“While the records of the one we began with detail his communications with Japanese business colleagues, mostly underworld characters and ultra-nationalists, in particular known enemies of China, the other phone records show that he chose to use a different one for each of his chosen spheres of adventure.

  “One was used to communicate with Tibetan exiles and dissidents in and out of China, and another was similarly dedicated to maintaining contact with Uyghurs. A third had been used for some of his connections with various parties in Southeast Asia. A fourth kept him in touch with the pro-democracy activists in Hong Kong. We are still analyzing records of other phones he used. It is possible we will find everything we need eventually but there is an embarrassment of riches.”

  “We have every confidence in you,” Wang declared with a smile. The head analyst responded with a smile, but though it reflected her confidence, it also glinted with a stern and gritty determination.

  “You will probably want to know about Cousin Yu and Carlos/Hashim. The former appears infrequently in the Yakuza’s phone records. We have cross-checked with Yu’s phone records and confirmed these calls. The infrequency confirms what Yu has told his interrogators about dealing mainly through the Yakuza’s intermediaries. As for Hashim, the Yakuza made many calls to and from various countries in Southeast Asia but none at all to Carlos/Hashim. We suspect that he has an associate handling the connection with the Filipino.”

  “The Yakuza is a careful man,” remarked Wang, deep in thought. “Changing subjects, do you have a candidate for who the Boss might be?”

  With a flourish, Owyang laid down a piece of paper, diagramming phones and frequency of calls between them. “The Yakuza made only one call to this number in the Russian Federation,” she explained, pointing to one in the middle of the sheet. “It is a restricted number and more details required more, er, resources.”

  There was silence in the room.

  “We found that number also in Viktor’s phone records,” she added. Wang stood up, clearly astonished at the indirect connection between the Yakuza and Viktor. Owyang continued, “He too made just one call, a brief one, to that particular number. It would appear the owner did not like to be contacted on that number and encouraged his associates to reach him on a series of throwaway phones.”

  “I see you have another piece of paper in your hand,” noted Wang with a nod to encourage speedy discussion.

  “The resources we applied to our passive asset led to the identification of the man whose number this is,” said Owyang, laying down a profile of the Boss, Boris, on top of her diagram of phones and call frequencies. “He is possibly the head of their intelligence agency. We have found records indicating that he favors visits to St. Petersburg, and thanks to the Russian habit of including a form of the father’s first name as a patronymic as well as a family name, we can conclude that his father’s grandfather served in the Russian army, defending Port Arthur in Liaoning against the Japanese at the end of the nineteenth century, where he might have met some Japanese officers.

  “We have learned that the Yakuza’s family name is Yamato and his father’s grandfather also served in the Russo-Japanese War at the beginning of the previous century. It is reasonable to guess that the relationship between the families began then.”

  With that, the formidable head of analysis finally came to the end of disclosures to her audience. Wang glanced to see that both Chen and Wong were thoroughly impressed, then swiveled over to Gong to nudge the head of field operations. “Old Gong did not come empty-handed to this meeting, I’m sure.”

  “I have confirmation of the earlier information that the Yakuza is planning a trip out of Japan. He will be in Seoul tomorrow for three days and plans to meet with the Boss.”

  Contents

  CHAPTER 19

  The fourth Thursday in Beijing

  “We believe that we have tracked the person who manipulated Cousin Yu and possibly the Filipino rebel as well,” announced Wang as he entered the hospital room. He saw that Cai’s health had improved visibly. This encouraged him because there was much he needed from the senior commissar.

  “Indeed, he sounds very resourceful,” responded Cai, waving a sheaf of briefing papers.

  “After he learned nearly a year ago that the Filipino wanted to purchase some portable anti-aircraft missile launchers, he asked Cousin Yu if he could obtain these and learned that arms deals followed certain procedures, including the presence of a reputable dealer. The Yakuza apparently has a Russian associate who directed him to Viktor and then to the North Korean.

  “Kim confirmed that it was unusual for an arms deal to be referred to him by someone like Viktor, suggesting that Hashim might be new to this.”

  “Shame on the Yakuza for dragging the young innocent into his game,” commented Cai.

  Wang nodded and continued, “In any case, we have traced Viktor’s escape back to the Russian Federation where, it is confirmed,” the spymaster continued talking while waving his hand at the briefing papers, “that he was terminated by the Boss. That sounds like someone I know, by the way, probably the head of Russian intelligence. Analyst Owyang seems to think so as well.”

  The two men looked meaningfully at each other. Then Wang continued, “Killing Viktor still puzzles me, but what is the most urgent consideration for us is that the Yakuza might be the only person who knows where the other stolen nuclear devices are. As you and I have discussed, it appears the target is China itself and the devices have been, or will be, distributed to various dissident groups.”

  “It is a serious step for the dissidents to take,” muttered Cai. “Perhaps they have not considered how China will respond to threats of separatists armed with nuclear devices.”

  Wang nodded and said, “We have learned that the Yakuza and the Boss are planning to meet. I have decided to call on the Yakuza. Perhaps I shall also get to meet the Boss.”

  “Are you taking Cousin Yu with you?” asked Cai. “He could make a positive identification of the Yakuza.”

  “I’m afraid he will actually be a liability,” declared Wang. “He is not half the man his cousin is. I might say he does not even deserve to be called one.”

  “Old Wang,” noted Cai. “I have never seen you so angry with another person to say such harsh words.”

  “Oh yes,” conceded Wang, “I know it is not polite. It might even be bad karma. But the man is so weak and has involved his cousin in activity that might be deemed treasonable.”

  “Minister Yu’s intentions were good and honorable,” murmured Cai.

  “I hope the Party investigators are so persuaded,” remarked Wang fervently. “He would be missed at gatherings such as one I attended just three nights ago.”

  “The gathering of ambassadors,” concurred Cai.

  Wang nodded. No doubt one of the many reports Cai had on his night table included one regarding that event.

  “He soothed ruffled feathers and projected an image of China such as would make everyone our friend. Ambassadors are probably less gullible than spymasters, though.” The two men laughed together.

  “Anyway, how are you?” asked Wang, changing the subject. “Have the doctors made progress?”

  “They are guardedly optimistic. The cancer cells may actually have grown smaller, which is good, I’m told. The tests also indicate that the bad cells have not spread,” confirmed Cai.

  “Wait till you have to step outside,” grumbled Wang.

  “Haven’t you gotten used to the air like everyone else?” teased Cai.

  “It is a national disgrace. Probably like England in the nineteenth century. There is, on any given day, between three to ten times the amount of pollution in the air in Beijing as is considered acceptable or healthy. At three times higher, the pollution is fatal to people like you, the sick, the very young and the very old. Ten times the acceptable rate is dangerous for people like me. The only people who are used to it are those who live in air-conditioned houses, work in air-conditioned offices, and get from one to the other in air-conditioned cars. Minister Zhang told me two days ago that we produce seventy percent of our nation’s energy need with coal-fired generators.”

  “But there is a plan to switch to renewable sources,” asserted Cai.

  Wang nodded and asked, “Do you know the specifics of this plan?”

  When Cai shook his head, Wang continued, “Zhang told me that the plan to switch to renewable sources involves increasing from one percent in the twelfth five-year plan to two percent in the thirteenth. Such ambitious thinking makes one long for the days of the Great Leap Forward.”

  Cai nodded. “The nation dared to dream big dreams then, even though we made big mistakes.”

  “Why don’t we plan to increase from one to ten percent?” demanded Wang. “Is this beyond our nation? I wonder if our planners have calculated the cost of securing the resources of the Eastern Ocean or the South China Sea. The amount that we would have to spend over the next ten years on those adventures would probably be less than that required to increase the contribution of renewable sources to our energy need from one to ten percent.

  “Then, in the fourteenth five-year plan, Zhang recommends an increase from ten to fifty percent. If we achieved that, we would not need the resources of the Eastern Ocean, the South Sea or any more long term purchase contracts.”

  Cai shook his head and murmured, “I am surprised to hear our chief of national security so passionate about clean air.”

  “It is not just about clean air,” responded Wang. “This is absolutely about national security. China needs to master its energy future and not be dependent on regimes that might change their minds about our contracts. We would also avoid increasing tense relations with our neighbors. Just think, senior commissar, we could have both for the same price.”

  “You have been plotting this with the Assistant Minister I see,” drawled Cai.

  Wang stared at his companion and inquired, “Does he have a reputation for being a madman or a fool?”

  “No, he does not. He is one of our best thinkers. But he is daring and original, and that makes him suspect,” replied Cai. “Further, if we adopt his ideas, we would have to spend huge sums on wind and solar farms and on improving the power grid to these sources. Those sums are needed for other things.” The senior commissar added neutrally, “Competing priorities.”

  Wang persisted. “What about national pride in having air everyone can breathe and water everyone can drink? Shouldn’t these goals count for something?”

  “We have to do what it is possible to do,” pleaded Cai. “You must know that the fight against corruption makes many other fights harder.”

  “Why not,” asked Wang after a pause, “dedicate the wealth that we will confiscate from the corrupt to the cause of improving the air and water? We might also add to those causes the safety of buildings, schools, factories, and mines.”

  Cai chuckled. “Do you think that would make it easier to find the corruption or prove and fight it?”

  Wang lingered over his reply. “If we let it be known that is where the money would go, I think we might get more public feeling in favor of what we are doing. Good optics, I think the Americans would call it. I believe also that if we cracked down on income tax evasion with that line of argument, we would get the same support.

  “Right now, the public is apathetic. They think this fight over corruption is waged among those who are interested in the spoils. If we could get the public to see it differently, we might witness a ‘mood swing’ within the people. If what we want to do is worth doing, it is worth trying to get the masses on our side.”

  Cai harrumphed. “I remember some not so pleasant results of getting the public involved with what should have remained a dispute within the party,” he said. “But I agree with you. Our struggle is not waged with weapons or even ideology. It is a matter of engaging the masses. Old Wang, this is a pleasant surprise. You are thinking about instruments other than weapons or men at arms.”

  “Well, you’re the specialist on ideology and propaganda. You should let us know what to think of this,” responded the spymaster.

  Cai smiled and nodded, but insisted, “You will not distract this old man from worrying about your next mission. How long since your last field operation anyway?” he asked. “Does there not come a time for you to pass this on to the next generation? I understand, by the way, that Ma is doing well.”

  “He was a bit nervous for the first month or two,” replied Wang. “But he has settled down. He and old Gong get along very well, although I think the police made Gong more cynical than he should be. But he is good at managing the operations department and his view of life helps Ma keep a sense of what he needs to do.”

  “And your new head of analysis? I remember you had serious concerns.”

  “She is brilliant. She also excels at getting those who work with her to think through the knots they often confront.”

  “So it was her department who identified the Yakuza and the clues to his meeting with the Boss?”

  “It was one of Gong’s assets in Japan who informed us of the Yakuza’s ties with a highly placed and influential Russian. But it is definitely not Owyang’s fault that I am going on this mission. It may be my last one but I will not be able to live with myself if there are nuclear devices distributed among our dissidents and I did not have something to do with locating them. Surely you can understand that, senior commissar,” challenged Wang.

  “I do,” conceded Cai. “But we were both indebted to your former boss, the old spymaster, and I sense that he would not forgive me for letting you go into danger.”

  “The real danger, Senior Commissar, is for China to be fixated on the Eastern Ocean and the South Sea, with all the potential dispute and hostility that those arenas bring with them, when we have a peaceful alternative, and for us to ignore the condition of our air and water.”

  “You think the water is far while the fire is near,” said Cai, almost as an accusation.

  “That was exactly what Zhang said,” replied Wang.

  Contents

  CHAPTER 20

  The fourth Friday, in Seoul

  The Boss was in a bad mood. It had not bothered him to order Viktor’s termination when he had to. But during the days since, he had considered the many demonstrations of the unquestioning loyalty of the man and his inhuman ability to endure. Viktor had gone to battle in the mountains and deserts of Afghanistan without question. He survived weeks alone when his company was ambushed and slaughtered, outwitting his pursuers and enduring the hunger and thirst. He even survived torture at the hands of the mujahideen for a whole day before his regiment returned to rescue him from the brink of death and to wreak bloody havoc.

  Since then, no task was too small or too gruesome. Viktor was always there to do it. He had hijacked a helicopter with one of the Boss’s major competitors and flown it into the side of a mountain, bailing out just in time. A “burglary gone wrong” had been orchestrated to eliminate a political rival. Key aides of high level oligarchs had been compromised or eliminated in high class dens of iniquity at the instructions of the Boss.

  He was, had always been, also his son.

  That was a part of his life that the Boss had nearly forgotten. He rarely thought about it, never spoke about it, and he was certain it had never factored into any of his decisions, not even those involving Viktor. They were both professionals. They had committed and endured the unspeakable.

  Yet now, the Boss wished he had told Viktor about this and perhaps that he had done something about it. It could not have made any difference in their lives. But now, he might do something about it. He looked at the vial of poison, an extract from a Japanese plant, torikabuto. It would be poetic justice. Yet it seemed also a weakness, an indulgence for something personal, whereas his relationship with the Yakuza transcended them both.

  ***

  It was a relationship begun four generations ago. His great grandfather was a handsome junior officer of uncertain sexual orientation and political allegiance when the Russian imperial army and navy faced the land and sea forces of the Japanese empire at Port Arthur. At stake was the magnificent cold weather harbor the Chinese called Lushun, north of Dalian on the Liaoning peninsula. The world knew it as Port Arthur where Japan first massacred the Chinese army sent against it, and then defeated the Russians. The Yakuza’s ancestor was likewise a junior officer but whose allegiance was unwavering.

  Nevertheless, a chance encounter and a split-second decision not to shoot led to a gratifying relationship. They exchanged embraces, promises and information. The Russian Command, already beset by imagined slights and frazzled by not so imaginary internal rivalry, was informed of the bleak facts. The town, its defenders and its inhabitants: men, women, and children, the aged and the infants, numbered eighty-seven thousand. They were under attack by nearly one hundred thousand of Japan’s imperial crack soldiers and marines under their best generals and admirals. The attackers also had superior armaments. Though both Russia and Japan bought from Krupp, the Japanese were willing to pay more. The mental game was lost before Russian supplies had even been drawn down, so the Russian generals became the ignominy of Europe, the first western power to surrender to an Asian country.

  The Russian Revolution and the First World War enabled a Russian officer turned commissar and a Japanese officer turned merchant, both in Vladivostok, to amass their respective fortune. They met very occasionally in Vladivostok and the Russian sold information to the Japanese in exchange for lucrative favors.

  The next generation lived through the years before and during the Second World War and boosted each other’s career by acting as agents for the other country. The politics of the post-war period required the grandfathers to be careful but also rewarded them well for their mutual duplicity. For a few years they were each the “perfect spy” for their respective government.

 

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