“Mom and dad?”
She nodded with tears forming in her eyes again.
Aaron wanted to comfort her. “I’m sorry.”
“No, don’t be.” She wiped tears off her cheeks. “I came to you because you would take this seriously.”
“I do. And I will do anything that I can to help you. But, I have to be honest with you, I don’t know much about criminal law, international law, or even where to start.”
She smiled for the first time during their meeting. “You took down Montgomery Singe and a secret regime here in the United States that stole over a hundred billion dollars of gold from the U.S. Treasury. That’s why I came to you.”
In Aaron’s last adventure, his fiancée nearly died, he nearly died, and they were both still trying to cope with the trauma of each having killed someone. Aaron frowned. “You know, it’s possible that this doesn’t have to be a big thing. Sometimes when I argue before an appellate court, I try to propose a broad-sweeping change to the law. Other times, I try to offer the court an easy out; a way to decide the case based on limited circumstances that will not upset the balance of power.”
She nodded to indicate that she understood what he was saying. “What’s our option for an easy out?”
“I’m not sure yet. Circling back, how did your handlers know that you would be in a position to steal secrets? And are you even able to steal research? I’d like to know if compliance is even an option on the table.”
“I don’t know what information they want to steal or if I can get it. In terms of the Chinese knowing I would be here, I did the math. If I am representative of a normative group, I was in the ninety-sixth percentile on a combined academic and other ability scale. I remember that number when people approached my parents about sending me to the United States.”
“Okay,” Aaron said trying to think back to statistics and a chart where a certain percentage of people lie between standard deviations from the mean.
“Instead of looking into normative curves to figure out the math, if we just approximate that the ninety-fifth percentile is around one person in twenty-two and the ninety-ninth is about one out of three hundred, there were about one hundred million children between ten and fourteen in China when I was that age. If the eligible pool of children would be between 95 and 99 percent of ability, we would take around 4.5 million in the top 95 percent minus three hundred thousand in the top 1 percent. Let’s just say roughly four million children could qualify as exceptional but not too exceptional.”
“The law of large numbers,” Aaron marveled.
“So even if only one in one thousand that are eligible enter the program, there would still be thousands of children spies across the world.”
Aaron leaned back in his chair grasping the big picture. “Thousands of bright, hardworking, people with a focus on education and success. It was more of a certainty than a coincidence that someone would end up at Ameriprobe. There are only a few hundred world-class companies. Logic would dictate that most would have a few program members by now.”
“It’s impossible even for me to tell if a child coming to the United States is part of a program like I am. We were taught very early not to say anything to anyone, ever. So that nice American-educated, Chinese-born, worker sitting next to you could be part of a spy program and you would never know it. James never knew.” She looked down at her lap.
“How many relatives do you have in China?”
“Close or total?”
“People you worry that would be hurt by the stick if you fail to deliver what they ask for.”
“My mom and dad. I have no sisters or brothers. My grandparents passed away. I have a few childhood friends, but no one very close. Some cousins, I guess. I have only been back to China four times in the past twenty-five years.”
“That could be our easy out. Just get your parents here to the U.S.,” Aaron suggested happily.
“It wasn’t easy for me to become a citizen and I have lived here for twenty-five years and married an American. And there is no chance the Chinese government will give them a visa to visit here now.”
“You’re right. We’re just brainstorming right now. We need more information before we decide what’s best. But coming clean is the right thing to do. Usually the law in the U.S. supports doing the right thing. We just gotta figure it out.”
“How do we do that?”
Aaron smiled. “What gym do you work out at?”
Feeling the question quite random, Xiaowan responded, “24 Hour Fitness. Why?”
“First thing I learned in the spy game a month ago was to hold meetings in public places where it is impossible to get recording devices into, like a swimming pool or hot tub. It’s hard to stare someone down or take pictures without looking like a total creeper and getting kicked out,” Aaron said as he recalled meeting with the former Chairman of the Federal Reserve in a YMCA hot tub.
“Okay. How about we meet on Saturday at 2:00 pm, poolside at the Clairemont 24 Hour Fitness?
“Perfect. I’ll research what I can about the spy program from a public computer terminal, just in case I am being watched too. I want you to be very careful too.”
“Thanks. Ameriprobe teaches us that we may be targets of kidnapping and has excellent security on its campus. They have taught us to be alert by having us mock-followed and I have been pretty good at spotting the mock-follower. I noticed a car that seems to follow me, so today I had a friend from work drive me here. She is at the mall and has probably texted me that she is here waiting. What time is it?”
“Five after 1:00 pm.”
Xiaowan smiled. “I’m five minutes late in meeting her back outside.”
Aaron smiled back. “Before you go, any chance you were followed here today? If so, we need a good reason for you visiting me.”
“Chance? Yes. Unlikely though. I did not see anyone follow us. And I checked repeatedly.”
Aaron suggested, “If asked, we say we are planning a surprise birthday for James? An Alaskan cruise?”
She agreed that would be their fallback cover and they said their goodbyes.
Aaron was able to provide a sense of optimism that Xiaowan desperately needed. Just bringing him into the loop took a heavy weight off her shoulders.
Chapter 2
While Xiaowan and Aaron were meeting, Tina found a parking spot on a side street on Fifth Avenue in Banker’s Hill, about a mile north of downtown San Diego. She picked up lunch from Barrio Star, located right across the street from Peter’s salon.
During the ten minutes of waiting for the carry-out she sent Peter a text message saying she would be there in a few minutes for lunch. Tina sent out several text messages to Jessica asking her if there were any more ideas for her bachelorette party.
Waiting for her text messages to be returned, Tina looked up at the host and felt bored. She smiled at just being bored and no longer being worried about the stress of her and Aaron surviving the Washington D.C. adventure. Now that they were actually moving somehow the stress of moving was lightening up too. The trucks took their personal belongings and Aaron’s office was all that was left. Tina was relaxes and happy, especially because she was going to see her friend Peter.
Peter Nguyen is almost a caricature of the stereotype of a flamboyant homosexual hairdresser with over-the-top gestures that could seem like an act to someone that didn’t know him. She knew him and understood that while Peter could be over-the-top, he was completely genuine. His emotions and wit poured from him freely and guaranteed laughs.
After receiving her carry-out package, Tina walked across the street to the salon. She noticed that a bald Hispanic man standing outside of the salon wearing a white t-shirt and blue jeans was staring at her as she entered.
Tina had often been getting the feeling that someone was watching her. She was seeing a psychiatrist twice a week to talk about Washington D.C., but still felt on edge. That all melted away when she saw Peter approach and screech, “Oh my God honey! You lo
ok fantastic! Who did your hair? They must be a genius! Ha!”
Tina smiled at him. “Great to see you, Peter.”
“Put that down and get over here and give me a hug!” Peter exclaimed with genuine love, craving to show her affection.
She obliged, and after a quick kiss on her cheek, they were wrapped in each other’s arms. It felt so different hugging him than Aaron; the warmth and caring were the same, but Aaron’s extra foot of height and hundred pounds was just so different. Tina felt good and warm…and safe. She almost started to tear up. “I missed you so much, Peter.”
Peter heard the emotion in her voice and pulled back from her. “Oh no honey! You’re going to make me cry.” He started to well up too. “Thank God I’m not wearing any makeup today. You would have ruined my face!”
“Oh Peter… We have so much to catch up on,” Tina said, clutching him for another hug.
After a few more seconds, she let go and Peter said, “Yes we do. What’s for lunch honey?”
“Tacos from across the street. Fish or chicken?”
“Both! You know what? Might as well just slather them on my ass cause that’s where they’re going.” Peter laughed and took her hand to lead her into the back of the salon where there was a little breakroom with a couch and two chairs. Tina smiled. “You’re so ripped, I wish I had your ass.”
“Honey, if I weren’t gay you could have it.”
They both laughed when Tina smacked him on the ass. “Who says I can’t?”
“Hillcrest!”
She laughed. “Hillcrest? Huh?” Tina looked over her shoulder and out the window. She no longer saw the bald Hispanic man. She felt relieved and at home with Peter.
“Oh yeah, honey. I forgot you’ve been out of the loop for a good bit. It’s just something us girls say when something awesome or funny happens. Totally random, like in the TV show Family Guy when Peter Griffin does something and he just randomly says ‘Roadhouse.’ It’s just a silly comeback like, you know, ‘That’s what she said.’”
Walking through the breakroom, they walked past a row of four salon chairs directly opposite one row of four hair dryers. Only one salon chair was occupied with a hair stylist and client. On the far wall, there were six hair dryers and only one other client. It was slow because the salon opens late and stays open until 11:00 pm when it then becomes half-salon, half-nightclub.
Peter led Tina past all the work stations and across two partial privacy walls that have privacy beads hanging between them. This salon was all about gossip; the beads and half walls allowed a whisper to be kept confidential for an instant, not much longer.
Walking through the beads, Peter led Tina into an area that had three sinks and chairs for hair-washing and on the other side a couch with a coffee table. They sat on the couch and unpacked their lunch, both hungry for food and catching up. Over the next few minutes, one would win out over the other and they would take bites of lunch in between talking.
“God, it’s so good to see you Peter! You don’t know how much I need to just break away from all the stuff going on in my life. I just want to feel normal and hear about your boy troubles and stories for a while.”
“You want me to open up and talk about my life?” Peter joked sarcastically. “Too bad I’m boring now. Things are actually calm in my life.”
“I am so jealous. Do tell, why are things boring?”
“Things with Chipmunk are going great. We read and watch TV and have dinner parties with friends. We rarely go out late. So all the drama we get to dish about today is other people’s,” Peter said with a contented calmness. He reached out and touched her arm. “How are you holding up?”
She looked into his eyes and her heart just poured out with no filter. “I feel so alive and happy and scared that it terrifies me. I feel like I have the world with Aaron. I know in my heart we can make it through anything. I know that he would risk his life and our relationship for me. And that I would kill someone to save him too. But I’m still afraid he’ll disappear again or that someone is going to come out of the shadows to try and get me. Just five minutes ago, I thought some guy was following me. Ugh, I’m a lost cause.”
“Oh no, honey. You had real drama in your life. I deal with divas coming in talking about wanting to kill someone because some guy sent their boyfriend a text message. You know how much I’ve always looked up to you. You know, being my elder and all…”
“Three days, Peter. Three days older, and you don’t let me live that down.” She laughed out, “Three days wiser.”
He gestured dramatically to his face. “Don’t forget three days younger.”
Tina laughed so hard she had to pause to catch her breath.
Peter relented, “Okay, okay, I admit that you have better skin. I don’t know what secret doctor products you’re using and why you won’t tell me.”
“Come on Peter, you know my ex is a dermatologist so I get the good stuff,” she joked back.
“So when are we going to finally do a girls’ weekend?”
“Great question. I don’t know how my work schedule will be. Let me guess, you want to go to the Getty Museum in L.A. then into Hollywood for dinner and clubbing.”
“Ding, ding, ding, ding. We have a winner. Let me guess, you want to go dress and shoe shopping?”
She laughed out, “Yepper.”
The two of them were enjoying the conversation so much that they had half of their meals still left. They were afraid to take big bites for fear of missing a chance to talk.
Outside of the salon, a block away in a yellow loading zone, a Hispanic man sat in an old black Honda Civic. His phone rang. “Bueno.”
“You remember our deal?” a woman’s voice asked.
“Si,” he responded.
The voice continued, “You figure out when it’s best to get her and you’ll have ten thousand dollars cash and the gun that killed your amigo. You fail, your picture and gun get mailed to the police. Understood?”
“Okay, comprendo lady. I’ll get the little Asian woman and bring her to you.”
“Alive. Hurt is fine, but alive.”
“Okay, I will grab her now and meet you.”
“Remember, drive into the garage, tie her up with a gag in the bathroom, and move your car out so I can pull in later.”
“Ok.”
The man in the car, Carlos Jimenez, had been watching Tina Lee on and off for the past week. He still couldn’t believe his bad luck.
Chapter 3
Eight days ago, Carlos Jimenez and his cousin Arturo were walking down the streets of Ocean Beach checking car interiors at two in the morning when they came across an old Buick sedan under a streetlight. On the front seat was an iPad and a two hundred dollar bills.
They couldn’t believe their good luck and potential score. Arturo pulled out an 8-inch pipe from his back pocket that was held in place under his belt and smashed the passenger-side window. Carlos grabbed the iPad and cash and they sprinted four blocks before they made it to their car. They hopped in and made it over to the highway and back towards the international border between the United States and Mexico.
Following behind them was what appeared to be a pudgy, 5’7”, woman with short black hair. She had tracking and transmitting software on the iPad so everywhere it went showed on her cell phone. Everything said in its presence relayed to her phone as long as the satellites provided reception and she kept the app open.
She followed from over a mile away, confident that they would hold onto the iPad and not feeling the need to maintain a visual. She decided that if they headed into Mexico, she would let this slide as another wasted night and start over. This was the third night she left her bait in the Buick but the first smash and grab attempt. Her patience was running thin but she knew she had to be patient.
She smiled when her software said the car was traveling down L Street, a mile away from Mexico. She took the same exit and pursued. She drove past where the signal stopped and pulled over in between streetlights to
provide maximum cover of darkness.
She checked the location of the iPad and determined it was coming from a small house, nine houses back up from where she parked. She went to zillow.com and put in the address to find that it was a two bedroom, one bath, 1200 sq. ft. house. No pictures and no floor plan. She frowned.
She closed Zillow and went back to the audio feed, pressing a button to change it to a video feed. She heard Arturo and Carlos talking but only understood a few words because they were speaking primarily in Spanish. She saw nothing but white so she imagined that she was looking at a plain white ceiling in the living room.
She lamented the fact that she wasn’t trained on the operations side as well as her former colleagues, Nick and Spencer. Both of them died last month at the hands of Aaron Baker and Tina Lee. The guy she was about to recruit did not have extensive Secret Service operations training and experience, but she needed help. Necessity is the best motivator and the guy she chose would be plenty motivated.
After a half hour, she noticed that the iPad went dark. The video feed was still live so they must have shut the lights off.
The woman was wearing baggy blue jeans and a black flannel shirt into which she painstakingly spent seven hours sewing pillow stuffing. The stuffing in her arms, shoulders, and waist made her look like a chubby man with top-heavy shoulders. Her hourglass, yet athletic, body was hidden as were her high cheekbones and slender face. She accomplished the latter by eating a steady regime of salt to make her bloated. She would have worn boots to make her look even taller and more masculine, but she needed the silence so she wore high top basketball shoes and a baseball cap.
She opened up the backpack that was on the passenger seat. She had three syringes full of etorphine, a powerful veterinary tranquilizer used to sedate and immobilize elephants and horses. Because etorphine is about two thousand times more powerful than morphine, she checked a different pocket in her backpack to make sure that she had three syringes full of diprenorphine, which would mostly reverse the effects. If administered quickly enough, diprenorphine could save someone who overdosed on etorphine.
Sunshine or Lead Page 2
