routers. Your laptop would just beam directly to a satellite!’
Xie scratched his neck thoughtfully while Jian waited for his response. When none seemed forthcoming, he grabbed his wine glass, swirling the viscous liquid around with such force that he spilled a few drops. The servants quietly entered, swapping the dishes for the main c
ourse, and Jian stayed silent until they had left before continuing.
‘Do you have any idea how much the communications industry is worth? Over two trillion dollars worldwide. And we conservatively estimate we’ll corner fifteen per cent of that market in the first year. That’s 300 billion US dollars in the first year alone.’
Jian paused to let the sheer scale of the project sink in.
‘The only issue we face is actually making the handsets. Satellite phones are big and cumbersome, but by using a very rare mineral we have been able to miniaturise them to the size of a normal cell phone. At the same time, through some carefully planned military operations, we have been ensuring that the supply cost of regular cell phones is rising. Coltan is becoming more expensive.’
Jian leaned back, smiling smugly.
‘Ultimately, we will control both sides of the coin – the handsets and the network – of an industry worth over two trillion dollars.’ He raised his glass. ‘This the largest endeavour the Guild has ever initiated, and now it is only a month away from completion.’
‘It all seems very complicated to me,’ Xie said, finally. ‘But I am sure that’s why the Guild entrusted their in vestment directly to you. And you said they invested how much in the project exactly? Two-thirds of three billion, yes? That’s …’ He paused, eyes moving skyward. ‘Well, that’s …’
‘Two billion dollars,’ Jian said, staring at him in credulously.
‘Yes, quite.’
Xie smiled, then glanced down at his watch, eyebrows rising in surprise. ‘I didn’t realise it was so late. I mustn’t waste any more of your time. I am sure Mr Kai is most happy with each of the satellite launches and that the accounts are signed off.’
Jian absentmindedly touched his mouth with his right hand. He then seemed to register what he was doing and quickly brushed away some non-existent morsel of food from his lips. Xie watched the movement. It was a stereotypical response for someone being evasive. Settling back into his seat, Xie studied him closely.
The Secret Chamber Page 7
