Spyder Web (22 page)

‘What is the purpose of your visit, Mr Deng?’ Moy asked with cool suspicion.

Kang unbuttoned his double-breasted blazer and sat in a black leather chair. Moy sat opposite him on the couch, next to his father, who looked unusually old tonight.

‘I am here for humanitarian purposes.’ Kang spoke like a diplomat. ‘I’ve brought word from Guangdong Province regarding Moy Huian. The Chinese government is preparing to release certain political prisoners to appease the West. I have well-placed contacts in Beijing that can ensure Moy Huian’s name is on the list of those to be released.’

‘Here is a letter from my brother,’ his father said, offering several pages of Chinese characters with a black-and-white photograph; it was the first direct communication they’d received from Huian in over forty years.

Moy scanned the letter, which told briefly of the years following his father’s escape to Hong Kong. Moy Huian had stayed behind with his parents, who were too old and sick to make the journey to the West with their eldest son. Two months after his father’s defection, Moy’s grandparents had died and Moy Huian was imprisoned. For the past forty years, Moy’s father had carried the guilt of abandoning his family and leaving his brother to face the punishment for his defection.

The letter showed no sign of censorship, and the characters told of Huian’s longing to see his brother again. The photograph showed a man who had aged well beyond his years while imprisoned.

Moy was still skeptical. He had heard of con men selling promises to the families of those trapped in China, men who would disappear once the required bribes and fees had been paid by the family.

‘Father, are you certain that this letter is from Huian?’

‘This is my brother.’ Moy’s father pointed to the photograph. ‘The handwriting in the letter is his, and he refers to things that only he and I would know.’

Moy accepted his father’s confirmation and turned back to Kang. ‘What is your interest in this matter?’

Kang looked directly into Moy’s eyes and spoke sincerely. ‘I enjoy helping people.’

Moy’s eyes narrowed slightly as he took his measure of the man. ‘Thank you for bringing my father some measure of happiness in his old age. I do hope that it is not a false happiness.’

Kang picked up on the wariness in Moy’s voice, a distrust that was understandable. ‘It is no false hope,’ he replied confidently. ‘My contacts inside the PRC can get your uncle out, but the price will be very high.’

‘Let us talk in private.’ Moy motioned toward a pair of French doors off the living room. ‘I wouldn’t want my father to think that I would haggle over his brother’s freedom.’

Moy’s study was furnished in an eclectic mixture of traditional Oriental furnishings and artwork combined with pieces from the Arts and Crafts movement. Strangely enough, the chairs by Charles Rennie Mackintosh worked quite well with the sixth-century urn. Moy’s wife brought in tea before returning to the living room.

Both men studied each other for a few moments and Moy found Deng’s expression unreadable. The man appeared totally unconcerned about the deal he was brokering.

‘You come here tonight in a position of strength. If you truly have the ability to extract my uncle from the PRC, please tell me how this feat will be accomplished and what it will cost me.’

Kang took a long sip from his teacup, swirling the brew lightly in his mouth before quietly swallowing. He wiped his mouth clean with his napkin in an effort calculated to intensify Moy’s anxiety. ‘My fee is nominal, a mere one hundred thousand dollars for arranging this exchange. The people who control your uncle’s fate require something more.’

‘Bribes for the officials, I presume,’ Moy replied.

‘In most cases, that would be true. But not in this case.’ Kang set his teacup down on the side table and leaned forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his knees and drawing closer to Moy. ‘You know as well as I that the Chinese are a patient people who remember disturbing events for a long time. Beijing still remembers the sting of your father’s defection, and they do not forgive such actions quickly or easily. Moy Huian has served as a surrogate in your father’s place. To win his freedom, I must deal with the Chinese security apparatus directly. They have agreed to your uncle’s release, conditionally.’

The last word hung in the air like a sword waiting to fall. ‘And what are their conditions?’

‘What your father stole from them, they were able to replace many years ago. There is nothing that he could now offer that has any interest to them. Beijing wants you to provide them with something of equal value to the knowledge they lost when your father defected; they want information. Your company developed the ciphering system currently in use by the American government. They want the keys to break this system.’

Moy felt his blood pressure rise twenty points in a single heartbeat. His father had been branded a traitor for following his conscience and defecting. Now he was being asked to betray the country that had welcomed his family, the country that he’d called home for most of his life, to repay the crime of his father’s defection. Phillip Moy fought back the urge to remove this man bodily from his home for making such a request. He had no doubt that Deng Cho-Nam worked with PRC Intelligence to prey on the guilt of Chinese emigres who’d left family members behind.

Moy maintained a calm, receptive expression in spite of the troubling and violent emotions that boiled within him. ‘Your contacts in Beijing are correct; I did develop the ciphering system now in use by the American government. Unfortunately, I no longer have access to the specific details of that project.’ Moy was bluffing, hoping that Deng would counter with a cash offer. ‘It is common practice for all materials relating to a highly classified government project to be turned over once the project is complete.’

Kang topped off his teacup and eased back in his chair. ‘That may be a common practice for most government projects, but not in this case. The hardware, engineering data, and the ciphering programs are maintained on a special-projects computer housed at your Chicago facility. Access to this computer is strictly limited, but the information can be retrieved on your personal authority. The ciphers are the price of your uncle’s release; anything less would be unacceptable to my clients.’

Everything this man had said was true. The thought of an informer inside his company, a spy supplying the PRC with classified information, caused Moy’s anger to swell even further. Moy fought hard to keep his head clear of emotion.

‘Assuming that you are correct and I still have access to the ciphering information, how could I turn it over to you? I am subject to the same security measures as my employees. I can’t simply make a copy of the files and walk out of my office with them.’

‘I am surprised at you.’ A thin smile curled on Kang’s face, the look of a cat toying with its prey. ‘Is this not the information age? There is no need for you to risk yourself in this exchange. All that my clients require is the exact date and time of your next data transfer to the government. That information, and the access codes to your computer, will allow them to retrieve what they desire. Once they have the ciphers, your uncle will be turned over to you.’

The smile then disappeared and Kang changed his expression to one of deadly earnest. ‘There are two other points that I must make very clear to you. First, if you do not accept these terms, your uncle will be killed. Second, if the Chinese are unable to break the American codes with the information from your computer, they will assume that you have betrayed them. For that betrayal, your family will be killed. You see, the factor that determines whether a piece of information is priceless or worthless is time. Beijing must have the time to make use of the cipher information; otherwise, this effort is futile. Once the American government discovers that their codes have been broken, they will immediately alter their method of encryption. For you and your family’s sake, that event must be pushed as far into the future as possible. Do as I have instructed and you have nothing to fear.’

Nothing but a lifetime of looking over my shoulder, waiting for the next time your clients in Beijing want something from me, Moy thought. As in many difficult negotiations, Moy’s poker face held. Deng was equally calm and unreadable.

‘Since you leave me with no alternative, I accept your conditions.’ Moy looked Deng directly in the eyes. ‘But I do have one condition of my own.’

The thin, knowing smile returned. ‘You wish to meet with your uncle before the exchange is made.’

‘Yes,’ Moy replied with a nod.

‘This request was anticipated. Prior to your next data transfer with the American government, you will contact me with the date and the access codes. In return, I will instruct you where to go, to meet your uncle, on the day of the exchange. You will both be held until the cipher information is acquired. If my clients are not successful in acquiring the information they desire, you both will be killed. When you call, give yourself plenty of time; you will be meeting your uncle outside this country.’

‘Not in the PRC, I hope?’ Moy asked.

‘No, for you to travel there would rouse the suspicions of the American government.’ Kang deliberately took a sip of his tea, leaving Moy waiting uncomfortably. ‘You will meet your uncle in a country that shares unrestricted travel with the United States. At that time, you will also bring a cashier’s check in the amount of one hundred thousand dollars, my fee for brokering this transaction. When U.S. Immigration asks how your uncle obtained an exit visa from the PRC, you can explain that you greased a few palms. I am certain that you will have no trouble getting Moy Huian admitted into the United States on humanitarian grounds.’

Kang reached into the breast pocket of his blazer and pulled out a business card, which he handed to Moy. ‘The phone number on the back is where you can reach me. We will not meet again until the day of the exchange. Follow these instructions fully and we will have no problems. Are you clear on the conditions of this transaction, Mr Moy?’

‘I understand you perfectly,’ Moy said, thinking to himself, you son of a bitch.

Kang stood up and straightened his double-breasted blazer. ‘Then let us inform the others of the good news. Moy Huian will soon be reunited with his family.’

Moy followed Deng out from the study, choking down the foul taste that this meeting left in his mouth. Long ago, Moy had vowed never to work with Beijing until the Communists were thrown out of power. I won’t trade freely with your masters, Deng Cho-Nam, Moy thought while smiling politely, and I most certainly won’t commit treason for them.

LANGLEY, VIRGINIA

Jackson Barnett was working late again, one of the many tireless servants of the state. Two of the former Soviet republics seemed poised to go to war with each other and the White House needed answers, not that they’d read any of the previous briefings he’d sent over the past few months, when this situation first appeared on the horizon. None of that mattered, though, and the information Barnett’s people assembled would aid the President in deciding how to deal with the crisis. The world was a different place from ten years ago, but intelligence work was still the same.

Sally Kirsch had left him with a stack of intelligence assessments and a fresh pot of coffee, knowing that he would be putting in another long day. Barnett had just kicked his shoes off and loosened his tie when the phone rang. The double ring told him it was a direct call on his private line. ‘Barnett here,’ he answered, cradling the receiver against his shoulder as he sat down.

‘Jackson, it’s Phillip Moy. We need to talk.’

The strained sound in Moy’s voice told Barnett that this wasn’t a social call. ‘What can I do for you?’

‘I just received a visit from a man who claimed that he could get my uncle out of China.’

‘Another charlatan no doubt.’

‘I don’t think so. He brought a letter and a recent photograph that my father positively identified. This material came out of a Chinese labor camp. He also delivered Beijing’s conditions for the release. Are you sitting down?’

Barnett listened, taking notes as Moy described the scene and answered Barnett’s more detailed questions. Barnett knew the story of Moy’s father, and the brother who had stayed behind.

‘Did he ever come out and admit that he was Chinese Intelligence?’

‘No, he seemed to be trying very hard to distance himself from the PRC government. He tried to leave me with the impression that he was nothing more than a well-connected broker who could reunite my family for a fee. At the conclusion of our meeting, he gave his card and a number to call once the next file transfer is scheduled. He used the name Deng Cho-Nam.’

‘Phillip, could you repeat that name for me again?’

‘Certainly, Deng Cho-Nam. You’ve heard of this man?’

‘I’m afraid I have. I received word recently that a Chinese agent was traveling to the United States under the alias of Deng Cho-Nam. The FBI lost him up in New York, and we had no idea where he went. It looks like he went to visit you.’

April 19

The Northwest flight into Frankfurt landed in the early morning, which meant that it was still sometime the previous night by Cal Mosley’s watch, but months of following leads had finally paid off. Cross-referencing the sketchy records from the dive ship with Dominican Immigration’s tourist data, Mosley finally located the woman who dove with the Cole impostor.

Petra Spanhaur taught art history at a secondary school just outside of Frankfurt. She lived in a modest apartment with her husband and a pair of cats. They welcomed Mosley into their home, though they seemed wary of him. Mosley took a chair while Spanhaur and her husband sat on the couch.

‘Thank you for seeing me on such short notice,’ Mosley said in fluent German.