"Have you ever been to China?" he asked.
She cocked her head to one side and raised one eyebrow. "Yes. It's all in my personnel files."
"Well I haven't got the luxury of access to that. Did anything, anything at all, happen that might have brought you to the attention of the authorities there?"
"You really got me in here, without the slightest knowledge of my background? Really?" she was genuinely surprised.
"Yes," he replied, clearly annoyed. "Apparently your masters didn't think it mattered enough to tell me. You're an intelligence analyst currently serving as a liaison with the UK Mission. That is all anyone felt I needed to know. So what do you think I need to know?"
"That I started out as a linguist, for one thing," she said. "I have a Master's in Mandarin and Russian. I was recruited into a government agency called the Joint Technical Language Service, and seconded to the old Department of Trade and Industry as a researcher and transcriber working on Chinese technology companies."
"And as anyone with access to the Internet can instantly find out, JTLS is administered by GCHQ," Wilkinson said.
She nodded.
"I did immersive language courses in Mandarin, and other stuff, in Shanghai. Basically, improving my language skills, picking up a lot of the slang and jargon, and getting a better handle on how the Chinese economy really works. I came away with a few diplomas - in fact, a few more modules, and I'd have a Chinese MBA. I lived there for six months. All the paperwork was handled by the DTI. I did some similar training in Saint Petersburg to sharpen up my Russian too."
"And therefore the Chinese and Russian authorities probably checked you out as a matter of routine," said Wilkinson.
"Well, maybe they looked harder at me in Shanghai. I saved a kid from being run over, and got my face in the local papers, so we had to assume my affiliation was well and truly 'outed'."
He mimed an exaggerated face-palm. "No, I can see why nobody would have felt I'd need to know about that." His voice dripped with sarcasm and irritation.
She gave him a look that said, 'Well, duh!' "Think about it. I'm being put forward for a post where it's a given that I'm a British intelligence officer. How relevant is it that the PLA might already know I'm a British intelligence officer?"
He still looked extremely annoyed. "Very relevant, when it's the PLA representative who asked for you by name. Okay, it's plausible, even likely, that Li knew of you because of that, just like you could probably reel off the names of half the other spooks working at the UN. Spying on each other is a bit of a cottage industry. But we're no closer to knowing why Li was interested in you. It can't rest here, Peri, I have to talk to your bosses about this whole affair."
"Fine, I can see why you have to do that."
He looked at his watch again. "There should be a car outside, waiting patiently with a police escort to get you to JFK. Go. And remember, go light on the in-flight drinkies, study on the files I just gave you, or the cost a first-class seat will come out of your wages."
"Wow! First class? I'm a lucky girl!"
"UN dollars at work," said Wilkinson, with a slight note of bitterness. "The rest of us still have to fly economy. Anyway, the idea is that you won't have anybody overlooking at your laptop screen, so make the best use of the privacy and the photographic memory. We'll talk soon."
Chapter 17
Heathrow Airport, Stanwell, May 28 last year.
As soon as the plane was on the ground, smartphones all around Peri started beeping with incoming messages. It took a minute or two for her to realise that one of them was her own. A couple of messages from Wilkinson: he told her to pick up emails as soon as possible, because 'Lisa had been busy'; also, he had set up a couple of meetings, right here in the airport. She puffed in irritation. It was early evening local time, her body clock was four hours adrift, and she was not sure if she was coming or going. She felt tired, and a little light headed, and in no mood to be talking to anyone. But, she supposed, it had to be done. She thumbed a terse 'OK' message back to Wilkinson.
The flight had been smooth, and, she had to admit, very comfortable. The first-class seat was infinitely adjustable, the food had been better than expected, and the cabin crew extremely attentive, friendly, and sympathetic when she refused the 'in-flight drinkies' due to the need to work. There were screens around the seating which provided enough privacy for her to study the material on her secure laptop. Some of the material had proved to be real eye-openers: so that's what had happened to the Titanic!
One of the cabin crew stopped by her seat. "We'll get you off the flight first, Miss Carlton. Border Force officers are waiting to escort you through to where you need to be. And - since you were so busy working all flight - we thought you might appreciate the glass of wine you didn't get a chance to drink with your meal. Please, take this, on us."
"Oh, really, you don't have to..."
"Nonsense, please, take something away for later."
A bottle-shaped plastic-wrapped 'something' changed hands, and Peri followed her to the aircraft's door.
"Thank you all, very much indeed," said Peri, stepping out of the door. "Oh, hello, were you waiting for me?"
This was addressed to a pair of men in dark blue. One of them smiled pleasantly, greeted her, and they led her down a flight of stairs, onto the tarmac, and into a waiting car. "Goodness, I could easily get used to this VIP treatment," Peri said.
She was whisked around the airport, underneath buildings, past row upon row of parked aircraft, and was deposited at the door of the VIP lounge. "Really?" she asked. "I'm a VIP?"
"It seems you are, Miss Carlton," replied one of the Border Force officers. "At least for tonight." He grinned. "Seriously, we were asked to get you some privacy for a couple of meetings, speed you through the airport, then get you on your way to Wales. This was the most convenient way we could do it. So just follow me, and I'll get you to your first interview. We have a couple of Chinese gentlemen waiting for you."
"I need to pull my emails first. I assume there's Internet access here?"
"Let's get the staff here to get you going," he said, beckoning someone over. Armed with the Wi-Fi details, Peri fired up the laptop and kicked off the high-grade VPN-over-VPN secure protocol so she could pull her emails from the UN. Li had indeed sent some interesting files.
Peri's first meeting was with the late Major Chen's brother, a consular officer at the Embassy of the People's Republic of China. She stepped into a wood-panelled conference room, where her two 'Chinese gentlemen' rose to their feet. She gave a small bow, and greeted them.
"Wanshang hao," she said, and continued in Mandarin. "My name is Peri Carlton. Mr Chen Xiaoming?"
The younger of the men nodded, shook hands, and responded, "I am Chen Xiaoming. May I introduce Mr Yang, from our legal staff, who has kindly agreed to join me today."
Peri shook hands with Mr Yang, who then withdrew to stand beside the door facing Chen. He was solidly built, and his suit was a cheap off-the-peg one. Yang's no lawyer, Peri thought. A spook, if ever I saw one.
"May I express my condolences for the sad loss of your brother, Mr Chen," said Peri. "I hope you will honour me with a few minutes of your time to talk about the Major. His colleague in New York, Ms Li Lixia, suggested you might do me that courtesy?"
"Of course," he replied. "Might I ask, what is your role in this affair?"
"I work at the UN," said Peri. "Ms Li is a colleague, as we are both involved with the same work on behalf of the UN. Indeed, though I unfortunately never had a chance to meet your brother, I have just been seconded to the same team that he led so ably. Quite simply, on behalf of the team, and Ms Li, and the UN, I have been asked to review the investigation by the law enforcement and Coroner services, and to advise as to whether Mr Chen's sad passing should be a subject of interest to us at the UN."
She watched his face carefully, as he processed her words and exchanged glances with Mr Yang. He nodded, and asked, "How may I assist you?"
&
nbsp; "Major Chen was on leave from his post in New York. Do you know how he spent his leave before coming to the UK?"
"Yes, of course. He spent some time with relatives. Although our father died five years ago, our mother and some aunts and uncles still live at home. He visited them."
"Where are they living? All in the same place, or did he travel around to see them all?"
"All of our living relatives reside in Hanyang, which is a district of Wuhan. I believe he spent a few days staying with our mother, and a few days sightseeing. He had never seen the Three Gorges Dam, and I believe he took a river cruise from the dam, upstream, to the gorges."
"He travelled to London next?"
"That is so. He travelled by train to Shanghai and flew to London."
"Please let me confirm I have understood the dates correctly," said Peri, running a finger down the pad on which she was taking notes. "He would have arrived in China - in Shanghai - on the tenth of May. He took the train to Wuhan, arriving on the eleventh of May. He stayed in Wuhan until the seventeenth, then joined the river cruise to the gorges. He left the cruise ship on the twentieth, and immediately travelled to Shanghai by train, arriving on the twenty-first, and flew to London, arriving there on the twenty-second.
Chen Xiaoming frowned for a minute, and then nodded. "You have been most diligent," he said.
She half-turned so she could see Mr Yang. "Colonel Li has been most diligent," she corrected Chen. Yang was carefully keeping his face blank, but she was sure there was the slightest of reactions to her use of Li's military rank. Definitely a spook, she thought. And he's senior enough to know Li.
"I understand Major Chen stayed at your apartment in London, Mr Chen?" she continued.
"He did. But only for three nights. He left me on May twenty-fifth."
Peri leaned across the table. "Why was his stay so short?" she asked. "His return flight to New York was set for May thirtieth. Did you have a disagreement of some kind?"
Chen leant back and tried to look relaxed. "On the contrary, our time together was most agreeable."
"So, no disagreement, but nevertheless, he left earlier than planned. When in Wuhan, he also left your mother's earlier than planned."
"He always wanted to visit the Yangtze gorges..."
"No, he turned up at the last minute and paid in cash for that river cruise. As I said, Ms Li has been most diligent." She turned to face Mr Yang again, and took a punt on his rank. "Major Yang, I was assured by Colonel Li that you would provide every assistance to these enquiries. Perhaps you could advise Mr Chen to be honest?" Yang raised one eyebrow at Peri, and nodded at Chen.
Chen slumped forward and rested his head on his hands. "He was depressed." He looked up, and Peri could see his eyes filling. "His visit in Hanyang was … difficult. I was not very helpful."
"Tell me."
Chen sighed. "Please believe this is difficult for me."
Do I look like I care, thought Peri. Just spit it out, for God's sake.
"As a child, my brother wanted to be a soldier; more than that, he dreamed of being a Heroic Exemplar," he started.
"Our grandfather had survived the Long March as a teenage soldier in the First Red Army under Mao's leadership. He went on to serve in various Red Army and PLA formations for sixteen years, until he was seriously wounded resisting the Kuomintang counter-offensive on Hainan Island in 1950. Our father, too, served with the PLA, and he saw action in the war against Vietnam, and he was wounded at Lang Son in 1979. Thus we were brought up on tales of the military exploits of both father and grandfather, and my brother aspired to serve his country at least as well as they had."
He made a gesture of self-deprecation. "I was always more of a scholar and had no such ambition, but he had high expectations of military glory.
"A more realistic attitude took root and grew in his teenage years, but he still aspired to greatness, or at least to be acknowledged to have given Meritorious Service to his country. This dream, too, was moderated by the passage of time: it dawned on my brother that it would be hard to stand out in an organisation almost three million strong. What can I say? He's my brother!" He sighed, and a far-away look in his eye told Peri that he was reliving arguments from years ago.
"A few months in a training regiment confirmed his potential as officer material. A few months in officer training confirmed that my brother was likely to be competent without being outstanding. He passed fitness tests, and graduated into an infantry regiment where he was recognised as a sound administrator, but, I have to be honest, hardly an inspiring leader."
He stopped, seemingly saddened anew by his brother's disappointment.
"Go on, please," said Peri, softly.
"My brother might well have served out a five-year term in the People's Liberation Army as a First Lieutenant at most, but then he surprised his superiors - and himself - by displaying an aptitude for intelligence reporting. He studied at the PLA National Defence University, and that was followed by a posting to the Second Department of the Joint Staff Headquarters, the department responsible for military intelligence. There, my brother surprised himself again by acquiring a fluent command of English. Suddenly, he realised that new opportunities were available to him: some further training at the National Defence University and a few specialist courses later, and he was posted to the embassy in Ottawa as a Captain.
"Some of the hopes of his childhood years began to arise once more, only to sink back down into disappointment almost as fast. Embassy security realised that the Canadian authorities had identified Chen as an officer in the Second Directorate."
He shot a glance at Yang, fearing that he had said more than was wise, but Yang simply nodded at him to continue.
"Now, my brother realised, he would be restricted to the uninteresting roles with little opportunity to act like James Bond…, or, or, … to win glory. After postings as an attaché in our embassies in other English-speaking countries - Australia, New Zealand and the United States - he finally found himself promoted to Major and posted to New York City to see out the last of his military career as an adjunct at our Mission to the UN."
He rubbed his eyes. "This was far from the career my brother had hoped for. This left him feeling bad. But what made things worse for him was the attitude of our mother."
He snorted a bitter laugh. "I was a disappointment, but I knew that I would be, and I know that I am. Ha! I turned out to be an intellectual, a member of the bourgeoisie, a member of the despised middle-class that was polluting the ideologies of the revolution. Our parents were brought up during the Cultural Revolution, and they were enthusiastic adherents of the dictatorship of the proletariat. Our grandparents - especially our grandfather - as genuine Long March revolutionaries, they were safe, and made sure their family was safe, from the excesses of the Red Guards. They made sure they were collectively even more rabid than the mad dogs of the Red Guards, … I need not go on. I cannot go on."
He stopped and tears rolled down his cheeks.
"But my brother … well, he tried to live up to an ideal of proletarian heroism that was peddled by our parents, and was found wanting. He was a sore disappointment, but not like me, not for ideological reasons. Oh no, he was a disappointment because he was in the military but never fought; an officer without being a leader; a military middle-class bureaucrat without the potential to go any further.
"He came back from his trip to Wuhan very, very depressed. Unloved, criticised and unwanted by his own family - our own family - despite having tried his best to live up to their ideals."
He held up his hands as if in surrender.
"We argued. I accused him of being a dreamer whose dreams were too big and too outdated to ever come true. He accused me of … never mind. He was depressed and I argued with him instead of helping him.
"So, being in London and chancing on curious stories about Wales - he saw that as a sign of good luck. An opportunity to end his military career with a moment of glory. My brother was unable to resist the lure
. He rented a car and drove to Wales without a moment's hesitation."
Chen leaned back and looked at the ceiling, though his eyes were focused somewhere else in the past. Peri respectfully allowed him some moments alone inside his own head. But at last, she asked, "How deep was your brother's despair?"
Chen abruptly sat up straight and looked at her. "He would not take his own life," he said firmly. "He was not that type of personality. He did not take his own life."
"I am sure you are correct," said Peri, gently. "But was he of a mind to take, shall we say, uncharacteristic risks?"
"He was a careful man. He was never minded to take risks, especially not risks to his own life, or anyone else's life. What are you asking?"
"If he meant to make a point, and to seek out - what did you call it? A moment of glory? Then, perhaps, he would act in an atypical way. I am asking, from your knowledge of your brother, is this possible? Even likely perhaps?"
Chen seemed to reluctant to reply, but eventually said, "It is possible."
Peri let the silence stretch out, but it was clear that Chen was not going to say any more than that.
"You mentioned curious stories about Wales," she said at last. "Do you know what these stories were?"
"No," he said. "It was obvious that something had caught his interest. I asked, but he was very cryptic in his reply."
"Cryptic? How?"
"He said something nonsensical about gods and dragons, and laughed. He spent some time using the Internet, looking for other reports about Wales. He grew quite excited at one point. I heard him say something to himself about being scared away. And that is all I know."
"Scared away? Did he say who or what had been scared away?"
"That," he repeated slowly, "is all I know."
Peri let the silence stretch out a little, but it was clear that Chen was going to volunteer nothing else. "From here, Mr Chen, I will be going to Wales. On behalf of the UN, I intend to examine his possessions for items of relevance to his work. Are you content that I should do so?"
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