“Why? What are you talking about?”
“You have ten, maybe twelve hours. By dawn tomorrow MSS will be in contact with MOD, and they will call Chen and Liu. MOD will order them to bring you straight into the security office of 61398. At that time they will take your credentials, and they will hold you. They will say it is for your own protection, because of your grief. But they will keep you for a day or two while the orders are signed.”
Fan asked the next part with a lump in his throat. “Orders?”
“And then the security director himself, Colonel Le, or else his second-in-command, Lieutenant Colonel Dai, will order you shot. That’s how it happens. That’s how they remove the compromise to Red Cell.”
Fan knew nothing of this; he found it so hard to believe. But Song had worked as a security escort for a dozen years. They were friends. There was no reason he’d say any of this if it weren’t true.
Fan had seen two other men leave Red Cell when they lost family collateral. He’d been told they’d moved to other sectors. Now he wondered if they’d been executed.
He just said, “I served faithfully. I have done all that was asked.”
Song sniffed; Fan could almost hear the tears running down the man’s face. “They only believed in you because they controlled you. That control is gone.” Song sniffed again. “You have to act tonight.”
Fan shouted into the phone, loud enough that his two bodyguards looked towards him in surprise. “And do what?”
Song said, “You need to run.”
Fan turned away from Chen and Liu. “I… That’s crazy. I have no idea how to do that.”
“It’s okay, Jiang. I will tell you what to do. I will tell you what has worked in the past with defectors.”
“De—”
“Don’t say it! Just listen to me very carefully.”
“But… What about you?”
“I’ll be fine.” Fan heard a slur in Song’s speech now. Maybe it had been there the entire time.
“Why are you doing this for me?”
“I owe it to your parents.”
Song tried to hide his drinking, but sometimes he showed up at Fan’s parents’ apartment drunk. Fan wondered if Song had been drinking today, if the story about the sand truck was not the complete story. But he did not press.
He just listened.
Five minutes later Fan handed the phone back to Sergeant Chen without saying a word.
Chen was with Liu near the front of the taxi line and still thinking about the outburst he’d overheard. “Problems with Mommy, Fan? Did she buy you the wrong color underpants?”
Liu laughed next to him.
Fan just said, “No problems.” And then, “Guys, I feel a head cold coming on. I’ve had to shake too many dirty hands this week.”
Liu nodded. “We all have. Disgusting gweilo, mostly.”
“Can we go to a market and get some cold medicine? Something that will help me sleep?”
It was a reasonable request, so Chen just shrugged. “There is a market around the corner from the Sheraton. We’ll go there.”
“Wanshan,” Fan said. Perfect.
Court looked at the little man lying on the cement foundation by the riverbank, and he could hardly believe he’d had the guts to sneak across the border into Hong Kong while being pursued by the full military and intelligence apparatus of the People’s Republic of China. That said, he understood the young sergeant had absolutely no choice at all.
He asked, “Did you ever find out what happened to Song?”
Fan nodded. The morning light had grown to where it was now possible for Court to see the pain and the fatigue on Fan Jiang’s face. “I looked on the Internet when I was in Hong Kong. There was a single-car crash in Shanghai on the Inner Ring Elevated Road at the same time as Song’s call. I looked at the video from the news report. It was the car Song drove, burning. It took an off-ramp too quickly and flipped. There was no construction site anywhere around. No sand truck involved, either.”
“He was drunk.”
Fan nodded. “And the guilt of killing my parents caused him to try to save me. The report said there were three victims of the crash.”
Court blew out a long sigh now. “They terminated him.”
Fan nodded, then concentrated on the American in front of him. “So… I told you all this. Now you must tell me the truth.”
“Depends on the question.”
“What is going to happen to me?”
“Don’t worry. You’re safe. First, I get you away from Colonel Dai and his men.”
“And then?”
“And then I am to hand you over to some nice people who’d like a word with you.”
Fan sat up. “Where?”
“I don’t know.”
“You are going to take me to the U.S. I know you are. I want to go to Taiwan.”
Court didn’t know why the kid wanted to go to Taiwan, and he didn’t ask. He said, “The U.S. has good relations with Taiwan. I’m sure we’ll work something out.”
“You are lying. The CIA is going to demand I work for them. They will hold me for years, force me to work against my home country. And if I refuse… will they send you to kill me?”
Court chuckled. “It’s the USA, not China. You might eat fatty food that gives you a heart attack and watch shitty TV that makes you want to kill yourself, but the CIA won’t whack you.”
Fan Jiang said, “I took nothing out of China when I left. No documents, no plans, no schematics for programs. I have nothing to turn over to anyone. I just want to go to Taiwan. Of course I know I will be debriefed, but I refuse to work against the People’s Republic of China.”
Court thought this kid was about to cry, but as far as he was concerned, Fan Jiang was hopelessly naïve.
Fan said, “I am from China. I am not against China. Not even after what happened. I am for Fan Jiang. Can’t I just leave this all behind?”
I seriously doubt it, Court said to himself. Then he sighed a little. “I’ll talk to some people when we get out of here.”
It was bullshit, and Court got the distinct impression Fan saw through it, because he sprang to his bare feet and took off for the dirt trail through the jungle. Court reached for him but missed, then put his own shoes on and chased after him. The faint morning light kept Fan from running off the trail and into a low-hanging branch, but Court caught up with him in under a minute, grabbing him by his shirt and tackling him to the ground. The bigger American put a knee in the young Chinese man’s chest. “Calm down, kid. It’s not so bad. We’re the good guys.”
Fan Jiang struggled. “No, you are not.”
Court realized he was crushing the kid while telling him he was a good guy. He pulled his knee back. “Well, we’re the better guys. Dai will kill you for what you did. Those Vietnamese back there will kill you for causing that massacre, and if the Russians got hold of you…”
Court let that hang in the air for a moment.
Fan said, “I want to go to Taiwan.”
“Right. Taiwan. Look, I’m going to hand you off to someone, and you can tell them that.” Court pulled Fan to his feet. “You’ve had a lot of bad luck, and I really wish you all the best, but I have a job to do. And I promise you, if you run from me again, you will just make your bad luck even worse, because I will kick your ass.
“We’re finished waiting around here. If you can run like that, you can damn well cross that river. I’ll be there right with you. I’ll keep you safe.”
Fan started to protest, but Court took him by the arm and began walking him back down to the water. “C’mon, kid, let’s go for a swim.”