Sea of Lies: An Espionage Thriller (23 page)

A review of his Gmail and encrypted Safe-mail accounts showed nothing further from Joanie. The silence signaled that her situation was serious. It was now 11:15 p.m., late enough for the West Coast Nolans to be legitimately awakened. He called Mei Ling’s burner, and on the fifth ring was greeted with a cautious “Hello?”

Mei Ling was a fine young woman of twenty-five who had played solid second base on the varsity softball team at Pomona while majoring in the classics. She had excelled in having her heart broken by poetic, sinewy upperclassmen. Now working at a real estate investment banking firm just across the Golden Gate Bridge in Marin County, Mei Ling was coming into her own both professionally and socially. Having inherited her mother’s catwalk physique and looks, her Eurasian beauty attracted suitors from across the racial and social spectrums. Nolan’s fishing buddy Bruce Goodhill headed Good Earth Advisors and hired Mei Ling out of college three years ago. Mei Ling had earned a recent promotion from analyst to associate, including a salary bump up to a living wage. Bruce and his vivacious wife Lena kept Joanie and him apprised of Mei Ling’s social gyrations. Right now she seemed to be unattached and enjoying it.

 “It’s Dad. I’m in Singapore. How are you guys doing?”

“We’re fine. How much longer do we have to hide out here? Bert’s getting cabin fever.”

“Cabin fever? Hell, it’s been all of one day. I sent your mom to stay with her relatives in Guangdong on the duck farm. China’s intelligence services detained her—”

“Mom’s under arrest? Oh, no!”

“Stay calm. She left a voicemail and sent an email confirming she’s fine. She also said the people holding her want me to come to China. Mei Ling, you know about my job and why I can’t do that. My employer wouldn’t allow it, and if I did it on my own, there would be security and employment implications.”

“Dad, this isn’t about avoiding trouble at work. It’s about
Mom
.”

“Here’s my suggestion. Do you still have a China visa?”

 “Yes. It expires in July or August this year.”

“Then Bert drives you to the Vancouver Airport later today. You speak Mandarin and Cantonese. Buy a plane ticket to Guangzhou or Hong Kong. I’ll email your Safe-mail account once I can get a lead on where your mother might be. Go to where she’s being held, and I’ll give you the right things to say. Visit your mother if at all possible. Tell them I can help them, but I cannot come to China. If you pass that message along, I think everything will be fine.”

“Why can’t you go to your CIA bosses, tell them Mom’s been arrested and have them put pressure on the Chinese? Arrest the wife of their ambassador to the US and swap them.”

“I’m not popular with my employers. And while your mom’s a very important person to us, in diplomatic circles she’s not worth the wife of China’s ambassador. If your efforts don’t pan out, the next step will need to be more drastic. On balance, I think a quieter approach will get her released in the shortest time with the least fuss.”

“Alright. What about bringing Bert with me?”

“Two reasons not to. First, he’s still in college and needs to stay in school or he’ll have wasted his spring semester. Second, and more important, he’s not under control like you are. He’s a hothead, and I can see him taking on a half-dozen soldiers at the slightest provocation—”

“Yeah, and he’d likely kick their asses, too.” Mei Ling was right: Bert was a beast, 6’2” tall and two hundred twenty pounds carved from granite, with Singapore Commandos training under his belt, augmented by years of
Muay Thai
fighting.

“That's all well and good until they draw down, then either shoot him or lock him up for real,” Nolan said. He continued, “Do you have money? I can fix the time off with Mr. Goodhill.”

“I have plenty of money. I’ll call Bruce from the airport to tell him I’ll be abroad for a week or so.”

“I have to run. By the time you land, I’ll have several addresses for your mother. Check your Safe-mail account at least—”

“Bye, Dad.” Mei Ling hung up. She’d heard this all before.

Nolan stared at the handset for a few seconds. He went into the open Gmail and replied to Joanie, incorporating the family code words
vacation
for
help is coming
, and
traffic
for
caution
. He wrote that he wouldn’t be able to join her for a week. He blind copied Mei Ling and Bert to keep them in the loop.

He wasted ten minutes trying to get a lead on where the Ministry of State Security might be holding Joanie in the boondocks of Guangdong province. Unable to read Chinese characters and lacking access to the Agency’s databases, he realized it was a futile task. He’d have to schmooze his favorite sinologist tomorrow.

Turning to the dark web, he saw that Mark Watermen had been online every hour in the last eight looking for him. Tempted as he was to condemn Watermen for giving him up to Chumakov, Nolan knew the game was chess and not checkers. What looked treacherous in the short term could be the prelude to a subsequent masterstroke. Watermen’s email errors were deliberate warnings. It wasn’t Watermen’s fault that Nolan had been caught napping, escaping only by the grace of the DEA through their ISD contacts.

He logged into Tor to find Watermen waiting. Watermen signaled that he was moderately confident of a fully encrypted connection. Nolan gave him the plan in short form. He would hand the Fourth Policy over, but only in person to Watermen. The exchange had to be outside Russia, somewhere where Watermen could stay on and live in peace. Watermen needed to pick a country in Asia given that Nolan had to be able to get there and back in a day. Countries without enforced US extradition treaties and featuring reasonable, affordable lifestyles included Indonesia, Vietnam and Sri Lanka.

After a short delay, Watermen replied “Sri Lanka this Friday.” The country boasted the winning mix of amiable people, a low cost of living and a president with a healthy contempt for the West. It also featured a pair of hackers Nolan trusted.

He confirmed the place and time of their meeting, then took a minute to describe the aborted kidnapping by the FSB, probably attempted by locals. Godson Mark expressed surprise. They agreed to reconvene online in twenty-four hours.

Nolan went elsewhere on Tor to connect with his trustworthy Lankan computer criminals. It was now almost one o’clock, and he was unwinding, sorting a few lower level IPPL issues that Walsh had thrown his way and jotted down the next day’s to-do list.

Just before exiting the work email, Hecker popped up to report that his “bad asses with bandoliers” were mostly in-country, and he’d been able to source “Betty Crocker and several cooks.” It appeared Hecker had made progress on the nuclear materials tracking front. Nolan suggested they speak live Tuesday morning and received an immediate confirmation. He wondered why Hecker was now emailing using veiled references. Who the hell else was reading secure DEA-CIA email exchanges?

Before calling it a night, Nolan scanned the CNN, BBC and regional websites for the latest theories on the MH370 vanishing act. Most were either preposterous or rewrites of the same few recycled press releases. The search was still split between the Southern Indian Ocean thousands of miles from land, and the Gulf of Thailand off Vietnam. Nolan reckoned they were both wrong.

He was a wreck. Sleep came easily despite a bed that smelled of baby oil and sex.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

FAILURE TO COMMUNICATE

TUESDAY, MARCH 11, BEIJING

Despite Ambassador Ghorbani’s caustic remark, Secretary Yi maintained his composure. “Of course, China shares Iran’s hatred of the United States. And we wish for Operation Menander to cause maximum damage. However, as I explained, Rear Admiral Zhao was on the Malaysia Airlines flight that went missing three days ago. As of yet, no wreckage has been found. Rear Admiral Zhao knows everything about
Menander
. If he is under interrogation, he may talk. Therefore, it is imperative that the operation commences as soon as possible.”

Ghorbani persisted, his stilted style indicating prepared remarks. “My
Pasdaran
—Revolutionary Guard to foreigners—colleagues are equally certain that the Zionists or Americans murdered the passengers on MH370 just as in 1988, they killed 290 innocents on Iran Air Flight 655. Regrettably, your Admiral Zhao is dead.”

“We don’t know that. As the programming has concluded, we should take the prudent route and initiate Operation Menander immediately. And if China is to work with Iran in the future, it is mandatory that you repatriate our six programmers who are currently being held hostage.” Secretary Yi was less composed, his voice rising.

“
Hostage
? That is a strong word. We also have a wide difference of opinion regarding Operation Menander's state of readiness. My
Pasdaran Quds
Special Forces colleague, Colonel Gilani, informs me that the server arrays for the operation are not yet finished. Furthermore, given the high skill levels of your Unit #61398 team, we will require their assistance as we prepare to activate the malware. Unless you wish to assist remotely from China and greatly increase the risk of discovery, it is best that your people remain in Beirut as our guests.”

“Locked up underground and guarded by Hezbollah militia hardly qualifies them as ‘guests.’ I’ve spoken with President Gao, and his nonnegotiable message is that our citizens must be released immediately or there will be consequences.”

“Fine. We wish to ensure that Iran and China maintain a smooth relationship. Let’s not allow something as minor as this come between us. I will alert Gilani and he will repatriate your people clandestinely, but we still expect full cooperation from China when it comes time to initiate
Menander
.”

His tone hardening, Ambassador Ghorbani leaned forward. “Now let me share with you my country’s deep concern regarding the safety of one of our senior scientists. Dr. Fariborz Farrokhzad heads the research and development team responsible for aspects of our advanced weapons program. Your Admiral Zhao induced Dr. Farrokhzad to travel with him to Beijing. Apparently, Zhao told Farrokhzad that he should bring with him certain apparatuses and that China could render these operable. Perhaps you could explain the reasoning behind such a request?”

Yi leaned back in his chair and put his fingertips to his temples in disbelief. “Nothing you just said is known to me, Mr. Ambassador. I am hearing this for the first time.”

Referring to his notes, Ambassador Ghorbani continued with annoyance. “Allow me to explain. Farrokhzad took with him two defective implosion devices—nuclear triggers for missile warheads—and an IR-1 centrifuge damaged by the Stuxnet virus. And one other thing: a shielded one-kilogram quantity of weapons-grade U-235 to provide irrefutable evidence of Iran’s nuclear capabilities.”

“Have your senses abandoned you? You shipped
enriched uranium
in the cargo hold of a passenger plane?”

“It was safely encased in its own containment vessel, which in turn was placed inside the lead-lined crate housing the centrifuge. The likelihood of a leak was exceedingly low.”

Yi didn’t know what to say, so he shifted focus. “And where are Dr. Farrokhzad and these various items?”

“That is the question we are expecting you to answer, Mr. Secretary. We know that, at Admiral Zhao’s insistence, Farrokhzad adopted a civilian identity and flew commercially to Bahrain on March 6, and on to Kuala Lumpur on March 7. It appears Farrokhzad was on board the missing Malaysia Airlines flight along with Zhao when it departed just after midnight on March 8. So the leader of Iran’s advanced weapons program has gone missing because he accepted the invitation of your rear admiral. And you tell me you had no prior knowledge? Perhaps there’s someone in higher authority with whom I might speak?”

Yi’s tone was measured, but his ire unmistakable. “I chair the Politburo’s Central Commission for Intelligence. I see every intelligence briefing that crosses the desk of the president. When I tell you this is the first we are learning of these events, that is indeed the case. What do you propose?”

“I’m not certain there’s anything to be done about that plane. Farrokhzad was essential to our nuclear arms development efforts. The Israelis have had him at the top of their assassination list for several years. We can only assume that the Mossad, perhaps abetted by the Americans, destroyed MH370 in flight. Regrettably, your Admiral Zhao must have died as well.”

Yi was quick to reply, “While tragic, the alternative scenario is even worse. Should that airplane be found with bomb-grade uranium, two implosion triggers, a centrifuge, and Iran’s leading nuclear weapons scientist aboard, the logical conclusion would be that China was helping Iran develop a working atomic bomb. China is a signatory of nonproliferation treaties. Being caught in a violation of these would be very damaging to my country’s international stature at a delicate time.”

“I see your perspective. Frankly, Iran’s concerns lie in other areas. We are now without the head of the project tasked with perfecting the trigger design for smaller nuclear warheads. Without proper triggers, our missiles cannot be relied upon. Your man Zhao assured my senior colleagues in Tehran that China’s scientists could swiftly repair or replace the defective triggers. And, as an added inducement, your nuclear technicians would also demonstrate how to clean and repair the key elements of the centrifuges used to extract U-235 from uranium hexafluoride gas.

“Take this copy of the recording of Zhao’s and Farrokhzad’s meeting one week ago in Tehran. Your admiral coerced Farrokhzad to come with him.” Ghorbani pushed across a jewel case containing a CD labeled in Farsi. Yi fingered it warily.

“China must honor Zhao’s promises. We require two nuclear triggers that work properly. Before the end of today, we will send via diplomatic bag another pair from Iran to this embassy. I will alert you to have your people collect them. We are not keen on transporting machinery with U-235 contamination. The signature is too easily traced. We will abandon efforts to recover the centrifuge and the U-235 sample, and ask that you assist Iran in ensuring that these items are destroyed, or at a minimum kept away from multilateral organizations and our mutual rivals."