‘How are they treating you in the Tenth Bureau?’ Tian asked.
‘Quite well, Minister.’
‘Good.’ Tian pointed a wireless remote at a large flat screen wall monitor. ‘Please look carefully at these photographs and tell me if you recognize this man.’
Peng walked up to the screen and studied the images. It had been more than a year, but the man’s face was still quite fresh in his memory.
‘This man is Nolan Kilkenny,’ Peng declared, though his voice betrayed some confusion.
‘Are you certain?’ Tian asked.
‘Absolutely, but these photos — has he committed a crime in China?’
‘Several.’
‘But Nolan Kilkenny uncovered the murder of our yuhangyuans aboard Shenzhou-7 and brought the criminals responsible to justice. This man is a hero.’
‘Was a hero,’ Tian corrected. ‘Today, he is an enemy of the state. But before I elaborate, I have a few more photographs for you to look at.’
The images changed. On the left, Peng saw Kilkenny standing in the lobby of a building next to an Asian woman with long black hair. A black-and-white image of a woman in an officer’s uniform filled the right side of the monitor. The date and time index at the bottom of the image indicated that it had been taken that morning.
‘I took this first photograph in August of last year,’ Peng said, ‘in Washington, D.C. The woman was identified as Roxanne Tao, an associate of Kilkenny’s.’
‘She is also an American spy wanted for espionage in this country. Once the preliminary identification was made on Kilkenny, putting a name to her was not difficult. Can you confirm the woman on the right is Tao?’
‘The quality of this photograph is poor.’
‘It was taken by a surveillance camera at Chifeng Prison,’ Tian offered.
‘I cannot confirm a match with absolute certainty, but it appears so, and it makes perfect sense. They have worked together before.’
‘That was our analysts’ thinking as well.’
Tian moved on to the next pair of images. One was a recent photograph of Yin, the other taken at his arrest in the late 1970s. Peng studied both and felt a faint sense of recollection about the older photograph.
‘This is the criminal that Kilkenny extricated from the laogai in Chifeng this morning.’
‘An American spy?’ Peng asked, assuming he had seen the picture during his training as an agent.
‘A Roman Catholic Bishop. You have a sense for Kilkenny and Tao, followed them for a few weeks, no?’
‘That is correct.’
‘Good. I want you to fly to Chifeng and assist the man tasked with hunting them down. You are to be his second.’
Peng nodded.
‘You performed well on your last assignment — I expect the same effort now. On your way out, pick up your flight information and a briefing package from my assistant. This is a matter of great political importance, Peng. These people cannot be allowed to leave China.’
‘I will do my best, Minister.’
34
The Chinese Catholics aiding Kilkenny’s team led them on a circuitous route out of Chifeng and into the grasslands of the Inner Mongolian steppe. Northwest of the city, they switched from cars and trucks to horses and rode off into the wilderness. Yin beamed like a child when he mounted a soft brown horse with Kilkenny, thrilled with the experience. Throughout the journey, the smile never faded as he rode tall in the traditional wooden saddle, stretching his body like a sail to capture the sunlight and fresh air that he had been without for so long.
The journey ended near sunset as they approached a large circle of yurts, the original encampment having grown since their departure the previous night. Trails of smoke spiraled from openings in the conical roofs, and the aroma of grilled meat and vegetables filled the air. Several people, all ethnic Mongolians, ran to meet them, while others excitedly announced their arrival to those inside.
‘You made it!’ Gates roared as Kilkenny and Tao dismounted. ‘Everybody in one piece?’
‘Pretty much,’ Kilkenny replied. ‘How’d you guys make out?’
‘Still shaking the sand out of our boots, if you know what I mean. Nothing a few bottles of Baadog and some barbecue won’t cure. What the hell happened back there?’
‘Beijing decided today would be a good day to execute Yin,’ Tao replied. ‘The man they sent to do the honors showed up just as we were preparing to leave.’
‘Sorta sent things right down the shitter. Think it’s a coincidence?’ Gates asked in a low voice.
‘No,’ Kilkenny replied. ‘So quietly remind the guys to stay sharp because we don’t know where the leak is.’
‘At least we covered your exit pretty well. There’s been a distinct lack of movement from Chifeng toward the prison, so I suspect your buddy Grin cut ’em off real good.’
Kilkenny nodded. ‘The brief time we were in the city it was business as usual — no checkpoints or increased police patrols. In that regard, our luck is still holding.’
Gates rapped a couple of knuckles against the side of his head. ‘Knock on wood, it’ll hold until we’re outta Dodge.’
‘Seems our hideaway has gotten popular with the locals.’
‘Yep. The folks who collected me and the boys from our extraction point planted roots overnight. Gives the place a real lived-in look, and as a bonus, three of those yurts are hangars for the BATS. When you give the word, we can be wheels-up in ten minutes.’
‘Good work. Where’s my gear?’ Kilkenny asked.
‘Hangar number three,’ Gates replied, pointing at the third yurt from the left.
Inside the yurt, Kilkenny discovered a group of grinning children playing in one of the BATs. He checked the aircraft to verify the controls were locked out and that the children could not accidentally start the engine.
Kilkenny unzipped a small duffel bag and pulled out his helmet. A few children climbed out of the BAT to watch him. He made a great show of struggling to put on the helmet, acting as though it was too small, and the children laughed at his performance. When the helmet was on, the children peered through the dark visor but could not see his face. They waved hands in front of the visor to test if he could see them, and he played along with the game.
As the children roared with laughter, a woman poked her head through the open doorway and, with a flurry of rapid-fire Mongolian, cleared the children from the yurt. Kilkenny was sorry to see the youngsters go.
Alone, he toggled the BAT’s electronics and, through the helmet, tapped into the aircraft’s powerful burst transmitter.
‘Message encrypt, three words: Gandalf Isengard Eagle.’
CONFIRM: GANDALF ISENGARD EAGLE
‘Message confirmed.’
SEND TO?
‘Bombadil.’
The uplink compressed Kilkenny’s message into a focused pulse of energy just a few picoseconds in length. A pair of satellites in a constellation circling the earth in a low orbit, and tuned to the frequency of the uplink, captured the pulse and redirected the three-word message toward Rome.
Kilkenny rejoined the others as the evening meal was being served. Several families had gathered inside the largest of the yurts, the men on one side, the women on the other, and Yin seated in the center at a place of honor. Kilkenny started to sit down with his team when the patriarch of the family beckoned him forward.
‘Please, sit,’ the man said in halting English, indicating a place beside Yin.
Kilkenny hesitated, then caught Tao motioning sharply for him to do as the man asked. He bowed to their host and sat on the floor at Yin’s left side. Yin smiled warmly at him, intoxicated with joy during his first hours of freedom. In his youth, Kilkenny had enjoyed his moments of athletic glory and the fleeting glow that followed a hard-fought victory. But here he felt like an interloper in a moment that belonged to Yin and his people.