The Washington Lawyer (32 page)

He turned on a lamp on the end table and studied the apartment. It was a two bedroom furnished modestly in what was old furniture, none of it matching, which Allison might have picked up at used furniture shops. The professor had lots of important things on her mind. Furniture and living conditions weren't two of them. Quite a contrast from her twin sister.

Xiang cleared Allison's desk by dumping everything but the computer on the floor. He dropped the mail on the desk and carefully went through each piece. Most related to her teaching, including journals and letters from other professors. After he examined an envelope, he tossed it onto the floor.

Nothing at all from Vanessa. He'd go to Allison's office in the archeology building next.

After Xiang left the apartment building and walked to his car to drive the ten blocks to the archeology building, he glanced back at the apartment and realized that he hadn't turned off the lamp. Well that didn't matter. After he was finished in Allison's office, whether he found the CD or not, he planned to come back to her apartment and wait there as long as he could, until he had to leave to drive back to Washington, in the hope that Allison might be in Providence and coming home—perhaps with the CD.

After parking a couple blocks away from the archeology building, he turned the corner and looked up at the imposing four-story gray stone structure. There were only a couple of lights on inside which he would have expected on a Sunday evening. Also, as he expected, the front entrance was locked. It was on a main thoroughfare.

Xiang decided the chances were too great of being spotted if he tried to work at that lock. So he walked around the building. In the back he found another door, that was metal. The lock looked tough to open, but he was confident he could do it.

Xiang removed the tools from his briefcase and went to work on the lock. As he did, he heard a window open on the third floor.

A young man with a black beard and curly hair leaned out of the window and called down to Xiang. “Hey, what are you doing? I'm calling the police.”

Xiang was furious at himself for getting caught. He had to get away from the archeology building now. His only option was to go back to Allison's apartment and wait there, hoping she came before he had to leave to drive back to Washington. Maybe she'd have gone to her office and picked up the CD. Then he could snatch it from her. It was admittedly a longshot, but his only chance now.

Racing to his car, Xiang wasn't worried the police would track him to Allison's apartment. He had parked around the corner from the archeology building; he was confident the man in the window hadn't seen his car. And no one was chasing him.

As Xiang got into his car and pulled away, he heard police sirens headed to the archeology building. He drove in the other direction, making a circle to get back to Allison's apartment. He parked in an alley in the back. If he saw her, besides grabbing the CD, he'd scare her or even put her into the hospital.

Climbing the stairs to Allison's apartment, he checked his watch. He could stay in the apartment for no more than an hour. He had to leave enough time to drive back to Washington tonight. He couldn't miss his 5:00 a.m. meeting with Jasper tomorrow. The senator would be giving him the Pentagon's five-year plan.

Providence

A
s the train approached the station in Providence, Allison stood up and moved to the front of the car. Through the corner of her eye she watched the two Chinese men and held her breath. They didn't move. They must be going to Boston.

It was five minutes after nine in the evening when she stepped out of the station in Providence. Two cabs were parked at the curb. She was the first in the cab line, but she motioned to the two students behind her to take the first cab. She took the second one. She had read about that in a novel called
Spy Dance
. It was a good safeguard if a spy was worried someone was trying to abduct him.

She asked the cab to drop her three blocks from the archeology building— another bit of tradecraft from
Spy Dance
.

As she got out of the cab, she was careful to avoid the ice at the curb. It had snowed a couple of days ago and a cold breeze was whipping off the ocean. In her thin jacket, it cut through Allison like a knife.

Approaching the archeology building, she was astounded to see three police cars parked in front, the lights on their roofs flashing.

She removed her key to the front door from her bag. A policeman, tall and heavyset in his forties, stopped her in front of the door.

“Who are you?” he asked.

Act natural, she told herself. The Metro incident may have been big news in Washington, but Providence was a long way off. “Allison Boyd, archeology professor.”

“ID?”

She removed her university ID from her wallet and held it out. He glanced at it and looked quizzical.

“I decided to bleach my hair,” she said. “A woman's prerogative.”'

He smiled. “Yeah, my wife does it all the time. She's a redhead this week. You can go in.”

“What happened here?”

“Some Chinese guy was trying to break in. A grad student upstairs saw him and called us. Strikes me as an odd place to break in.”

“Maybe he wanted to get a copy of an exam.”

He laughed. “You're funny, Blondie. You know that.”

“People tell me all the time. So what happened to the Chinese guy?”

“He got away before we arrived.”

She guessed it had been her assailant from Washington, and he was looking for the CD. She would have liked to ask the cop whether the Chinese man had a scar on his left cheek, but she realized that would get her a ride to police headquarters for interrogation. Besides, she was convinced he was the one.

After Allison used her key to open the front door of the building, the cop handed her a card and said, “This has my office and cell phone. Call me if you hear or see anything about this Chinese guy.”

Allison thanked the policeman and put it into her bag.

Before going to Israel, she had asked the secretary to the department chairman to place all of her mail on the desk in Allison's office. As she entered her office, she saw three good sized piles. Allison had no interest in reading her mail. She was on a mission: to find an envelope from Vanessa.

Nothing in the first two piles. Her hopes sagged. Was this all a wild goose chase? Still, Vanessa might have mailed it to her apartment.

Midway through the third pile, she saw it. A plain brown envelope. The return address had no name, simply Vanessa's home address in Washington. She checked the rest of the third pile. There was nothing else from Vanessa.

Allison opened the plain brown envelope carefully. Inside she saw a CD in a case, covered by bubble wrap. No markings on the case or the CD. No note.

Allison eyed the CD player on a credenza against the wall. She was tempted to play it immediately, but thought better of it.

She recalled that her department head and other faculty members had seen Allison's name and picture in the Washington press after the Metro incident and had sent her e-mails asking what was happening, all of which she had ignored. She had better take the CD, get the hell out of the building, and play it in her apartment.

She made certain to turn off her office lights and lock her door as she exited the building.

The policeman said, “Done so soon?”

“I just had to pick up some papers.”

“Well, have a nice night, Blondie,” he said and laughed.

She set off on foot. With the collar pulled up on her jacket, she covered the ten blocks to her apartment quickly. Only a couple of cars passed. They didn't seem to pay her any attention.

Two blocks from her building, she saw that the apartments on the first and third floors units were dark. But
there was a light on in her apartment
.

She had remembered to turn off all the lights when she had last been there four weeks ago. She was now convinced the Chinese man had been in her apartment. Or was still there, alone or with others.

If he was still there, she could have him arrested for breaking and entering. That would get him out of circulation while she listened to the CD and acted on what she learned. She took out her cell phone, then searched her bag for the policeman's card.

As she did, she saw a Chinese man with a bandage on his nose race out of her building and toward the alley in the back. He had to be the man she smacked with the diaries on the loading dock.

She had no time to call the policeman. Her only option was to stop him herself.

She reached down to the ground and grabbed a tree branch that had fallen in the recent storm.

“Hey,” she cried out and chased him.

By the time she reached the alley, he was in his car and the engine was on. Tree branch in hand, she ran toward his car. He gunned the engine and drove toward her. When he was almost at her, she flattened herself against a garage door. He narrowly missed her and continued driving. She expected him to turn around and make another pass at her.

As he did that, she dropped the tree branch and her bag on to the ground. She grabbed her cell phone in one hand and with the other frantically searched her bag for the cop's telephone number.

That must have frightened her assailant because he executed another U turn and roared away from her.

No point calling the policeman, she decided. She let herself in the front door of the apartment building and noticed that her mail box was open, but there was no mail inside or on the floor. He had undoubtedly taken it all. Hopefully, he left it in her apartment.

When she entered her apartment, she saw her mail and papers from her desk scattered on the floor and gasped. “Holy shit!”

She realized that she should call the police, but that wouldn't accomplish anything. The man was already gone.

She looked through the mail tossed on the floor and glanced at the envelopes. Nothing from Vanessa. She hoped he hadn't taken away something else Vanessa had sent, but at least she had the CD.

She walked over to a small portable CD player. She carried it to her desk and inserted the CD, moving her chair close to the machine so she could keep the volume low to avoid waking anyone in the building.

She hit play and heard:

“This is Vanessa Boyd, a staff member of the Senate Armed Services Committee. On July 26th of this year, I was in the Tokyo suite of Senator Wesley Jasper from Colorado in the Okura Hotel. What follows is a recording of a conversation between Senator Jasper and Minister Liu, the director of the Ministry of State Security for the Chinese government.”

Liu (in English): Thank you for agreeing to meet with me, Senator Jasper.

Jasper: Your ambassador in Washington told me that you would like to discuss a matter of mutual interest. I was curious. Would you like something to drink?

Liu: Scotch. If you have it. Cool.

Jasper: That's my drink of choice. The Japanese government left me a bottle of Macallan 18.

Liu: Good.

A pause.

Liu: Salute … Do you mind if I smoke?

Jasper: No. Of course not.

Pause.

Liu: Let me come right to the point. I understand that for various reasons, you have financial concerns at this critical time with a reelection next year.

Jasper: I have always been able to raise money effectively. I have a number of large donors who will contribute and raise money. As the incumbent, I have an enormous advantage. I am not concerned.

Liu: Of course not. I simply wish to make matters easier for you.

Pause.

Jasper: How much easier?

Liu: Five million US dollars deposited monthly into a numbered Singapore account whose undisclosed Chinese owner would assure strict confidentiality.

Jasper: You're asking me to violate the law by taking money from a foreign government. I won't do that.

Liu: I will structure it in a way that no one else will ever know.

Jasper: People always find out.

Liu: Not if we're careful.

Jasper: I don't know.

Liu: If you're not interested, I'm sorry I've wasted your time.

Jasper: I'm not saying I'm not interested. Suppose … just suppose I am. How would I access this money?

Liu: By inserting the account number into your cell phone, you will be able to transfer electronically as much of the funds to an account anywhere in the world. If we reach an agreement this evening, when you return to Washington one of my people at the embassy will arrange a meeting and explain the logistics to you. They are quite simple.

Jasper: They will have to be because I am not strong in technical matters.

Laughter.

Jasper: And what would I have to do in return for the money? Block my committee from approving armed sales for Taiwan?

Liu: For five million a month, I want something more than that.

Jasper: What?

Liu: My government is interested in your military's developing presence in Asia and the Pacific. We want to know which troops and equipment are being moved to various Asian and Pacific locales. Second, we want to know what new weapons are being developed by your defense contractors. Third, we're interested in knowing what military commitments the United States has made to Japan, South Korea, and other nations in Asia.

Pause.

Jasper: You're asking me to commit treason.

Liu: I prefer to think of it as friends helping each other.

Jasper: A rose by any other name is still a rose.

Liu: I don't care what you call it.

Pause.

Jasper: If I'm caught, I'll go to jail for life. Maybe to the electric chair.

Liu: You won't get caught.

Jasper: You can't guarantee that.

Liu: You'll be safe as long as you behave wisely.

Jasper: I love my country.

Liu: Of course you do. None of this will damage the United States. It will merely insure that both China and the United States understand each other's capabilities. That way there will be no chance of a miscalculation that could lead to war.