“At the same time, he wants us to take an incredibly aggressive action. Bit of a contradiction there, wouldn’t you say?”
“He wants us to save his life,” Exley said.
“Or perhaps the call was a setup arranged by the Chinese.”
“It was him. I know his voice.”
“What if he’s been turned and they’re using him to get at us? To move our ships into a vulnerable position.”
“He wouldn’t. He’d die first.”
“People do strange things when they’re in pain.”
This couldn’t be happening, Exley thought. They weren’t seriously arguing about whether to let Wells die out there. “Then why are they mobilizing their army and all the rest?”
“Part of the setup.”
“You don’t really think that,” she said. “Save me the mirrors within mirrors nonsense.” Her voice rose, and she reminded herself to stay in control, not to give them any excuse to marginalize her. “This was your idea, George. If not for you he wouldn’t be in this mess.”
“Jennifer,” Duto said. “I don’t think we can risk putting our assets that far forward. Let Wells get to Incheon. At least into Korean territorial waters.”
Shafer laughed, a thin angry laugh.
“Something to say, Ellis?”
Shafer waited until they were all looking at him. Normally, he was a jumble of tics and wasted motion. Not now. Exley had never seen him so still.
“Never thought I’d have to play this card, Vinny. I underestimated you. You sent him there and you’d rather let him die than lift a finger. The craziest part is, he might actually get us out of this mess.”
“We don’t know what he has, Ellis, that’s the point. I’m not going to recommend that we put thousands of sailors in harm’s way. Maybe push the Chinese over the edge. To save one man.”
“To stop a war.”
“What if he’s been turned?”
“Where have I heard this song before? It’s not his fault he saved New York while you tried to arrest him. Get over it.” Shafer stood. “Jenny, come on. Over the river and through the woods. To the president’s house we go.”
“Ellis—” Duto said.
“Herr Director. This is so simple, even you can understand it. You tell the president we have a chance to stop this war. You tell him we’re going to go get Wells. Or I will.”
“And what do we tell the Chinese when they ask why half our fleet is twenty miles off their coast?”
“We’ll burn that bridge when we come to it.”
“You’ve forgotten the biggest problem, Ellis,” Tyson said. “We have no idea how to find Mr. Wells. Are you suggesting we sail in circles and hope he paddles up on his wooden raft or whatever he’ll be on? I assure you the Navy will dislike that plan, especially with that Chinese supersub still on the loose.”
“I have an idea,” Exley said.
“Do share,” Tyson said.
“You’re right. We can’t find him. So we’re going to have to make it easy for him to find us.”
Exley outlined her plan. Duto was shaking his head before she was half done. “No way,” he said. “The Air Force will never—
“They will if the big man tells them to,” Shafer said.
“How do you know Wells is even going to understand what we’re doing?”
“He’ll understand,” Exley said.
And suddenly Duto smiled at her, the easy smile of a poker player watching his opponent make a bluff that was doomed to fail. “You, me, Ellis. We’ll ride over there together. You and Ellis can tell the big man whatever you like. I don’t mind. As long as he knows it’s from you.”
35
ASLEEP—
Then awake—
And Wells had the.22 up before he knew where he was. The storeroom. Cao stood in the doorway. He raised his hands as Wells lowered the revolver.
“You okay, Time Square Wells?”
“Perfect.” Wells coughed. His bandage was still white, at least on the outside.
Cao tossed Wells a blue zip-up sweatsuit, and Wells tugged it on. His shoulder was loose in its socket, maybe permanently damaged from the torture. He took a long drink of lukewarm water to soothe his parched throat.
“Ready?”
Wells tucked the gun in his waistband and struggled up. He took a few steps and sagged. Cao’s men helped him out of the restaurant. A dirty white panel truck waited, its engine running. Wooden crates and furniture were stacked high inside the twenty-five-foot-long cargo compartment.
“You need piss?” Cao waved a fist in front of his crotch. “Go now.”
“I’m okay.”
“Then we go.” Cao stepped into the truck and offered a hand to Wells. At the forward end of the cargo compartment, behind a big wooden bookcase, was a space maybe three feet wide. Just big enough for two men to sit, if they didn’t mind a little incidental contact. A blanket covered the compartment’s wooden floor, along with provisions: water bottles, a flashlight, blankets. A handful of airholes ensured they wouldn’t suffocate.
Wells and Cao settled themselves, close enough for Wells to smell the green tea on Cao’s breath. As Cao’s men rearranged boxes and furniture to hide the space, Cao reached into his jacket and handed Wells a manila envelope.
Wells opened it. Three pages of Banco Delta Asia bank records, showing transfers to UBS accounts in Zurich and Monte Carlo, $20 million a month. A fourth page covered with Chinese characters and topped with an official-looking letterhead. Wells wondered if these four pieces of paper could really stop a war.
Cao pointed to the fourth page. “This from Army.”
“Authorizing the transfers?”
“Authorizing, yes. Says money for special operation.” Cao pointed to a raised emblem near the bottom. “Li’s stamp.”
“I’ll take your word for it.”
Wells didn’t plan to ask how Cao had gotten the papers. Presumably he’d just made his final trip inside Zhongnanhai. If Wells hadn’t just seen Cao shoot three of his own soldiers, he might have wondered whether this was all some superelaborate sting operation designed to prove Wells was a spy. But the Chinese had no need for an operation that elaborate. The torture had been working well enough on its own. Cao was a genuine defector.
Wells tried to give Cao back the papers, but Cao shook his head.
One of Cao’s men shouted something. The back panel came down and they were locked in the dark. Wells hardly minded. After the cave, this truck was easy. At least they were above ground.
The truck grumbled into gear and reversed down the alley. A few seconds later horns honked, and they were in Beijing’s traffic.
“Now we run.” In the dark Cao laughed humor lessly.
“Yeah, tramps like us,” Wells said. He liked Cao very much. Probably because the man had saved his life. “What about roadblocks?”
“Roadblock?”
Wells couldn’t figure out how to explain. “Are they looking for us?”
