The Rice Thieves

by William Claypool

  “That seems foolish,” said the old man.

  “It’s foolish unless someone is making money, and over there someone is always making money,” answered Chao.

  The trio let that statement stand without further comment until Quan spoke. “Young Chao,” said Quan, “your rice does one other thing that seems remarkable to me, and I think this is the most interesting.”

  The brothers waited while the old man took another sip of his tea.

  “Two weeks ago, when we had not had rain for ten days, one of my paddies was leaking and it ran dry. All other rice would have been dead at that stage of the planting and I would have had to replant them. It was not so with this rice. It seemed to find water on its own. Its main roots go very deep and it doesn’t need much rain to survive. It thrives in our usual weather, however, it can also survive in drier conditions.”

  “Does that open the possibility of growing rice in other areas of the country?” asked Jun.

  “Yes,” said Quan. “I think so. Chao’s magic seeds could expand our rice fields to places we would not have thought possible.”

  The two younger men smiled at one another.

  “Uncle Quan, do you think it is too early to share our findings with our friends in the government?” asked Jun.

  “If you want to make money on this, you must tell them eventually. You know they will want to grow this at their own facilities. I know you have excellent government connections. Right now, I think you should not tell them too much about what we have learned. I would like to finish a crop here before you discuss it very widely. It would be very bad to over-promise.”

  “What about putting the seeds in our own fields at the other farm?” asked Chao.

  “What other farm?” asked Quan.

  “It is up in Guangdong Province, a few hours from here, north of Shenzhen,” said Jun.

  “Why have you never showed me this other farm?”

  “You told us you don’t like to leave Happy Stream Farm.”

  “No,” said the old man. “I don’t like going to the city, but I would like to go to see my nephews’ farm.”

  “Well,” said Jun, “let’s do this. We’ll grow a crop of the new seeds at our test farm and when they are growing and looking beautiful, we’ll drive you out.”

  “Good. How much will you plant?”

  Jun had thought about this earlier and quickly replied, “I think we’ll be able to plant three hectares.”

  “All right, you plant that much and I will want to see it growing. I will also have more seeds for you from my first plants here. Will you promise to take me there when the sprouts are up?”

  “Yes, we will,” said Jun. “Tell me; does the new rice look any different from the usual rice you grow?”

  “I can’t see any differences.”

  “Well, if you can’t see any difference, no regional inspector from the Ministry will be able to see any difference either.”

  “I’m sure that’s true,” said the old man. “Even so, promise me that you will not tell the government too much about these new seeds until another test crop is harvested. Your father would never approve of being impulsive and discussing this with them in detail until you are sure of what you have.”

  “Yes, Uncle,” said Jun. “We will wait until we have three hectares of beautiful rice before we make any conclusions.”

  “This is very exciting,” said Chao. “Perhaps we should toast with something other than tea.”

  “Too early in the day for me,” said Quan. “I’ll sleep all day if I do any celebration before afternoon tea.”

  Chao was smiling and said to his uncle, “If the new rice does not need as much water, you won’t have as many leaches in the paddies. You can retire your large rubber boots.”

  Quan said. “You should stay in the city and not tend the farm. You might not do very well in the fields. The boots are not for leaches in the paddy, young nephew. They are for snakes in the brush outside of the paddies.”

  “Perhaps Chao’s magic seeds will keep the snakes away, too,” said Jun.

  “That is a theory I will not test,” said Quan. “I’m comfortable in my boots, and I’ve seen too many snakes here over my many years to abandon them.”

  They each finished their cups. Quan spoke. “Let’s go to the paddies and visit my children. Chao, please watch where you walk.”

  CHAPTER 5

  Franco took the nine-hour day flight to Hawaii after traveling to Auckland from Stewart Island. He arrived at his hotel after midnight. After the long flight, he didn’t sleep well. He was to join the team in the morning at an office in Honolulu near the airport. The attendees were to be two people from the Rorke team and Paul Sloan. The meeting was an orientation, mostly for him, he assumed, and would be followed by a flight to Molokai. Later, they would meet the owner of the rice genetics company for dinner back on Oahu.

  Franco had mixed feelings about seeing Sloan again. That was a large part of why he had trouble sleeping. He remembered vividly all he had done for the man, and hated hearing that Sloan seemed to have squandered most of that effort. Between trying to clear his mind of these flashbacks and adjusting to the time change, he only managed to fall asleep at 5:00 am. He slept though the alarm he had set for 6:30. When he looked at the clock and it read 7:15, he bolted out of the bed and rushed to make the 8:00 meeting. He hurried through a shower, dressed, and dashed to the street via the hotel coffee shop. He made it to a taxi with a bagel and coffee in hand and had just enough time to finish them both before the cab arrived at the office address.

  The address was for a mid-rise rundown building stuck in a neighborhood of warehouses. The building was on the flight path of Honolulu’s airport, and as he left the taxi, the sidewalk trembled while a jumbo jet screamed overhead on its final approach. He paid the fare and quickly entered the building. The elevator took him to the third floor, where he found the office at the end of a darkened hallway. There was no name on its door to suggest the activity within. It was 7:59.

  He opened the door and saw a receptionist’s cubicle on the right. A few tired chairs were in the open reception area and old tourist posters of Hawaii hung on the drab walls. A woman was at the copy machine in the cubicle and she turned when he arrived. If she wasn’t the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, he couldn’t name the other contenders. She smiled as he closed the door behind him. He guessed she was in her early thirties and she was dressed in a tasteful dress that fit her 5’9” frame perfectly. Her red hair was shoulder length, framing her ivory skin and striking green eyes. She was absolute perfection. When he realized his mouth was hanging open, he quickly attempted to recover.

  “Where is the meeting?” he asked her. “I’m a little late.”

  “The conference room is at the end of that hall. They’re expecting you,” she said, pointing down a narrow corridor.

  Franco thanked her. He couldn’t place her accent. It was British, or maybe South African, he guessed. He wondered who this Sam Rorke was, to be able to hire such an amazingly beautiful assistant.

  He found the conference room after walking past several offices, all furnished with the same distressed furniture and all unoccupied.

  The conference room décor was similarly dated and worn. The table and eight chairs showed scratches on the former and rips in the latter. Two men sat at the long table and looked up as he entered. One man was Asian, the other man, the one he knew, was Anglo. The man Franco recognized, Paul Sloan, jumped to his feet as he entered.

  “It’s good to see you again,” he exclaimed. “I never knew what happened to you in Chicago, except I heard you were hurt there. I just learned a few minutes ago that you were joining us. I never had the chance to thank you for all you did.”

  Franco took Sloan’s outstretched hand. “I was happy to serve,” he said. “I heard a few things didn’t turn out too well after tha
t mission.”

  “Right,” said Sloan quietly. “The project didn’t work out the way we expected.”

  “I was talking about what happened to you,” said Franco.

  “Yeah, uh…” stammered Sloan. “My life just kind of fell apart for a while. It was a rough time.”

  Franco didn’t offer a response.

  “Everything is much better now,” Sloan continued. “I love Hawaii. It’s a wonderful playground for a botanist, and I’m flying again. It’s all good. If I last here another five or ten years, I won’t have to move anywhere to retire.”

  “I’m glad it’s working out for you,” said Franco. He turned to the other man. “I assume you’re Sam Rorke?”

  The man rose and took Franco’s hand. “No, I’m Harold Chen. Welcome to the team, Commander.”

  From behind Franco, he heard, “I’m Samantha Rorke.” The beauty from the copy machine extended her hand to him. “It’s nice to meet you, Commander. Admiral Pauling has told me a lot about you. Welcome.” She turned to the others. ”Let’s start. We have a hard stop at 10:30 since we’re flying to Molokai to see the quarantine station.” She sat at the head of the table and began to distribute the papers she carried.

  “Before we dive into the details, I’d like us all to introduce ourselves to make sure we know why we’re all here. I’ll start.

  “My background is that my mother was from Hong Kong from an old English family that was three generations on the island. My father was an American. My parents met and married when my father was stationed in Hong Kong and attached to the State Department. He brought my mother back with him to the States, and I was born in Fayetteville, North Carolina, when my dad was stationed at Fort Bragg. When I was two, my father left the Army and joined a company headquartered in Hong Kong. We moved there and stayed until I was 16, when we moved back to the states. I went to college at Yale as an art major. Two years into college I had a financial wake-up call and realized I wouldn’t make a living as an artist. That epiphany eventually led me to an MBA in finance at Wharton, and I was happily on my way to a career in international banking. I did that for a few years before I was tapped on the shoulder by a friendly CIA recruiter who thought he could give me a more interesting life with my Hong Kong background and international finance experience. Long story short, I said yes, started working for the Company, and subsequently met Admiral Pauling. The Admiral asked me to start working on special projects for him and that’s what brought me here.” She looked around at the group, “Any questions?”

  “That’s pretty top line and sterile. Are there any fun facts about you?” asked Franco, thinking about how Pauling had not really prepared him for Sam Rorke. He didn’t know if he was happy or angry about it.

  She said, “We’re not here to have ‘fun,’ Franco, but I will tell you one interesting fact. Perhaps it’s my art major background, or maybe it’s more sinister—I am an excellent forger. Seriously, I’m very good. Just a little practice and I’m a real menace. Don’t leave your checkbook out.”

  “Thanks for the warning.”

  She turned to her colleague. “Hal, tell them a little bit about yourself.”

  Hal turned toward Franco and Sloan. “I consider myself a real California guy, although I was born in Hong Kong. I moved to San Francisco when I was two. I went to public schools there before going to Stanford. I majored in Asian Studies and Computer Science. When I was a senior, I was tapped by a Company recruiter to come work with them in Langley as an analyst and as a preemptive computer security specialist, which means ‘friendly hacker.’ I did that for a few years before I asked about going into the field. I was approved for fieldwork and went to the CIA’s ‘Farm’ for training. After that, I was dispatched and spent a few years in Hong Kong, which was easy for me, since I had been going there every summer I can remember to stay with my grandparents. Even though I was enjoying that, Sam asked me to be part of a team for Admiral Pauling’s special projects group. I thought about it and it sounded interesting. So, here I am.”

  Hal turned to Sam.

  “Thanks, Hal,” she said. “Any questions?”

  “How big is this special team and what do you do for the Admiral?” asked Franco.

  “The answer to the first question is easy,” said Rorke. “The team’s standing members are just Hal and I. We have contractors in our areas of operation, which are Japan, Korea, and China. We’ve done projects in Taiwan and Singapore, only as a part of larger operations. Because of our cultural and language skills—Hal and I both speak Japanese, Korean, Mandarin, and Cantonese—we focus on that part of the world. What we do is largely investigative and it usually involves an angle of industrial, rather than direct governmental, espionage. Does that help?”

  “Thanks,” said Franco. “How long has Pauling been involved in this? He just retired from the Navy a few years ago.”

  “I think you just answered your own question, Commander,” she said. “Why don’t you tell us all a little about yourself?”

  “Sam, by now, I expect you know more about me than I know about myself. Is that correct?”

  Rorke replied, “I think our information on you is probably current and correct, nevertheless, please humor us and enlighten Dr. Sloan.”

  Franco looked at Sloan and began. “After college, I joined the Navy and became a carrier pilot. I met Admiral Pauling, who was, at that time, Captain Pauling, on my first deployment. I did four cruises before they took away my medical qualifications because of an eye injury. After that, Pauling, who had rocketed up the ranks to Admiral, convinced me to stay in the Navy and transfer to Naval Intelligence. For better or worse, I followed his advice.”

  Sloan turned to Hal and Sam. “As part of my transition to the Intelligence community, the CIA let me spend a few months down at Camp Peary. We might have to share our stories about the ‘Farm.‘”

  Franco turned back to Sloan. “I stayed in the Navy until I retired a few months back. The little exercise in Chicago, where I met Dr. Sloan, culminated with me spending months in rehab. During rehab, I decided I didn’t need the Navy anymore. I thought I’d done enough and I decided to hang up my blues. It was the right decision. Until a few days ago, I was having a peaceful life in a quiet place where no one could find me, until Pauling did find me, and asked me to join this team.”

  “Why did you agree to join us?” asked Rorke.

  “Frankly, because the money was good. Also, Pauling did a few favors for me over the years that made it hard for me to tell him ‘no.’”

  “What exactly did happen to you in Chicago, Commander Franco?” asked Sloan.

  Franco hesitated, seeming to momentarily relive the scene in his head before he answered. “Paul, I took two bullets in tender spots. Eventually I healed up okay and like they say, you should see the other guy. Anyway, that experience was enough for me to re-think my priorities. By the way, please just call me Mike. I don’t need to hear the title ‘Commander’ any more in my lifetime.”

  “You saved my life, and the lives of my wife and daughter,” said Sloan with difficulty. ”Thank you again.”

  “Yes, that was the job,” said Franco quietly.

  Neither man spoke until finally Rorke broke the silence.

  “Dr. Sloan, we each know a lot about you for different reasons. Would you like to tell us a little about yourself in your own words?”

  “Sure,” said Sloan. “I also flew jets in the service. I was on the Marine side, and after the Corps, I went back to school to study botany. My grandfather was a corn farmer and I think he gave me a reverence for plants. I did a Ph.D. in botany and taught at the university level for over twenty years. After the experience that Mike described in Chicago, I left the university and started working at the USDA in Washington. I became a very accomplished alcoholic there and lost my wife, my job, and pretty much everything else I cared about except my daughter. Finally, with her help an
d AA, I dried out.”

  Sloan seemed to think carefully about his next words before continuing. “Unfortunately, it was all a little too late. My wife didn’t want me anymore. My daughter went off to college. The Department no longer trusted me, although instead of firing me, they gave me the option of being an assistant to the station chief in Hawaii in charge of special projects. That sounded pretty good to me, although I still lose sleep thinking that in a dark view of the future, I’ll be lying in the sand with an umbrella drink in my hand and it will start all over again. Anyway, I’m dry now, and that’s how I came to be here, and the rice species we’re talking about is my ‘special project.’”

  “Thanks, Paul,” said Rorke. “Do you have any questions, Franco?”

  “No,” said Franco. “It’s all pretty clear.”

  “If you have any questions or wisdom to impart at any time, please don’t hesitate to speak up,” said Rorke. “ I believe the Admiral wants you to feel free to advise me if you think I need it or if I ask for it.”

  “Samantha, I don’t know you very well, yet I already think the idea of you asking advice from me or anyone else is kind of a stretch. I believe you have a crystal clear idea of what you want to do all the time.”

  She said, “Of course, although I’ll certainly value your judgment since Pauling thinks as highly of you as he does.” She turned to Sloan. “Paul, would you tell us the story behind the rice plants?”

  Sloan cleared his throat. “When I came on station, I heard this excitement from a couple of guys in the quarantine greenhouse. They said one of the plants brought in by the HDOA was running wild. They were right. It was a new strain of Oryza sativa or typical Asian rice and it looked very similar to all the other strains seen throughout South Asia. It was hard to tell the difference from regular rice just by looking at it, although there were subtle differences in the leaf structure. However, its rate of growth and time to maturity were remarkable. We had edible grain-sized seeds in as early as eight weeks under optimal soil and moisture conditions. None of the guys knew much about it except that it was quarantined from a private farm and that there were legal proceedings involved.