Kingmaker (4 page)

Alexei Drovosek assessed the integrity of his US citizenship with the same methodical discretion with which one might test the newly frozen surface of a pond. He started by opening a bank account and arranging for several wire transfers. After verifying that the funds were secured and available (as opposed to having triggered alarms associated with suspicious international financial transactions, resulting in him being taken unceremoniously into custody by a cross-agency task force), he paid cash for a heavily wooded piece of property outside of LA and began hiring contractors to make renovations. The next test of his citizenship was commercial domestic air travel (Denver, Atlanta, then New York City), followed by his first international travel as a US citizen (a weekend jaunt to Vancouver for a little skiing, golf, and sushi). After each trip, Alexei returned to LAX without incident, and checked various federal security indexes to make sure he had not been flagged. Ideally the final test would have been Western Europe; however, given the length of time it was going to take for the investment he ultimately sought to mature, he decided it was an acceptable risk to skip Paris and Barcelona and Munich and go straight for a first-class, nonstop flight to Beijing.

From Capital International Airport, Alexei traveled east—first by train, then by bus—to the Port of Tianjin. He spent two days in marinas and yacht club bars until he finally found a boat willing to sail across the Bohai Sea, down around the tip of South Korea, north past the Japanese
island of Kyushu, and then finally inland again and up the Tumen River to where China, North Korea, and Russia all converged—a region claimed by all three countries, yet controlled by none.

Alexei’s final destination was the top floor of a low and rugged industrial structure. From the windows on the southeast side of the complex, it was possible to see into all three countries at once. When the wind blew the smog from the factories and forest fires further inland, you could even see all the way to the Sea of Japan. The Hunchun region was the easternmost territory of a trade route established over three thousand years ago for transporting goods and slaves across Asia, Europe, Africa, and more recently, the Americas. Fangchuan City was the end of the Silk Road.

The four floors below him were devoted to the nurseries which no one offered to show him, and he did not ask to see. He smoked while he waited and set up his makeshift testing station. His notebook computer was open on a long plywood table that was bisected by a strip of nylon stretched between two old metal C-clamps, presumably forming an improvised ping-pong table. Beside the computer, there was a clear plastic pouch containing several sterile genetic profile testing packets, and on the floor below, a dented and rusted metal trash can. Alexei’s pack and coat were behind him, leaning against the wall below the windows.

“You came alone,” Lao Ban announced in English. He was standing beside the table, watching Alexei with a slight and indecipherable smirk.

The autonomous Yanbian prefecture was neither wholly Chinese nor Korean. What was once a collection of protected national parks providing the final and failed refuge for the Siberian tiger and Far Eastern leopard was now one of the busiest global exchanges in the world. Commerce was the lingua franca.

Alexei looked up, then stood slowly and deliberately from his stool. The remainder of his black cigarette fell to the floor and was ground beneath his boot. He was significantly taller than the Chinese man, and he stared down at him with narrowed gray eyes. Alexei’s head was entirely shaved, emphasizing the deeply furrowed scar which began above his left eye and terminated somewhere well beyond his scalp. He wore a heavy golden goatee with flecks of gray at the chin, and his lips were thin and tight. Lao Ban looked up at the Russian man, his smile unwavering, his tattoos creeping up his neck from beneath the high collar of his silk shirt. He was thin and intense, with wild eyes, cropped hair, and heavily pocked
cheekbones. There was an incongruity in Ban that Alexei had seen many times in his life, and that he particularly despised: the man had chosen a line of business where people tended not to live long, though he gave the impression that there was nobody he would not sacrifice to save himself.

“I didn’t bring anyone with me,” Alexei told the man, “but that doesn’t mean I’m alone. Do you understand the difference?”

Directly threatening men like Ban was usually not productive—especially within their own territory—however it never hurt to give them a little something to think about.

“Your English is perfect,” Lao Ban observed. “You’ve spent time in America.”

“I do business all over the world.”

“Where will you take our product?”

There was an open stairwell in the front of the room, and an elevator beside it. The panel in the wall illuminated and the doors parted.

“Wherever I find the highest bidder,” Alexei said.

There were three carts in the elevator, each guided gently into the room by a nurse in full blue scrubs, mask, and elastic-lined hairnet. Clear plastic tubs were set into the frames of the carts, and each one contained a tiny infant—all of them Asian, tightly swaddled in clean white linen, with bonnet-style caps tied with petite bows beneath their chins. Lao Ban stepped back as the carts were arranged, then raised his hand in presentation.

“We have best product in Fangchuan City, guaranteed.”

“Are they Chinese or Korean?”

“All are Korean, and all are hand-picked just for you. We are able to match your criteria with perfection.”

Alexei took the plastic pouch off the table and offered it to the nurses. All three women reached in, selected a packet, and tore it open. They shook them carefully out into their gloved hands and verified their contents: a disinfectant wipe, a small covered needle, a tiny plastic wafer with metal contacts in one side, and a round adhesive sterile bandage.

Lao Ban frowned. “You do not trust our information?”

“
Doveryai, no proveryai
,” Alexei said. “Trust, but verify.”

The nurses bent to the carts and began unwrapping the babies’ feet.

“I hope you did not bring me rubles or American dollars,” Lao Ban said. “They have little value here.”

Alexei kept his eyes on the nurses. “New Guangdong dollars, as agreed.”

The room filled with the angry screams of two of the three infants. Lao Ban did not react to the noise.

“NGDs are good,” he said. “When will America and Russia join the Yuan Zone?”

Alexei ignored the question. The nurses turned, and he accepted the first of the three wafers. When he inserted it into the slot on the side of his computer, the screen brightened and he watched carefully as results began populating the cells of a table. Alexei lowered himself back onto the stool. When the analysis was complete, he saved the results, ejected the wafer, and reached for the next one.

“It’s very good product, right?” Lao Ban asked. “Best in Fangchuan City. Maybe best in China.”

Alexei looked up and saw the bizarre sense of pride in the man’s face. When he looked back down at the screen, new results were coming in.

“I recommend you try our product yourself,” Lao Ban said. He was talking too loudly and Alexei could see that he was high on something—probably opium cut with some form of amphetamine. Alexei noted that if things were to get physical, Ban would probably have to be clinically dead before he stopped coming.

“I don’t think so,” Alexei said. He ejected the second wafer and inserted the third, then adjusted the laptop to make sure Ban remained in his peripheral vision.

“You buy two today,” Lao Ban said, “I give you half off second one. That’s very good deal.”

Alexei watched the third analysis complete, then ejected the last wafer. The nurses had picked up the two crying babies to comfort them, and they were quiet again. Alexei pointed to the last child—the one who had not cried when the heel of her foot was pricked and her blood drawn.

“That one,” he said.

Lao Ban smiled. “All our product is perfect. You take two. Half off second one.”

“Just that one,” Alexei said. “What’s her name?”

“No name. You give her name. You pay, you name.”

“I want to know her name,” Alexei said. “Do you have it?”

The nurse looked at Lao Ban and waited for her boss’s nod. She looked back at Alexei, and spoke with timidity from beneath her mask. “Hyun Ki.”

“Hyun Ki,” Alexei said. “She’s the one.”

He moved his pack from the floor to the table, then removed his handset from a side pocket. He used it to program a currency chit which he then passed Lao Ban. Lao Ban used his own handset to check the amount, then smiled in a way that only a lucrative financial transaction can elicit.

“This is very good deal,” Lao Ban said. “You train her good, she make you very rich man. Remember Chinese proverb: Jade must be chiseled before it can be considered gem.”

Alexei closed his computer and slipped it down into his pack. He slid his handset back into the outside pocket, then found a place for the pouch of remaining profile tests. Lao Ban chuckled and shook his head as he watched the big Russian use a sling to secure the tiny infant to his chest.

“You want nurse, too? I sell you one of these cheap. Very good price. She take care of baby and take care of you. I guarantee you like.”

“I don’t need a nurse,” Alexei said.

He put his coat on over the sling, but left it open. The baby’s head was propped up and positioned so she could see the world out ahead of her. Alexei lifted his pack, and carefully hung the straps from his shoulders.

“If this works out,” Alexei said, “I’ll be back for more.”

“Yes, you come back,” Lao Ban said. “If you not come back, maybe I come find you.”

Alexei was already on his way to the stairs, but he stopped. “What did you say?”

“I say, you make me a lot of money. Maybe I come find you when I want more.”

Alexei turned slowly and faced Lao Ban. He looked directly into the Chinese man’s eyes. “Here’s another Chinese proverb,” he said. “Fortune does not come twice. Misfortune does not come alone.”

Alexei waited for Lao Ban’s wild smile to falter before he turned again to descend.

It was cold outside, and he zipped his coat up to the baby’s chin and blew into his hands. He crossed the street to the opposite corner, checked
his watch, and looked up and down the street. Almost everyone was inside, but he could see at least half a dozen deer in the streets and on the sidewalks. While the indigenous big cats of the region were hunted for their pelts and incinerated as their territories were slashed and burned for farmland, the East Asian spotted deer—not unlike the rat and the cockroach and the pigeon before it—had embraced urbanization. The bucks knew their velvet-covered antlers prevented them from getting their heads down into the trash bins, and had therefore learned to push the barrels over with enough force to scatter the refuse along the sidewalk. The doe, on the other hand, preferred to elicit handouts. As a slender female brazenly approached, Alexei squatted, lifted the thick material of his pant leg, and drew a long, stone-handled serrated blade from a sheath sewn into his boot. As he stood back up, the deer bowed her head toward his coat pocket, her neck bent and her skin tight over her thick veins. There was a distended tick embedded in the animal’s ear and Alexei could see lice swarming over its scabbed skin and through its short copper hair. The baby watched with wide dark eyes.

The deer’s attention was drawn to Alexei’s left hand as he reached down into his coat. When he pulled it back out, he was holding a small, hard, yellow apple. He cautiously sliced it through the middle, returned his knife to his boot, and allowed the animal to take her share off his open and extended palm.

Fifteen young girls are sitting cross-legged on blankets and cushions forming a semicircle in the common room of the penthouse apartment. Ki is the focus. She is sitting directly on the cream and rose Italian marble floor, leaning back against the raised hearth of the ceramic and plasma fireplace. She is wearing tight pink pajama bottoms and a short floral baby-doll top. The girls are all pitched forward, delighted and mesmerized by what Ki has been showing them.

Months ago, while organizing the house library, Ki found a book on coin tricks and convinced a few of the house moms to bring her some money with which to practice. During the first act of her show, she used variations of the “French drop” and the “pinch vanish” to take coins from her right hand with her left where she shook, crushed, or blew on them before revealing—finger by finger—that they were gone. She then pulled the coins out of the air with her right hand, or produced them with a flourish from beneath the long chocolate hair of a girl in the first row.

The second act was a demonstration of the “coins across” technique, which she performed on a plastic cutting board from the kitchen. She started out with four coins which she split evenly between two hands, bumped her thumbs together, and showed that a coin had traveled from one hand to the other. She then picked up three coins with her left hand, stacked them on the cutting board, used a pinch vanish to make the fourth coin disappear, then surprised her audience by knocking over the stack and pointing out that it now contained all four of the coins.

The girls had all begged Ki to show them the tricks again, but Ki coyly refused. She is now setting up for the final act of the evening. All her coins are stacked beside her knee, and she is laying a white linen hand towel out over the marble floor before her. The house moms have gathered together at the edge of the room and are craning their necks to see over the girls’ heads. They are trying not to look overly interested or impressed, but their brows are furrowed with consternation over what Ki has been doing.

“Long ago,” Ki begins in her thin voice, leaning forward and regarding her audience with mystery and anticipation, “there were four princesses who all loved each other very much.”

She arranges four aluminum US nickels in a neat row on the towel, then covers them with a folded silk scarf. As she continues her story, the girls’ attention shifts from Ki’s hands back up to her eyes.