Covert One 4 - The Altman Code (58 page)

Somehow, a Chinese politico got into the act, too. God knows what’s
going to happen, but it’s not good. Not for peace … not for the future
… not for the world. Sorry you got caught in this, Randi.

Asgar’s right. He can’t risk the future of his people. There’s no time
left to change anything anyway.” He turned to Asgar. “You and your
fighters better get away while you can. If you can.”

“You’re not coming?”

“That’d only put you in greater danger. Uighers don’t have the world’s
only superpower to protect them. We do.” He clapped him on the shoulders
as he had seen Uighers do. “Take the two million. You can make better
use of it than Li Kuonyi, the Chinese government, or us.”

“Sorry it worked out this way. Bad show all around, but perhaps we can
do this again someday. Do it right.” Asgar gave a signal, and before Jon
and Randi could blink, he and his men had stepped into the trees and
vanished. Now there was no protection at all from the Chinese soldiers.

“Jon,” Randi said quietly, nodding at them.

They did not pursue the Uighers. Instead, they parted, and an officer
stepped through the line, walking across the clearing toward them.

“That’s what they were waiting for,” Jon said. “A captain. Infantry,
from the insignia,” Randi agreed. Jon, Randi, and Li Kuonyi stepped away
from the fallen trunk. Kuonyi clutched the manifest in one hand, the
cigarette lighter in the other. It was no longer alight. The captain’s
expression was stern, his step authoritative. He glanced to the right,
toward where the dead Feng Dun lay in his own blood. He slowed and
stopped, his expression uncertain. A pudgy little man, also in the full
uniform of the PLA, appeared from the rocks behind Feng. As the new man
walked steadily toward the infantry officer, Randi whispered, “He’s
wearing the insignia of the Public Security Bureau–internal security
and counterintelligence.”

“Swell. The Chinese KGB.” Major Pan Aitu had watched the first act of
the drama at the Sleeping Buddha from behind the statue of a ferocious
dragon that guarded the entrance to the Cave of Full Enlightenment. As
the action had progressed, he had circled around, following it.
Night-vision binoculars had enabled him to study the band of Uighers who
had attacked Feng Dun and his gangsters, including a few PLA soldiers,
which had told him much. The clothes, faces, and weapons of the
twenty-odd hillside guerrillas had made him smile his benign smile.
Disciplined Uighers, with AK-47s. He had long since decided Colonel
Smith had made his escape with the help of an unknown Shanghai cell of
Uigher resistance fighters. Now they were here, too, where the elusive
Feng Dun had murdered Yu Yongfu and the rich American, Mcdermid, to
obtain the cargo manifest of The Dowager Empress. Could Colonel Smith be
far away?

Pan’s admiration for Li Kuonyi’s cunning had increased ten-thousandfold.

But if Wei Gaofan were to be defeated, Pan would still need to
intervene. The appearance of the depleted squad of infantry only
confirmed his decision. Now as he stood before the captain, who was
staring uncertainly at his PLA uniform, his rank, and his
internal-security insignia, he said mildly, “I am Major Pan Aitu,
Captain. Perhaps you know of me?” He looked the tall captain up and
down. The captain regained some of his martinet air. He held his ground.

“Captain Chang Doh, and yes, I have heard of you, Major.”

“Then we can dispense with the preliminaries. You are, I believe, under
the personal orders of a commander who’s a friend of Wei Gaofan. You’ve
been unofficially detailed to aid Feng Dun, whom you can see is now
quite dead. Under his completely illegal orders, you have lost PLA
soldiers, both wounded and killed.”

The captain’s face went ashen. “I cannot speak of my orders, Major.”

“Oh? There are many more soldiers hidden among the trees under my
command. At the same time, I myself have written orders to investigate
and, if needed, prevent the activities of the late Feng Dun. To assuage
any doubt, here are my papers.” He handed Niu Jianxing’s authorization
to the captain.

The captain read slowly, as if he hoped the documents would disappear
from his fingers. Unfortunately for him, the orders confirmed that Major
Pan was operating in his capacity as a counterintelligence and
internal-security officer for the member of the Standing Committee who
was in charge of such operations. The captain, on the other hand, was in
the weak position of being merely an infantry officer working for a
personal friend of a member of the Standing Committee, who was not in
charge of the military.

As Jon, Randi, and Li Kuonyi watched, the infantry captain returned
Major Pan’s papers, took one step back, and saluted smartly.

“Looks as if the major’s won the argument.”

Li Kuonyi relit her lighter. “You can have the manifest before he gets
here. I want passage to the United States for myself and my children and
asylum. Otherwise, I burn it now.”

“No two million?”

She shrugged. “That was for my husband. I’m an actress, a good one. I’m
already becoming known in America. I’ll earn my own millions.”

“Done.” Jon grabbed the manifest and the lighter at the same time,
before she changed her mind.

When the major reached them, he smiled at Jon and introduced himself in
English. “I’m Major Pan Aitu, Colonel Smith. It’s my pleasure to meet
you at last. You’ve been most interesting to investigate. Unfortunately,
there’s no time left. Give me the cargo manifest.” “No!” Randi said
instantly. She snatched the lighter and flicked it on.

“I don’t know why you want it, but–”

Jon stopped her. “Turn it off, for now. There’s not enough time to get
it to Washington anyway so the president can send it on to Zhongnanhai.

Let’s hear what our fellow agent has to say for himself.”

The diminutive major’s eyes flickered. He pointed to where the eight
soldiers were disappearing into the trees. “They’re now under my orders.

Did you know that Captain Chang took two prisoners? One is an American
captain, the other an old man. I can guarantee you, them, the two ladies
here, and Madame Li’s two children quick passage to the United States.

We’re on the same side in this, Colonel.” “Why help Li Kuonyi?” Randi
asked. “Let’s just say I admire the lady’s intelligence,
resourcefulness, and artistry. I also admit that she’s a complication we
don’t want. None of what’s happened can or will become public. In your
country or in mine. But success is slipping away, even for me.” Jon
considered. The major did not want the manifest destroyed. There was
nothing more China could gain unless they did want the Dowager boarded.

A decision had to be made, and only he could make it. America had
nothing more to lose and everything to gain. He asked the critical
question: “Do you have a way to stop the cargo ship before it’s too
late, Major Pan?”

“Yes.” He handed Pan the invoice manifest. The major turned on his heel,
motioned them to follow, and ran across the clearing and through the
trees to another open space where a helicopter waited, its motors
silent. Pan spoke into a walkie-talkie. As they closed in, the rotors
roared to life.

The Arabian Sea.

The moon was at its brightest as the John Crowe moved across the long,
slow swells to close in on the Empress, still steaming ahead at full
speed toward the Strait of Hormuz, which was faintly visible in the
distance. The boarding party stood in the lee of the Crowe’s aft
superstructure, armed, ready to lower the boats, ready to motor to the
Chinese freighter. In the communications-and-control center, It.

Commander Frank Bienas paced, stopping every few minutes to lean over
the shoulders of the radio, radar, and sonar specialists. He was peering
at Operations Specialist Second-Class Baum’s radar screen, when Hastings
on sonar boomed, “Sub’s moving!”

Bienas barked, “How fast?”

“Looks like full speed, sir.”

“Heading toward the Empress?”

“Sort of, sir, yes.”

“What the hell does ‘ of mean, technician?”

“It means she’s angling in toward the Empress, but her course’ll take
her around the stern.”

“So they’re heading for our side, armed and ready?”

“Maybe, sir. I guess so.”

“Then say that, damn you!”

The shocked silence was broken by Hastings’s stiff words, “I can’t tell
you where the sub’s headed, Commander. Only her speed and course.”

Bienas flushed. “Sorry, Hastings. I guess I’m kind of strung out.” “I
guess we all are, sir,” Hastings said.

The executive officer activated the intercom to the bridge. “Jim? Looks
like she’s coming to our side, full speed.”

On the bridge, Jim Chervenko acknowledged the message, his gut tight:
“Okay, Frank. The moment she comes ‘, let me know.”

“Aye-aye, sir.”

Chervenko switched off the intercom and stared astern. Then he bent to
the intercom again. “Sparks? Open a channel. Hail the freighter.” He
straightened, watching the hard-driving freighter no more than a half
mile away now.

The intercom squawked. “They’re not responding, sir.”

“Keep trying. Let me know when they do.” He pressed another switch.

“Ready, Canfield?”

“Yes, sir.”

Chervenko nodded to himself, recognizing the young lieutenant’s
eagerness to go into battle. He remembered when he had been like that in
what seemed now another world. “Put one across her bow. And Canfield?”

“Yessir?”

“Don’t hit her.”

A pause. “No, sir.”

Chervenko raised his night binoculars to focus on the fast-moving bow of
the Empress. He listened to the five-inch fire and watched the geyser
erupt no more than a hundred yards ahead of the bow. A rewardingly large
splash. That should shake their shorts.

He counted: One, two, three, four … The intercom squawked again. “He’s
responding,” the radioman said. “He’s demanding to know the meaning of
our aggression.”

“Tell him to cut the crap, stop dead in the water, and prepare to
receive a boarding party. Tell him I better not see even a tin can go
overboard, or I’ll put the next round from the five-inch down his
gullet.” Chervenko suddenly felt nervous. He studied the Empress again.

When it slowed, he let out a breath. So far so good. He was about to
give the order to lower the boats, when there was another signal.

Frank Bienas’s agitated voice burst out: “The sub’s come around, Jim!

Submerged. Torpedoes in the tubes.”

There it was. Sweat broke out on Chervenko’s forehead. He bellowed,
“Prepare for evasive maneuvers. Send off the Seahawks!”

Out of the corner of his eyes, he noted that the Empress was hardly
moving. She was almost dead in the water, barely gliding ahead as she
rose and fell on the swell. But the main target of his gaze was astern,
where the telltale trail of a torpedo could appear any second.

He saw no torpedo. What he did see was a giant shape rising ghostly in
the moonlight, a monster emerging from the depths.

It was the Chinese submarine. As Chervenko watched, incredulous, it
moved slowly toward the Crowe five hundred yards astern and a few
hundred yards closer to the stationary Dowager Empress.

The intercom announced, “He’s hailing us, sir!”

Chervenko’s eyebrows shot up to his officer’s cap. Now what? “Pipe him
onto the bridge.” The stiff, vaguely angry voice said in stilted
English, “Commander Chervenko, I believe. This is Captain Zhang Qian of
the People’s Liberation Army submarine Zhou Enlai. I have received
orders from Beijing to join you in boarding the outlaw vessel Dowager
Empress to search for and destroy any and all contraband cargo. I am
further instructed to place a crew aboard the vessel to sail it and its
personnel back to China.”

Chervenko did not move. He stood there gazing out over the dark Arabian
Sea, the intercom in his hand, and told his heart to stop thundering. It
was over. Thank God, it was over. Someone had done their job. Someone .

.. probably many … whose risks and sacrifices he could only imagine
and whose names and faces he would probably never know.

“I’m at your service, Captain,” Chervenko said politely. “And, of
course, once the contraband is destroyed, we will be pleased to escort
the ship back to Shanghai. Wouldn’t want an outlaw vessel like this one
to slip away or fall into someone else’s hands, now would we?”

?Epilogue.

Beijing.

The heads of the ten men seated around the ornate imperial table
in the Zhongnanhai meeting room turned in unison to the door to the left
of the general secretary. They watched as a slender man in the uniform
of a lieutenant commander of the PLA navy entered. He whispered in the
ear of the general secretary, and the secretary nodded. When the young
officer left, the secretary explained, “We have good news. It’s over.
The captain of the Zziou Enlai reports the boarding of the Empress by
parties from the Zhou Enlai and the American frigate John Crowe. Many
tons of contraband chemicals were found. The contraband is destroyed.

The officers of the cargo vessel are in our custody, and the ship is
returning to Shanghai, escorted by the American frigate.” A murmur of
both approval and relief traveled around the table. Wei Gaofan said, “A
close thing, but must we allow an American frigate to escort our ship?”

“I expect,” the secretary said mildly, “the frigate captain insisted.

Under the circumstances, we can hardly protest.” His eyes were tiny
points of black stone behind his thick glasses as he fixed his gaze on
General Chu Kuairong at the far end of the table. “How could this have
happened, General Chu? An illegal enterprise of such unimaginable danger
conducted by our citizens under our very noses?” “I believe,” Niu
Jianxing said, “I must be the one to answer that, Secretary.” Wei Gaofan
interrupted angrily, “None of us can be expected to answer for all the
failures of those who conduct actual operations.”