Jimmy took a breath before pulling electronics off of racks next to him and handing them to me. “See all this stuff, sister?” he said, trying hard to remain calm.
I looked down at my lap and saw that it was stacked with hard drives and what looked like classified surveillance equipment. “What did you have in mind?”
He held up a metal wastepaper basket. “I need you to take all this incriminating evidence into that toilet behind you and when I say so, light a match to it.”
“You want me to light a fire on this airplane?”
“Yes.”
“Are you crazy?”
“Darlin’, this is just the beginnin’. Do you have any idea what kind of World War III I could start by landing this U.S. spy plane on Hainan Island intact? I’m gonna have to torch the cockpit when I exit.”
I absorbed the magnitude of what he just said.
“I’m getting rid of the evidence and sending you out on the pilot’s chute ’cause I don’t know how well I’m gonna be able to land ’er.”
I tried not to panic. “I thought you said we’d go together?” I couldn’t decide which was worse, trying to land this giant beast with one engine or ejecting out on my own above the dark angry sea, hoping for a water rescue from the radio static of Hainan Dragon. I had never had to use a parachute and had never been drawn to recreational parachuting. “Why don’t I just stay with you?”
“It’s too risky. You’ll have a better chance with a chute.”
“But, I’ve never done it.”
“It’s easy. At this altitude, just jump, count to three, and pull. It’s that simple.”
“I’m staying with you.”
“Okay, sister, don’t say I didn’t warn you about a bumpy landing.”
Jimmy kept his cool throughout the treacherous emergency landing on Hainan. We almost hit several other planes that were parked on the runway and skidded sideways to a stop just before crashing into a cement barrier.
We were feeling pretty lucky to be alive as Jimmy quickly threw some gasoline on the control panel and lit a match as we exited the aircraft. The feeling of luck was short-lived as soon as we stepped foot on the tarmac. We were taken into custody by the People’s Liberation Army Navy and treated as prisoners of war.
Rude Awakening
The incident was all over the news. And the burning of the cockpit made the Chinese military all the more furious. Even standing committee members were calling to ask questions. As far as Jimmy and I could tell, we were going to be stuck on Hainan for a long, long time.
Miraculously, Marcus managed to make a few calls to get me out of there in a matter of seventy-two hours, which is why I was back in Beijing. Apparently, one of the standing committee members had requested an interview with me since the newspaper article disclosed that I was working on a story about the ivory trade and the exotic restaurant industry.
I was on my way to the standing committee member’s house when I felt something wrap around my face, blinding me. An astringent wet cloth was slapped over my mouth as I tried to scream. I was dragged off, my hips and legs flailing before I went limp.
When I woke up, I was in the back of a limousine with Nigel sitting across from me. He was reading from Jon’s letter that his men had stolen from me.
“Catherine, stay with me,” he whispered mockingly and then crumpled up the letter and put it in his pocket. “Shame about the botched visit,” he gloated. “Jon has the same weakness as you do. Such a romantic.”
I stared at his pocket, wondering if Nigel had been in touch with Jon.
“I hope you don’t consider yourself a spy. Quite entertaining, really.”
“You seem to spend a lot of energy keeping tabs on me.”
“The day you lose your sentimentality is the day I might actually see you as a threat.” He nodded to one of his bodyguards who opened a small refrigerator and got out a chilled bottle of white wine and two chilled wineglasses. He presented the bottle to Nigel as if he were a sommelier and Nigel nodded.
“My only problem with you now is that I can’t seem to be able to get rid of you, no matter how hard I try.”
Nigel’s bodyguard opened the bottle and put a white napkin over his forearm as he poured.
“It’s time for that glass of Montrachet I promised awhile back. To celebrate.”
“Celebrate what?”
Nigel watched the wine being poured. “I believe I mentioned sharing this bottle of wine with you during our little chat in the Katima prison, the night before I flew back to Hong Kong. It’s such a special vintage. I’ve been eager to share this experience with you.”
Nigel lifted his glass as his bodyguard handed me the second one. “Cheers.” Nigel took a sip, sucked air through his clenched teeth, and rolled his eyes back like an elephant bull tasting a female’s urine to determine their hormonal status. “Oh,” he gasped. “Worth every penny.”
Without taking a sip, I threw the contents of my glass at his face. “I’m not going to play into your narcissistic game.”
Nigel calmly took the napkin from his bodyguard and dabbed at his wet face. “That was probably the most expensive facial mist I’ll ever hope to experience.”
“What do you want?”
“Since I can’t seem to shake you, I’ve decided to try a new approach.”
“And what might that be?”
“Cooperation.”
“Cooperation? I’m not going to cooperate with anything involving you. You’re a criminal, and the sooner you’re locked up, the better for the elephants.”
“Ah, of course, we can’t forget your elephant friends.” He clucked his tongue. “Shame you have such romantic notions about saving the elephants.”
“Romantic? Serving me your most expensive wine as promised from your jail cell? You’ve been saving your last bottle all this time just for me? Seems like you’re the one indulging a huge amount of energy on being a romantic.”
He grimaced. “My skin is thinner than you think.”
“I’m pleasantly surprised to hear that.”
“A pity, really.” He sipped. “At one time, I thought we could be friends.”
“You’re a bastard.”
“I always think you’re going to be cleverer than you are.” Nigel took another sip as he eyed me above the rim of his glass. “All right, we’ll forget decorum and get straight to the point. You’d sacrifice everything for your elephants, I know. But how far would you go for your beloved human friends?”
“What do you mean?”
He gave his driver a look from the rearview mirror. The driver got out and went to the car behind them. He returned and opened my door, allowing a man to slip in across from me.
“I believe you’ve met Sam Woo?”
I looked at Sam in disbelief.
“I take it from your expression that you have.”
Sam averted his eyes.
I couldn’t help wondering what Ling-Ru would think if she could see Sam sitting here like this.
Nigel smiled. “So, since there are no introductions necessary, let’s get down to business.”
My mind raced through the past week and everything that I had confided in Sam—even showing him my inner weaknesses. Did I hold anything back? One thing, yes, the thing that Mr. Hang had expressed such concern about. The mysterious NNS. God, I had been such a fool.
Sam finally looked at me but with distant eyes, as if we had never met.
“Now, you didn’t think I’d let you carry out such an important meeting on your own, did you? Sam here is going to escort you on your little visit to the esteemed Dr. Liau Xing—just to make sure it goes smoothly.”
“I don’t need an interpreter, thanks.”
“I do marvel over your ability to maintain your sense of humor through adversity. That is indeed admirable. Seems to be a point of national pride with you Americans.”
“What are you hoping to achieve by co-opting my meeting?”
“The only reason Dr. Xing has an inter
est in you is because he sees a business opportunity. He is hoping to garner another sale of legal ivory from Namibia before the trade is shut down. Given your ties there, you are an obvious conduit.”
“I have nothing to do with the sale of ivory—”
Nigel nodded paternally and talked over me. “You’re going to tell Dr. Xing that you are in cooperation with the Sun Hee Un to import legal shipments of ivory from Namibia to Shanghai and Beijing.”
“You must know by now that both Hong Kong and Beijing are planning to shut down the trade.”
“Those news headlines are nothing but a thinly veiled distraction.”
“They aren’t just headlines. The president has reached out to the U.S. for guidance on how to implement a ban.”
Nigel ignored me. “You will tell him that you are assisting with the negotiations in Namibia for another purchase of legal ivory. Then, what he won’t know is that our suppliers in Uganda will coordinate a merger of another shipment from central and east Africa. All shipments will be deemed aboveboard by your lovely customs friend and released to the Da Xin factory for processing. If there are any questions about this, Sam will be there to fill in any gaps.”
I was about to blurt out that Mr. Hang had no interest in illegal ivory when I remembered that Nigel was probably the one who Mr. Hang had been so afraid of when I asked about the meaning of NNS.
Nigel searched my expression. “What are old friends for if they can’t extend a business opportunity?”
“You’ve had me mugged, kidnapped, and shot at, and you almost knocked me out of the sky. What business opportunity are you referring to exactly?”
“And yet you are still here.” He searched my face. “I’m beginning to think that all of my efforts to get rid of you are being sabotaged.” He smiled. “I know what you’re thinking. That Craig could make a few calls and clear all this up in a matter of days.” He crossed his legs and poured himself another glass of wine. “Let me just explain what will happen to your friends if those phone calls were to be made.”
I remembered what Marcus had said about the triads knowing how to secure your loyalty by threatening those you love most. And here I was, with only a handful of people in my life; it wasn’t hard to imagine who he might threaten.
I felt so hopeless I couldn’t think of anything to say. How was I going to go into the house of a standing committee member and say what he wanted me to say? What choice did I have? “I should have known that you owned everyone in China.”
“So, we now see eye to eye on this?”
I wondered if this was a time for Craig to work together with Marcus. Perhaps he had the more powerful relationships in China, the ones that he had bragged about during our conversation about tea and whose relationships had steeped longer. I needed to dig deep to get out of this one, but I was at a loss of where to start digging.
It was clear that my expression gave Nigel enormous satisfaction as he looked down at his watch. “Ah, dear, we’re running out of time. You don’t want to keep Mr. Xing waiting. Standing committee members aren’t accustomed to waiting, particularly on Americans.”
Sam and I were let out of the back of the limo and walked in silence down the sidewalk of a gated residential area that was clearly for the ultra-privileged—party members.
Sam slipped me a note as we got some distance away from the limo. I quickly opened it and read the two sentences and then looked up at his blank face.
Ling-Ru is in grave danger, the note read. This meeting has to go well.
Standing Committee
As Sam and I got to Dr. Xing’s door, he reached for the piece of paper that he had given me. He crumpled it up and put it back into his pocket. I wanted desperately for him to explain, but from his silence I could only assume that he was being bugged in some way.
Feeling betrayed and confused, I looked at him angrily. Why should he care about Ling-Ru or try to help me if he’s working for Nigel?
We walked up two steps and Sam knocked at the door. A servant opened the door, bowed, and led us down a hallway into a sparse living room. There were two modest couches facing each other with a small coffee table resting on a small silk Persian rug in between them. On the far wall was a large flat-screen television running a screensaver of cartoonish tropical fish floating up and down in a fish tank.
The servant held out his hand toward one of the couches, inviting us to sit down. He asked if we would like some green tea and we both accepted his offer.
As the servant disappeared, I tried to make eye contact with Sam, but he was a block of ice. There was a pad of paper and a pen sitting on the coffee table in front of us. I wrote him a note and pushed the piece of paper in front of him.
You’re not really a constable, are you? I scribbled.
He was silent.
This was all a setup, wasn’t it? I wrote.
Sam wouldn’t look at me.
It was infuriating having to sit next to this traitor in silence as if nothing was wrong. I couldn’t help continuing to write. I scribbled again. What have you done with Ling-Ru?
I was so tired; my mind was swimming with all of our previous interactions. I couldn’t believe that he’d been playing me the entire time.
After a few minutes of sitting in silence, another man in a suit appeared. I folded the paper over and put it in my pocket as we both stood up.
“Good afternoon,” the stately man greeted us with a warm handshake. “I’m Dr. Xing, standing committee member of the People’s Republic of China.”
“It is an honor to meet you, Dr. Xing.” I bowed my head slightly as I shook his hand. “I am Catherine Sohon.”
He placed his second hand over our handshake. “It is an honor for me, as well. I look forward to learning more about your work.”
I turned to Sam. “Have you met Sam Woo?”
“I understand you are quite the star in Hong Kong. Perhaps I should ask for your autograph.”
“Do you practice a martial art?”
“My wife and I used to do Tai together in the early morning, but now there’s no time.”
“Tai is an excellent discipline.”
The two men shook hands stiffly. I tried to glean something from their brief interaction, but nothing struck me as familiar. Either they knew each other very well and were expert at hiding it, or they had never met. I couldn’t tell which.
Dr. Xing sat across from us and gestured for us to do the same. “Please sit down.”
The tray of tea arrived and the servant poured three cups of green tea. I could smell a hint of jasmine as he poured.
“So, tell me, Ms. Sohon, what brings you to China?”
I glanced at Sam quickly before answering. My instructions from Nigel were quite clear. But I wasn’t sure how to navigate this conversation safely.
“Some of my work has involved tracking ivory.” I tried to be as vague as possible without going off script.
“I read something about this in the newspaper article about the tugboat incident. That’s what prompted me to contact Mr. Marcus Fitzpatrick.”
“He mentioned that.”
“If I’m not mistaken, you have done some work in Namibia?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“I understand they also have problems with ecoterrorism.”
“Ecoterrorism?” This was not a question that I had expected.
“You know, the threat of poisoning rhino horn or disrupting their annual seal clubbing.”
“Yes, I am aware of these activities.”
“And you must know about these things in your own country with tree spiking and the sinking of whaling ships.”
“Yes.”
“I wonder if you wouldn’t mind doing me a favor.”
This conversation didn’t seem to be going in the direction that Nigel had anticipated. I couldn’t imagine what Dr. Xing was going to ask.
“If I am able to help with something relating to conservation, I’d be happy to try.”
“Good. We
are finding these ecoterrorist attacks on our supply ships very vexing. And very expensive. I wonder if there is something your organization can do to help us.”
“The Wildlife Investigation Agency?”
“Aren’t you involved with stopping wildlife trafficking?”
“Yes.”
“It appears that your organization and its colleagues often get the wrong information and go after boats that are running perfectly legal operations.”
“You’re not referring to the tugboat that was confiscated on Lantau with all the endangered species and illegal ivory?”
“There are many legal boats that get sabotaged.”
“I hadn’t heard that. And we are not involved in any ecoterrorist activities, so I’m not sure we could help you with this. This isn’t the kind of work that we do.”
“I wonder if you are familiar with the National Nightingale Society?”
“The National Nightingale Society?” I searched my memory. I couldn’t remember ever hearing about such a society. “No, I haven’t heard of it.” National Nightingale Society. I suddenly realized that NNS might be the acronym for the National Nightingale Society—the symbol that was carved into the ornaments on the nightingale cages that I saw in the park in Kunming. Could that group of old men be running an ecoterrorist operation? An organization to which Mr. Weiping may belong? I couldn’t imagine it.
I stopped myself from smiling—not because I believed in ecoterrorism, but because I was starting to see a pattern emerging, and perhaps the members of NNS were underground environmentalists acting in the interests of conservation and wildlife protection. I thought about Mr. Weiping’s communication with me during my flight over the Gulf of Tonkin. Perhaps he and his colleagues had been helping us the whole time.
I felt a much-needed pang of hope after so many terrible things had happened. Maybe the problem wasn’t as overwhelming as it had seemed up until this moment.
“They started out as a very traditional organization of nightingale owners,” Dr. Xing explained. “But now they are a very dangerous terrorist group and we need to stop them.”
“We’ve had to deal with triads so far, but not ecoterrorists.” Had I been able to speak freely, I would have suggested that the standing committee focus their efforts on the warring triads and not a birding club, but I knew I’d be putting myself and Ling-Ru in grave danger if I did so.
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