The Deputy Prime Minister looked at Zhou. “How important is Kimbo to helping you make sure Xiaowan complies?”
Zhou took a breath, having prepared for that question the entire flight back to Beijing. “I believe having someone with American knowledge who has gone through what she will go through will be very helpful. I can accomplish it on my own, but he would be helpful.”
The Program Director looked around the table. “Xiaowan has been to China only three times in the past twenty years. She is an American citizen. She is married to an American man. She has given up her Chinese surname. We must use every tool we can. If Kenji Bo can help us, we lose a pimp runner who gave us computers. We have no need for that any longer.” He looked Zhou in the eye. “Offer Kimbo release from the program. And Xiaowan too.”
The Deputy Prime Minister looked at the Director. “Xiaowan too? She may have access to many other helpful drugs.”
The old man pulled off his glasses, pressed against the upper ridge of his nose, and slapped his hand down on the table in exasperation. “If our country needs her, we bring her back in.” He looked back at Zhou. “But she has your word and our backing. If she does this, she is done.”
Zhou remembered last month’s conversation with crystal clarity. He had spent the past year working with his other contacts for secrets in biotechnology and nothing seemed ripe for the plucking until this. In doing his research, Zhou believed Ameriprobe was just beginning a very secretive drug trial. Unfortunately, Zhou’s hackers were stymied by Ameriprobe’s firewalls and were unable to get any information for him. He had no other options for information; he would need Xiaowan for her access.
And that brought Zhou, Kimbo, and Xiaowan together at this meeting this Saturday afternoon in a small office at Lele’s Spa. James didn’t know there was a meeting going on. He didn’t even notice that the woman who came in to bring an extra towel had rifled through his pants, which were left laying on a chair. She took his cell phone to an empty massage room where a tech copied everything on it and cloned it so that everything texted, and all calls, would be monitored by a sister phone.
During the first half of the meeting, Zhou spoke exclusively in Mandarin Chinese and impressed upon Xiaowan how many lives could be saved by getting this research to the Chinese who would move faster with it than Ameriprobe or the idiots at the FDA would allow. Xiaowan sat in near silence afraid for her life during the speech while her husband was just down the hall relaxing with a massage.
Getting more and more anxious, Xiaowan asked in English, “What do you want me to do?”
Zhou responded in English, “Get Ameriprobe’s current research on the anti-viral medication for the flu, and samples.”
“I am on the business side, I don’t have access to research. How am I supposed to do it?”
“How many times have you been to your Barcelona branch?”
“I’ve spent a few months there working as a project manager.” .
“I understand that’s where the animal trials are taking place and where the samples are. That’s where we need you to go if you cannot get access to the files here.”
Xiaowan shook her head. “They don’t do any animal studies on the Barcelona campus. That doesn’t make sense.”
Zhou said confidently, “They must have research animals on the campus that you have seen.”
She thought for a few minutes. The campus there was less than one half of the size of the San Diego campus and she knew they had two small animal labs in San Diego. So it was possible. “Maybe they have them, but so what? How am I supposed to get access to the research area and get that information?”
Zhou smiled. “You are very smart and resourceful. You have a master’s degree in biochemistry. You have a master’s degree in business administration. You will figure it out.” He looked over at Kimbo and asked, while standing up and pointing, “The restroom is that way?”
“Yes.” Kimbo knew that he was going to have some alone time with Xiaowan to help try to ease her fears about the assignment. Kimbo waited for Zhou to leave the room and close the door behind him. He asked in English, “How are you doing?”
“Scared.”
Kimbo leaned in and whispered, “Me too. Since the first time they contacted me thirty-five years ago and every time since.”
“What did they have you do?”
Kimbo leaned back in his chair, put his right foot up on his left thigh. “I worked for an architectural firm. Business development. My first handler wanted me to help get information to help Chinese firms build. It turned out that all the American firms were happy to go and work with the Chinese so there wasn’t much private information to steal. I was kind of obsolete until I changed businesses. I own many small buildings and businesses. I have been tasked to steal information, cell phones and computers mostly.”
Xiaowan looked fearfully at him. “How many times have they contacted you?”
He sighed. “Even one was too many. Maybe every five years or so?” Kimbo rounded the frequency down, way down. “If it helped our country, I was scared but happy to help. I think yours is an assignment that can greatly help our country and even the world.”
“Our country?”
“Our former country will always be home. It is where I still have relatives and people I care about. I call this country my home as well.”
“Do I have any other choice?”
He shook his head with understanding. “No Xiaowan, you don’t. You can do this and keep the life you have built here. And one thing I know is that every time they made me a promise, they kept it. If you can do this and help China develop cures for different strains of the flu, I believe they will never ask anything of you again.”
“You think so?” she asked with a tinge of hope in her voice.
“Yes, I do.”
“What if I don’t succeed?”
“If you try, honestly try, I think you will be just fine. But if you go to the authorities, it could be really bad for not only China, but for Chinese people all over the world who won’t be trusted to work in big companies. The mistrust will ruin people’s lives,” Kimbo impressed upon her without making the obvious threat, which was harm to her loved ones back in China.
She looked down at her lap. “I guess I have no choice?”
Kimbo nodded. “And if you do succeed, you may help save millions of lives. So while it is bad to steal, this is not such a clear-cut case of right and wrong.”
Xiaowan leaned in and asked quietly, “Do you think this can be weaponized? Is that the reason? Some sort of biological warfare?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know. I doubt Zhou would know either. I would not ask. But you know how the flu impacts people and animals in Asia. A cure, or treatment, even imperfect, could save many lives.”
Zhou opened the door to the room without knocking, a small gesture to let everyone in the room know that he was in charge. He said to Xiaowan, “Your husband’s time is almost up. How soon can you get to Barcelona?”
“I guess within a few weeks. I wouldn’t want to get there and raise suspicion. I hope to find a good cover to go under.”
“So we can count on you? Within thirty days?”
If she said any more or sat there any longer, tears would have poured from her eyes. She nodded her head to affirm. Zhou walked over to the corner of the room and opened up a gym bag to pull out a large envelope that was bulging. He handed it to Xiaowan and smiled at her again. She looked at him curiously. He nodded once. “Go ahead. Open it.”
With a slightly noticeable shake in her hands, she unclasped the tiny metal prongs and opened the envelope. She saw wads of hundred dollar bills and what appeared to be a wad of five hundred Euro bills as well.
She looked at Zhou.
“Two hundred thousand U.S. and fifty thousand Euro. That is your per diem. Use it to help arrange your cover, make it a second honeymoon. Use it to pay someone off if necessary.”
Kimbo interjected, “Be smart when traveling with money
and going through security at airports; it can’t be in a carry-on. Don’t deposit more than ten thousand dollars in any one bank account.”
Xiaowan looked surprised and didn’t know what to say. With unsteady hands, she closed the envelope and spread the prongs to seal the envelope.
Zhou smiled at Xiaowan. “Your homeland needs your help. We will support you. We will reward your success.”
She nodded in disbelief, feeling worse that she would be getting paid money to do this. Kimbo looked at her and said, “Why don’t you use these last fifteen minutes to try to relax by getting a little massage? Besides, we want to make sure that you smell like massage oil when you see your husband again.” He was playing the role of her compatriot and mentor perfectly.
Zhou handed her a cell phone. “Keep this on you. I’ll call you or text you on this to arrange meetings. It is secure. You are secure. You have been preparing for this since you were twelve years old and we trust you to do what’s right.”
“Okay,” she said as she put the new cell phone and quarter million dollars in her purse.
Kimbo got up and opened the door. He spoke in Mandarin when he said, “I need a female masseuse now.”
Zhou stood up and so did Xiaowan. He extended his hand. “Your motherland will be forever in your debt. You may be able to save millions of lives while you wait for the ridiculous U.S. FDA to approve drugs for research and make them so expensive that people cannot afford them.”
She shook his hand and said in Chinese, “I hope to succeed and understand the importance of this mission.”
He smiled at her and responded in English, “Very good Xiaowan, very good.”
A middle-aged Chinese woman approached the doorway. Kimbo nodded at her then said, “Xiaowan, go with her. Leave your stuff and try to relax with a quick massage.”
The last thing Xiaowan wanted to do was get naked and feel more vulnerable, but if she was going to keep her husband in the dark she had to smell like oil. She decided that she would simply ask for a hand and arm massage once she got in the room and would keep her clothing on.
When she was in the room with the masseuse, Zhou and Kimbo returned to the office. Zhou searched through her purse and saw nothing of much interest. He looked at her own cell phone with some interest but put it back.
“Are you going to clone it?”
Zhou shook his head. “No, security at Ameriprobe might catch it. If that happens, the mission could be compromised. I may need to get access to a few of your trusted associates to do face-to-face meetings with her for me. Preferably not Chinese.” Zhou did not tell Kimbo that he had cloned her husband’s phone.
“Of course. I will give you a list of names and numbers of people I know that can arrange meetings for you.”
“I am hungry. I want to get some of that Mexican food, it is so good. Want to join me?”
“Sure.”
“Do you have any young pretty girls that work here that would want to join us?”
“Not very many, I usually try to make sure the prettiest girls work at the restaurants so there is less chance of them doing more than massage here.”
“See what you can do. Find some to go to a night club with me tonight as a…” Zhou switched back from Mandarin to English to finish his sentence, “wingman. We will go to Nobu for dinner and then party at the hotel rooftop bar.”
“I will have some young pretty girls to go out with you,” Kimbo responded as he pulled out his phone and started text messaging women that worked for him. Switching back to Mandarin he asked, “Do you need to follow Xiaowan tonight?”
“No. I don’t want to raise more suspicion,” Zhou said with confidence. His team had already planted listening devices in Xiaowan’s house and car.
Kimbo understood that Zhou had more support from China. He wondered how many people were here and how closely he was being monitored himself.
While Xiaowan was getting her left hand and arm rubbed with oil, she used her right hand to dab tissue at her eyes to keep her tears from running down her face. Her masseuse said nothing but empathized. Many Chinese women working at Kimbo’s businesses felt the same way…trapped. The massage changed to her other arm. Xiaowan was able to avoid sobbing and breaking down, but kept dabbing at a steady flow of tears.
In her mind, Xiaowan refused to admit she was shedding tears. To her, it was simply saline ocular fluid and it was time to stop the leaking and meet with her wonderful husband. She had a fifty-fifty chance of breaking down into uncontrollable sobs or steadying with resolve when she thought of James.
The masseuse could see something heavy going through Xiaowan’s mind and said to her in Mandarin, “You are strong. You will get through it,” and nodded in affirmation.
That comment, that warmth and support from a stranger, may have tipped the balance. Xiaowan said with clarity and strength in her voice, “Xie xie.”
The masseuse responded in Mandarin, “You’re welcome. I will go now. You take a minute then come out when you are ready.”
“Thank you,” Xiaowan repeated. After the lady left, she stood up and took three deep breaths. She walked into the little office and was pleasantly surprised to find Zhou had left it.
Kimbo was seated at the desk. He looked up and whispered, “Xiaowan, this is the first time in thirty-five years that I have been able to talk to anyone about the program, other than my handler. I am happy and sad that my first time is with you. I am hopeful it is our last. Just keep your head down and you’ll get through it.”
She looked him in the eye and couldn’t decide if she liked and trusted him or was repulsed by him. She picked up her purse and walked out of the office without responding. She made it to the lobby where James was sitting on a couch looking at his cell phone.
He smiled at her. “Hey Shy, how was your massage?”
“Pretty good, yours?” she asked as she reached down to hold onto his cheeks and guide his face up to her lips for a kiss.
“Really good. Great idea on getting the massages today.”
Neither James nor Xiaowan are very affectionate, so the kiss took him a bit by surprise. When she reached for his hand to hold it while they walked out, it made him uncomfortable. Not in holding her hand; he was fine with that, but that she would crave this level of affection made him feel like something was wrong. He joked, “Don’t worry, there was no happy ending.”
She squeezed his hand, “I know. I trust you. We trust each other completely.”
He let go of her hand to open the door. As they left the spa, James mentioned, “Aaron is still in town and he invited us to join him for dinner. Can I tell him we are in or do you have to go back to the office?”
“Yes, tell him we’ll meet him for dinner. Will be fun to see him.”
Chapter 11
Aaron, Tina, Kor, and Jessica all drove in Kor’s car to South Beach Bar & Grille in San Diego’s Ocean Beach area, a place that locals will argue serves the world’s best fish tacos. They planned on meeting Aurora, Xiaowan, and James there at seven, and arrived at six-thirty in hopes of securing a table big enough for their group. Seating on a Saturday night in July could be very challenging.
On the second level of the restaurant, just to the right of the stairs, was a little area with three small tables near the bathrooms. To the left of the staircase was the main bar and another eight tables.
Aaron saw that one of the three tables was open in the little room and there were a few spots at the bar. It also looked to him like the two occupied tables had two couples who were just there for dinner based on their body language, as they were not facing the baseball games played on flat screen televisions throughout the bar. This room might provide a modicum of privacy. Aaron said, “Let’s grab that table and try to collect all of them as they leave.”
Kor nodded. “Want to see if we can clear them out with a little farting contest?”
Jess chimed in, “He’s been on this high protein diet and spending lots of time out on the patio. Sometimes they trail in
after him. Ugh.”
Tina laughed. “Aaron is so gassy too. Most of the time they aren’t bad but every once in a while he drops something that smells so bad I want a surgical mask swabbed with peppermint oil.”
Between laughs Jessica asked, “Does that work?”
“Yeah. Sometimes things smell pretty foul. The surgical masks block out a lot of the bacteria and viruses but some of the smell makes it through. So if we know we are doing something with a GI tract, often times we’ll put in a drop of peppermint oil. Some people might swab the inside with a menthol rub.”
Aaron joked, “That’s why you always rub VapoRub on your chest before bed...”
“That’s why I’m wearing it now…” she joked back.
“Cause you know these fish tacos and beer are going to cause some smelly ass gas!”
“Jess, how about I crash with you tonight and Kor and Aaron take the other bed?” Tina asked.
“Talk about an upgrade!” Jess chided Kor.
“Saved by the waitress,” Aaron said as she approached. “Pitcher of Sculpin?” he asked Kor.
“Sounds good,” Kor responded and then asked, “Jess?”
“Yeah, I’ll have a glass.”
Tina thought for a second. “I’ll start with a Coke, please.”
“Any food?” the waitress asked.
“We have three more people coming but we can order in stages, so if we could get a few menus that would be great,” Aaron said looking at the other little tables near them.
“I’ll get you started then,” the waitress said and went back to the bar to punch in their drink orders.
Tina rummaged through her purse and found a Pepcid. “So I don’t turn beet red,” she announced out of habit, although everyone there was well aware that alcohol made her look flushed and turned her bright red. Pepcid helped reduce the redness quite a bit.
Sunshine or Lead Page 9
