Darkness Under Heaven

by F. J. Chase

  “I thank you,” Commissioner Zhou replied.

  Shen vowed to find out who was behind Zhou. “In light of your friendly relations with the American, I am certain it will not be noticed if you are not successful.”

  “If he does cause any further damage,” said Commissioner Zhou, “I am certain it will be forgotten that your men lost him.”

  “Have no fear. State Security will find him.”

  “I have no fear. I am confident he will be found.”

  Inspector 1st Grade Yong Cheng sat patiently, fighting the impulse to examine the papers atop Commissioner Zhou’s desk. He heard the hand on the door and stood up as the commissioner entered. The inspector was over six feet tall, with the musculature of a weight lifter—not typical of the average Chinese policeman. Though his name was Han Chinese, he had the Vietnamese facial features of the Jing ethnic minority of the Guangxi region. This had not made his path through the ranks easier since the majority of Han were not particularly broad-minded about the national minorities, let alone their traditional adversaries the Vietnamese. Cheng had no idea that Commissioner Zhou had chosen him for this very characteristic, knowing that as a minority he would be dependent for advancement on Zhou alone, not the organization, and his loyalty therefore assured.

  “Sit, sit,” said Commissioner Zhou, tossing a thick file folder onto his desk. His chair squeaked as he sat down. “I have just come from the minister. I am in charge of the search for the American Avakian. You will be my deputy for this task.”

  “I am honored.”

  “You may be. But only if we are successful.”

  Inspector Cheng was used to this. Commissioner Zhou was not the typical senior officer. Since he never had any idea when the man was joking, he always worked under the assumption that he was not. And recently the commissioner had been acting with unheard-of boldness. It could only mean that he had acquired a powerful patron. All the more reason to remain a valued part of his circle. “The team leaders are assembled.”

  “All the best investigators?”

  “Yes, Commissioner. But there will be few available for other investigations.”

  “This has the highest priority. And they will all be needed. This American is not a spy, contrary to the belief of State Security. He is much more dangerous. I think that, rather than surrender himself, this Avakian will seek to fight us.”

  “Fight us? How?”

  “In any way he can. I saw this man defeat three robbers with only a piece of wood. He subdued one of the Indoor Stadium assassins and threw the man onto his own hand grenade before it detonated. And as you know he killed two armed soldiers—with only a club.”

  “He killed them to obtain their weapons?”

  “Of course not. Speak the official line to others but by no means allow it to affect your thinking. He was accosted by youthful troublemakers and fought one. I interrogated the two survivors myself. The one who did not survive sought out the two soldiers and must have told them some fanciful tale. The soldiers found Avakian and, I surmise, treated him harshly as a bad element and paid with their lives for this. But this is not the official line.” Commissioner Zhou did not even mention the woman with Avakian. For a Chinese male the woman was irrelevant.

  “I understand,” said Inspector Cheng. It would not be wise to mention to others anything that was not the official line. “Will we be working with State Security?”

  “The natural inclination of the Center is to always place our organizations in competition. State Security desires the credit for catching the American. But they do not know who they are dealing with. They will seek him as they would a CIA agent. But a CIA agent would only attempt to escape. The American Special Forces learn to fight terrorists, and would therefore not find it difficult to become one.”

  “I understand, Commissioner.”

  “When we capture him there will be much credit, not only from our superiors but the Center also. If we fail and State Security succeeds, then we are policemen and not counterintelligence specialists. If we both fail, the blame is shared. This is for your ears only.”

  “Yes, Commissioner.” Inspector Cheng wondered if Commissioner Zhou had not somehow arranged that. Of course he would never ask. Not that the commissioner would ever answer.

  “I will address the work group now.” Commissioner Zhou picked up the plastic bag with the blackjacks and they walked down the hall to a conference room. Everyone rose and bowed as they entered. Twenty junior inspectors from the Bureau of Criminal Investigation who each led their own ten-man teams.

  “Be seated,” said Commissioner Zhou. “You have read the dossiers?”

  They all nodded.

  He took them through the history, then passed the plastic bag around the table. “This is how we identified him. He has made and used two of these so far. He may again, but that is doubtful as he is now armed. You must be aware that this Avakian has knowledge of our security arrangements. He will not show many vulnerabilities. I see three. He must seek shelter. All hotels are now prohibited from accepting new registrations from foreigners. If he makes the attempt, we will be aware of it. He has been in Beijing for some time and is an engaging personality, so I feel he may seek shelter with someone he has previously come in contact with. You will examine his dossier and surveillance record carefully and visit and interview every person listed.”

  He paused, but only to drink some water. Chinese would never ask questions in a room filled with their peers, for fear of losing face. If there were questions, they would be broached privately and obliquely, if at all. Commissioner Zhou set his glass down and continued. “Next, transportation. I doubt he will risk public transportation. So we must make ourselves aware of all stolen vehicles within the city. Particularly those large enough to sleep inside, with tinted windows. Third, the woman. Contrary to the belief of State Security, she is a physician, not a spy. If he keeps her with him he will become more vulnerable, and together they will be more identifiable. In any event, apprehending her alone will provide valuable information. I have told you this is a dangerous man. He is now armed with a Type 95 assault rifle and two basic units of ammunition. There will be great credit in capturing this man, but not if in attempting to take him without assistance he kills you and escapes. He is not a young man, but he has extensive combat experience with American Special Forces in wars all over the world and you have not seen his like. Do not be hasty and do not be careless. You are here in tribute to my confidence in your skills. Now, we will discuss each group’s work assignment. We will proceed methodically but quickly. I am certain that if we allow this man freedom of action, he will cause us to regret it.”

  10

  Avakian was threading his way through South Beijing, skirting the inner Ring Road. No interior lights on in the small, nondescript white van. He was driving with one hand and dialing his cell phone with the other.

  It was a hot, muggy night in Beijing. For some reason it reminded him of the same kind of night in Philadelphia when he was a teenager. Nothing was more lonely or more exciting than a big city on a muggy summer night, the darkness filled up with lights. And though nothing at all like Philly, wartime Beijing was still all lit up—business as usual.

  The phone was ringing.

  “Hello?” Russell Marquand sounded cautious, as if he were expecting a different voice to be calling him from that familiar number.

  “It’s me,” Avakian said.

  “I assume you realize we’re not the only parties to this conversation,” Marquand said.

  “Doesn’t matter,” said Avakian.

  “You know they’re looking for you.”

  “I’m on my way out of town even as we speak. How about telling me what’s going on?”

  “Okay, but nothing the Chinese don’t already know. They’re still shooting missiles at Taiwan. Concentrating on the ports and airfields. They haven’t made any move to invade. Yet.”

  Avakian understood immediately. “I got it. Are we involved?”

&nbs
p; “Not at the present. The Secretary of State tried to talk to the Chinese, but they’re refusing all offers of mediation. They say it’s an internal Chinese matter.”

  “Secretary still there?”

  “No. Snubbed and left. We’re restricted to the embassy. Chinese say it’s for our own safety, considering the mood on the streets.”

  “Right,” said Avakian.

  “There’s reports of Americans being detained at the airports. People calling because relatives supposed to fly out never showed up back in the States.”

  “What do the Chinese say?”

  “They don’t know anything about it.”

  “Human shields?” said Avakian.

  “We’re not going to speculate right now.”

  “Anything else?”

  “I don’t want to add to your problems, but the Chinese are moving a lot of men into North Korea. Though they haven’t crossed the DMZ.”

  “Yet,” said Avakian.

  “I’m sorry, man.”

  Marquand knew about his son being stationed in South Korea. “Are they moving on anyone else?”

  “Not so far.”

  “Then is anyone else involved in this thing?”

  “You mean like Europe?”

  “Please. And have to back up their lofty principles with anything besides talk?” Avakian scoffed. “That I could figure out for myself.”

  “No one else right now. Everyone’s sitting on the sidelines, hoping they don’t get rained on.”

  “Is Annie with you?” Avakian asked. It was time to wrap up the call.

  “Yeah, she’s here.”

  “Give her my love. Good luck to you, bro.”

  “Feel like saying I’m sorry I brought you over here.”

  “We’re all grown-ups.”

  “Stay lucky.”

  Avakian broke the connection and turned off his phone. At least Marquand’s kids were both back in the States.

  All night long Judy Rose felt like she was going to throw up. She understood why she couldn’t go out on the streets, not with her picture all over the TV. But that little piece of logic was irrelevant compared to being trapped in an apartment in a foreign country in the middle of a war with the police looking for her and the one person with any idea of what to do out gallivanting around town. If he got himself killed or arrested her only alternatives seemed to be staying in the apartment until she starved to death or walking outside and turning herself in to the nearest policeman.

  The TV had gone way past irritating. There wasn’t anything on except propaganda war movies where everyone periodically broke into song, and news she couldn’t understand.

  She had been pacing around the apartment until she suddenly realized it was past midnight and at any moment an aggrieved downstairs neighbor might begin pounding at the door. The shock of that little realization almost had her clinging to the ceiling fan.

  Sleep? That was a laugh. And to cap it all off the leaseholder of the apartment definitely wasn’t a reader. Unless you counted a closet filled with back copies of Maxim and FHM.

  And there wasn’t even any chocolate to get her through it.

  She wound up sitting on the floor with her back to the door. Listening for footsteps in the hallway.

  The first time she head the elevator door open she jumped to her feet. But right after the ding there were loud drunken voices speaking Chinese going down the hall.

  The second time there were heavy footsteps but no voices.

  Stop driving yourself crazy, Judy.

  A half hour later the fire door at the end of the hallway opened very quietly and then closed even quieter. No footsteps in the hall but then just the slightest jingle of keys in front of the door.

  Doctor Rose sprang up and put her eye to the peephole. It was Avakian. Thank God. A key scraped in the lock and she yanked the door open, almost dragging him into the apartment.

  He recovered his footing and said, “Hi,” as he fed bulky shopping bags into the entryway. “Hold the door open a crack. I’ve got a bunch more of these stacked up in the stairwell.”

  It took him six more trips, arms fully loaded. Groceries, clothes, cardboard boxes. Even, incongruously enough, a big bundle of metal pipes all strapped together. When he’d brought the last of it inside he locked the door, turned around, and gave her a double take. “You cut your hair.”

  Honestly, she was surprised. “How very unmale of you to notice.”

  “Every now and again I drop in on my feminine side, just to keep in touch.” He eyed her anew. “You did a good job. It looks nice.”

  “Thanks.”

  “A lot better than I could have done, which is why I guess you took matters into your own hands. Good call, but I’m always astounded by how women can cut their own hair.”

  “Well, you cut yours.”

  “That would be like me complimenting you on how well you shave your legs.”

  She began surveying the purchases. “What is all this stuff for?”

  “We’ll talk about that in just a second.” He was poking through the bags, looking for something. “I know it wasn’t easy sitting here twiddling your thumbs, wondering if I was ever coming back. Here’s your reward.” He handed her a thin brown box. “As far as the treatment of stress goes, chocolate is the nonprescription Valium, am I right?”

  She stared at the box in her hand, well and truly creeped out by that.

  “Yeah, I know,” he said. “Got in touch with my feminine side again. Don’t tell me you’re the only woman in the world who doesn’t like chocolate.”

  After a moment of contemplation, she said, “I admit I was thinking about fibbing to you. But when I took this into the bathroom with me you’d know, wouldn’t you?”

  “I’d have my suspicions. Sorry, but I couldn’t find any plain chocolate bars.”

  “I love Toblerone. Wait a minute, how did you know…?”

  “Plain chocolate? You really want Snickers, you really want peanut butter cups, but with a plain bar or maybe some Kisses or even baking bits it’s easier to convince yourself you’re not doing anything naughty.”

  “That is entirely irrational,” Doctor Rose informed him, while at the same time blushing red.

  “Don’t I know it.”

  “You were married, weren’t you?”

  “I wouldn’t lie about something like that. Why don’t you sit down? We have some things to talk over.”

  “Oh, one of those.”

  “Yeah, pretty much.” Avakian got himself a bottle of water and settled onto the couch. “This is the situation. China’s launching missiles on Taiwan’s airports and shipping ports. In effect, blockading the island. It’s a pretty shrewd strategy. Taiwan’s an industrial exporter. They’re not self-sufficient in food or energy or damn near anything else except computer chips. So the Chinese figure that if they can keep everyone and everything from going in or coming out, Taiwan’s going to have to cry uncle sooner or later. Without them having to invade. And if they don’t invade, they don’t give the U.S. a clear-cut reason to intervene. The Chinese are betting that, after Iraq, we’re not in the mood for any more trouble. Especially war with a major power. Then you’ve got the possibility of war between two nuclear powers, which has never happened before. So we’re going to be very careful what we get ourselves into, and the Chinese are deliberately making it difficult for us to make a decision. Very smart. That’s the big picture.”

  “And the little picture?” Doctor Rose said.

  “The Chinese are apparently detaining Americans trying to leave the country. Remember what I said back in the restaurant about foreign civilians being the best defense against air attack?”

  “I remember.”

  “This brings us to the problem of what we’re going to do.” Avakian sat back and closed his eyes. It was a much tougher proposition now, being responsible for her life, too. He had to ask himself whether he’d be doing it for his own ego, or because it was the right thing to do. Trying to get out of the cit
y was going to be a one-time, one-shot deal. No opportunities for multiple attempts. Okay, maybe a little ego involved. But there were larger issues at stake. His original plan was still the best. And might just be their only option. “Before I tell you my plan, I’ve got to lay it on the line. We’re probably not going to make it out of the city. By which I mean we’re probably going to get ourselves killed. So anytime you think surrendering to the Chinese is a better option, you let me know.”

  She was still regarding him very calmly. “You don’t strike me as suicidal, so I don’t think you’re going to go out of your way to get us killed. And since I think what happened to me last night would happen all over again, and worse, if I turned myself in to the Chinese, I don’t think I’d want to do that. So I’ll say it one more time: what now?”

  Okay, Avakian thought. “First, I’m going to create some chaos. And then we’re going to try and escape from Beijing.”

  “I’m assuming there’s a lot more detail than that. Let’s start with the chaos.”

  “We can’t fly. The train stations and bus terminals will be totally covered. So it’ll have to be by vehicle. And there are only ten roads leading out of the entire city. You see, being a security consultant you learn these things.”

  “That’s lucky, at least.”

  “Luck is relative. Knowing all that, under ordinary conditions we’d have no expectation of making it out without being caught. So we’ll need to do it under the cover of a substantial amount of chaos. I intend to cause that. And I want to be honest with you about the reasons.”

  “Okay.”

  “I thought my fighting days were over. Other than the odd street punk or two. I’ve seen too many wars and the stupid reasons they’re fought to think there’s anything noble in them or that appeals to patriotism aren’t just another form of marketing. I spent my professional life watching patriots get screwed by opportunists. But the Chinese declared war on me last night, and that made it a matter of personal survival. We, us, we’re at war. If we don’t fight, we go under. And I don’t intend to go under just yet.”