“John, just finished up with Lyn Lee. We’ve got a lot of info here. It’s going to take some time to sift through and check into everything.”
“Go on.”
“Lee discovered a link between Brooklyn Capital and a Chinese businessman with offices here in New York. Zhang Qianfang is the Chief Executive Officer of Far East Marketing and Media Solutions, a marketing firm based in China but with offices here in New York. His son, David Zhang, worked as an intern at Brooklyn Capital from April to August of 2007. David graduated from NYU in 2008, and worked for Brooklyn Capital for three and a half years, until May of 2011.”
“You’ve forwarded that information to Charlie Monroe at Brooklyn?” Rose asked.
“Just got off the phone with him before I called you.”
“What else have you got?”
“Lee was able to hack into a computer owned by a man by the name of Jialang Jeng, who is another Chinese businessman here in New York. He’s a partner in a consulting firm called Zhou, Meng, Tong, and Associates in Manhattan. Meng is a man who was known to us through Lee before she went on the lamb. Meng is an acquaintance of China’s lead ambassador, Ambassador Li Jeheng as well as Dr. Wu Xiang, who is the scientist who Lee’s been working over for the past few weeks. Lyn Lee met Meng through Dr. Wu. Lee said she started her search with Meng because of his ties to Ambassador Li, and it was a set of emails in Meng’s computer that led her to Zhang.”
“Meng’s computer? So, you’re saying she hacked a computer of his?”
“Yes, that’s what she says.”
“I don’t remember computer expertise as being part of her profile. How was she able to break into Meng’s computer?”
“She won’t say. I’m certain she couldn’t have done it by herself. I’m sure she knows someone, but she refuses to give away her contacts.”
“Anything else?”
“From Meng’s computer, Lee found out about Meng’s business relationship with Zhang. Apparently, they filter clients back and forth between each other. She found out that Meng was having a press conference and that the two of them were meeting up after this conference. Lee decided to crash the party. She then followed them to—get this!—to a lodge up in Connecticut.”
“A lodge? You mean like a cabin?”
“Yes, apparently it’s near Lake Candlewood, a resort area about an hour or so north of New York City.”
Rose remained silent, so Reardon continued.
“So, anyway, Lee follows them up to this cabin, which she says is a safe house, but she’s still dressed up from the press conference so she decides to call it a night and comes back to New York City. But she retraces the route back to the cabin the next evening, which was last night, and breaks in to a small cabin near the main lodge. In the cabin, she finds a small room with cameras recording each of the abductees from Brooklyn Capital. She also finds another computer. She hacks into this computer, which she believes is connected to a Chinese state or military network and is being used by this syndicate for their ongoing efforts to steal and extort information from Brooklyn Capital.”
“Go on,” Rose said.
“To make a long story short, Lee was able to read multiple communications within this network. She’s got names, the content of various email and instant messaging communications, locations of various types of activity, all kinds of information. I had to make a bubble diagram to keep all of this straight.”
“Does any of this information check out?”
“It was from this network that she retrieved information on Terry Phong. You know as well as I that there’s no way she could have possibly known about Phong from an FBI source.”
Rose was silent again, so Reardon continued. “We’ve only just begun to check into all of this information Lee has provided. I’m going to get our SWAT teams who’ve been in the Bronx all day over to this cabin up north, if you don’t mind. I’m already on my way up there.”
“Yes, go ahead and get them up to the lodge. Let’s get inside that cabin as soon as possible. Do you have Lee with you?”
“No, Lee was ransacking that cabin all last night, and then she was at headquarters all morning. She’s very fatigued. So we let her go for now. She has promised to stay in contact with us at all times.”
“Anything else?”
“We’ve had something turn up on Ambassador Li Jeheng. We’ve uncovered a property of his in the New York area that we want to search. It’s a little beach cottage near Montauk Lake in Long Island. Lee has said that both her experiences with the ambassador as well as some of the information she retrieved up in Connecticut reinforce that the ambassador is heavily involved.”
“Don’t do anything with this Montauk property,” Rose said. “He’s the lead ambassador for China. His personal properties are off limits.”
“There’s nothing we can do?”
“Most likely not. I’ll check to see if there are any legal workarounds for this, but I wouldn’t get your hopes up. We’re neck deep in politics on this one.”
Reardon stayed silent. Rose said, “Milt, what are some of the names that showed up in that network Lee allegedly hacked into?”
Rose heard Reardon thumb through some notes.
“For example, we have an oil magnate out of Guongzhou, China by the name of He Zuoxiu. This guy was the Chief Executive Officer of China Transnational Petroleum Corporation for nine years, which is China’s largest oil company. This guy sits on the boards of a number of high profile Chinese energy companies. He is, presumably, well-connected with the C.C.P.
“We also have Yingying Huang, the Chief Operating Officer at Hebei Iron & Steel Group in Hebei, China. Like He Zuoxiu, this guy has accumulated an almost unimaginable amount of wealth. We even have Qing Zhang and Li Ding. These two are both high-level officials within the C.C.P. Qing Zhang happens to be a Vice Chairman of the Central Military Commission of the C.C.P. Central Committee. If you’re not familiar, the Central Military Commission has most of the command and control authority of the People’s Liberation Army.”
“This guy is a Vice Chairman?”
“Correct.”
“And who’s the other individual you mentioned?
“Li Deng is, we believe, a senior official within the counterintelligence section of the Ministry of State Security.”
Rose took a deep breath. “And Lee purports to have communications from Qing and Li Deng?”
“Well, Lee had noted only one email from Qing, but a handful from Li Deng. She believes from the context of Li’s emails that he was seeking information about the activity of some of the men here in New York. The important thing, however, is that these communications were directed toward and received by Qianfang Zhang, the owner of the marketing company. And it was one of Zhang’s executives who purchased the properties that we raided today and where we found the abductees from Brooklyn Capital.”
“So, if we can pin down these communications, we can directly tie the Chinese government in to these abductions.”
“That’s correct.”
Rose sighed heavily. “Any idea if these men own properties in or around New York, or even elsewhere in the United States?”
“Don’t know yet,” Reardon said. “This has been a flood of new information. You know what I know.”
“I’m going to get some more agents involved. Keep me updated on what happens up in Connecticut.”
Beijing, China
Saturday, March 8, 3:00 a.m. CST
Leonard hadn’t seen Jiang since prior to his beating at the hands of Sun’s men at the Forbidden City, and he found that his thoughts were entirely preoccupied with her as he sat in the van, the darkness broken periodically by the light from the street lamps as they passed underneath. The sound of the wheels grinding against the asphalt of the thoroughfare provided a smooth sonic baseline on which to replay the tapestry that was his recruitment of Jiang Liu. He found that the unexpected fruit born from his relationship with Jiang had made it the most fulfilling recruitment of his
career.
The unexpected trust she had placed in him had led to her unveiling, which had shown her to be a wholly different person that the one who had presented herself at their first meeting. The differences ran along at least two spectra that he could tell. The thawing of her demeanor, for instance, had progressed in multiple stages. He could’ve skated across those sheeny cheekbones at their first meeting those many months ago. A few weeks later, this formality had been replaced by a different sort of shine—that from a fine sheath of sweat as she had danced with such abandonment at the democracy rally. To his dismay, this warm glow had been quickly replaced by the unremitting tears of a woman trapped in a web of corruption and abuse.
The marketing rep from Sun International Antiques and Custom Furniture who had sat down opposite him at his desk at the Ricardo’s Logistics headquarters had presented herself as a polished businesswoman, confident in her ability to negotiate and comfortable in her role as one of the public faces of the firm. She had appeared at ease working within the formal and informal rules of both the firm and the complicated Beijing social and political environment. Later, he would learn that Jiang’s skills had been taught to her by others within Sun’s loyal inner circle so that she could effectively do her job. The skills were real and she had been paid, but it had come at a terrible price: a life under the thumb of Sun and the mortgaging of her and her family’s future. Meanwhile, Jiang had become an advocate for democracy, actively participating in underground activities anti-sympathetic to Communism in ways Leonard could only guess at. Jiang had begun to fight the control of information and ideas of the state apparatus within Beijing, favoring instead freedom from oppression and open access to information.
It was the simple things he’d come to miss the most about Jiang: everything from her curiosity about life in the U.S., to her patience in answering his questions about Beijing and China as a whole, and even just the way she ran her hands through her hair. It was this latter trait that greeted him as Hirsch slowed the van upon approach to the Lius’ shanty along the Nansha River in north central Beijing. For the first time in weeks, he saw her slender face—a portion of it, anyway. It was cold outside and, in the darkness, the three Lius—Jiang, Min, and their mother—burst from the front entrance of the shanty, running quickly toward the van. Abrams and Min helped the elder Liu into the van before Min followed Jiang in. Min took a seat in the middle row next to their mother, while Jiang slid to the back next to Leonard. It was as she slid to the back that he saw it. Despite the fact that she had the hood of her coat up, the whites of her eyes flashed at him. He knew she had seen him when she ran her hand through her hair.
As Abrams shut the side door and Hirsch pressed the car forward, Jiang lowered her hood. She stared straight ahead for a few moments as though afraid of making eye contact. The van hit a gentle rise in the road, and the van lurched slightly. She turned toward him, and he winced. Her smooth complexion was marred by a black left eye and another bruise along the right side of her face. He saw also a bruise extending around her neck. Jiang noticed him examining the neck bruise, and she reflexively brought her coat tighter around her neck.
“Jiang, I’m sorry.”
“Sorry for what, Joe?”
They both knew the question was rhetorical, so Leonard stayed silent. He was certain his facial expression was betraying the concern he was feeling, anyway.
A couple of minutes into the ride to the small airport where they would board a private jet, Jiang seemed to relax. She leaned back against the seat, crossed her left leg over her right, and let her hand rest on the seat next to her. She had it balled into a fist. Leonard reached over, cupping her fist with his hand. She glanced at him, but did not resist. He left it there for the remainder of the drive to the airport.
At the airport, the three CIA agents grabbed the women’s luggage and they wordlessly made their way into the office to check in and find their pilot. They were all still too exhausted and groggy for much conversation. They gathered in a small waiting room as the pilot readied the jet. Standing in the room, Leonard wished to have one last word with Jiang and Min, if only to bid them farewell. It took him a couple of minutes to overcome his fear of being ignored or brushed aside, which he felt the two women had every right to do given their situation. But, finally, he moved to Jiang’s side.
“Hey,” Leonard said.
She remained silent, but turned toward him.
Leonard reached forward, caressing her cheek and chin with his hand. In Mandarin, Leonard said, “Are you okay?”
Jiang grabbed his hand, moved it gently away from her. “I’m okay, now.” She let a slight smile play across her face. “It will be fine.”
“This won’t be easy for you.”
She sighed heavily, dropped her head so she was looking at his shoes, then looked him in the eye. “It doesn’t matter. You should know by now that my life has never been easy, anyway. It will either be hard free, or hard in bondage. I choose to be free.”
They remained silent for a while longer before Hirsch came in.
“Time to go,” Hirsch said softly. “Follow me.”
Leonard watched silently as Abrams, Min, Jiang, and their mother made their way toward the door.
As she neared the door, Jiang seemed to realize he wasn’t following. She walked back to him. “You’re not coming with us?”
Leonard nodded. “No. I’m afraid not. I’m off to the Middle East.”
Jiang put her bag on the floor and looked up at him. Her eyes had grown watery, a tear trickling down her non-bruised cheek. “I will never see you again, will I?”
“No.”
“Thank you, Joe.” She extended her arms to him, and he hugged her firmly, but respectfully.
“Jiang, it was always my pleasure. Take care of yourself, okay.”
Min had come up behind her, and she bowed slightly and reached her hand forward. Leonard shook it.
“Thank you, Mr. Leonard.”
“Take care.”
She acknowledged him with a curt nod, and the two of them picked up their bags and moved toward the door. He watched them as they slid out into the cool air, never to be seen by him again.
Brooklyn, New York
Saturday, March 8, 8:43 a.m.
Lyn Lee was enveloped in darkness, and it took a few moments for her to realize she was awake. Rarely did she remember her dreams, but residue from a very restless sleep remained. She closed her eyes and, as soon as her eyelids had fully collapsed, floating splotches of white materialized in her field of vision. The splotches burst, and she was thrust back into the dream, where she floated in a black-and-white universe with intermittent splashes of color. Awake now, she recognized the world as an extra-sensory three-dimensional version of the cove in the Four Corners restaurant she had been interrogated in those few weeks ago. Faces from her past morphed from the splotches of black and white, the shadows and the light playing upon each other. Xiang and Ambassador Li had been there, as had her friends Maliq Okoye and Lukas Dvorak and a litany of other people, some whom she had not seen in many years and who had played such a small role in her life that she had never even known their names. The strangest thing was that the people seemed to appear in surroundings that did not match the time in her life when she had known them.
Despite the temporal chaos of the dream, there had been an underlying logic to it, but this part of the dream had escaped her. She strained to re-discover it. The overriding theme had been that of an interrogation, everybody asking her questions. It had left her with such an overpowering feeling of déjà vu. But the details had left her now.
She shook it off, rolled over, and flipped on the small lamp with her left hand. The musty smell of Okoye’s books filled her nose. She raised her head, studying the glinty hieroglyphics on the binding of the books before laying her head down again. Awash in her memory of the dream was the vague recollection that she had actually awoke a couple of times to field phone calls. She studied the distorted reflection of hersel
f on a polished section of Okoye’s telescope for a moment while she remembered that the calls had been from the FBI. The feminine voice came back to her. It had been Jillian Frank.
“We’ve gotten into the lodge. It was just where you said it was.”
“Did you find the cellar?”
“Yes, found the room with the video feeds. But, no men. If there was anyone in there, they’re gone now.”
“What about the lodge?”
“Both the lodge and the cabin were deserted. We’ll find anything they’ve left behind.”
“What about the computer? Did you get the computer?”
“No. No computer. The computer looks to have been confiscated. The lodge and the cabin have been cleaned up. They were obviously in a hurry. But we found the armoire with the guns.”
Lee’s heart sank again when she recounted the conversation in her mind, just as it had done during the actual conversation. She sat up, curled her legs under her so she was sitting Indian style, and flipped her laptop open. She plucked her phone from the floor and began sifting through the notes she’d keyed in during her time in Zhang’s cabin. She then began performing a series of searches on her laptop. A few minutes later, she received a text message from Okoye asking if it was okay if he came up. She replied in the affirmative, and a few seconds later she heard a knocking at the trap door. It opened, and Okoye slid effortlessly up into the attic.
“Bonjour,” Okoye said in his baritone voice, as he leaned back against his books, left leg crossed over his right. Okoye was wearing an aqua button-down shirt with a brown leaf design and a pair of dark brown chocolate cotton slacks, and a pair of brown leather sandals on his feet. “How are you doing?”
“Much better now.”
“That’s good to hear. I haven’t heard anything at all at work, but I’m glad to hear it is getting better.”
“Yes, I’ve been granted full immunity by the FBI. I’ll be able to get back to my normal life.”
Okoye flashed a wide smile, his white teeth blazing in the dim light of the alcove. “Excellent.”
The Thought Cathedral Page 52
