The Rice Thieves

by William Claypool

  “Mike, it’s a grumpy man with an American accent who says you damn well better take his call.”

  Franco reached back into his pocket and fetched another bill. He handed it to the barman. “Tell him I just left.”

  The barman put the bill in his pocket, shrugged his shoulders, and said, “Okay,” as he walked back to the phone and brusquely told the caller that Franco had just left. He switched off the telephone and winked at Franco. He pointed to the fact that he killed the phone and he laid it on the bar, off the receiver. Franco waved from across the room.

  “Sorry about that,” Franco said to Ani.

  “No worries,” she said. “This is a persistent fellow, it seems.”

  “You have no idea.”

  “Now, where were we?” she asked, with a smile.

  “I think I was complimenting your legs.”

  “Yes, we’ve covered that. Are there any other parts you’d like to discuss?”

  “If I must, I’d love to tell you how much I enjoy your…”

  He was stopped from completing his sentence by the cell phone ringing from inside her purse.

  She gave Mike a quizzical look. “Could it be him?”

  “Yes, probably.”

  “Should I answer it?” she asked.

  “I suppose you should if we’re ever going to finish this conversation.”

  “Are you here, if it’s for you?”

  “Yes,” he said reluctantly.

  She pulled the mobile phone from her purse.

  “Hello?” she said into the phone.

  She handed Mike the cell phone.

  He said, “Hello, Admiral.”

  “Franco,” said the voice on the other end, without a greeting, “take this call outside where you won’t be overheard.”

  “I don’t work for you anymore,” said Mike.

  “I know,” the gruff voice replied. “We’re going to fix that. Go outside.”

  “It’s cold.”

  “Wear a coat,” demanded the Admiral without missing a beat.

  “It’s wet.”

  “Hell, it’s always wet there. Grab an umbrella if you need it.”

  Franco hesitated before he made up his mind.

  “Just a minute,” said Franco to his caller.

  Franco whispered to Ani, “I’ll be right back.”

  He pulled his coat off the booth, draped it over his shoulders and went out the door.

  “All right, I’m outside,” he said into the phone.

  “Good, here’s what I want you to do. I’ll have transportation ready for you tomorrow at that airstrip on Stewart at 1000 hours local. We’ll have lunch in Dunedin and I’ll tell you what I need from you.”

  “What’s this about?”

  “You’ll hear all about it tomorrow. Basically, it’s a case of theft from a U.S. government facility. I think you’re the right guy to help me with it.”

  “With respect, sir, I’m retired now. Why would I risk my neck again?”

  “No, Franco. No risks. No heavy lifting for you on this one. I have a team of investigators who will be doing all the hard work. I just need you to keep me up to date as to what’s going on.”

  “I don’t think I want to be involved with you again, Admiral. I’m enjoying a nice peaceful life here. By the way, how did you find me? I thought I was off the grid. I don’t even have a cell phone.”

  “Being ‘off the grid’ is a relative term, Mike. Remember, I still have friends at the NSA. Unless you pay cash for everything and always hide indoors, we can usually locate you. It takes a lot of work to completely drop off the grid these days.”

  Franco waited before speaking. “Sir, I think I unconsciously thought of that when I came here with all the cloud cover for those damned satellites.”

  “Well, the optics are amazing these days,” said the Admiral enthusiastically. “I can tell if you’ve shaved in the morning, so don’t worry about hiding behind a little cloud cover. Just be at the airstrip at 1000 tomorrow.”

  “What’s in it for me? Why should I interrupt my happy holiday?”

  “I’ll give you $10,000 to have lunch with me, and another $100,000 if you take the job I’m going to offer you.”

  “How long will the job take?”

  “One month, tops. If it goes any longer, I’ll give you $100,000 a month for each month over.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Have you ever known me not to be serious?” barked the old man.

  “No, sir, but that’s a lot of money.”

  “You’re not in the Navy anymore. You were a lot cheaper when you wore the uniform,” explained the Admiral.

  “Yes, sir,” said Franco. “Okay, 1000 local, just lunch, and $10,000.”

  “Correct, and we’ll bring you back right after lunch.”

  “What kind of transportation am I looking for?”

  “I’m calling in a favor from a friend in the Royal New Zealand Air Force. It’s what we’ll call a training mission for them. I imagine they’ll show up for you in a King Air. They’ll bring you to me when you arrive in Dunedin.”

  “All right, sir. I’ll be there. Bring your checkbook.”

  “The check will be here waiting for you.”

  “One other thing, sir.”

  “What is that Franco?”

  “You are a nasty old man to track me down here.”

  “I know that, son. But you still love me. Tomorrow.”

  The line went dead.

  It was raining even harder now, and Franco hurried back into the bar with numerous thoughts racing through his mind. Most of those thoughts were memories of his last adventure with the Admiral. It had not turned out well and mostly he remembered the painful six months he spent recovering from his wounds.

  ***

  Ani gave Franco a hard time when they returned to his house. She demanded to know who the caller was, what had gone on between them, and what he was involved in. Except for telling her that he had to make a quick business trip the next day, he said nothing else. It frustrated her tremendously, and she carried on for a long time, although she calmed down when they went to bed. They went to bed relatively early, and to Franco’s relief, they stayed up very late.

  They slept until eight and Franco made breakfast for them. After eating, she lounged in her short robe while he dressed. He tried to discuss what they would do for dinner that evening. She was vague, not wanting to make a decision.

  “How do you think that man got my cell phone number?” she asked, changing the subject from dinner back to the previous evening’s phone call.

  “Well, I’m guessing if he knew I was here, and could identify me by satellite, he could identify you as well. If you were seen making a call by the satellite, he could trace the number to the cell station for the same time and bingo, you’re caught.”

  “Aren’t there all sorts of laws stopping that?”

  “I’m not so naïve as to think that a few laws will slow him down if he thinks he needs to find something.”

  “This man is that important?” she asked.

  “Yes, and he has all the connections he needs to do whatever he wants.” Franco turned away to continue cleaning the kitchen.

  She was still in the living room in her robe reading. “You know, Mike, I should have returned the favor,” she said, putting down her newspaper.

  “What’s that?”

  “I should list all the things I find attractive about you.”

  “That’s sweet of you, but it’s really not necessary.”

  “No, it is. I want to tell you.”

  “Okay,” he said, walking over to her chair. “Tell me.”

  “I will,” she said, smiling as he settled into the chair beside her. “Mike, I love your dark brown hair and black-brown eyes. I
love the fact that you’re tall and fit. I love your dimples, and the way your eyes kind of slant up when you laugh.”

  “Thank you. As you might say, ‘anything else?’”

  “Yes, I love…”

  Before she could finish, the taxi beeped its horn in front of the house.

  “Yes, Mike, lots of other things,” she said, looking out the window. “I guess you have to go.”

  As Franco walked to the door, she blocked his way, dropped her robe to the floor and kissed him passionately. “Have a great trip,” she murmured.

  He thought about her lovely eyes and looked down at her body. She was probably right about her best feature. He kissed her again. The cab beeped a longer blast and he broke off the kiss.

  “Duty calls,” he said.

  She lifted her robe from the carpet and put it on as he started to open the door.

  “Mike,” she called, as he walked down the first step to the street.

  He turned. “What?”

  “Do me a favor.”

  “Sure.”

  “Say hello to Admiral Pauling for me. It’s been a while.”

  Franco stopped dead in his tracks and thought about what he had just heard. He took a deep breath before speaking. “You’re not going to be here when I come back, are you?”

  “I don’t know. Remember, you weren’t supposed to be this cute. Have a good lunch.” She waved and gently closed the door.

  Franco turned to the idling cab and didn’t know whether to curse or thank Pauling when he saw him.

  CHAPTER 2

  One Year Earlier

  The package began its journey in the early evening, as the botanist had meticulously planned. He had always been what employers call a “difficult” employee who didn’t interact well with his peers and he preferred to work odd hours. Given the job’s wage scale and the island’s labor pool, his supervisors were happy to have him despite his often prickly behavior. On this day, he arrived at the facility shortly after lunch, as was his custom. He bid goodbye to his co-workers at five o’clock and enjoyed the quiet of the building while he waited for sunset. He tended his plants, adjusted the humidity controls, tested the soil, and carefully logged his entries into the computer notebooks. After he finished his usual rounds, he went outside for a cigarette. He watched the sun drop slightly lower while he waited to finish what he had recently been paid so well to do.

  He relaxed on the bench outside the large, enclosed greenhouse, catching glimpses of the orange-blue splash of sun sinking into the Pacific horizon. The glow from the lights of Honolulu would also soon be visible in the western sky across the choppy water of the Kaiwi channel. It was a paradisal setting, quiet, with just the tropical breeze rustling in the palm fronds to fracture the total peace and the rhythmic, breathtaking beauty of the ocean beyond.

  The western plain of Molokai was dry and would not have been terribly hospitable for most of the test crops in the building. However, the outside weather didn’t really matter because this facility was the department’s quarantine station, and it could manage any plant’s requirements. When Honolulu customs found an inbound plant they didn’t like or didn’t understand, it was sent here for observation. When the Hawaiian Department of Agriculture field agents found an unfamiliar or newly invasive species, it was also brought here for study. It was a very fascinating job for a botanist, but it definitely didn’t pay well. That part would change after tonight, he thought.

  He finished his cigarette and returned to the facility. He was alone in the giant greenhouse looking over almost five acres of enclosed foliage. Several plots were shielded with large plastic screens. The plots housed varieties of blooming and non-blooming plants. The plots were generally small beds, with about three hundred species under watch for one reason or another. The sprinkler system was a work of technologic art with each plot receiving a computer-programmed amount of water. The high humidity plants were also isolated from the temperate plants and the arid species by divider walls. This evening his focus was not on the plants, but on the seed storage room beyond the plots.

  Seeds were isolated from the plants of particular interest. The seeds were stored in a special room and each seed bin in the room was labeled and marked for individual treatment. Access to the seed room, like access to the entire facility, was controlled with a punch combination lock rather than key card access. It was old school, but the mechanical punch keys were reliable, easier to maintain than a computer card system and, since they spent the big money on the sprinklers, they scrimped on the locks. This was plant security, not national security, and access would never be highly controlled. The Department of Agriculture was not among the leading beneficiaries of cabinet level funding, and when you stripped out the pork barrel funding for farmer subsidies, and food stamps, it was barely scraping by.

  The seed room was set at the same temperature as the rest of the greenhouse, although each of the seed bins was individually controlled for heat and humidity. The seeds he was seeking were stored in a large bin. He carried a special briefcase into the room, opened it, and removed the zip lock plastic bags from the double seal sheltering of the inner case. He opened the seed bin that housed the seeds that would create the treasured plants. The scoop in the bins made it easy to fill the eight bags and, because of the volume of the seeds in the bin, the eight bags barely made a dent in the total.

  After carefully filling the bags, resealing the case, and double-checking the floor to make sure there was no spillage, he left the room. The door snapped locked behind him and he was on his way. He checked the grounds around him and was satisfied there was no one to observe him. He left the greenhouse and the USDA complex, driving happily to the pre-arranged meeting on a quiet road near the beach.

  After a short drive with virtually no other cars on the two-lane road, he turned off to an even less traveled dusty lane. As outlined in their plan, the other car was parked in front of him on the dirt road. The party of one sat on the car hood, anticipating the thief’s approach. They were surrounded on both sides by a heavy growth of the scrub kiawe trees that made their meeting seem even more intimate. The moon was not yet high and the lane was already very dark in the early evening

  The botanist thief, who had met the smuggler several times before, surrendered the case and the smuggler gave him an envelope containing the bank confirmation of the last installment of the payment they had agreed. No words were exchanged. The botanist pulled out a small flashlight and examined the contents of the envelope. Satisfied, he turned away from the other man. Each man was pleased with the transaction, and they parted as night fully engulfed the island.

  ***

  The final drop of a beautiful full moon gave way to a perfect dawn. In its soft glow, the fading skyscraper lights of Hong Kong Island and Kowloon framed the final path into Victoria Harbor; only the smuggler, whose name was Liu Chao, wouldn’t be finishing the trip. He mused about the long voyage from the mid-Pacific, and he was happy to be home. It had been expensive and the risks had been enormous but it was almost over. He would leave the ship soon.

  The huge container transport was in an anchorage south of Hong Kong Island waiting its turn to unload at the terminal. With dawn approaching, signs of activity were heard from all over the waking ship. Chao thought about his long trip and the pleasures of dry land. The sun climbed gently up the eastern horizon on the open sea, as he nervously anticipated the last leg. Their morning berthing was scheduled at the Kwai Tsing terminal and, in the emerging day’s light, he could see what was likely the pilot boat approaching in the distance. He was ready to join it. His pilot uniform shirt was too small for him, and it stretched tight beneath his life jacket. It was uncomfortable; thankfully, he would not have to wear it for long.

  Chao’s only luggage was a backpack and the briefcase by his side, which was now more valuable than gold. He had carried the briefcase on the small boat from Molokai to the rus
ting tramp freighter out of Honolulu, and then to the huge container ship in the mid-Pacific. The cost of this trip home was about $400,000 U.S. dollars—all payments for helping him carry this case discreetly back to Hong Kong Island. With the rest of the bribery and procurement payments, the all-in costs of the project were close to a million, however, those costs would easily be recouped within the first year. After that, the profits would be enormous, assuming the usual cooperation from the government.

  The boat was clearly visible now. Chao could see the pilot on board who was dressed identically to him. The pilot stood amidships while crew members came on the forward deck to ensure their passenger’s smooth transfer to the giant ship and Chao’s own transfer in the opposite direction. The crew barked instructions back and forth and he felt even more at home with the Hong Kong dialects he heard. The experienced helmsman of the pilot boat had no difficulty broadsiding the cargo ship and holding position for the transfer.

  The pilot came aboard first. He also wore a life vest and the same company shirt. He carried a briefcase on board similar to Chao’s, and the ship’s crew held the pilot’s case as he passed it up the ladder to the entry bay in the cargo ship’s hull. In the briefcase were charts the pilot would use to help bring the vessel into port—not that a seasoned pilot would need them—and the supporting paperwork for the terminal arrival. Chao thought about the relative value of the two briefcases and laughed to himself.

  Their ship was fully loaded and she rode low in the water. There were only three rungs up the ladder to the platform. The true pilot hopped off the small boat and was on the boarding platform in a few moments. On the platform, he barely made eye contact with Chao. The newcomer collected his case and entered the giant ship on his way to the bridge.

  Although the crew seemed to notice the snub, they said nothing and helped Chao onto the pilot shuttle. Chao was reluctant to give up his case, but did so, needing both hands for the ladder. He thanked the crew for handing the case down to him when he was securely on-board the bobbing boat.

  Once aboard, he immediately went below to the small cabin as the pilot boat pulled away from the giant ship. Chao removed his life vest, and placed his case and backpack on the berth. He pulled out a nylon duffle bag from the backpack and expanded it on the berth. Turning to the briefcase, he popped the latches, and opened the cover. Eight double zip-lock bags with reddish green contents were carefully arranged in the case. Chao placed them carefully in the duffle bag and zipped the layer of waterproof plastic between the bags and the nylon duffle. He removed his pilot shirt and put on a simple black pullover. After he finished, he took a deep breath… and waited.