by F. J. Chase
She chuckled out loud—something that under the circumstances probably would have appalled her a week ago. But she was certainly getting the most from her travel dollar. If any adventure tour company offered the trapped in Beijing in the middle of a war package the price would definitely be in the six figures. Only cheap compared to visiting the International Space Station.
Avakian rolled the driver onto the passenger-side floorboard. It was kind of strange using a key to start a car. Three-quarters of a tank of gas. Outstanding. He backed out of the parking space and checked the mirror to be sure Judy was behind him.
Less than half a mile south was Chaoyang Park, one of northeastern Beijing’s largest green spaces. Avakian found a quiet lane. They parked the two vehicles back to back, and after he jimmied the trunk of the Xiali they transferred everything into the Mercedes.
“Now I know why we’ve been carrying around all this gasoline and water,” Judy said. “I got the water part, and it’s nice to be the only people around who have some, but I admit I thought you might be contemplating arson.”
“Two foreign devils in enemy country aren’t going to be driving into a rural service station and telling the attendant to fill ’er up and check the tires. When they make the movie of this they won’t have to worry about stopping for gas or running out of ammo, but for us my best-laid plans mean nothing if I didn’t pre-stage the right supplies. As it is, we’re going to be on the water and energy bar diet for a while.”
“No more instant noodles?”
“I know it’s hard.”
“I’ll try and be strong for both of us.”
Avakian went to the front of the Mercedes. He lifted the driver onto his shoulder and carried him over to the now-empty trunk of the car. “You might want to take a quick walk around the block.”
Standing next to him and looking down into the trunk, the doctor made her diagnosis with clinical detachment. Depressed skull fracture, right side subdural hemorrhage indicated by the unequal pupil, bloody cerebrospinal fluid drainage from the nostrils. Comatose and expectant. “What are you going to do?” she asked.
“Strip off his uniform and ID so he can’t be identified.”
“Go ahead,” she said. “It doesn’t bother me anymore. The fact that it doesn’t maybe bothers me, but nothing else does.”
Avakian took out his knife and cut off the pale green uniform shirt and darker trousers. He balled the clothing up under his arm and Judy slammed the trunk shut.
They left the Xiali in the park. The afternoon shadows were lengthening into dusk. Avakian drove until they were clear of the car and then stopped. He disappeared underneath the Mercedes with a flashlight and pliers.
“Engine sounded fine to me,” Judy said.
“I’m looking for a GPS,” came the muffled voice. “The Chinese had a rash of official vehicle thefts, which annoyed the generals to no end. So they had anti-theft GPS transmitters installed. You know, like LoJack or OnStar? In their cars first, of course.”
“How are you going to find something like that without a lift and power tools?”
“Same way I found the burglar alarm. All these widgets have to have power. Nobody ever thinks to hide the power cable.”
He traced the wire bundles from the battery on back, and quickly found the lonely pair that seemed to be going not to the tail lights but the rear wheel well. “Judy, can you hand me the crowbar?”
She passed it underneath, and soon there was a sound of bending metal. The SUV rocked a bit. Some more protesting metal. And a sharper bang. Then something being beaten back into place.
Avakian reappeared and hurled a small metal box into the trees. “Okay,” he said, tossing the pliers and crowbar into the back. “Now where did we put the hand sanitizer?”
“I thought you might attach that to something interesting.”
“I considered it,” he said, wiping his hands in a towel. “But one of those calls to the driver’s cell phone was probably the general. And generals aren’t patient.” He folded the towel neatly and paused, holding the open door, his head slightly bowed.
“Are you praying?” she asked.
“I probably should,” he said, looking at her under his arm. “But I was just trying to think if I’d forgotten anything. Nope, don’t have that feeling.”
He jumped into the seat and started the engine.
“Can I ask you something?” she said.
“Just as long as it’s not theological.”
“It’s not. What are these two switches underneath the center dashboard console here?”
“Are you telling me a doctor doesn’t know Mercedes?”
“Very funny. Okay, I drive one. But mine doesn’t have two add-on switches on the dash.”
“You’re talking about one of my major buying points,” said Avakian. He flipped the first switch and a siren came alive, nearly levitating Judy off her seat.
“Holy shit!” she exclaimed.
Avakian immediately shut it off and flipped the other one. Blue flashing lights began popping just above the headlights.
“We were getting a security walk-through,” he said, shutting them off. “And we’re all standing around outside The Great Hall of the People. Chinese and most of the countries’ security liaisons. And then there’s a siren and flashing lights and this Mercedes pulls up and General Dong steps out like he was ready to sign autographs. And everyone goes: what a tool.” He grinned at her. “For some reason it stuck in my mind.”
“I feel better about stealing the car of someone who’s a tool.”
“Don’t even get me started on the guy.” As he pulled out he noticed that she’d emptied the ashtrays. “Sorry about not stealing a nonsmoking car.”
“I’m not going to complain about the color, either. You’ve got enough on your mind.” She stroked her seat. “Leather’s nice, though.”
“I think we’ve got everything. Need to go to the bathroom?”
“No, dad.”
“Okay then. Road trip?”
“Road trip,” she said.
Avakian made his way slowly north along back roads while Judy backed up his navigation with a map and a flashlight.
He actually had the gall to drive right through the Olympic Park. They wound up on a low hill a few miles farther north, near the Xisanqi High-Tech Industrial Park and overlooking the Badaling Expressway. Which was a solid mass of unmoving headlights.
“This is what I was hoping to see,” said Avakian.
“A traffic jam?”
“You’re as smart as you are beautiful, Doctor, but you are not observing two rows of headlights going each way on a double three-lane highway. Any good civil defense plan always leaves one highway lane open for emergency vehicles, military convoys, that sort of thing.”
“I guess we have to hope it stays open then.”
“Who’s Eeyore now, Doctor?”
“My God, it’s contagious.”
“Actually, you’ve just voiced my one real concern. The Chinese military would bulldoze cars right out of the lane to keep it open. But our friends the Chinese public, whose devotion to rules and regulations is marginal at best, may still have completely jammed everything up in their usual attempt to get over. If that’s the case we go to Plan B. Now you’ll ask me what Plan B is.”
“It’s like I don’t even have to be here to have this conversation.”
“And I would tell you Plan B, I really would. But we’ve had a fair amount of success so far with me not giving you a whole lot of time to dwell on what you’re going to have to do. Do we really want to break that winning formula?”
She dwelled on that a bit. “No, probably not.” Though Plan B couldn’t be any worse than her imagination was making it out to be.
“Okay, then. Let’s do it.”
The highway on-ramp was completely blocked. Avakian hit the flashing lights and went up in the breakdown lane. There was an old Russian UAZ jeep with military police markings sitting there at the end, just waiting fo
r someone to try it. Avakian goosed the siren. A helmeted figure with a flashlight hopped out of the jeep and blinded him by shining the beam at the windshield.
Avakian reached back over the seat and drew the rifle out of the duffel bag, laying it across his lap.
Judy was reevaluating her previous statement about not needing to go to the bathroom.
The flashlight beam dropped down to check out their plate. The soldier shouted something.
Avakian had one hand on the door latch and the other on the rifle.
The jeep pulled out of the way, and the MP beckoned them on with his torch.
Avakian didn’t give anyone a chance to change their mind. The right hand lane was sealed off from the other two with traffic cones and stretched out before them, empty and inviting.
“What do you know,” said Doctor Rose. “How far is it to Mongolia?”
“Little over three hundred miles,” Avakian replied.
“Then out of China by morning.”
“This is probably the wrong time to tempt fortune,” said Avakian.
21
Commissioner Zhou was arguing on the phone with the public security minister’s aide.
“Do you have any idea what is happening?” the deputy commissioner’s voice bellowed over the cell phone static. “There are lines at every store in the city, and every time one runs out of bottled water there is a riot. We have our hands full trying to put these down and clear the roads and bring in more water. The army sends in tanker trucks and the people refuse it because there is a rumor that the water has been shut off because Taiwan agents have poisoned the reservoirs. So they want only bottled water. Even the areas that have full water service are out buying bottled water because they are afraid it is poisoned. And with all this you want a helicopter?”
“Do you want the man who caused all this?” Commissioner Zhou countered. “Or do you want him to escape? That is your choice.”
The answer came like lightning. “You must speak to the minister.”
Which is what Commissioner Zhou wanted all along. And had made possible by using the word choice. No bureaucrat would ever take responsibility for making any decision if he could possibly avoid it.
The connection clicked and the minister came on. “Be brief, Commissioner.”
Commissioner Zhou already knew what he wanted to say. “Comrade Minister, I have reason to believe that the foreigner responsible for this crisis is currently fleeing north.”
“Fleeing the city? Impossible. Even if there were no checkpoints, no transport is leaving the city.”
“One might just as well ask how a single man could create a crisis of this magnitude, Comrade Minister.”
There was silence on the other end. “What do you require?”
“One helicopter, Comrade Minister. To transport myself and my investigators to Zhangjiakou.”
“You will apprehend him there?”
“With the help of the Zhangjiakou Bureau, that is my hope.”
“Listen, Zhou,” the minister said, the hard tones of authority cracking a bit and the desperation coming through in his voice. “You must bring this man to People’s Justice. He cannot escape and say what he has done. Do you understand? Word of this must not leak out. Gangs of saboteurs, yes. Enemies of the people. Bombing from the air. We can alert the masses to these. We can use these. But not one white devil.”
“I understand, Comrade Minister. Your aide knows my location. I must stress that speed is of the essence if I am to accomplish this task.”
“Accomplish the task, Commissioner,” the minister said coldly. The connection clicked dead.
Commissioner Zhou was somewhat rattled by the apparent failure of his attempt to leave himself a way out and insure the safety of his career. And even more so by the failure to undertake more detailed arrangements for the helicopter. But there was not time to dwell on that. He motioned Inspector Cheng and Inspector He over to him. “A helicopter is on the way here. What is the roof like?”
“Impossible, Comrade Commissioner,” said Inspector He. “Crowded with antennas and satellite dishes.”
“Very well. Have your men monitor two radios. One on the aviation frequency and the other on our own in case the helicopter tries to contact us there. We must clear a landing space in the parking lot. Then, Inspector He, prepare your men to go. Vests, rifles, ammunition, gas masks. I do not know what type of helicopter will arrive, or how many it will carry. But all must be ready. Quickly now.”
Inspector He dashed off, but Cheng remained. “Comrade Commissioner, you will be leaving on the helicopter?”
“Of course,” Commissioner Zhou snapped.
“Perhaps I should remain to supervise the remaining investigators.”
With this arriving on the heels of the attempt to persuade him to remain in Beijing, Commissioner Zhou knew exactly what Cheng was up to. Trying to distance himself from the effort, for safety. If he captured Avakian Cheng would remain his faithful deputy, diligently tying up loose ends in Beijing. And if he failed Cheng would have carefully laid the groundwork for not being a part of it.
Clever, but if it had been truly clever Zhou would never have realized it. Cheng had moved his piece precipitously. “If you wish to be left behind, I will leave you behind,” he said. “Conduct a thorough investigation.”
Inspector Cheng’s face was expressionless. “Exactly as you would order, Comrade Commissioner.”
“Comrade Commissioner,” one of the sergeants monitoring the radio interrupted. “The helicopter is on its way.”
“How many passengers will it take?” said Commissioner Zhou.
The sergeant spoke into the radio. “They say it depends on where you are going.”
Of course no one had told them anything, thought Commissioner Zhou. Then he reminded himself it was a miracle he had received the helicopter at all. And only because the minister had ordered it personally. The default response of any Chinese official to any situation was no, in order to avoid blame. “Zhangjiakou,” he said. Two hundred kilometers away.
“Six,” the sergeant reported after a brief radio conversation. “Six is the maximum capacity, Comrade Commissioner.”
“Very well,” said Commissioner Zhou. “Are they aware of our location?”
“Yes, Comrade Commissioner.”
“Still, be sure you guide them in.”
He walked outside. Inspector He was waiting. “I have your equipment, Comrade Commissioner.”
“Good, He.” It seemed there was an opening for a new deputy. “The helicopter is near. You and I, and your four best men.”
“I am honored, Comrade Commissioner.”
“You will be if we do not fail.”
Commissioner Zhou used the time to make some phone calls. First, to a fellow commissioner in the Public Security Zhengzhibu, or personnel department. He spent a favor he was owed and arranged for Inspector Cheng’s transfer to Tibet. The cold high-altitude air would do him good. Being done now would ensure the transfer would take place even if he failed and was disgraced. Next he called the most reliable of the other team leaders and ordered him to provide daily briefings on Cheng’s progress in the investigation. The inspector understood. And he would be able to tell after the first report whether the inspector was Cheng’s man or his. He followed that up with calls to two other team leaders, issuing the same orders. Even if they talked about it amongst themselves they would think the remaining team leaders who denied it were also reporting to him.
Inspector He brought up his four investigators. “Comrade Commissioner, I present Sergeants Guo, Kong, Fan and Meng.”
They saluted. Preoccupied, Commissioner Zhou nodded to them and turned back to his phone.
But the sound of rotors beating in the distance forestalled any more calls. An Italian Agusta A109 wearing the markings of the Beijing Public Security Bureau appeared over the rooftops and cautiously circled the parking lot before descending.
As soon as the wheels settled onto the pavement
the six ran up and slid the side door open. The copilot was leaning over his seat, holding out an intercom headset. Commissioner Zhou put the headset on, but it did not work. He slapped at the earphones, to no avail. The copilot kept gesturing something he could not comprehend, and he was about to rip them off his head in frustration when the sergeant sitting next to him reached over and flipped the lever switch on the side of one earphone. He received a withering look in exchange for his kindness, but the pilot’s voice crackled through.
“Commissioner Zhou?”
“I am Commissioner Zhou.”
“Comrade Commissioner, we are to take you to Zhangjiakou. Is that correct?”
“It is.”
“Where in the city?”
“The Public Security Bureau headquarters. And as quickly as possible. This is a state emergency.”
“As you order, Comrade Commissioner. Please make sure the door is secured and you and your men are strapped in.”
Feeling hands touch him, Commissioner Zhou twisted about angrily, but it was just the policemen on either side reaching over and buckling his seat belt for him. What were their names again? “Take off,” he ordered.
The pilot pulled back on the collective and the helicopter lurched straight up between the buildings, the rotors shuddering.
Commissioner Zhou did not enjoy helicopter travel. It was a matter of considerable relief when they finally cleared the buildings and could begin forward flight.
A violent orange sun was setting to their left. And from this giant’s perch the city streets were hopelessly snarled, the traffic unmoving. As it was on the Ring Roads spreading concentrically out from the center, the headlights like beadwork in a necklace.
The pilot came up in the earphones. “Comrade Commissioner, I have radioed the Zhangjiakou Bureau to expect you. They wish to know the reason for your trip.”
Doubtless the leadership of the local bureau wanted to know whether they were in trouble with the Ministry. Or if an unannounced inspection was in the offing. But no reassurance would be provided. He did not want anything done unless he organized it personally. Mention an American spy and even before they landed there would be a massive roadblock on the highway before the city. Something Avakian would be able to see from a kilometer away and avoid even easier. But all that was secondary, of course. Now he had placed his career at risk, no one would take Avakian but him. “Tell them it is a state emergency of the highest priority,” he said. “Nothing more.”
