The Brad West Files

by Fritz Galt

  He stopped at one such shop, and a woman sold him a card for a hundred whatevers. He really should learn what they called their currency.

  With twilight falling on the busy street, he found an empty booth and ducked into it.

  The card worked like magic, and soon he was speaking with an international operator.

  Earl answered the phone with a groggy, “Ugh?”

  “Hitting the bottle early?”

  “What? Oh, it’s you.”

  “Yeah, of course it’s me. The eagle has landed.”

  He heard the phone fall off the bed with a clang.

  Brad didn’t want to waste any more precious time. “You’ve got to get over here. I’m a babe in the woods without command of the local tongue.”

  “Why don’t ya speak the universal language: money. You’ve certainly got enough of it. Just don’t flash it around or use too much at once.”

  “You kidding? I already got a great deal on accommodations.”

  “I’m impressed,” Earl said, sounding sincere. “Anyway, I’m glad you called. Remember our friend from the Travel Agency?”

  “The what? Oh yeah, the dude into Transportation. What about him?”

  “He’s with the Company. A Company man. A loyal member of the travel agency. Capiche?

  “Okay. I get you. You can stop speaking in italics, now.”

  “Thank you,” Earl replied.

  “Shut up.”

  So Igor Sullivan was in the CIA. It figured, otherwise how did Sullivan know that Earl studied Chinese and that May and Liang were assigned to the base? Still, it took balls to impersonate a federal agent when he already was a federal agent.

  “I figured he had some high-level connections.” Brad was thinking about the plane ticket Sullivan had left on his bed. “He’s the only reason I was able to get here in the first place.”

  “Hmm. That’s supremely weird. Anyway, I’m jealous. You’re not the only one whose chickie has flown the coop. So you say you need me. I could use a little get-away myself. Richter got us a new NSF grant with a slush fund I could tap. And I’m sure my thesis could use a little field study in the orient. But where should we meet?”

  “I’ve got it,” Brad said. “Remember that site where you met the young boy who escorted you around the city for a week, only to find out later that he wasn’t a boy?”

  He was bringing up an incident at the Great Wall, where Earl had humiliated himself, not to mention passed up a golden opportunity with the opposite sex.

  “Argh,” Earl screamed. “Don’t remind me. Blasted unisex clothing. Anyway I get it. Give me a few days to get my act together. Fortunately we’re past finals week, and I’ve only got mop-up operations. Look for me at the appointed hour, every day ending in the letter ‘Y.’”

  Brad had to smile at the reference to the clever encryption they had devised between them years before. “Roger. Better go now.”

  “Later, dude. And remember: the one with the gymnast’s body is mine.”

  Brad shook his head. “Like she was ever yours to lose.”

  He hung up. With luck, the conversation was cryptic enough not to trip the National Security Agency’s eavesdropping equipment or alert the Chinese authorities. He wasn’t sure which would be worse.

  He also had to trust that the police weren’t tailing Skeeter or monitoring his phone calls. Perhaps the whole murder investigation was over as Sullivan had indicated. But what would ever lead him to trust an undercover agent?

  In any event, it was best to play things as cagey as possible. He left the phone booth muttering, “Days not ending in Y.” It was their private code for Happy Hour, which for them was every Monday, Wednesday and Friday at 3:00 p.m. sharp. All Brad had to do was to show up at the prescribed location, namely the main tourist entrance to the Great Wall at those times, and Earl would eventually turn up.

  He heard a motor purring behind him on the sidewalk and a beep. What was a motorcycle doing on the sidewalk? He stepped aside just in time to let the jerk pass.

  The investigation into Colonel Philips’ murder had to be over if they let Earl, a key character witness, still loll around the campus unquestioned. Or, the CIA was just waiting for Earl to lead them to him.

  Then he read the word on the back of the motorcyclist’s jacket. “POLICE.”

  Yowza! He was beginning to get the impression that the Chinese had people stationed everywhere. And they weren’t all wearing police jackets. Even if he wasn’t wanted internationally, it kind of gave him the creeps.

  He slipped back into the flow of pedestrians. He eased past tiny mechanic’s shops and vegetable stands illuminated by naked light bulbs. Did the U.S. have a criminal extradition treaty with this backward country? Yeah, it probably did. Stinking globalization ruined everything.

  The swath left by the cop closed in behind him, and Brad felt himself swallowed up by the city. Soon, Skeeter would be there and bring a translator’s touch to his mission to rescue May.

  Or, to put it more bluntly, Earl was like a big brother coming to bail him out of trouble.

  In the meantime, if he could only buy a bowl of rice.

  Liang stepped off the private military airplane at Yichang Airport with a strong feeling of belonging. The Three Gorges Dam lay just out of sight around a mountain, but he could already sense its presence in the brisk activity around him.

  He whipped out his cell phone and turned it on. There were two missed calls, both from China’s Southern Command in Chongqing.

  He walked confidently to his waiting car and dialed the general back.

  A woman answered.

  “Get me Comrade General Chen,” Liang said.

  The car took off toward the dam. Liang waited eagerly to both see the dam and get an update from the general.

  After a minute, the gruff voice came over the phone. “Wei?”

  “This is Liang. Why did you call?”

  “Comrade, we have good news for you. The PSB in Beijing has just reported a new arrival in their district. His name is Bradley West, and he is teaching at the ‘Astonishing Language School of Beijing,’ a third-rate cram school.”

  “That figures.”

  “Should I order him detained?”

  The car approached a steep cliff that overlooked the Yangtze River. Much as he’d like a little time to interrogate the brash American, he had major plans unfolding on an hourly basis at the dam.

  “Have the wet team take care of him as soon as possible.” It was his only choice. He needed Bradley West out of the way at once. “As for Dr. Yu Zhaoguo, what is his status? Has the water treatment worked? Has he retracted his theories?”

  “I am proud to inform you that he has finally recanted.”

  Liang smiled at the disingenuous use of the word recanted. But he still didn’t trust the general’s judgment.

  “What did he say?”

  “We kept the water dripping on him until he gave us a written statement saying that there is no anthropological site of any value in the Three Gorges region.”

  That sounded like Chinese opera to Liang’s ear. The old fellow had finally broken.

  “Did he put his chop on it?”

  “What?”

  Liang frowned. Without a personalized ink seal, there was no way he or the press could prove the authenticity of the statement.

  “Did Dr. Yu sign it with his chop?”

  “Sir, there was no chop.”

  Liang’s smile disappeared. “Well, have him produce his chop.”

  “Sir, I am loath to tell you that he is no longer present.”

  “What? Your mother is a SARs-infested civet. You let him go?” He wanted to bang his fists against the car window. “So, where is he now?”

  The general sighed with frustration. “That was the purpose of my second call. We have lost track of him. We do try to keep tabs on enemies of the state, but he hasn’t surfaced anywhere. This I can tell you: he hasn’t appeared at his apartment in Beijing. Standard railroad and airport check
s have also turned up negative.”

  Liang’s eyes fell on the raging river just meters from the road. Dr. Yu would return to his beloved river to rescue as many worthless bones as he could.

  “Search the river,” Liang ordered. “Search the gorge. Search every last tributary. Especially check all the dig sites he has created along the river. I’m told he has dozens. And when you find him, I want him and his story squelched. No obituary, no hero-worship. Understood?”

  General Chen mumbled his agreement.

  Liang could see his entire dream go down the drain. If the old man gave them the slip and informed the world that he had been tortured, it could trigger new scrutiny of his trivial prehistoric finds. It would also throw Professor Richter’s theory into question.

  It could halt the dam indefinitely until the discovery’s significance could be ascertained.

  And he didn’t have indefinitely.

  “We can’t afford for him to be on the loose. After you find him and put him to death, I want you to come to the dam and report to me personally.”

  He clicked off the phone. The dam came into view. It stood tall and exposed above the deep gorge, soon to be an enormous reservoir. Unless, of course, that little worm of a scientist broke news to the outside world.

  He needed a little damage control. It was time to pull out the big PR guns.

  So he placed another call.

  “Richter here.”

  “Dear Professor. This is Liang. We need your help.”

  “You already got my help,” Richter snapped. “I took the skull off your hands so you could go ahead with your dam. What more could you want?”

  “It appears that Dr. Yu Zhaoguo has escaped. I’m afraid the press will get hold of his story and revive his theories.”

  “Preempt it with a counterattack. You communists are good at rewriting history. If it’s his word against mine, who’ll ever believe him?”

  “We intend to keep his escape quiet. But I would like you to be prepared in case his story leaks out.”

  “Don’t you worry. I’ve got my whole career riding on this, too. My new America First political party has an amazing ground swell of support. At this point, I’ve got a good shot at the presidency.”

  “You’ve got to get over here,” Liang said. “I’d like you to come and distract media coverage in case the old guy resurfaces and tries to debunk your theories.”

  “I’m not going all the way to China. I’ve got a political campaign to run.”

  Liang tried to visualize President Richter as his buddy in the White House while he occupied the seat of power in Beijing. The thought pleased him enormously. “We will be able to accomplish great things together.”

  “I look forward to it,” Richter said.

  It wouldn’t take the savvy American long to see the tremendous advantages of Liang as leader of China. But Liang couldn’t let the opportunity die at the hands of a creaky old scientist like Dr. Yu.

  “I know you are a busy man. But it would honor me greatly if you could be my personal guest at the opening ceremony.”

  “I can’t,” Richter said, this time with less conviction. “I’m sorry.”

  “We’ll have press coverage from around the world. CNN, Agence France-Presse, BBC, Reuters, Deutsche Welt.”

  “What was that date exactly? Perhaps I could do some reshuffling.”

  Liang grinned. Before he clicked the phone off, he had Professor Richter’s solemn pledge to be on hand for any damage control.

  Then Liang turned serious. The American had a kind of bluster that he admired. He would learn to govern in that same manner.

  His car was just entering the main gate to the dam facility. Several guards drew their guns and eyed him suspiciously, then checked his papers. May was doing a terrific job on the security front, and he didn’t try to pull rank before the soldiers.

  While on the subject of young ladies, he had another call to make. When the guards finally waved them through, the car lurched forward and took him past the dam’s small airfield and hangar where May had parked a pair of fighter jets in case of emergency.

  He dialed the Communist National Party Headquarters. “This is Liang Jiaxi. Put Miss Wang on the phone.”

  A tender voice came over the line. “Wei?”

  “This is Liang.”

  “Long time no hear.”

  He felt himself relaxing involuntarily at the sound of her voice.

  The car reached the parking area, and he leaped out. He began to mount a series of steps leading up to the top of the structure.

  “I’m just calling to remind you of your patriotic duty,” he said.

  “I know. It’s set for the day after tomorrow.”

  “Good. What will you use to accomplish your mission?”

  “I’ll be serving drinks that night,” she replied. “Shall I save you a nightcap?”

  Somehow, talking with Jade always made him feel like he was asking for a first date.

  “Remember your duty,” he reminded her, and put the phone away. Jade could not afford to fail.

  He paused when he reached the bleachers that were erected for the upcoming ceremony. He had to admit that the gorge before him was magnificent. He was one of the last to see the valley before it became a watery horizon. Bradley West would be a dead man within hours. In two days, Jade was going to set the wheels in motion for his toppling of the government. And May was running dam security with brisk efficiency.

  Only one thing remained the same since he had last stood on his dam three weeks before. The old scientist was still on the loose and threatened to ruin all his plans.

  Chapter 18

  Earl Skitowsky spread out and took up part of the vacant airplane seat beside him. He was enjoying his view of the California coast when a rangy figure hurried up the aisle.

  He gulped. It was the CIA man, Igor Sullivan.

  Earl looked out the window and tried to make himself look small. When he glanced back up, Sullivan had turned to face the passengers and was retracing his steps more slowly through the cabin.

  Earl pulled out the in-flight magazine and buried his face in it. He had trouble focusing on the articled since it was so close to his face. Then he realized it was the duty-free magazine.

  Then he heard a familiar voice behind him. “Yes, I found him. Right on schedule. No, he doesn’t seem to mind that he’s leading his friend into a trap…. I know, amateurs.”

  Sullivan was on the airfone and sitting directly behind him. Earl was used to swallowing his pride, but this guy was abusive. He unlocked his seatbelt and turned to give the man a piece of his mind.

  Sullivan looked up and a broad smile stretched across his face. He wasn’t even holding a phone. He had made up the entire conversation for Earl’s benefit.

  Okay, so he felt silly. “Hello, Igor. Headed to China on a little business, are we?”

  “Okay,” Sullivan confessed. “You’re onto me. Those black market embryos don’t move themselves, you know.”

  “Well.” Earl pretended to ponder the illicit trade. “As long as it’s nothing unethical.”

  “Wait.” Sullivan looked around casually, then moved up a row and slipped into the vacant seat beside Earl. He leaned in close and said, “You don’t mind a little company, do you? It’s a long flight, and I’m sure we have plenty to discuss concerning a mutual acquaintance of ours.”

  “Aren’t spies supposed to be a little less upfront with the public?”

  “Yeah. So I’ve heard.”

  “Aren’t you an undercover kind of spook?”

  “Not so much lately. And this is my first bit of fieldwork in the Sino theatre, as it were. The Agency pulled me in from the old Eastern Bloc, which I think is a mistake to ignore, just between you and me. Anyway, they’re really hurting for staff in the China office. I could pass your name along to their recruiting office if you’re interested.”

  “Thanks, but I’ll have to think about that. Does it come with dental?”

  �
��Dental and a great life insurance policy.”

  “And all the great-looking chicks I can beat off with a stick?”

  “Oh, in your case, most definitely.”

  Earl decided to change the subject and cut to the proverbial chase. “Would you mind telling me if Brad’s still the target of that bogus murder investigation?”

  Sullivan looked thoughtful for a moment.

  “And please, just give it to me straight.”

  “Let’s put it this way. It’s a good thing Brad’s out of the country right now.”

  “What? He’s out of the country?” Earl feigned incredulity. “That bastard. He didn’t even tell me. And I thought we were friends.”

  “It’s okay,” Sullivan said, and waved him off. “We know you talked with him.”

  Hey, that electronic eavesdropping really did work. They had just caught a big fish in the terrorist network.

  “‘Days ending in Y,’” Sullivan went on. “Very funny. Actually, if we wanted him in connection with the colonel’s death, he’d be safely behind bars right now.”

  Earl looked out the plane window at the clear blue sky. “So why the free pass?”

  “We’re hoping he’ll lead us to Dr. Yu Zhaoguo, the Chinese scientist.”

  “So Brad’s not wanted for murder at the air force base?”

  “The military hasn’t officially solved that case yet, but we already know who tried to frame Brad.”

  Earl sucked in his breath. They weren’t after Jade, were they? Was that why Sullivan was following him? Maybe they should be seeking Brad after all. Come to think of it, Brad had been acting more irrational than usual lately and Earl couldn’t swear to his innocence.

  But shoot, he was going to Beijing to help Brad, not get him caught in the vise-like grip of the national security apparatus. Strange, Brad was going to Beijing for the very same reason that Sullivan was, to find the professor. How weird was that?

  “I know why Brad’s interested in the professor, and it’s not for professional reasons,” Earl informed him. “But why do you want the old guy?”

  “It’s because of the letter he sent to his daughter, the one the police found near the wreckage of the helicopter.”