“I was married when I was eighteen. The department encouraged it. She was a lieutenant in the PLA, which made it easy for us to prove our loyalty to the party. But six years ago she died… during childbirth.”
Court looked up to the lightening sky. “Sorry.”
“Yes. I was going to have a son.”
“Damn.”
Neither spoke for a full minute. Court was exhausted and he didn’t know what this day would bring. He imagined he still had many miles to go before he’d find a way to pass Fan off to U.S. authorities.
But Fan wanted to talk. “When she died… when they died, I mean, security at 61398 brought my parents into the compound in Shanghai from their home in Beijing. Family collateral. My parents were my only relatives. I was told if I remarried they could return to Beijing, but I did not want to remarry so soon.”
Court just said, “That must have been tough on your parents.”
“It was the opposite. My father was a colonel in the PLA, and my mother had been a mathematician at the National Defense University. They were proud to support the work I did by living in the compound. They were assigned a guardian, Major Song Julong. He was charged with watching over them, and he had served under my father, so it was good for everyone. Me, my parents, and Song.”
Court rolled up onto his arm now and looked at Fan. He understood, for the first time in this mission, what had started this entire situation. “But something happened, didn’t it? Something that forced you to run.”
Fan looked back to the American in the low light and nodded slowly. “Yes. Something happened.”
Fan Jiang moved briskly, swinging his briefcase along with his stride, his tie loose and his parted hair hanging low and boyishly after a full day walking the exhibition floors of the China Information Technology Expo. The massive event was winding down for the evening; thousands of men and women filed out of doors, down escalators; they flagged cabs and stepped onto metro cars and buses. Fan was right along with the crowd, fitting in as an unremarkable young businessman, although one flanked by two much larger and much less talkative coworkers.
Fan was tired; most every day of his life involved twelve to fourteen hours sitting at a desk, so just participating in a trade show was real physical work to him. He was looking forward to getting back to his room so he could pig out on room service, then go to bed early. Tomorrow he and his guards would fly back to Shanghai, and by midafternoon he would be back in his uniform and back at his desk, and as novel as it was to come here to get intelligence on the work done by IT corporations around the world, he was ready to return to his normal and sedentary existence.
His bodyguards, Chen and Liu, were arguably more exhausted than their protectee, because while Fan had to talk to dozens of people and take pages of notes, the two security officers had to stay ultra vigilant at all times: tough to do considering the fact that the expo was a massive transitional space with thousands of people moving around.
The three men pushed through the revolving doors of the expo’s lobby and out into the six p.m. heat, heading to the cabstand to catch a taxi back to the Sheraton. Before they made their way to the back of the long line, Sergeant Chen’s cell phone trilled in the breast pocket of his gray suit coat. He pulled it out, looked down to the phone to identify the call, then held it out to his protectee without answering it. “Fan, it’s your mother. We’ll get in line; you sit on that bench right there by the door.”
“Xie xie.” Thank you, Fan said as he took the phone. Fan liked to be separated from the two sergeants while he spoke to his parents. Not because he had anything to hide; rather he was embarrassed to talk to his mother in earshot of the tough bodyguards.
As he sat on the bench he said, “Ni hao, Mama.”
The voice on the other end of the line was not his mother. It was a male voice, but it was not his father.
Fan Jiang recognized the voice of his parents’ government-issued escort, thirty-eight-year-old Major Song Julong.
“Jiang? It’s me. It’s Julong.” Fan knew the man well; he’d become part of the family in the past six years since his parents were brought into the unit and moved to the compound in Shanghai. Song was with them virtually all the time, and Fan spent most of his free time at his parents’ apartment, just a few buildings away from his own. When he did this it was common for Song Julong to join them for dinner, watch television with them, or play games.
He’d become something of an adopted brother to Fan.
Fan said, “Ni hao, Song. Why are you calling from my mother’s phone?”
The man spoke quickly. “Something terrible has happened.”
Fan sat up quickly. “What’s happened?”
Song’s voice was serious, ominous. “You cannot react to what I am telling you. I did not call you. This is your mother calling. Do you understand me?”
Fan did not understand, but the man’s tone made him nervous. “Put her on the phone. Or my father. They are both with you?”
“When the security department finds out… you know what they will do.”
“Finds out what? What are you talking about?”
Song said, “Softly, Jiang. If Chen and Liu are there, do not let them hear you!”
Fan glanced up at the men in the taxi line. They were lighting cigarettes and talking to each other, not even looking his way. “They can’t hear me. Tell me what is happening.”
“Fan… there has been an accident. Just now. Not five minutes ago.”
“Accident? Are my parents—”
“I was driving. It was me. A sand truck from the construction site on the Inner Ring Elevated Road backed up just as I was passing.”
“No… Please tell me they are okay, Julong.”
“Keep your voice down. You understand what this means for you, don’t you?”
“For… for me? Where are my parents?”
Song shouted into the phone now. “They are dead, Jiang! They are both dead! Killed instantly. I am sorry. I am so, so sorry, but you can’t react to what I am telling you.”
Fan leaned forward suddenly, as if he’d been punched in the stomach.
Song said, “Your parents were good people. They were like my own parents, who I lost when I was young. You know that. You know I didn’t want this.”
Fan just stared at the sidewalk in front of the taxi stand now. Still in a state of shock, he tried to clear his head and think. “I’ll tell the guys. They will get us on a flight tonight. I’ll be home as soon as I can.”
“No!” said Song. “You don’t get it. You still don’t get what I’m trying to tell you, do you? I am calling you now, before anyone in 61398 finds out, because of your participation in Red Cell. Ten minutes ago you had the highest security clearance in the nation. Now when the police get here and when MSS and MOD find out the identity of the dead, you will have no clearance. You will have all the secrets of the Strategic Support Force in your head, but you will be deemed untrustworthy by the government. You have no more family collateral, and when 61398 finds out… it will be all over for you.”
Fan just looked at his two bodyguards. They were making their way closer to the front of the taxi line. Chen glanced his way and tapped his finger on his watch. Fan nodded, then turned away. “How much… how much time do I have?”
“You are in Shenzhen. We are in Shanghai. The car is burning; they won’t find their IDs. I walked away from the accident; I’ll tell them I hit my head and didn’t know what happened.”