Jack said, “The Campus.”
“Exactly.”
“Go on.”
Mary Pat scooted her chair even closer. Jack leaned in to within inches of her face. “Several years ago, when Ed was in charge at CIA, back during your father’s last run-in with the Chinese, I ran a CIA officer over in Beijing who proved instrumental in resolving that conflict. But there were other options presented to us at that time. Options that we decided against pursuing because they were… what’s the word? I suppose the word is unseemly.”
“But now it’s all you’ve got.”
“Right. There is organized crime inside China. I’m not talking about Triads, which are active outside of mainland China, but organizations that exist in secret within the Communist state. Being arrested as a member of one of these gangs in China will earn you a perfunctory trial, and then a bullet in the back of the neck, so only the most desperate or most evil join these groups.”
Jack could not imagine being in an organized criminal gang in a police state, which essentially meant the government was a gang of organized criminals itself — in China’s case, a gang with an army of millions of soldiers and trillions in military equipment.
Mary Pat continued. “One of the most heinous organizations over there is called Red Hand. They make their money in kidnapping, extortion, robbery, human trafficking. These are some real sons of bitches, Jack.”
“Sounds like it.”
“When it became clear to me that our HUMINT in China was compromised, I talked to Ed about Red Hand, a group we considered using during the last war as additional intelligence assets in China. Ed remembered that Red Hand had a representative in New York City, living in Chinatown. This man wasn’t in the CIA database or in any way tied to U.S. intelligence; he’s just someone we learned about back then but never approached.”
Jack knew Ed Foley, former director of the CIA, was out of town. He said, “You sent Ed to see him.”
“No, Jack. Ed sent himself. He drove to New York yesterday and spent last evening with Mr. Liu, the Red Hand emissary. Liu made contact with his people on the mainland, and they have agreed to help us. They can put us in touch with a dissident organization in the city who claims to have contacts in the local police and government. This group is committing armed acts of rebellion in Beijing, and the only reason they haven’t been rolled up like so many others is the CIA hasn’t reached out to them.
“Ninety-nine percent of the dissident groups over in China these days exist only on the Internet. But this group, if Red Hand is to be believed, is the real McCoy.”
Jack raised an eyebrow. “‘If Red Hand is to be believed’? No offense, Mary Pat, but that sounds like the flaw in your thinking.”
She nodded. “We are offering them a great deal of money, if and only if they deliver what they promise. An active insurgent group with some connections. We aren’t looking for George Washington’s Continental Army, but something legitimate. We don’t know what we are dealing with until someone goes and checks them out.
“We need someone on the ground there, in the city, to meet with these people, far from any American or Chicom eyes, and get a feel for who they are. If they are anything more than a group of well-intentioned but inept fools, we will support them to get intelligence about what’s going on over there in the city. We don’t expect large-scale insurrections, but we need to be ready to provide clandestine support if the opportunity presents itself.”
She added, unnecessarily, “This is totally off the books.”
Before Jack could speak she defended herself from what she expected him to say. “This is undeclared war, Jack. The Chinese are killing Americans. I am very comfortable supporting locals fighting back against that evil regime over there.” She pointed to Jack’s chest for emphasis. “But it is not my intention to create more cannon fodder. We have done enough of that with our intelligence leaks.”
“I understand.”
She handed Ryan a piece of paper she pulled from her purse. “This is the Red Hand contact in New York. His name is not in any computer, he has not met with anyone from the government. You commit the name and the number to memory, and then destroy this.”
“Of course.”
“Good. And understand this. You, Jack, are not going to China. I want you to talk to Gerry Hendley and, if he thinks this is something your organization can help us with, quietly, then he can send Domingo Chavez or one of the other operators. Having the President’s son captured in Beijing working with rebels there will make all of our problems exponentially worse.”
“I get it,” Jack said. Not to mention it would give my dad a coronary. “I will talk to Gerry about it as soon as I leave.”
Mary Pat gave Jack a hug and started to get up.
Ryan said, “There is one more thing. I don’t know if I am stepping out of my lane on this, but…”
Mary Pat sat back down. “Speak up.”
“Okay. The Campus was involved with the Zha arrest in Hong Kong a couple of weeks ago.”
Mary Pat looked genuinely surprised. “Involved?”
“Yes. We were over there, working with Adam Yao, CIA’s NOC who identified him in Hong Kong.”
“Okay.”
“Yao did not know us as The Campus. We sold ourselves as a business trying to track Zha down because he hacked our network. His white-side cover is as a business-intelligence investigator.”
“I have read CIA’s reports about Adam Yao and the Zha incident in Hong Kong. The SEALs said they had CIA support. We suspected Yao had two local assets helping him.”
“Anyway, I just wanted to say this: I suppose you know hundreds of great officers in the U.S. intelligence community, but Adam seemed very well dialed-in over there. An extremely sharp guy. He knew about the CIA leak, and he was working his ass off, staying low-profile to avoid getting caught up in the leak while still getting the job done at the same time.
“It’s not my place to say, but I really think he is the type of guy who needs your full support, especially at a time like this.”
Mary Pat said nothing.
After an uncomfortable moment, Ryan said, “I apologize. I know you have more irons in the fire right now than you know what to do with. I just thought—”
“Jack. Adam Yao disappeared two weeks ago, after someone tried to blow him up in his car but instead killed his next-door neighbor.”
Ryan reeled with this news. “Oh my God.”
Foley said, “It’s possible he just took himself off-grid for his own PERSEC. Hell, I couldn’t blame him if he was running from us because of the leak. But our people over there at the consulate in HK think the Fourteen-K Triads got him.” She stood up to leave. “Their best guess is that he’s at the bottom of Victoria Harbour.
“I’m sorry. We failed Adam, too.”
She went back inside the house, while Jack sat there in the cold, sitting on the patio chair with his head in his hands.
FIFTY-SEVEN
Adam Yao had spent the first two weeks after the shootout in Wan Chai on Lamma Island, part of Hong Kong territory a forty-minute ferry ride from his home. It was quiet and peaceful here, which was just what he needed. He did not know a soul, and the locals thought he was just some tourist here to enjoy the beach and the bars.
He had made no contact with anyone. Not CIA, not SinoShield clients or colleagues, not relatives in the States or friends in Soho. He’d lived in a tiny monthly vacation rental off the beach, he paid cash, and he took all his meals in the attached restaurant.