Wells hung up and turned off the phone. Now it was up to Exley to find a way to make the White House and the Pentagon back off for a day or two, long enough for him and Cao to get out.
The clock on the wall of the storeroom said 4:45. Cao didn’t have long. The guards at the interrogation center would soon defy his orders and break into the room where Wells had been held. Then he and Cao would be the most wanted men in China. Before that happened, he and Cao had better be on their way to Yantai. Though Wells still didn’t know how Cao planned to get them there.
Wells flexed his legs and tried to stand. Nope. He sat down heavily and the jolt set his ribs on fire. His gray-haired nurse shook a finger at him and clucked in Chinese. Wells could guess her meaning: Rest. Then the two women left him, turning off the lights and shutting the door. In the warm darkness the tang of potatoes and onions surrounded him.
He closed his eyes. His head drooped. But before he slept, he made sure the.22 was curled in his hand, its hammer cocked. If Li’s men came through the door, he planned to take as many of them with him as he could.
34
TWELVE TIME ZONES BEHIND WELLS, Exley pulled on sweatpants and a mostly clean blouse and walked downstairs to Thirteenth Street, where her security guards waited in their black Lincolns under the dark predawn sky. The doors of the front Lincoln opened as she approached, and the guards stepped out.
“Ms. Exley.”
“I need a ride.”
The Lincolns screamed off, a two-car convoy with sirens and flashing lights. Fifteen minutes later she was knocking on Shafer’s door. She hoped he had some ideas. On the ride over, the reality of the odds that they faced had hit her. Wells had no transponder, no way to reach them. He hadn’t even told her what kind of ship he’d be on, much less its name. The Yellow Sea was practically Chinese territory, especially under these circumstances. How would they possibly find him and get him out?
SHAFER OPENED THE DOOR, BLEARY-EYED. He motioned her inside, down to his basement, into the laundry room. “Ellis—”
“Wait. I get the house swept every other month but just in case.” He flicked on the washer and dryer.
“Now,” Shafer said.
“John called.”
“Where from?”
“Beijing.” She explained what Wells had told her.
When she was done, Shafer shook his head. “No hint of what he’s got?”
“No. Just that he could stop it. We have to talk to Duto.”
“And tell him we need to pull out the stops to save John Wells. This’ll be fun.” He motioned her upstairs. “Go home, get dressed. I’ll see you in two hours at Langley.”
“Two hours.”
“Nothing we can do before then. He won’t get off the coast for several hours. Besides, no one’s going to take us seriously dressed like this.” He was wearing Redskins pajamas, a fact she’d chosen to ignore until now.
“Point taken.”
* * *
EXLEY AND SHAFER SAT in a windowless, soundproofed conference room at Langley, across from Tyson and Vinny Duto. The stress of being director seemed to be getting to Duto. He was fatter than she remembered, and his hair — always his pride — had receded, offering hints of scalp. But his eyes were as hard as ever.
He listened silently as Exley told him and Tyson what Wells had said. No one spoke when she finished, and for a few seconds the only sound in the room was the drumming of Duto’s fingers against the wooden table.
“So you understand: In the last hour, our satellites have picked up a major mobilization of Chinese forces. Regular army and paramilitary. Increasing by the minute. The White House knows.” Duto opened a black-bordered folder. “They’re putting roadblocks on the highways and main secondary roads in and out of Beijing. Military units at the entrances to every civilian airport. The Friendship Bridge, between China and North Korea, has been shut.”
“Sounds like they haven’t found him yet.”
“Unfortunately, we haven’t found him either,” Tyson said. “And unless you and he are connected telepathically, I’m not sure how we’re going to. Since he has no transponder and didn’t see fit to give us coordinates. Perhaps he should have asked for an airlift out of Tiananmen. It might have been easier.”
Exley’s ears burned. Wells might be dead and Tyson was cracking jokes! Her face must have shown her anger, because Tyson quickly backed off. “I am only saying that the attack on the Decatur proves the Chinese are acting recklessly, Ms. Exley. If we move our ships deep into the Yellow Sea, they may think that we’re intentionally provoking them.”
“They’ve got ten thousand miles of coast. They can’t watch it all,” Shafer said. “He gets twelve miles offshore, he’s not in territorial waters anymore. And there’s still heavy traffic in the Yellow Sea. I checked.” He held up a two-page printout filled with ship names and registry numbers. “All due at Incheon today.”
“Let me point out something you may not wish to hear,” Tyson said. “Mr. Wells told you we should wait, not do anything stupid.”
“Right, he said he had something—”
Tyson knocked her down. “But he didn’t say what.”
“It was an unsecured line.”
“At the same time, he wants us to take an incredibly aggressive action. Bit of a contradiction there, wouldn’t you say?”
“He wants us to save his life,” Exley said.
“Or perhaps the call was a setup arranged by the Chinese.”
“It was him. I know his voice.”
“What if he’s been turned and they’re using him to get at us? To move our ships into a vulnerable position.”
“He wouldn’t. He’d die first.”
“People do strange things when they’re in pain.”
This couldn’t be happening, Exley thought. They weren’t seriously arguing about whether to let Wells die out there. “Then why are they mobilizing their army and all the rest?”
“Part of the setup.”
“You don’t really think that,” she said. “Save me the mirrors within mirrors nonsense.” Her voice rose, and she reminded herself to stay in control, not to give them any excuse to marginalize her. “This was your idea, George. If not for you he wouldn’t be in this mess.”
“Jennifer,” Duto said. “I don’t think we can risk putting our assets that far forward. Let Wells get to Incheon. At least into Korean territorial waters.”
Shafer laughed, a thin angry laugh.
“Something to say, Ellis?”
Shafer waited until they were all looking at him. Normally, he was a jumble of tics and wasted motion. Not now. Exley had never seen him so still.
“Never thought I’d have to play this card, Vinny. I underestimated you. You sent him there and you’d rather let him die than lift a finger. The craziest part is, he might actually get us out of this mess.”
“We don’t know what he has, Ellis, that’s the point. I’m not going to recommend that we put thousands of sailors in harm’s way. Maybe push the Chinese over the edge. To save one man.”
“To stop a war.”
“What if he’s been turned?”
“Where have I heard this song before? It’s not his fault he saved New York while you tried to arrest him. Get over it.” Shafer stood. “Jenny, come on. Over the river and through the woods. To the president’s house we go.”
“Ellis—” Duto said.
“Herr Director. This is so simple, even you can understand it. You tell the president we have a chance to stop this war. You tell him we’re going to go get Wells. Or I will.”
“And what do we tell the Chinese when they ask why half our fleet is twenty miles off their coast?”
“We’ll burn that bridge when we come to it.”
“You’ve forgotten the biggest problem, Ellis,” Tyson said. “We have no idea how to find Mr. Wells. Are you suggesting we sail in circles and hope he paddles up on his wooden raft or whatever he’ll be on? I assure you the Navy will dislike that plan, especial
ly with that Chinese supersub still on the loose.”
“I have an idea,” Exley said.
“Do share,” Tyson said.
“You’re right. We can’t find him. So we’re going to have to make it easy for him to find us.”
Exley outlined her plan. Duto was shaking his head before she was half done. “No way,” he said. “The Air Force will never—
“They will if the big man tells them to,” Shafer said.
“How do you know Wells is even going to understand what we’re doing?”
“He’ll understand,” Exley said.
And suddenly Duto smiled at her, the easy smile of a poker player watching his opponent make a bluff that was doomed to fail. “You, me, Ellis. We’ll ride over there together. You and Ellis can tell the big man whatever you like. I don’t mind. As long as he knows it’s from you.”
35
ASLEEP—
Then awake—
And Wells had the.22 up before he knew where he was. The storeroom. Cao stood in the doorway. He raised his hands as Wells lowered the revolver.
“You okay, Time Square Wells?”
“Perfect.” Wells coughed. His bandage was still white, at least on the outside.
Cao tossed Wells a blue zip-up sweatsuit, and Wells tugged it on. His shoulder was loose in its socket, maybe permanently damaged from the torture. He took a long drink of lukewarm water to soothe his parched throat.
“Ready?”
Wells tucked the gun in his waistband and struggled up. He took a few steps and sagged. Cao’s men helped him out of the restaurant. A dirty white panel truck waited, its engine running. Wooden crates and furniture were stacked high inside the twenty-five-foot-long cargo compartment.
“You need piss?” Cao waved a fist in front of his crotch. “Go now.”
“I’m okay.”
“Then we go.” Cao stepped into the truck and offered a hand to Wells. At the forward end of the cargo compartment, behind a big wooden bookcase, was a space maybe three feet wide. Just big enough for two men to sit, if they didn’t mind a little incidental contact. A blanket covered the compartment’s wooden floor, along with provisions: water bottles, a flashlight, blankets. A handful of airholes ensured they wouldn’t suffocate.
Wells and Cao settled themselves, close enough for Wells to smell the green tea on Cao’s breath. As Cao’s men rearranged boxes and furniture to hide the space, Cao reached into his jacket and handed Wells a manila envelope.
Wells opened it. Three pages of Banco Delta Asia bank records, showing transfers to UBS accounts in Zurich and Monte Carlo, $20 million a month. A fourth page covered with Chinese characters and topped with an official-looking letterhead. Wells wondered if these four pieces of paper could really stop a war.
Cao pointed to the fourth page. “This from Army.”
“Authorizing the transfers?”
“Authorizing, yes. Says money for special operation.” Cao pointed to a raised emblem near the bottom. “Li’s stamp.”
“I’ll take your word for it.”
Wells didn’t plan to ask how Cao had gotten the papers. Presumably he’d just made his final trip inside Zhongnanhai. If Wells hadn’t just seen Cao shoot three of his own soldiers, he might have wondered whether this was all some superelaborate sting operation designed to prove Wells was a spy. But the Chinese had no need for an operation that elaborate. The torture had been working well enough on its own. Cao was a genuine defector.
Wells tried to give Cao back the papers, but Cao shook his head.
One of Cao’s men shouted something. The back panel came down and they were locked in the dark. Wells hardly minded. After the cave, this truck was easy. At least they were above ground.
The truck grumbled into gear and reversed down the alley. A few seconds later horns honked, and they were in Beijing’s traffic.
“Now we run.” In the dark Cao laughed humor lessly.
“Yeah, tramps like us,” Wells said. He liked Cao very much. Probably because the man had saved his life. “What about roadblocks?”
“Roadblock?”
Wells couldn’t figure out how to explain. “Are they looking for us?”
“Very soon.” Cao lit his watch—6:10. “Maybe twenty minutes. New officer come, open door. See bodies.”
Wells thought he understood. There would be a shift change at the interrogation center where Wells had been held. The new commander would insist on seeing the torture room. And once he discovered the bodies, the hunt would be on.
“But isn’t Li Ping wondering where you are?”
“When we leave, I say to Li, let me take care of spy. He trust me. Anyway, he busy. Special meeting with Standing Committee.”
“Must be hard fighting two wars at once.” Wells closed his eyes and tried to settle himself in the darkness. But he had too many questions. “Cao, who are these people helping us?”
Cao said nothing for a minute. Then, finally: “Don’t know.”
Don’t know? Wells waited.
“I tell my pastor last night. About you. He send me these people from his church. They help when Christians get in trouble, need hiding.”
A Christian underground railroad, Wells thought. “Do they know who we are, the risk they’re taking?”
“Yes.”
“But you trust them?”
Again Cao laughed, low and hard. “You have other idea?”
* * *
MINUTES LATER THE TRUCK TURNED, accelerated. “Third Ring Road now,” Cao said.
“We’re making good time.”
“Many people stay home now. Scared what America will do.”
And without warning—
The truck scissored down into a pothole. Wells’s broken ribs jumped under the bandage, stabbing from the inside out. The pain in his lungs and stomach was enormous and didn’t fade. Wells bit his lip to keep from screaming.
Thump!Thump!More potholes. Wells braced himself against the side of the truck, feeling his ribs rattle like pencils in a coffee cup. If he wasn’t bleeding internally already, he would be soon.
To distract himself, he thought of Exley, and their little apartment on Thirteenth Street, NW In the utility closet in the front hall, Wells had hung the letters the president had sent them after they’d stopped the attack on New York. “You haveearned the respect and gratitudeof an entire nation…”et cetera, et cetera. No one had ever understood him like Exley, Wells thought. He never had to tell her why the flowery words embarrassed him. Yes, he was proud of what they had done. But he hated being called a hero, especially by men who had never shed blood. Let the president save his soupy words and send his own children off to a battle zone for even one day.
Wells wondered if he could claim to understand Exley nearly as well as she understood him. She rarely talked to him about marriage or having kids. Did she think that having more children would be selfish when she hardly saw the two she already had? Or was it that she couldn’t imagine a future with him? Maybe she decided that as much as they loved each other, they weren’t going to get over the finish line.
When he got home, he would ask her to marry him.
If it wasn’t too late.
THUMP! The truck bounced again, the hardest jolt yet. Wells couldn’t help himself. He screamed. The blackness around him merged with the void in his head and down he went.
LATER — HE HAD NO IDEA how long it was — his eyes opened. His stomach was throbbing and uncomfortably tight. He was bleeding internally now, he was sure. He raised the water bottle to his lips and sipped, trying to force the liquid down.
The truck had stopped, its engine silent. Wells heard voices and footsteps on gravel. The compartment was totally dark, no light coming through the airholes. Night had fallen. How long had he been out?
The footsteps crunched to the back of the truck and—
The back panel opened. Cao gripped Wells’s leg, a warning to stay silent.
A flashlight shined in, making slow loops around the compartment
.
A man’s harsh voice, shouting questions.
The replies, soft and deferential.
Then the truck’s springs creaked as someone stepped onto the back bumper.
Wells pulled his snubnose pistol from his waistband, silently dropped the safety.
The light shined around, closer now.
But not finding their compartment.
And the truck came up on its springs as the man stepped down.
The back panel closed. The doors to the truck’s cab opened, slammed shut. The engine groaned and they were off, slowly at first, then more quickly.
Only after they reached highway speed did Cao finally speak. “Close.”
“No kidding,” Wells said. “What time is it?”
Cao flicked on his little digital watch and showed it to Wells—9:15. He’d been asleep at least two hours.
“How much longer?”
Cao shined his flashlight over Wells. “Five hours, maybe. Okay?”
“I’ll get by.” Wells coughed a little black clot of blood and phlegm into his hand. “General, what made you—” Wells stopped, wondering if he was overreaching. He settled on a more neutral formulation. “Why did you decide to leave? After all these years.”
Cao turned the flashlight to his own face, as if interrogating himself. “Why I betray General Li, you mean?” Wells was silent. “I tried to say once.”
“What you thought.”
“What I thought. He never listen.” Cao tapped the flashlight against the stump of his leg. “Li forget what war is like. I don’t forget.”
“Some wars you have to fight,” Wells said.
“Not this one.”
“Not this one.”
THE TRUCK ROLLED ON. The road turned smooth, a blessing, and the compartment cooled as the night air rushed in. They were probably taking a chance on an expressway now, Cao said. The danger had lessened now that they’d reached Shandong Province.
“But why doesn’t Li just shut everything down?” Wells asked. “Put in a countrywide curfew.”
The Ghost War jw-2 Page 33
