Captain Zuo Junping, the twenty-eight-year-old military attache to Deputy Director Wang Ya, crawled out from beneath his stack of intelligence reports and greeted the leonine Major-General Chen Yi. The general had flown up from Xiamen three times in the past month and had remained in Beijing for a week, meeting daily with the deputy director.
That one commander from a single military region could gain so much of the deputy director's attention might have struck outsiders as odd were it not for recent events.
Since the U.S. had announced the sale of that submarine to Taiwan nearly thirty days prior, the entire Nanjing region had been at the highest military alert, and the office had been flooded with intelligence. The PLA's 'training' exercises in the Taiwan Strait, along with the repositioning of troops, had resulted in the U.S. deploying a second carrier task force to the area as the American president continued to rattle his saber and caution the Chinese government about making any moves against Taiwan.
In response, China's air force had repositioned fighter and aircraft bomber squadrons, and on recommendation of Deputy Director Wang, the commander of the PLA Navy had ordered two Shang-class nuclear fast-attack submarines from its North Sea Fleet at Qingdao to the East Sea Fleet. That action doubled the number of Shang-class subs under operational control of ESF Vice Admiral Cai Ming, a fact quickly publicized online via the
And just today, after a long month of uneasiness, the president, vice president, and premier of Taiwan, obviously threatened by China's significant show of force, had agreed to declare martial law. Chinese agents and sympathizers were being rounded up and imprisoned while the government and the Pan-Green Coalition — composed of the Democratic Progressive Party, the Taiwan Solidarity Union, and the Taiwan Independence Party — now threatened to declare Taiwan's independence from mainland China.
The Americans had a metaphorical term for such a situation; they called it a powder keg.
Zuo showed the general into the deputy minister's office, closed the door, then returned to his chair. He wrung his hands and thought of slowing his pulse. It was just another day. Nothing to worry about. When it was over, he would return home to his little apartment and relax with a bottle of Tsingtao and a pack of cigarettes.
Life had been much easier back in the United States. Zuo had done his undergraduate work at Shanghai Jiao Tong University, earning an engineering degree. The following year he had enrolled in a joint program with Drexel University in Philadelphia to earn his graduate degree.
While in the United States, he had stayed with a host family whose son was an army captain, and they had developed a strong friendship. Moreover, Zuo's perceptions of America and American culture were transformed during his four years of study. A country he had once described in a school paper as the home of the corrupt and selfish had become something very different.
His home.
Knowing that Zuo would return to China to perform his 'sacred duty' as a citizen and serve in the military, representatives of the U.S.'s Defense Intelligence Agency (DIA) had recruited him as an operative with the promise that if he worked for them for no less than six years, they would help him defect and become an American citizen.
Zuo had agonized over the decision for months, but finally he had agreed.
After returning to China, he had assumed his military duties and also taught classes at the Chinese Academy of Military Science, where Deputy Director Wang had discovered him teaching the Citizen-Soldier in American Society course. Wang had been impressed by Zuo's scholarship, public speaking abilities, and keen sense of humor. Despite Zuo's youth and lack of experience, Wang had taken him under his wing and become his mentor. Wang's own ego was bolstered with every success that Zuo achieved.
Indeed, Zuo's remarkable ascension in the PLA was beyond his American employers' wildest dreams, and they had made him offers to extend his contract for another four to six years (he had already worked five). It seemed the higher Zuo rose, the less chance he would have of actually leaving the country.
Consequently, he had turned down their offer and had responded with one of his own: begin plans to get him out of the country immediately. If they did so, he would turn over intelligence he had gathered for the past two years on an operation known as Pouncing Dragon, one the DIA had queried him about in 2009, when they had first heard the phrase in Waziristan.
Zuo told them he had names, dates, and a forthcoming meeting day and time, but he would not deliver them unless they got him out of China. He was waiting for their reply.
As much as it pained him to abandon his post and leave his mother and ailing father behind, Zuo knew that the United States was where he belonged.
And he knew that if he remained at his post much longer, the deputy director would eventually discover his activities and, on a cold, dark night while Zuo was sleeping, a man would come into his apartment. They would call it robbery.
The deputy director clearly had a lot to hide, and Zuo's eavesdropping had yielded some puzzling blanks in his routines that left Zuo even more unnerved about the boss's connections and influence.
On the third Tuesday of every month, at exactly one in the afternoon, Wang made a phone call to a number in Geneva. And at least twice per month he took a clandestine lunch meeting outside the office.
Zuo wondered if the deputy director, like Zuo himself, had his own agenda. Zuo had considered asking the DIA if Wang was actually working for them. How ironic that would be, but no, that was hardly the case.
With a shivery sigh, Zuo returned to sorting and compiling his reports. In two hours he would need to brief the deputy minister on what was currently happening in the Taiwan Strait. However, Wang would only be half listening as he watched CNN via satellite and interrupted Zuo to decry the inaccuracies of the American media.
That night, as Zuo returned home to his apartment in a heavy rainstorm, he spotted a man in a dark blue raincoat huddled in an alcove across the street from his building.
Zuo hesitated a moment to squint through the storm and realize that his DIA contact was waiting for him.
Lo Kuo-hui was about Zuo's age, and he, too, had been an international student studying in the United States and had been recruited by the DIA.
Zuo crossed the street and reached the alcove, where he lowered his umbrella to shield them both from the wind. 'I thought it would take longer.'
'Not with what's happening now,' said Lo.
'So?'
Lo grinned weakly. 'They have accepted your offer. But they need your intelligence first.'
'What guarantees do I have?'
'None, unless the intelligence is good.'
Zuo reached into his pocket, withdrew his wallet, and produced a small flash drive the size of his thumb-nail. He handed it to Lo. 'Tell them to review this. They can verify the GPS coordinates by satellite. The data is current as of today. Any changes that occur are beyond my control, but I will update them as I learn more.'
'Very good. I hope this all works out for you.'
'What about you?'
'I leave tonight. My work for them is finished.'
'And they are getting you out?'
'Yes.'
Zuo sighed. Maybe he could trust the DIA after all. There had always been lingering doubt. 'Who will I meet next?'
'I don't know, but I'm sure they will send someone. Good-bye, Zuo.' Lo turned up his jacket's collar and rushed off into the rain.
EIGHTEEN
