The Rice Thieves

by William Claypool

  “I decided to look into it a little further, and learned that the farm was owned by an agriculture research company based out of Houston. After a few calls, I learned this was only one company within a much larger corporation. It’s part of the financial empire of William “Buddy” Jerome, whose name you may have heard before. I managed to reach Mr. Jerome and he told me how he came into the rice genetics business and specifically how this strain came about.”

  “I have to say that Buddy is a very nice guy. I’ve now met with him many times over the last several months. We’re going to have dinner with him tonight and I’m sure he’ll tell you the full story about his rice then. The short story is that Buddy had his people engineer this rice strain as a means of producing a protein a biotech company is developing for human use. The rice production is a clever way to make this protein cheaply. Buddy is looking to settle a score with the CEO of the biotech company with this rice product.”

  Sloan looked at Franco to see if he had any questions. Seeing none, he continued. “None of the biotech angle was documented at the quarantine station. They only know where the rice was grown in Hawaii, not why it was put there. That doesn’t matter. What matters to them is that this is a super strain of rice. It grows fast and produces about two to two and a half times as much protein as regular rice. It grows like a weed and pops up all over. It self-germinates like no other rice anyone has ever seen.

  “Now we haven’t told Buddy’s people all that we learned about their rice. I suspect they were only interested in the protein yield since that’s what they made it for. The speed of growth plus the invasiveness of the plant may not be important to them. Oh, and we also found that it’s drought resistant as long as the air is humid enough. Anyway, I’m sure you’ll learn more tonight when we meet with Buddy. I think you’ll find him entertaining. By the way, we haven’t told him about the theft and, as I understand it, we don’t intend to tell him until we learn more about it. Isn’t that right, Sam?”

  “Yes,” she said. “Buddy still thinks we’re holding his plants at the station and he doesn’t know anything about what happened to his seeds. We shut down his rice operation in Houston until our investigation is completed.”

  Franco asked Sloan, “Why don’t your Department of Agriculture people know about the biotech angle of this, and how did Jerome take to shutting down his Houston rice operation?”

  Sloan answered. “For your first question, I just learned about this biotech motive a month ago and I hadn’t filed any paperwork on it. Admiral Pauling called me and told me to keep it quiet. Remember, the theft had already taken place. All the USDA knew is that they had a super strain of rice that grew like crazy and could be an enormous crop.“

  “They know even less now,” interrupted Rorke. “We destroyed the remaining plants.”

  Sloan spoke again. “Mike, to answer your other question, Buddy didn’t really mind the USDA shutdown of his Houston rice project. This was the only ongoing rice project he had. As I understand it, he set it up, as you heard, to complement a biotech project of a golfing friend of his, and, just as importantly to him, as a business excuse to come to Hawaii more often. The major commercial interest of his company is in developing different corn and wheat strains for U.S. growers.”

  Sloan continued. “Buddy voluntarily surrendered everything his company has done on the rice project, and they have conveyed all their seed stocks to us.”

  “Why would they do that?” asked Franco.

  “Buddy is all red-white-and-blue. He’s a trusting soul—sort of. We keep him up to date on our work with his project on a regular basis. It’s informal, he wants to hear what’s going on.” Sloan paused. “To be clear, he wants Sam to keep him up to date on the project.”

  “It’s not all that friendly, Franco,” Rorke added. “Buddy’s company entered into a consent decree for the criminal charges of illegally planting this rice. Yes, he thinks I travel from the USDA in Washington to update him on the progress of our activities with his rice as per our friendly agreement under the consent decree. Remember, he broke the law. We asked him to surrender all the records of the project, both hardcopy and electronic, and to give us custody of the materials. He has done this voluntarily and without a legal battle.”

  Sloan looked at her. “I’m not sure that’s the only reason he wants Sam to keep him informed.”

  She waved him off.

  “How many people know the full story?” asked Franco.

  “If by ‘the full story’ you mean who made the rice, why it was made, what its properties are, and that it was stolen,” Sam said, “it’s just the people in this room, the Admiral, and whomever the Admiral decides to share it with. Quite a few people know a little bit of the story. We’re the only ones who know the full story.”

  “That’s a pretty exclusive club.”

  “Yes,” said Rorke, “And I expect everyone here to keep it that way.”

  She looked at her watch and said, “We should have a van waiting outside now, ready to take us to the airport for our trip to Molokai. Let’s go to the scene of the crime. We’ll talk more there.”

  Chapter 6

  Six Months Earlier

  Quan did not enjoy leaving the island. Truthfully, he did not even enjoy leaving Happy Stream Farm. He complained he was too old to fill his mind with new ideas and too tired to fill his day with traveling, but he agreed when his nephews wanted to take him to their farm in Guangdong Province.

  The car drove up the dusty lane just as he finished his breakfast. His nephews told him it would be a hired car, so he was not surprised to see it. He took his last sip of tea when the car stopped and Chao opened the front passenger door, left the car, and walked to the house. Quan placed the teacup in his kitchen sink and met his nephew on his small porch. He patted Chao on the shoulder, walked to the car, and took his seat in the back with Jun.

  “This is a big day, Uncle,” said Jun.

  “It is very unusual for me. That is for certain,” said the old man.

  The car turned around in front of the small house and drove back down the lane. Chao got out of the front seat to close the gate. As soon as he returned to the car, they were moving again.

  “When did you last leave the island?” Jun asked.

  “It was many years ago,” replied the old man. “You were just a boy. I went to meet you, Chao, and your father in the city.”

  “What did we do?”

  “I don’t remember much about the day except that the argument I had with your father wasn’t worth my time to make the trip. Travel was harder in those days, and I had to spend the night before coming home. That was good in a way, because I saw your father in the morning at breakfast and we reconciled our issues.”

  “What did you argue about?”

  “Your father wanted me to sell the farm on the island and move to the city to be near your family. He said living alone there was unhealthy and I would die alone and lonely on the farm. He worried that if I ever became ill, I would not reach a doctor in time.”

  “You didn’t agree with him?”

  “No,” the old man said. “Remember, it is your father who is now with our ancestors, and he was three years younger. I guess his doctors weren’t all he was expecting them to be. He was right about one thing, though. I do intend to die here.”

  The old man said nothing more. The car weaved through the lush low mountains that formed the spine of the island and eventually turned onto the highway near the northern coast.

  Although the traffic was heavy, they moved along quickly. The new bridge off the island was a marvel to see, and despite himself, Quan found it interesting. From the Lantau Bridge, it was a short drive to the Tsing Kau Bridge leading to the mainland New Territories. The highways were wide and modern. They moved quickly out of the Special Administrative Region to the Shenzhen Bay Bridge. Theirs was one of the few private cars on the bridg
e, which was filled with bus traffic. On the mainland side of the bridge, the traffic was stopped at the arrivals terminal. Their driver met the customs police with the documents Jun had given him.

  The boundary policeman examined the documents, took a quick look into the car, grunted to himself, and waved them along. A few minutes later, they parked next to another car with a driver. They switched cars from the right-hand drive Hong Kong car to the left-hand drive mainland car, and they were off again.

  Quan had never been in an automobile that drove on the right-hand side of the road, and it felt strange to him. He had also never been in Guangdong Province. Much of it looked like parts of Lantau although the frequent rocky outcrops looked harsher than the soft green hills of his island. There were also many villages and larger towns and factories.

  They veered west toward the Pearl River to miss the Shenzhen traffic, although that was almost impossible with the nearly 20 million people in this enormous metropolitan area. Farmers tended fields in areas spared by the inexorable urban creep. They crossed several small rivers with lazy brown-green water, where oxen worked the fields, although few other animals were seen. Quan took particular interest in the small paddies that popped up beyond the villages along the road. It looked as if it was going to be a good year for their rice as well.

  “How often do you come here?” asked the old farmer.

  “It depends on how active our computer business is,” responded Jun. “We go into Shenzhen often when we are working with computer products.”

  “I have seen a computer. I have never owned one,” said Quan.

  “Unless it is made in Zhongguancun outside of Beijing city, Shenzhen is likely its home. They make the chips, the switches, the screens, the keyboards—all in Shenzhen.” He pulled out his mobile phone. “This is a computer. It was made in Shenzhen.”

  Quan waved at it dismissively. “I would never want one of those. It looks like a leash for a badly trained dog to me. Sometimes, I’m happy to be old.”

  They drove a few more minutes when Quan touched his nephew’s sleeve and said, “I’ve seen enough of this. Wake me when we come to the farm.” He rested his head on the door and closed his eyes.

  They drove away from the city, toward the river delta, before looping back to the east. The factories and shops were fewer and the towns gave way to villages and small farms. After a time, they drove off the main highway onto dirt roads. From there they found a path leading into the field between hectares of rice paddies. Quan awoke when the car came to a halt.

  As he stirred, he saw two men coming from the field to greet the car. The farm had no house, just a group of rice paddies and a small, unpainted wood tool shed with a rusted metal roof.

  Chao left the car and walked over to the men. Quan could not hear them, although their conversation looked friendly. When the old man left the car, he saw that the farm was tucked into a narrow valley of flat land between two rows of the small rocky hills. The nephews’ small farm must have been part of a larger network of rice paddies that continued up the valley into a larger commercial rice growing operation.

  The old man walked to the group and was struck by how well the crop was progressing. Although the air was heavy and humid, once he saw the growing rice, he walked a little quicker. Jun introduced Quan to the two workers as the man who was responsible for the plantings. The field workers were very deferential to Quan, and they complimented him on his rice. Quan enjoyed their excitement as they told him what he had already observed with this new strain.

  “You will find that the rice tastes better too,” said Quan with a laugh.

  Quan turned to Jun. “Tell me whose land all of this is,” he gestured. “You said you only had ten hectares of land.”

  “We bought our ten hectares from the large farm beyond. The owners worked with us on other business dealings and they were happy to sell us a small portion of their farm. They gave us a good price on this land when we became interested in agriculture. Our government connections helped with the property transfer. We have had this for almost a year.”

  “You will make them even happier soon,” said the older of the two workmen. “Your uncle’s rice almost plants itself and now they have your super rice growing in their fields. Did you want us to remove the shoots that spread over to their land?”

  Jun laughed. “No, let them grow. Our neighbors will appreciate our generosity.”

  Jun walked his uncle to the edge of the paddy and asked him if there was anything else he wanted to see.

  The old man stooped down and examined one of the plants on the margin of the field.

  “They look wonderful,” he said, almost to himself. “It is lovely to see them all growing here.”

  He turned to his nephew, “I’d go into the paddies, but I don’t have my boots.”

  “Uncle, we don’t have snakes here.”

  “Of course you do. It doesn’t matter. I’ve seen enough. Thank you, Nephew. I’m ready to go back to Lantau.”

  “After we have lunch,” said Chao.

  “Yes,” agreed the old man. “After lunch.”

  ***

  They drove to a nearby town and ate lunch in a small quiet restaurant. Over tea, the old man said to the younger two, “I have been thinking that it may be the right time to tell your government connections about your rice.”

  “Are you certain, Uncle? You do not think it is too soon?” asked Chao.

  “No, I believe it is right to discuss it with them now. My worries of the rice not growing well outside of my farm have vanished. It seems to grow beautifully here. Since the government has not yet approved this strain, do not ever tell them we have grown it ourselves. They’ll want to control it and remove all the plants from my paddies and I don’t want the inspectors on my land. We should just give them seeds and let them grow the rice on government land. They will be able to harvest the seed faster and only they have the means to bring this rice to the people.”

  Chao turned toward his brother. “Can we make enough profit if we sell to the government this way?”

  “Yes, our government people will be good partners for us. They have not let us down yet.”

  “That was in computers; this is food,” said Chao.

  “It’s all just ‘buy and sell,’” said Jun. “We will do fine.”

  “Do we tell them Uncle Quan invented the rice?”

  “Absolutely not!” said the old man. “I want nothing to do with the government or any attention. I love my quiet life.”

  “That’s fine, Uncle,” said Jun. “If anyone asks, we will tell them we found this rice in Thailand.”

  “Why not tell them the U.S.?” Quan asked Jun.

  “Our government friends would not be happy to learn that American rice was feeding our people. If they thought it was American rice, they might not grow it for us. They must never know. From now on we must always call it Thai rice.”

  “That is perfectly acceptable to me,” said Quan. He raised his teacup in a toast. “To the mighty farmers of Thailand,” he said.

  “Yes,” said Jun, raising his teacup. “Gan Bei for Thailand.”

  CHAPTER 7

  The short helicopter ride over the Kaiwi Channel to Molokai was bumpy but the views were breathtaking. At Rorke’s request, the pilot made a sightseeing diversion. No one complained. They flew to the windward north coast over small drop islands and then along huge ocean cliffs near the Pelekunu Valley. Where there were no sea cliffs, the valleys from the inland volcanic ridge flowed down to lava beaches like sylvan glaciers. The valleys seemed young and unspoiled. The sparkles of their waterfalls over the lava outcroppings stood separated from the lush growth of the tropical apron below them. These green basins were almost inaccessible from the land and protected by the foamy surf that crashed in from the vast ocean beyond. They were perfect in their isolation.

  The helicopter f
lew around the island before heading back to the west. On the western side, the cliffs gave way to a plateau that gradually blended into the coastal scrubland flowing down to the sea. On this coastal plain, the helicopter flew once around a fence-enclosed compound. Franco noticed there was no guardhouse on the driveway to the compound’s main entrance. He reminded himself that this was a plant facility, not a military facility. After circling once, the pilot landed gently on a helipad in the USDA quarantine facility and shut down the engines for his passengers to deplane.

  To Franco’s eyes, the facility wasn’t impressive. It was comprised of two buildings of wooden construction that looked like aging, suburban ranch housing, and another building of steel construction that looked like an enormous industrial garage. They were all connected. In the background was a cinder block wall around what looked like a large furnace.

  On the ground, Sloan led the group into the wooden buildings. He opened the door to a small reception area. A whirring old window box air conditioner was the only sign of activity. Sloan led them through the reception area to a conference room at the rear of the facility.

  Rorke, Chen, and Franco arranged themselves around the table in the same order as in Honolulu. Franco assumed Rorke and Chen had seen all of this before and that the presentation was just for him. Sloan manipulated a projector and a computer while they sat. When the projector image was in focus on the white wall, Sloan spoke.

  “This facility was established in the early 50’s by the Hawaiian Department of Agriculture, essentially as a disposal area for any plants or fruits that were confiscated by customs.“

  Sloan projected old photos of the facility. Except for the connector passages between the buildings, the large greenhouse, and a few coats of paint, the facility appeared unchanged.

  “After the materials were given a quick inspection, they were typically taken to the incinerator at the back of the property, which you may have noticed as we flew in.”