“What has she been doing at the Ministry?”
“She received additional training in networks and network security from the P.L.A. before working, essentially, as a hacker. However, as part of her preparation for her role within the operation connected with Brooklyn Capital, they put her through training for some of the more traditional agent skill sets such as weapons and surveillance. She says they had her assigned to infiltrating other parts of our network. By ‘our’ I mean the FBI.”
“Has she explained why she killed this assassin—Zhixin Zhu?”
“She says she mostly did it to protect Lyn Lee. She had been assigned by her Ministry superiors to maintain surveillance on Lyn Lee, and she really liked Lee. She identified with her. She had made up her mind that she would protect Lee, if it came to that. She did also confirm that she felt it would strengthen her claim to asylum.”
The room fell into silence for a moment before Jillian Frank said, “We’ve got Lois back.”
Rose said, “Lois, are you with us?”
A professional-sounding female voice came through the speaker system. “Yes, John, I’m sorry about the delay. I had to get an update on a case really quickly.”
“Hello, Lois. Not a problem. We were just hoping you can give us an update on the Brooklyn Capital case.”
The phone system failed to diminish Delaney’s Brooklyn accent. “Oh boy, you guys really know how to keep a gal busy.”
“We figured as much,” Rose said, as soft laughter filled the room.
“This is a complex, volumous case, and I know we all have limited time, so I’m just going to provide a summary for you of our intentions as things stand currently. Our ability to prosecute many of the main perpetrators in the murders of Dr. Halberstom, Dr. Craig, Dr. Honeycutt, and your own Patrick Dunne is tied in to four major sources of information. The first of these is the digital information contained in the computer at Zhang Qianfang’s second residence located in the Upper East Side, the second is the testimony given by Zhang Qianfang and David Zhang in their plea statements, and the third and fourth would be the testimony given by Su Lijiao and Lyn Lee.
“The information in Zhang’s computer contains a very large amount of electronic communications between the major players in this so-called syndicate, including Jialiang and David Zhang, Dr. Wu Xiang, Dr. Liu Sanli, Ms. Melfang Zhu, and Mr. Simon Shelby. These communications, through detailed plans and activities over the span of some seven years, provide a virtual recipe for the theft of a yet unspecified but significant amount of both classified and unclassified data, data which also happens to be patented intellectual property owned by Brooklyn Capital. The communications also provide for detailed plans related to the kidnapping of seven of Brooklyn Capital’s researchers and the murder of Dr. Benjamin Halberstom, Dr. Jonas Craig, and Dr. Rochelle Honeycutt and, of course, Agent Patrick Dunne.
“These communications are supported by a significant amount of physical evidence found in multiple locations throughout the New York City area and extending up into Connecticut and down into New Jersey. We have been able to link this assassin, Zhixin Zhu, by DNA evidence to the sea vessel that had been moored down in New Jersey, as well as to two separate cargo vans owned by Zhang’s marketing firm. We have recently been able to link Halberstom to the sea vessel through DNA evidence, which supports your assertion that this is where he was murdered. Additionally, we have linked Dr. Craig and Dr. Honeycutt to one of the other vans, which is where we believe they were both murdered. The physical evidence, of course, is supported by the communications discussed earlier. We appreciate the work you all have done developing the timeline of events. Everything fits together nicely.
“The U.S. Attorney’s office is preparing to issue indictments for kidnapping, false imprisonment, and murder to Zhang Qianfang, and Meng Jialiang. We will likely be issuing indictments for kidnapping, false imprisonment, and conspiracy to commit murder to a number of people who directly participated in these crimes, and we are considering multiple charges for a number of other people involved, including charges as an accomplice or accessory.
“With respect to the theft of the data from Brooklyn Capital, the U.S. Attorney’s office will be issuing indictments on multiple counts related to theft of intellectual property and espionage for Zhang Qianfang, Meng Jialiang, Dr. Wu Xiang, Dr. Liu Samli, Ms. Melfang Zhu, Simon Shelby, and Pathos Peregrine.
“As you know, we’ve also linked other high level Chinese corporate executives and two senior-level officers within the Chinese Ministry of State Security and the Central Military Commission of the Chinese Communist Party Central Committee. These men were responsible for assisting this syndicate by providing the main source of funding as well as by assisting with the planning of these events. The electronic communications show that these men conspired with Zhang, Meng, and others to commit these acts. We are going to be pursing counts of accessory related to murder, kidnapping, false imprisonment, and theft of intellectual property for each of these men. We are looking into related espionage charges, as well. Last I heard, we are not aware as to whether any of these men have been in the United States while these acts were committed, but my assumption is that we are actively pursuing them nonetheless.”
“You would certainly be correct with that assumption,” Rose said. “We’re actively working with our overseas offices, as well as with our friends in Europe and Asia, to bring these men to justice.” Rose fell silent for a moment before continuing. “Though we have not yet even agreed on a formal name to this organization, Lois, the FBI considers it to be a terrorist organization. Have you considered the additional charges related to terrorism and funding of a terrorist organization?”
“Yes, we are looking hard at these charges but, as you know, John, this is a highly sensitive case. We are currently in discussion with a number of political folks, including the White House, as to whether or not we want to file these charges. You know how it is. At the present time, we feel we have an overwhelming amount of evidence to convict for the charges already mentioned. If we do get a conviction on all counts, it will be more than enough to put these men away in federal prison for the rest of their natural born lives.”
Delaney fielded a handful of questions from the cadre of FBI agents in the command center before checking out, taking with her the weary group’s exhortations for her to convict the men on all counts on behalf of the now-deceased Patrick Dunne. Once Delaney had disconnected, they made a spontaneous decision to head to Antonucci’s, a favorite of the FBI force at Headquarters, where they would spend the evening eating, drinking, and reminiscing about the events of Operation Crimson Shield and about the death and life of their fallen friend and colleague.
Chapter 45
North of New York City
Saturday, March 22, 12:05 p.m. EST
A cold spell had lingered north of New York City for the past few days, which was preferable for Lyn Lee. The ice reports indicated the lakes still had a requisite amount of ice, even this late in the winter, due to unusually low temperatures. Lee shivered a bit, jumping up and down in her winter gear to keep warm and get her energy going. She glanced momentarily at the sky above, which was clear and blue. There was a northerly breeze rustling through the pines and across the lake, which would be useful. She squinted her eyes, glancing far across the lake to the opposite side. Through the white plume of her breath, she saw a handful of people skating near the opposite shoreline. The rest of the ice, however, was empty. All mine, she thought.
She pulled on her winter gloves, then slid her goggles down over her eyes. She adjusted her winter hat, which fit snugly around her head. Below her, down a slight slope along the frozen lake, was her ice sailing boat. It’s slim, elegant T-shaped wooden hull rested on top of the ice near the shoreline, like a wooden grasshopper. Lee zipped her coat all the way to the top and walked purposefully down to the boat. She unclipped the anchor, released the parking brake, and began pushing the boat out toward the center of the lake. A few moments later,
she began steering it at an angle so that the sail would begin to catch the breeze. Lee ran faster and faster as the boat gained momentum until she almost could not keep up. At this critical point, she lifted herself into the seat at the rear of the vessel, settling in near where the wooden runner’s plank intersected with the hull.
She adjusted the sail so that it was directly against the breeze, and the boat suddenly surged forward in a rush of speed. The boat slid effortlessly on the ice, its runners acting like ice skates. The sheer speed of the sleek vessel and the cold air against her face took her breath away and made her eyes begin to water. Beneath her, the inconsistencies in the color and texture in the ice that had earlier been apparent had disappeared, and it seemed to mold fluidly into a single consistent sheet. The pine trees along the shoreline to her left and right surged toward her and then away as the sailboat sped toward the opposite shore. As the wind whipped over her, she began to feel as though she were floating. She felt her lips curl into a smile.
Inside of her, she felt suddenly warm and her spirit seemed to detach itself from her physical body and float up into the winter air. She saw everything as she floated up over the lake and above the tree line, toward a stray seabird high above. It took but a brief moment in time for her to catch up with the seabird and, as they hurtled playfully over and around each other, she spied the hulking city off in the distance. But she elevated higher, up and up into the wild blue sky to a place where even the seabird would not follow, and she was free to fly here or there or any which way she chose.
Chapter 46
Dubai, United Arab Emirates
Wednesday, April 16, 9:15 p.m., DST
A slight breeze blew in off the Arabian Sea to the west, a brief but welcome respite from the heat, which was formidable even in the early evening. Off to the south, the lights of Burj Khalifa rose high into the sky, its spire no doubt lost in a tuft of wispy white clouds now rendered invisible by the setting of the desert sun. The skyscraper, Leonard found, inspired in him the same awe-inducing reaction as had the Great Wall and the Himalayas in China. Bringing his attention back to ground level, the sights and sounds of Dubai enveloped him. Its wide, flat streets were crowded with autos, a high proportion of them being luxury sports cars. The streets were lined on both sides by palm trees and ultra-modern white-and-gray high-rise buildings. On the street, he dodged an eclectic mix of pedestrians, the majority of whom donned the kaftans, cloaks, veils, and other clothing traditional in the Middle East. However, the burgeoning crowd included its share of vacationers from the west dressed in jeans and T-shirts with an occasional scarf or headdress of Middle Eastern influence draped over their heads.
Leonard walked at a leisurely pace along the hot asphalt in the Al Sabka community a few minutes north of the downtown area, occasionally grabbing the cuff of his suit with the thumb and index finger of the opposite hand. The purpose of this was to bring the arms of his dress shirt to their full extension underneath his carefully tailored suit. Upon his arrival in Dubai, Leonard had been encouraged in the strongest possible way by his CIA contact to stop by one of the fine bespoke suit shops in the city and to have one custom-fitted. His contact was hopeful, after all, that the two of them may manage to find their way to the Concept Bazaar—a nearly mythical event that, it seemed, was known only to those rich and powerful enough to afford and have a need for the information being sold. The event was, apparently, transitory in nature, spontaneously manifesting itself in some location off in the shadows, at a place where the masses would never need or care to go. There would be enough time to peruse the offerings and make a purchase or two before the whole thing would just as suddenly melt away into the city. It would not return until the next invitation, carried along in the whisperings of a handful of power brokers spread throughout the civilized world.
Leonard had taken Al Ras Road in a southwesterly direction parallel with the Arabian Sea, but now turned left onto a narrow side street as he had been instructed to do. He passed into a narrow span where there was very little light and, when he came out of the darkness, he realized that he was no longer alone. Walking along next to him was a thin elderly man dressed head to toe in a white kandura, a long robe with a white ghutrah, or headdress. The old man had a black band, an agal, secured around the headdress to keep it in place. He walked with a limp, using a cane of gnarled cypress to keep his balance. This was the same man who was standing waiting for him after Leonard had exited his plane at Dubai International and made his way to the cab line, his robe rustling in the hot breeze. He had introduced himself as Saif Al Ansari.
“Hello,” the old man said in English, scratching his white beard with an aged index finger. “The suit looks good. You look like you’ll fit in just fine.”
“Where are we going?”
“Follow me.”
Between the old man’s limp and the number of pedestrians flowing along the narrow streets, their progress was slow, but the old man knew where he was going. Leonard followed him in a southeasterly direction until they found themselves in Old Souq. It was an area known for its souqs, or traditional shops. They passed into an indoor market consisting of a central lane lined with souqs and sand-colored dual-level buildings on both sides. The market was flooded with merchants hawking their wares and pedestrians looking to purchase snacks or traditional clothing, many with neon glow-in-the-dark necklaces and earrings.
Leonard followed the old man as he turned left into an even narrower lane, continuing until he came to another building. This building was constructed of multiple small box-shaped rooms, which were stacked atop one another in a haphazard fashion. Al Ansari explained that, like most of these buildings in Old Dubai, this one had been constructed of gypsum and choral stone, due to their heat absorption and fire resistant properties.
Leonard’s immediate concern, however, was the Concept Bazaar. Leonard said, “Who sponsors it?”
“Sponsors what?” Al Ansari said, as they entered into a central corridor, which extended back as far as he could see.
“The Concept Bazaar,” Leonard said. “Who manages it?”
“The Sheiks do. Who else can you imagine?”
Leonard shrugged. “Dunno. Who are the Sheiks?”
As they progressed deeper into the building, Leonard began to notice men and women appear in small groups here and there, lingering alongside the corridor. These people were clearly different than the merchant and tourist crowd in the market outside. They carried themselves with a formal bearing, a quality which extended to their clothing. Leonard was thankful at that moment for Al Ansari’s insistence that he seek a decent suit to wear.
“The ruling family, the Al-Maktoum’s,” Al Ansari said. “I don’t know for sure who manages the Concept Bazaar, but my assumption is that they manage it themselves. If it’s not them, then I don’t have any idea who it would be.”
A slim man with a dark beard dressed in robes approached the two of them. Al Ansari spoke with him in Arabic for a few moments before the man gestured at them to follow him. Al Ansari turned to Leonard and said, “He will take us to the information you are seeking. We must follow him.”
As they advanced along the corridor, which turned into a series of sharp turns resembling a maze, Leonard managed a quick glance into a few of the little rooms, where small clusters of people were meeting and holding animated discussions. It was clear from their actions that one or two of the people were making presentations using computers or holograms.
A few moments later, their bearded guide led them into a small, circular gathering area with three small rooms branching off of it like homes around a cul-de-sac. The guide parked himself purposefully next to one room in particular and gestured that he’d found what Leonard and Al Ansari were searching for. Leonard followed Al Ansari into the room, where they were greeted by a lectern of green marble with two Chinese men dressed in tuxedos standing on either side. On the lectern was a computer monitor and a pair of headphones.
The man on Leonard’s left step
ped forward as he approached, and they shook hands Western-style.
“Good evening, sir,” the man said in both Mandarin and English. “My name is Xie Jiazhen.”
In Mandarin, Leonard said, “Good evening. I represent a group of investors who have held an interest for some time now in certain stealth technology, or invisibility cloaks to be more specific. In particular, we are seeking a cloak that can accomplish both optical and thermal invisibility simultaneously, even within close quarters. These investors have been waiting patiently for its development for some time now, and we have heard that this difficult problem may have been resolved. I’ve been granted the responsibility of finding this technology once it becomes available on the open market and, from what I hear, this is the ideal place to look.”
The man smiled amiably, the corners of his eyes wrinkling in the dim light. “Ah, yes. The old invisibility cloak. This has been a part of mythology and folklore the world over for centuries, hasn’t it?”
Leonard nodded. “We have been following its development very closely, and we believe it will be a reality very soon, if it hasn’t happened already.”
“You’ve come to the right place,” the man said. “I can tell you with certainty that the invisibility cloak is, in fact, a reality. It didn’t happen until very recently, within the past few months. The people I represent, a Chinese syndicate, are in possession of detailed technical plans for just such a cloaking device. This device can be worn on a person, clipped to the belt, for example, and provide full optical and thermal invisibility from a distance of three meters. There is a bit of distortion within that three meters, but this is usually not noticeable unless you know the person is there and you are looking specifically to find him. Now, please note, Mr.—”
The Thought Cathedral Page 58
