White Ghost

by Steven Gore

  On the half hour, Cobra’s voice chirped in from the receiver’s speaker.

  “Isaan one, Isaan one, over.”

  “Isaan one, over,” Kai answered.

  “We’re with our friends. All is well. Over.”

  “Is the weather good? Over.”

  “Just what we expected. Over.”

  “Isaan one, out.”

  “Isaan one, out.”

  “Why the weather report?” Gage asked.

  “Just to make sure he’s all right. If things were looking like they were going wrong or they had overpowered him, he would have said it was warmer than expected.”

  “Sometimes when I look at you it’s hard to imagine you in the dope trade. But right now it’s not hard at all.”

  Kai smiled. “Those were wild days. I’m not sure I’ve felt this much alive since then.” Her smile died and she looked out the window at the green hotel grounds and the distant gray high-rises and factories. “Somehow the years between then and now have just evaporated. It makes me wonder what I’ve really been doing all this time and how I’ve gotten to where I am.” She shook her head. “But now is the wrong time to think about this.” She smiled again. “I think I’ll wait to have my crisis after this one is over.”

  Gage smiled back. “Anytime you’re ready.”

  Kai packed up the shortwave gear and slid it under the bed.

  “You ready to clue in the general about what’s going on?” Kai asked.

  Gage imagined the fishing boats sailing the East China Sea and the trucks traveling the Burma Road.

  “I’m not sure; something doesn’t feel right, but I don’t know what it is.”

  Gage knew that nausea and weakness were graying his mind, but he couldn’t shake free from it to see the whole of what was generating his unease. Part of it was that he had neither a guarantee the chips really were on the East China Sea or the heroin really was in those bags of cassava powder. That wasn’t all, but he didn’t know what else.

  “We’ll have to feel him out before we disclose anything important.”

  They rode the elevator down to where Zhang was waiting for them in the bar. Walking toward him where he sat at a low table by the window, Gage examined him against the backdrop of the flowering gardens where old women in straw hats were bent over tending the plants. The women seemed oblivious not only to the hotel guests talking business and drinking, but to those like Gage who were wondering where these women had come from and how it was that life had led them to work into old age just a pane of glass away from the kind of crime and corruption represented by men like Zhang.

  Zhang waited until their drinks were served, then asked, “Time for business?”

  Gage nodded. “But let me start with a hypothetical.” He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “Suppose there was a smuggling transaction involving the coast of China. On one side are stolen items. On the other, contraband.”

  “What contraband?”

  “I’ll get to that later.”

  “By container or by fishing boat?”

  Given the thousands of fishing boats in the straits between Taiwan and China, Gage didn’t think there was a risk in answering.

  “Fishing boat.”

  “And you’re thinking . . .”

  “Border trade.”

  “And that’s why you called me.”

  “Exactly.”

  When Gage first met Zhang, he commanded a PLA-controlled port on the North China Sea, used by the military to circumvent official government trade barriers with South Korea and Taiwan and to earn income by taxing goods passing through. Only half the PLA’s budget came from the central government; the rest they earned in business and managing illegal trade.

  “It is likely that neither side has disclosed to the border trade commander the nature of the goods that will be passing through his jurisdiction.”

  “What makes you think that?”

  “Risk and the high value of the goods.”

  “That would mean the contraband is doubly smuggled,” Zhang said, “into China and also past the commander. They want the protection without paying the full price the amount of risk demands.”

  “That’s what I’m thinking. The question is whether, with full knowledge, the commander would allow the transaction to occur in exchange for adequate compensation.”

  Zhang shrugged. “It depends on what that is.”

  “The stolen items.”

  “What are they worth?”

  “At least a few million dollars.”

  “And the contraband has the same value.”

  “Probably the same, or very close.”

  “So it’s a barter of some kind.”

  “It seems that way.”

  Zhang took a sip of his drink and looked out at the elderly gardeners. Finally, he said, “The commander would want deniability.”

  “Which would at least mean he wouldn’t interfere.”

  Zhang opened his palms on the table before him. “He can’t act on what he doesn’t know about.”

  “How would you suggest we approach such a commander?”

  Zhang grinned. “You know how and you just did, at least indirectly. And that tells me you think the port they’re using is along the East China Sea.”

  Gage nodded. “At least the stolen goods on one side of the transaction.”

  “And the other?”

  “I don’t know yet.”

  “And when do you expect this hypothetical to become real?”

  “It left port within the last twelve hours and we think it will arrive within the next three days. Maybe sooner.”

  The maître d’ arrived to escort them to the dining room. Gage let Kai walk ahead with Zhang. They spoke quietly in Chinese. Gage hoped Kai was continuing to display warm feelings toward Zhang’s poetry and gestures. He believed that he had a better chance to judge the depth of the general’s thinking if his attention was divided and he was a little off balance.

  Gage found that Zhang had arranged for flowers matching the red and purple bougainvillea theme of the garden and for a centerpiece of sculpted fruits and vegetables. Silver-clad chopsticks were laid next to flowered China place settings in front of the three tall-backed upholstered chairs.

  The investment Zhang had made in the dinner communicated to Gage that he expected a big payoff.

  Waitresses bought crab and egg-drop soup, followed by a series of northern Chinese dishes.

  Gage saw actual delight in Kai’s face and a bit of the shark in Zhang’s as southern Chinese Chaozhou steamed fish was carried in last.

  “I ordered this especially for you,” Zhang said, serving Kai the first piece.

  It was pure Zhang, Gage thought. Either he knew already or did the research to discover that her family’s ancestral village was in a Chaozhou-speaking area.

  Kai closed her eyes as she tasted it and set down her chopsticks.

  “Wonderful,” she finally said, opening her eyes again and smiling at Zhang. “You’re very thoughtful.”

  Gage knew that there was a single word in Chinese that meant both opportunity and danger and wondered if there was also one that meant both thoughtful and devious to describe Zhang and another that meant grateful and suspicious to describe Kai.

  “Are we ready to move from fantasy to reality?” Zhang asked, then looked from Kai to Gage.

  “Let’s first take the hypothetical a step further,” Gage said. “Would our commander know how to dispose of microprocessors?”

  Zhang stared down at the plate of steamed fish as he answered. “The question isn’t what a commander would do, but”—he now looked up at Gage—“and this is only a hypothetical . . . it’s what a general would do.”

  “Well, what would a general do?”

  “A general would prove to his superiors he’s taking vigorous action to suppress software and hardware piracy so the Central Committee can satisfy the Americans that China is a good citizen of the world economic community.”

  Gage s
miled to himself. Zhang had mastered political craft in the years since they had last worked together. Back then his first impulse would’ve been to grab the chips and sell them on the black market, not giving a thought to how he could leverage the seizure into personal power. But Gage didn’t fool himself. Deception was also part of political craft and he had no reason to think Zhang was telling the truth.

  “What would our hypothetical general expect in compensation for his patriotism?”

  Zhang bit his lip for a moment, then said, “I think he’d need to hear a proposal.”

  The pause told Gage they were now out of Zhang’s territory and into Gage’s.

  “How about a confidential reward from the company that insured the chips. It could be paid into a Hong Kong bank account?”

  Zhang shook his head. “A general couldn’t have his name associated with that or he’d soon find his head lying on the ground next to him.”

  “Suppose it was deposited into an account in the name of a Hong Kong company. Let’s call it, hypothetically, K-A-I Investments Limited.”

  Kai smiled. “Very good. I like that name.”

  “Why K-A-I?” Zhang smiled. “Oh. I see. I like that, too.”

  “How much money would it take?”

  Zhang rocked his head side to side, then said, “The general wouldn’t be greedy. Enough to ensure he could travel in comfort outside of China, perhaps to fund his children’s college education in the States.”

  “I suspect the insurance carrier would pay around a quarter of what the chips are worth.” Gage then estimated a low total so Zhang wouldn’t feel betrayed later if the value fell short of what the victim company claimed. “That would make it twenty-five percent of about one point five million dollars.”

  Zhang’s eyebrows rose even higher than Gage expected, then he asked, “When could the general find out whether the insurance company will agree, at least in principle?”

  “Maybe late tonight.”

  Gage rose from his chair. He reached into his pocket and handed Zhang a list of thirty boat names and hull numbers.

  “The microchips are on one of these. How about find out where along the coast they’re expected.” Like other ports, border trade ports required shippers to identify ships and cargos before arrival, in the official ports to assess duties, in the PLA ports to assess fees and bribes. “Once we have a deal, I tell you which one is carrying them.”

  “Careful as ever, aren’t you?”

  Gage knew Zhang wasn’t expecting an answer, so he didn’t give one. Instead, he said, “Why don’t I leave you two to enjoy the rest of the evening while I go make some calls?”

  The look of the shark once again crossed Zhang’s face.

  Gage winked at Kai as he passed by her and headed out the door.

  CHAPTER 49

  There’s a chance we can recover the chips without jeopardizing what I’m trying to do,” Gage told Jack Burch in a call from his room. “But it’ll cost something.”

  “I’ll work that part out, just tell me who gets the money.”

  “A company in Hong Kong.”

  “Which one?”

  “Whatever one you set up.”

  Burch laughed. “So it’s that way.”

  “It’s always that way over here. Talk to you later.”

  “Hold up a second. Isn’t there something you’re supposed to tell me?”

  “I’m fine. Following doctor’s orders.”

  “Thanks. I needed to hear that.”

  Gage disconnected, then called Sylvia.

  “Get a hold of Joe Casey and find out the name of the company that insured the chips. Just say the parties want to deal directly with the carrier and to leave the FBI out of it. I talked to someone who might be able to recover them. He’s the biggest fish in these waters and needs to be fed.”

  Gage’s cell rang a few minutes later.

  “It’s called Industrial Insurance,” Sylvia said. “Out of the Bahamas. Casey gave me the name of the adjuster in the States and threw in a little tidbit he said might interest you. Get this. He got a message from the Ministry of Justice Intelligence Bureau in Taiwan that they intercepted a call from an unknown person in the San Francisco area to a known United Bamboo enforcer containing a threat against someone named Lew who was supposed to be on his way north. The order was to kill Lew if anything goes wrong. Casey doesn’t know if he’s the same Lew as the one at East Wind, but he wanted you to know.”

  “What did MJIB want from the FBI?”

  “Help in stopping a homicide. They think north means Taipei since it’s on the north end of the island.”

  “Maybe Ah Ming is sending Lew over here to do the deal. If ICE confirms that Lew is heading this way, then Casey has a legitimate basis to tell the Taiwanese that north is outside of Taiwan altogether and that he’ll track the matter himself.”

  “Don’t you want to talk to Casey yourself? I know he wants to talk to you. He said something about his losing sleep.”

  “There’s no reason to leave a cell-phone trail from me to him. Tell him I’m sleeping like a baby and he should, too.”

  Gage called Burch and gave him the name of the insurer.

  “They’ll need to make a quick decision,” Gage said.

  “I’ll give them until midnight Pacific Time. Eight A.M. tomorrow where you are.”

  Gage heard a knock just after hanging up. He figured Zhang was too anxious to wait until morning for an update. He opened the door to find Kai displaying the Thai yim cheua-cheuan, the you-can’t-outfox-me smile.

  “Nice try,” she said.

  “I thought you were interested.” Gage grinned at her. “The poetry, the food from home.”

  “The guy’s just a . . . how do you say . . . just a fucking car thief. Sorry, a general fucking car thief. I’ll bet he didn’t even pay for that suit he was wearing.”

  “I hope you didn’t hurt his feelings.”

  “I just slipped in that my husband is the minister of the interior, you know, head of the police and intelligence.”

  “How’d he react?”

  “His moment of profound disappointment was quickly surpassed by the pull of guanxi and right away he said he’d like to meet Somchai to do a little networking.”

  Gage reached for the doorknob. “And now you’re going to your room?”

  Kai shrugged and then gave him an up-from-under look.

  “I don’t know. The poetry and all kind of put me in the mood for . . .”

  Gage shook his head as he started to ease the door closed. “There’s nothing that doesn’t put you in the mood. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  AT 6 A.M. Kai returned to Gage’s room to await both Burch’s call and an update from Cobra. It had been a hard night; Gage had woken up three times in a heavy sweat.

  Kai sat down on the edge of the bed and leaned back against the headboard, resting her hands on the sheet, then jumped up.

  “Did you spill something?” she asked, wiping her hands on a dry sheet corner.

  Gage glanced back from where he sat at the desk and lied. “No, I dropped a wet towel there after I took a shower. Just toss the bedspread over it.”

  Gage answered his cell phone on the first ring. It was Burch.

  “Industrial Insurance has accepted our terms and e-mailed a draft agreement. I added a confidentiality clause with respect to the award, the amount, and the name of the recipient company, and they agreed to it.”

  Gage nodded at Kai.

  “How do they want to handle the condition of the chips and the quantity?”

  “That is a little complicated. Off the record they told me they suspect the victim of the robbery is inflating his losses, maybe by thirty percent. The insurance company has the serial numbers of all the chips Intel sold to him in the last six months, but they don’t know how many he had left in stock.”

  “Which means we won’t know the total number and type until we recover them . . . if we recover them.”

  It struck Gag
e that he needed a hostage of a different kind to make this work.

  “Suggest they put money in your trust account based on the claim as it stands, even if they believe it’s inflated. When the time comes, they can send over a technician to examine and inventory the chips. But don’t tell them yet where we think the chips will be. Make them think they’re in the States. Things are going to get messy enough and I don’t want them trying to go around us thinking they can save a few bucks. The last thing we want is to have the guy helping us here feel betrayed. It might get people killed.”

  “You mean you.”

  “Among others.”

  CHAPTER 50

  Sunrise found Cobra staring at the tarp covering the back of the second of the two heroin trucks heading north on the Old Burma Road in Southern China. He let his eyes take in the passing bamboo, palm, and pine trees of the surrounding hillsides just emerging from the darkness, but still ghosted by the low clouds of the high forest. He felt Luck stir as he slept in the cab between him and Moby in the driver’s seat.

  Moby downshifted as he approached a tight turn. The gears ground and the truck bucked. He looked over at Cobra and shrugged, his eyes glinting red in the taillights shining back at them.

  Cobra had found Moby and Luck to be no different than other Shan tribesmen he’d met over the years, men who were instrumental in the drug trade, but who never saw any of the real money, never even seemed willing to let themselves think about it. They were soldiers in a war of all against all, members of tribes that had fought each other and foreign invaders for two thousand years. For them, heroin was merely a commodity, no different than the rice or soybeans the Thais and Burmese sold on the world market to purchase arms from China to use against them.

  And they knew how to handle themselves.

  Cobra looked at his watch and then his cell phone, but there was no service in the canyon through which they were passing. He switched on the shortwave knowing Gage and Kai would be standing by.