by Cole Reid
Xiaoyu saw the wisdom in his own recruitment. Xiaoyu was a Triad. He was raised in a black business. The business itself was the scandal so it couldn’t tolerate excess, no room for error. It was the reason Deni Tam killed Xiaoyu’s uncle, to decrease a margin of error. Black market businesses operated more efficiently than their open market counterparts. The CIA didn’t implant Xiaoyu with such knowledge, the Triads had. Xiaoyu knew if Filip were suspicious he would cancel the deal in real terms. The Triads would have done the same. Filip would put himself at risk introducing a spy to the actual buyer. If Filip himself were a double agent the risk would be times two. The Triads operated in exactly the same way. If Filip remained unconvinced by Xiaoyu’s performance, Filip would order room service for Xiaoyu. Xiaoyu had walked casually back to the hotel because he knew he was safe on the street. Filip would have someone waiting at the hotel for Xiaoyu. If Filip felt Xiaoyu wasn’t right, he would give the order after Xiaoyu left the café table. It was the reason Filip brought secret company to the café, to ask their opinion. It was an important decision. Xiaoyu’s life and a bit of business were at stake. If Filip was satisfied, he would whistle for his dog to go home. A dog Xiaoyu was sure he passed on his way back to the hotel. The Triads played the same game of fetch. The only difference—being a larger organization—the Triads would have sent two dogs.
• • •
Standing in the darkness of his hotel room, Xiaoyu felt the emptiness. He took one step further into the room without feeling for the light switch. The light wasn’t welcomed yet. He closed his eyes and listened for any sound the room would make. He waited almost two minutes before he knelt down and crept to the wall. From a squatting position he flicked the light switch. The light started big, flying high in the air before it settled. The light confirmed what he already knew, there was no one else in the room. He went to sit on the queen bed and take his shoes off. Reaching for his duffle he began to remove his blazer and starched white shirt. Fishing through the duffle he grabbed a spray can with silver top. He sprayed his arms and neck. His neck bubbled along with his arms like his skin was breaking out. The feeling was like applying menthol camphor to the skin, a touch of cold and hot. The sound of milk over cereal came too. Once it stopped, Xiaoyu began to rub off the paint on his skin. He turned the lamp on and the light off and laid his head down on the pillow. He closed his eyes but didn’t sleep. He only needed his ears to hear the phone ring. It wasn’t loud. He answered before the first ring rang out.
“Metayer,” said Xiaoyu.
“Hello, this is Filip,” said Filip.
“Anything new?” asked Xiaoyu.
“The buyer would like to meet with you,” said Filip.
“When?” asked Xiaoyu.
“Tomorrow, eleven o’clock” said Filip.
“Where?” asked Xiaoyu.
“His office,” said Filip.
“Let me get a pen,” said Xiaoyu. Xiaoyu wrote the address on the front of his hand and read it back for confirmation.
“Ciao,” said Filip. Xiaoyu hung up the phone. He looked at the wall for several minutes. Reaching for his duffle he pulled out a new model black cell phone. In the same pocket was a small titanium case. Xiaoyu opened the case and stared at a charcoal-colored antenna four centimeters long. The antenna plugged into the side of the cell phone. Turning the cell phone on, Xiaoyu dialed a non-standard sequence and hit call. The word Linking appeared asking for Xiaoyu’s patience. Linking was followed by Link Active and Xiaoyu hit the call button to continue. Access ID was the next prompt. Xiaoyu said his codename for the first time—Rainman. He spoke his codename as if bored. He gave a much more convincing performance with his cover name, Alain Metayer. A moment of static was interrupted by Mason’s voice.
“What have you got for me, Ray?” said Mason.
“Why Ray?” asked Xiaoyu.
“Short for Reagan,” said Mason, “One syllable is easier to work with.”
“Ok,” said Xiaoyu, “I have an address for you and I’ve got an appointment with the buyer.” Xiaoyu read the address to Mason for cross-reference.
“That’s the office for Sejad Mehmedovic Construction,” said Mason, “That was in your file.”
“I know,” said Xiaoyu.
“Why tell me?” asked Mason.
“You told me to keep you informed if I move,” said Xiaoyu, “I’m going there to meet the buyer at eleven.”
“Then they bought your cover,” said Mason.
“Or they want to get me some where private,” said Xiaoyu.
“Or that,” said Mason, “Remember I told you that your brain has been optimized to do a lot of work?”
“I remember,” said Xiaoyu.
“You can memorize all kinds of details,” said Mason, “I want you to study the buyer’s face and anyone else in the office. Call me tomorrow and read back the details. Wrinkles, scars, eye color, anything. We can do a composite and run that to see if we know who he is.”
“Ok,” said Xiaoyu.
“Is there anything else?” asked Mason.
“Is Filip Grebo his real name?” asked Xiaoyu.
“Yes,” said Mason, “As far as we know. What did you think of him?”
“Nothing,” said Xiaoyu, “He was making a first impression. What is there to think?”
“What impression did you get?” asked Mason.
“He was distracted,” said Xiaoyu.
“By what?” asked Mason.
“Me,” said Xiaoyu.
“How’s that?” asked Mason.
“Have you been here before?” asked Xiaoyu.
“No, I haven’t,” said Mason.
“I’m underrepresented,” said Xiaoyu.
“That’s why I picked you,” said Mason.
“For here?” asked Xiaoyu.
“For Caprice,” said Mason, “You’re a no-guess. You’re half-black, half-Chinese. There are no spies like you. They don’t have the capacity to second guess you.”
“Let’s hope they don’t develop the capacity,” said Xiaoyu.
“By that time you’ll be gone,” said Mason.
“He brought two with him, a man and a woman,” said Xiaoyu.
“Probably his brother and cousin,” said Mason, “Blood’s thicker than water. Did you recognize them from the file?”
“No,” said Xiaoyu, “They were groomed differently and I didn’t focus on them. It would have been a giveaway. Georgia said I’m here for the money. That’s what we talked about.”
“That’s good,” said Mason, “The train with the goods will be there day after tomorrow. All details you should remember.”
“I do,” said Xiaoyu.
“Good,” said Mason, “Call tomorrow. Let me know.”
Mason hung up his phone but the link was active until Xiaoyu hit the red button on his phone. Xiaoyu disattached the antenna from the phone and put it back in the titanium case. Xiaoyu took a shower to wash off the flakes of skin paint. With his bath towel on and his tattoo in full display, he rolled over on the bed and stared at the ceiling. He turned the lamp off but continued to stare up at the ceiling until he taught himself to sleep in Sarajevo.
He woke up early the next morning. His towel had slipped off in the night. Waking up naked, gave him ample opportunity to spray his tattooed skin with the polymer paint. He didn’t bring much clothing making it easy to decide on dress—white shirt, black jacket and jeans. Not wanting to meet the buyer on an empty stomach, he went to the neat eight-table breakfast area and served himself. Breakfast was mainly bread, light and dark. There was butter and two types of jam. A pot of black coffee and hot water were available. The tea selection was limited. Xiaoyu filled himself with bread and butter. He drank tea, no sugar. The hands on the clock in the dining area pointed to twenty-seven minutes passed nine o’clock. He didn’t know exactly where he was going and he wanted to wait on the buyer, instead of the buyer waiting on him. He went back to his room and collected his wallet and passport before returning to the front des
k. He asked the receptionist to call a taxi for him. Seven minutes later a gray taxi pulled in front of the hotel. The drive was twelve minutes door-to-door.
Sejad Mehmedovic AEC was situated on the eighth floor of a newly built twelve-story building in the Novo Sarajevo section of the city. The building still had the smell of its materials with a 40% occupancy rate. Xiaoyu entered the lobby noticing the same setup as in Hong Kong. Unlike the buildings in Hong Kong, the new structure lacked character. Xiaoyu told the front desk secretary he had an appointment and she called to verify before sending him on his way. The elevator matched the youth of the rest of the building, it was young and hyper. It ran up eight floors faster than most Hong Kong elevators. The eighth floor was dominated by two large office suites. Sejad Mehmedovic AEC was in the north office suite. The south side suite sat empty. One of the double glass doors to the north side suite was open with a tall thin man waiting in a dark suit.
“Mr. Metayer,” said the man. Xiaoyu nodded.
“Please, this way,” said the man. Xiaoyu walked through the door to see a waiting lounge of generous size. Two tan leather couches stared at each other from opposite sides of a mahogany coffee table. Architectural magazines were stacked neatly on the table. The walls were a yellow color found in a timber yard. The walls were adorned with pictures of man-made structures. Prints of the Latin Bridge and Sarajevo landmarks were prominent, as well as photographs of new developments at different stages. The man in the dark suit offered Xiaoyu the stale choice of coffee or tea. By ten minutes to eleven, Xiaoyu had finished his tea. A middle-aged, middle-height man came around a corner into the waiting room.
“Mr. Metayer, would you like to join me in my office,” said the man.
“Thank you,” said Xiaoyu. Xiaoyu followed the man back to a corner office. The double doors were foggy foam-green and the floor was light beige tile. Before Xiaoyu noticed the room or the view, he noticed the noise. A large brown-brick waterfall was on the right-hand side of the office. The water fell out of a spout that was in the place of two bricks. The water dropped a meter and a half straight down into a pool below. The pump was at the back, recycling the water from the pool back up to the top. The man passed his long mahogany desk grabbing one of his business cards from an antique cardholder. He passed two cards to Xiaoyu. The name on the cards was Aleksandar Stojanovic. Mr. Stojanovic was identified as an architect and office manager. The view behind his desk was of low-lying buildings in Novo Sarajevo and the hills having their way with the horizon.
“First time in Sarajevo?” asked Aleksandar.
“First time, but I hope to come back sometime,” said Xiaoyu.
“Of course, now it’s the fall. The warm days are numbered,” said Aleksandar, “During spring, the city feels so much better.”
“Better for business too,” said Xiaoyu.
“True, yours and mine,” said Aleksandar.
“I agree,” said Xiaoyu, his voice projected over the sound of the waterfall. The conversation was awkward. It had the impulse of politesse but its tone was high and hostile, against the waterfall’s wild laughter.
“Then we’ll be glad to have you back in Sarajevo,” said Aleksandar.
“I’d like that,” said Xiaoyu, “Next time as well as this time the deal should be mutually accommodating. I’m looking at $1,800 per piece of a two-hundred piece set.”
“That’s generous,” said Aleksandar, “It’s on the lower end of what I might’ve expected. Any advice on why.”
“Much is ok, too much is a problem for any business,” said Xiaoyu, “Having too much money and not knowing what to do with it is the root of stupid decisions. 1,800 is worth the trip out here. Any more and I might do something stupid.”
“Like what?” asked Aleksandar.
“Attract too much attention, buy a Ferrari,” said Xiaoyu, “I know how to hide $360,000. I don’t know how to hide much more. 2,000 per would raise my purse to $400,000. That’s an extra 40,000 of tail I’d have to cut off. Do you know why we say La Belle France?”
“Why?” asked Aleksandar.
“Because we’re not that big,” said Xiaoyu, “We can’t say La Grand France. There’s forty other countries that can say we’re bigger. We remind people it’s beautiful so they forget we’re not that big.”
“Still the Brits say Great Britain and they’re smaller than France,” said Aleksandar.
“A Frenchman is familiar with the exaggerations of the British,” said Xiaoyu, “But great and big are found in the same word in French. Grosse could mean big but that could be interpreted to mean fat. Once again, we leave that for the British to claim.” Aleksandar smiled at the French lesson.
“My country is small so I stay small. I stay hidden. I stay safe,” said Xiaoyu.
“They say there is strength in numbers, but nothing about apparent safety,” said Aleksandar, “If your safety is found in the number 1,800. Then we are agreed up to the point of your safety.” Xiaoyu nodded.
“Where do you take the items?” asked Xiaoyu.
“We will handle that,” said Aleksandar, “All we need is to pick up the items on arrival.”
“The train will be arriving at 11:27 from Zagreb,” said Xiaoyu, “The car number is C320A it is the seventh container car after the passenger cars. You’ll have to take delivery of the car yourself. The paperwork is here. The car is filled with gravel. The items are a little over a meter deep. It’s gravel so it aligns with your construction business. All two-hundred items have trigger locks, I have the key to unlock them. When you’ve picked up the items take them to the testing site. Call me with the location and I meet you there to unlock the items for testing.”
“Understood,” said Aleksandar.
“What I do,” said Xiaoyu. Aleksandar looked closer at the paperwork Xiaoyu gave him.
“Looks like everything’s in order,” said Aleksandar, “We’ll have someone come get you for the showing.”
“The down payment,” said Xiaoyu.
“Thanks for not letting me forget,” said Aleksandar.
“You’re welcome,” said Xiaoyu.
“Ten percent,” said Aleksandar.
“Ten percent,” said Xiaoyu. Aleksandar turned himself around in his chair to a half safe. Through a complicated procedure of handprints and codes, Aleksandar opened the safe and organized pieces of paper together. Turning around Aleksandar put six stacks of bills on the desk within range of Xiaoyu.
“Six stacks of six thousand,” said Aleksandar. Xiaoyu pulled a folded brown paper bag out of his jacket pocket.
“That’s how you carry $36,000?” asked Aleksandar.
“No, we’ve talked about this already. This is how you hide it,” said Xiaoyu collecting the stacks into the paper bag.
“I’m sure you have more engagements today,” said Xiaoyu, “I look forward to your call.” Xiaoyu got up from his chair and left Aleksandar’s office, his footsteps masked by the sound of the waterfall.
• • •
Xiaoyu spent the next 24-hour period in his hotel room. He bought sausage, bread, butter and tea at a local store. He passed the hours lying on his bed, stretching and making sandwiches with black tea. He got hot water from the hotel dining area. The hotel lobby was empty but he didn’t doubt he was being watched. He checked his room for listening devices and inspected the phone, nothing. He didn’t want to venture out of the room because it would give any observer more inspection time. They could visit his room. They could watch him at a restaurant and send someone to talk to him. There was a lot they could do and everything he did could be scrutinized. Maybe he didn’t walk like a Frenchman, they could notice that too. But he didn’t walk. He stretched on the floor or he lied on the bed. He didn’t do much else. Like Georgia had said, he was all business. He waited to collect the rest of his cash. At night, he made a secured-satellite call to Mason. Mason made the call a three-way conversation with a forensic artist at the CIA compound in Langley, Virginia. Mason told Xiaoyu to describe everything he remembe
red about the buyer. Brown eyes. Thin nose and lips. Dark hair. Strong jaw. Deep lines under the eyes. Around 184cm tall. Scar just above the left eyebrow.
The artist scanned the database and came up with twenty-seven known possibilities in the Balkan Peninsula. The catalogue was sent to Xiaoyu’s cell phone. The sixteenth image made Xiaoyu pause. It was an image of a younger Aleksandar, before the scar above his eyebrow. The story how he got the scar was old intelligence, but the CIA hadn’t photographed him since. Scars were part of the database requiring the artist to key them in as search, not program them into his sketch. The sketch was accurate enough to retrieve an old picture of Aleksandar. The trouble with the picture had nothing to do with its age and everything to do with it not being Aleksandar. Aleksandar Stojanovic was a figment of the imagination of a younger man. The younger man was a civil engineer in the Yugoslav People’s Army during the Bosnian Civil War. His name was Jusuf Juric, a captain. The photo of Jusuf Juric in the CIA database was his military photo when he enlisted. The scar was missing because he was pistol-whipped by his commanding officer for his part in the mass execution of several non-combatants during the Siege of Sarajevo in February of 1994. A few of the non-combatants were international reporters. The pistol whip was public and public knowledge. Shortly after the public reprimand, Jusuf Juric’s body was discovered. The hands and head of the body were battered and burnt beyond identification, but with his uniform and dog tags. Juric was never seen again and declared dead. There were inconsistencies about the body found that lead many to believe that Juric was still alive. The head and hands were badly destroyed but the rest of the body was relatively intact. The one thing that stood out to the soldiers who discovered the body was the boots. Jusuf Juric was a captain and civil engineer. He didn’t see much action during the war. The boots found on his body were badly worn and blood-stained. Juric’s boots were and would have been in much better condition.
