by Allan Topol
Craig read the note twice, then tore it into little pieces and flushed it down the toilet.
He faced a dilemma. Did the note come from Lin Yu who wanted to talk or was it a trap arranged by Yu or Zhou to have him attacked or even killed? Craig decided he couldn’t call Jennifer. He’d have to make up his own mind.
After thinking about it for full minute, he decided to go to the meeting point. Perhaps, he was being foolhardy; but if there was a chance of nailing Zhou, he had to take it. Besides, he had been out of the terrorism business so long that he was itching to get back into the action.
He dressed in slacks and a shirt and took a cab to the restaurant. It was a colonial style house in the middle of Singapore’s lush botanic gardens, reminding him a little of Le Pre Catelan in Paris in the heart of the Bois de Boulogne.
Craig checked his watch. Ten minutes to twelve. He sat at the bar and ordered an Armagnac.
Twenty minutes later, Yu hadn’t appeared. Craig was wondering if this was a wild goose chase when the maître d’ came over and handed him an unaddressed white envelope. Craig opened it and pulled out a typed note. “I’m outside in the back, next to the large fountain. Go through the rear door of the restaurant, walk along the path for twenty yards, and you’ll see me.”
Craig wondered if he was being set up, but he had come this far. He had no intention of turning back. He paid the bartender for the drink and headed toward the rear door.
The night was balmy with only a sliver of a moon. Stepping outside into the lush garden, he saw a fountain straight ahead with water shooting up into the air. A man was standing in front of it, but in the darkness he couldn’t tell if it was Yu. He headed in that direction.
Suddenly, Craig felt sick, very sick, nauseous. His eyes were blurred and he lost focus. The entire garden was spinning, around and around.
He heard voices, men speaking, “Sir, are you okay? Do you need help?”
It wasn’t Yu’s voice.
“No …” he mumbled. “No.”
He felt powerful arms clutching him, around his chest and pulling him backward.
Then everything went black.
* * *
Craig was regaining consciousness. Every part of his body hurt. He reached up to the side of his face and felt dried, caked blood. A foul smell filled his nostrils, the odor of feces and urine.
Slowly, he opened his eyes and looked around. He was in a dingy prison cell, seated on a dirt floor, propped up against a stone wall. Seven other men were in the small cell, all wearing the same stained prison blues as Craig. He was surprised to see they had left him wearing his black pointed leather shoes.
To alleviate the stiffness, Craig stood up. As he did, he heard a shout from across the cell. “The American’s awake.”
Craig looked in that direction. The shout had come from a giant of a man, brown skinned and weighing about three hundred pounds.
He was walking toward Craig with a metal object in his hand.
The other prisoners cleared a path letting the giant approach Craig. Then they made a circle behind the giant.
Craig noticed the giant was holding a switchblade knife. He pressed a button and it snapped open.
“Give me some money, American,” the giant called, while holding the knife in his upraised arm in a menacing grip.
“Sorry,” Craig said, sounding bold. “The guards took all my money. They didn’t leave me my credit cards. So even if you take Visa or American Express, I can’t give you those.”
A couple prisoners laughed. “Shut up,” the giant shouted to them. Then to Craig, “You think that’s funny. You mock me. You make jokes of me.”
Craig looked around for a stick of wood, anything he could use as a weapon, but he didn’t see a thing.
When the man was five yards away, Craig called out, “Listen, asshole. I wasn’t making trouble for you. So piss off.”
As he expected, his words enraged the giant. He kept coming. One chance is all Craig would get. He had to use it.
The giant had the knife raised in his right hand. With his left, he reached out to grab Craig. Before he had a chance, Craig was off his feet, flying through the air toward the man with those black pointed shoes out in front aimed for the giants’ groin. They smashed into his balls.
The giant screamed in pain. The knife fell from his hand. They both tumbled to the ground. The giant was thrashing, grabbing for Craig. But blinded by pain, he couldn’t reach Craig who spun away, grabbed the knife and sprang to his feet.
With the knife in hand, he whirled around and looked at the circle of other prisoners. “Any of you others want what he just got? Then come on.”
He knew full well if they all came for him at the same time, he was dead. But he stared at them menacingly, showing no fear.
No one moved. The giant staggered to his feet, stumbled to a corner of the cell, and threw up. The others moved back, yielding one side of the cell to Craig.
About ten minutes later, two guards opened the cell door. Craig quickly closed up the knife and concealed it under his shirtsleeve. The guards motioned to Craig, who headed toward the door. As he crossed the threshold, he took out the knife and handed it to one of the guards. “I found this on the floor of the cell. Somebody must have lost it.”
Craig noticed the giant glaring at him. He glared back.
The guard led him to a small room, which held a table and two chairs. Jennifer was seated in one of them. The guards closed the door and left them alone.
Craig put a finger over his lips and searched the room for bugs or a tiny hidden camera or recorder. Nothing. No one way glass.
“Okay, let’s talk,” he said.
“You’re in a great deal of trouble and you look like hell.”
“That bad.”
She removed a compact from her bag and opened it to the mirror. He saw that his face was bruised. One eye was barely open. The blood was from a cut on the side of his face near his eye.
“Yeah. You’re right,” he said. “What did they tell you I did?”
“That you went to a brothel. You had been drinking heavily and paid to have sex with two women. You were naked in the bedroom. So were the women. You demanded anal sex, and when they refused, you became abusive and started hitting them. They screamed for the security guards. Two of them came. You began fighting with them. That’s when you were beaten. The police have sworn statements from everyone involved. The women. The two security guards. Even the madam. Fortunately, the police found the card I gave you with my contact info. So they called me and I came immediately.”
“What time is it now?”
“Almost ten thirty in the morning. I’ve been waiting here for them to bring you for the last half hour.”
“They waited in order to give some monster in the cell a chance to kill me.”
Her face was pale. She had deep furrows on her forehead. “This does not look good for you or for the United States.”
Craig was worried she believed what they had told her. “Now would you like to know what really happened?”
“Your version.”
“The truth.”
“I’m listening.”
He explained everything that occurred from the time he saw the note in his hotel room to his collapsing in the garden. “So they must have drugged my Armagnac,” he said. “I hope you believe me.”
“I’ve never heard of anything like this happening in Singapore. Crime rates are low, and …” she said hesitantly.
If she doesn’t believe me, I’m really screwed.
“But,” she continued. “I do believe you. I’ll go to bat for you and try to convince the Justice Minster.”
“You and I were supposed to meet with him half an hour ago.”
“I already called and postponed that until I met with you.”
Craig sighed. That meeting had been important. Yu and Zhou had totally outmaneuvered him. “Can you reset it for this afternoon?”
“I’ll call him. First, I’ll need h
im to get you out of here, which won’t be easy with sworn statements from so many witnesses. It would be better for me to do it in person.”
“In the meantime, what happens to me?”
“I’ll convince the head of the prison to lock you up in your own cell until I return.”
“You think you can?”
“He won’t want anything to happen if he knows I’m meeting with his boss about you.”
Jennifer proved to be correct. When she left, Craig was permitted to shower, was given clean clothes, and placed in a spotless, sanitary cell.
He didn’t have a watch or clock, but it seemed as if Jennifer returned somewhere between an hour and two hours later.
“Okay. Here’s the deal I cut,” she told Craig. “The next plane to the United States leaves in two hours on Singapore Air for Los Angeles. If you’re on that plane and out of the country, no charges will be filed.”
“What about our meeting with the justice minister about Yu?”
“He’ll have that meeting with me alone once you’re in the air. Call me from Los Angeles, and I’ll give you a report.”
“But—”
Craig was preparing to protest.
She cut him off. “This is the only way to avoid a huge embarrassment for President Worth and the United States.”
“I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“You and I both know that, but the justice minister showed me photos of you naked with two prostitutes,” she said grimly. “Unless you’re on that plane, he’s prepared to release the photos to the media. In these wonderful days of the Internet, they’ll go viral.”
“Shit!”
“Exactly my sentiments.”
Craig was confident her meeting about Yu with the justice minister wouldn’t produce anything useful. Yu and Zhou had made his trip to Singapore a dismal failure. He was no closer to nailing Zhou for Federico’s murder.
Los Angeles and Washington
Craig got off the plane in Los Angeles. After clearing customs, he had an hour before the flight to Washington.
Long enough to call Jennifer in Singapore.
“What happened?” he asked anxiously.
“Disaster averted, but you won’t like the result.”
“What do you mean?”
“He told me the price for his commitment not to prosecute you for what he called, ‘this error of judgment’ on your part.”
“That’s bullshit,” Craig said angrily. “They set me up.”
“I explained all that again. You and I are the only ones who believe it.”
“Oh, c’mon. He’s being paid off by Yu.”
“Their town. Their rules. You know how that goes.”
“All too well. What’s the price?”
“The United States will drop its investigation of Yu in connection with the Milan transaction.”
“That sucks.”
“I also agreed we wouldn’t question Lin Yu any further.”
Craig was dismayed. “I’m the victim. I was attacked.”
“That may be, but my job is to avoid embarrassment for the United States and keep American citizens out of jail in Singapore. Now I don’t know who you really are, but I’m confident you’re an American citizen.”
“Thank you for helping me out of this.”
“Just doing my job.”
Before boarding the plane to Washington, Craig stopped in the men’s room. He looked like hell, he thought as he glanced in the mirror. His face had multiple cuts and bruises.
He lifted his shirt. His back and side were black and blue and lots of other colors that nasty bruises display.
He was also exhausted. He slept all the way to Washington.
When he got off at Dulles Airport, he saw he had a message from Elizabeth to call her.
He called her back. “We need to talk,” she said.
“Where are you?”
“Milan.”
“I want you to go to the American Consulate and wait in the reception area. In about an hour, I’ll call you.”
* * *
When Craig walked into Betty’s office at CIA headquarters, she looked at his face and said, “Same old Craig.”
“Thanks Betty.”
“Was it worth it?”
“I’ll give you the details later, but in a word, ‘no’ I didn’t learn a damn thing from Yu.”
“Sorry to hear that.”
“I have Elizabeth standing by in our consulate in Milan waiting for me to call her. Can you hook us up on a secure phone?”
“Will do.”
Moments later, Craig and Betty were seated at Betty’s desk; Elizabeth was in the communications room in the Milan consulate on a secure line.
“I’m in Langley with Betty. You can talk freely now.”
“Hi, Elizabeth,” Betty said.
“Good to hear your voice. Are you keeping Craig out of trouble?”
“I failed. He was bloodied and bruised in Singapore.”
“So what else is new,” Elizabeth said.
“And all for naught,” Craig added.
“Oh, that’s too bad—at least one of us learned something.”
“Don’t gloat. Just tell me.”
“I think you’re right, Craig, about Zhou and Parelli.”
“I’m glad to hear that.”
Elizabeth continued, saying, “I don’t have any hard evidence. When I interviewed Parelli, I pressed him about Chinese support. He denied it, but he was so defensive. I’m convinced by his demeanor and the sudden influx of funds that he must have gotten money from Zhou. Still, that’s not enough for me to use to support an article for the paper. And I can’t believe Mei Ling knows what Zhou is doing.”
“What difference does that make?” Craig said. “She’d never be able to stop him.”
“She is the President of China.”
“Look, Elizabeth. I know you like Mei Ling, and I do, too. However, I think Zhou will run all over her.”
“Don’t underestimate her. She may be able to stop him. At any rate, she has a right to know what’s Zhou’s up to.”
“And how do you propose to let her know? By flying to Beijing to tell her?”
“That’s exactly what I had in mind,” Elizabeth replied.
“Are you crazy? That’s the sort of stupid thing I would do. For God’s sake, Zhou had you watched for a year. Once he finds out you’re in China—and he will because their security people scrutinize the names of all arriving journalists—you’ll be dead meat. They’ll make you suffer torture you can’t even imagine.”
“Not if I come in under the radar.”
“How?” asked Craig.
“As a French tourist with a false name and papers. I know people in Paris who can prepare them. Also, I’ll change my appearance.”
“But when you call Mei Ling’s office to meet her, he’ll get wind of that. He must have spies there.”
“I won’t do it. I’ll tell Ned, my Beijing Bureau Chief, to arrange a secret meeting. He knows Mei Ling.”
“This is ridiculous.” Craig looked at Betty. “Tell her she’s being foolish.”
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Betty asked. “With the risks Craig warned you about?”
“Absolutely. Between Ned and Mei Ling, I should be able to get a positive ID for the Chinese man who was in Parelli’s suite in Venice. Hopefully, he’ll be somebody on Zhou’s staff. Also, if I can persuade Mei Ling to shut down Zhou’s Italian operation, we’ll all be a lot better off.”
“It’s your call,” Betty said.
“Thanks for the support.” Craig grumbled.
“It will take me a little while to get the papers together. I’ll go as soon as I can. I’ll report to you when I get back.”
“If you come back,” Craig added.
After the call, Craig said to Betty, “She’s insane to do this.”
“She spent a lot of time with you. She learned by example.”
Fearful for Elizabeth, he ran his hand through
his hair. “You want to know about Singapore now?”
“Before you arrived, I received a call from President Worth. He wants to hear your report, too. Let me call and get on his calendar. We can go to the White House together.”
* * *
When Craig followed Betty into the Oval Office, he saw two other men standing in the living area with President Worth. One was Winston (“Win”) Tyler, the Secretary of the Treasury whom Craig recognized from pictures in the media. The other was Clyde Jones, the Secretary of State with whom Craig had clashed years ago when Craig was working in the Middle East for the CIA.
At the time, Jones, an African American from South Central LA and a top graduate of West Point, was a general in the Army who had achieved his rank after a meteoric rise. Jones had vetoed a couple of daring operations Craig had planned to hit terrorists at bases inside of civilian areas. Craig was dismayed by the General’s super-cautious approach, afraid to take the kind of risks that were necessary to prevail in warfare. With his CIA colleagues, Craig referred to Jones as “General No.”
Listening to the president introduce him, using his real name, Craig cringed. At the end, Worth said, “Craig is a true American hero. Our super spy. Recipient of the Medal of Freedom. Twice. He’s changed his appearance and his name, but he’s still the same Craig Page.”
Jones replied, “Craig and I know each other,” in a frosty tone.
Betty added, “Craig was just battered and bruised in Singapore serving his country.”
“I hope you gave as good as you got,” Worth said.
“Unfortunately, I didn’t, Mr. President. Not this time. There will be another, I’m sure.”
“Good to meet you,” Tyler said.
As they sat down, Worth said, “I wanted Clyde and Win to be here because this has foreign policy and financial implications. Now Craig, why don’t you begin by telling us why you went to Singapore, for their benefit, and what happened there.”
Craig began by talking about Federico’s murder and the sale of shares in his bank, laying out the facts that lead to Craig’s conclusion that Zhou Yun was the mastermind of the whole affair. While speaking, he glanced at Jones and Tyler. The secretary of state was leaning forward, listening intently. The treasury secretary was squirming in his chair and looking uncomfortable.
