The Hundred Gram Mission (21 page)

"Our support in Congress is growing. E8 is an American construction. We’ll make the case that it’s time to focus on American space needs."

She stared at him, wordless.

"I’m making you a good offer. You need to be rational about this."

"People like you can’t imagine not getting your way. You go ahead and try. You tell Money Bags to give it his all, because he’s going to need it."

Snyder shook his head. "It’ll be your loss. Just promise me you’ll think it over."

She limped out of the café. The barista was outside, he smiled and nodded, and went back in. The bell tinkled, and the sign was flipped to OPEN. Anjana kept walking down 45
th
till she passed the UNESCO building.

She leaned against the wall, and pulled out her phone. The cold wind made her eyes tear.

"Hello, is this the FBI? Please connect me to the Weapons of Mass Destruction Directorate."

Jansen Henrikson, III

"There's something very wrong with the Lowell City program."

Henrikson looked up from his screen. Doctor Dethier was in the doorway, printouts in hand.

"What?"

"Lowell City," she shook her printouts. "You need to see this." She closed the door behind her and sat.

"Well, I suppose I'm going to have to, now. What's wrong with it?"

"What
isn't
wrong with it? This is what I found out about the program director they just hired, Patrick Schulte." she handed him a sheet.

"Why didn't you just email me these?"

"I don't want people to know, that I know."

"Charming."

She jabbed at the sheet. "Look at Schulte's qualifications."

Henrikson studied the sheet. He read it again more slowly, and frowned.

"He's not a scientist or an engineer."

"He's not even a science fiction writer! He's a corporate lawyer, specialization in intellectual property. He's never done anything to do with space, let alone Mars. Never. You and I both know excellent candidates that applied for this. The first woman on
Mars
, applied. But they picked a lawyer, who showed no previous interest or experience."

"Maybe HR just made a really bad pick."

"This got me thinking, so then I looked closer at the program," she handed him a stapled set.

"What's this?"

"Where the money is going."

He leafed through it. "Astronaut Candidate selection and trials. What's odd about that?"

"Do you hire pilots before you've even designed the plane? Look at what's
not
there. There's nothing about the design for Lowell City, except those pretty artistic impressions in the press packet."

"I've seen the press kit, it gives the internal surface area for Lowell."

"Then where is the design, which shows it? There isn't one. Not a spreadsheet, not a paper napkin, nothing. But this here," she pulled out a document, "Is a budget for setting up a training camp at Devon Island, in Canada. Those pictures were taken by someone they
flew out there
."

Henrikson said nothing. "Maybe they're just - "

"Stupid? Cart before horse?" said Dethier. "No. This is a complete lack of strategic attention to the final product. And this from a businessman who likes to talk about hundred year plans."

"I don't think Spektorov is closely involved with this."

"How could he not be? He is a micromanager. He would be here looking at your screen if he could understand the mathematics. Spektorov knows."

Henrikson put the stack of papers down. "What do you think is going on here?"

"I don't know enough to say," she shook her head.

"You mean you're not comfortable saying. Neither am I. Let's keep looking and see what we can learn. Ingrid, don't tell anyone about this."

Suyin Lee, Evan Stockwell, III

Indian Ocean, 50,000 feet

"You think the stewards on this flight will get me a gin and tonic? How about that one, the guy cleaning his assault rifle?"

Stockwell unclipped his seat belt and stretched. The old, Air China, A330 had been refitted for cargo carrying. The remaining seats had PLA and MSS
[xlvii]
agents, looking uncomfortable in civvies. Suyin Lee stood before them, beside a huge, LCD screen. Speaking Mandarin, she swiped through slides, diagrams, and satellite maps. Pictures scrolled of choking streets, dark-skinned people, and old colonial buildings.

"I especially appreciate the non-invitation to the monolingual briefing,
right over there
."

"Suck it up; they’re doing us a favor. The less we know about what they’re doing, the less troublesome a position it puts our government in."

"Then we shouldn’t have bothered coming at all if they’re not going to involve us. What was the point?"

"So, what do you know about Sri Lanka?" Pirello changed the subject.

"Jack and shit. What do I need to know?"

"I read them up while you were sleeping. Sri Lanka is a former British colony. Bloodless independence – the British were downsizing. As could be expected, decolonization just took its due, later."

"Civil war?"

"It lasted almost thirty years. Coming out, they borrowed money they couldn't repay, from China. Now, they're a Chinese colony."

"Smooth move, Sri Lankans."

"The Chinese have facilities all over the country. Including a naval base, right next to the capital, Colombo."

"One of those naval bases they surround with malls and five star hotels?"

"Just the same."

"And the Sri Lankan were okay with that?"

"I don't think they even realized that China builds bases that way. Anyway, it completes the String of Pearls
[xlviii]
. It allows them to contest the Arabian Gulf with us. They can protect or deny oil supplies, and contain India. They can even fly air strikes against our own Indian Ocean base, at Diego Garcia."

The Chinese agents started clapping at something Lee said.

"So if they're in charge, why does it look like -" Stockwell looked around and then whispered, "-like they're planning a
secret operation?
"

Pirello eyed the Chinese briefing. "I think it’s awkward for them."

"Why should it be? ‘Hi! We’re here to catch a terrorist. Can you help us? Thanks! We’ll take him away now. Thank you such much for your trouble! Here, have another loan! Have two!’ That’s it. It doesn’t make sense that they’re not telling the Sri Lankans what’s going on."

"It does, if you don’t trust the Sri Lankans."

"Why not trust them?"

"This is Asia, Stockwell. You want to buy a cop, check your wallet, not your bank account. Al-Moussawi might have picked Sri Lanka for the protection corruption gives him.  Also, Sri Lanka gets a lot of Middle Eastern tourists. No one will think twice if he plays the rich Arab brat."

"Really? That’s it?"

"I think so. Cronyism and Old Boy networks are big in this part of the world. You can’t root out corruption if you give it shelter. It just keeps coming back."

"We’ve got corruption problems too."

"Yeah, but not like these guys do."

"Have you seen Congress?"

"Look, I don’t want to get into a debate on Western versus Eastern corruption. But I do think the Chinese don’t want to lose this guy. They’re taking no chances, he’s the only lead."

Meng, the guilty-faced analyst, got up by the screen. He nodded to Suyin and started talking. She stepped back and looked over at Stockwell. He smiled, waved, and mimed "HI!" till she looked away again.

"Now," Stockwell leant back, "What about us in all this?"

"We do what Likavec says and keep our heads down."

"Fuck that. We’re here to do a job."

"And when the Sri Lankan government asks our ambassador what Americans are doing on a covert operation in their country without their knowledge, what happens then? We have orders, Evan."

"I didn’t leave DC to go Still-Third World sightseeing."

"Our job is to help stop Jemaat Ansar. We’ve done our part, let the Chinese do theirs. If they want to risk a diplomatic incident, it’s on them. Frankly, I respect their commitment to catch this guy. Just the two of us going to Colombo with them as liaisons, was a big concession."

"Liaisons? More like
tokens
. Freaking Chinese, always got to have a token white guy around. And now
I’m
that token white guy!"
[xlix]

People turned and gave them looks.

"Quiet. At least we’re here as a resource to them.
You’re
the resource. Their STS computer asked for you. I’m just your minder."

Stockwell peered back at the briefing. "They look like they’re winding down, and Suyin’s clearly done. I’m going to go try and be a resource to her."

Pirello looked worried. "Do you have to? She always looks at you like she’s about to kick your ass."

"It’s not my ass she hates, it's Freedom."

"So the good news is," Suyin stood by the screen, hands on her hips, "That we have twenty Southwest Falcons with us, going into Sri Lanka!"

The special forces operators cheered, and the MSS clapped politely.

"The bad news is, we’re only going to need eight of you."

Groans.

"Remember, this is a covert operation. The Sri Lankans are going to know someone is fucking with them. We just don’t need them knowing who. The fewer people we use for this, the better."

She tapped the LCD and a large, colonial-era hotel appeared.

"This is the Galle Face Hotel," said Lee. "It is probably the nicest hotel in Colombo. Al-Moussawi likes his comforts and he checked in to it, early this morning. You’ll notice here," she pulled up the next image, "that it’s right by sea. This is our opportunity, people. We’re going to catch him at the hotel, and extract by the sea. Any questions so far?"

None.

"Good. Both the strike and backup teams will stay at the Galle Face Hotel. Qui Wong?"

"Yes Madam?" one of the smaller, less obtrusive operators.

"You’re leading the backup team, you’re getting Jian Chu, Zhou Zhang, and Jia Chow."

"We’re all language experts."

Lee smiled, "Very good. Your fake documents will be ready within the hour. You’ll be posing as a Vietnamese businessman. As soon as we land, I want you to make some calls to some local businesses, to try and set up some meetings."

"Anything in particular? Or does it not matter?"

"It doesn’t matter. You just need some evidence that you are indeed trying to conduct business. It’ll help protect you if you get questioned by the authorities."

"Yes Madam."

"Jian Chu," she pointed at the man, "you’re going to be a Malaysian wrestling coach. You’re in transit to Dubai, where you will be teaching at a rich private school. A team in Beijing are making fake web pages for it, right now."

"My parents always dreamed of sending me to a private school."

"Zhou Zhang, you’re going to be A Filipino tourist. You’ll book a travel guide, and then you’ll try and find some girls."

"Girls?" his face was a study in suspicion and earnest hope.

"Sex workers, Zhang. You are a man travelling alone in Asia. Why else would you be visiting?"

"Does that mean I can – "

"No. It
doesn’t
. It’s your cover, Zhang. And if for some reason you do end with a friend in the room, the People’s Republic of China is not paying."

"Yes Madam," he looked down.

"Jia Chow, you are going to be a lay Buddhist. You will have a bag full of pamphlets.  You’re keen to see the sights, especially the temple of the Buddha’s tooth."

"But Madam, can’t I be a sex tourist as well?"

"I’m sorry, no. Someone has to be the Buddhist. You can be a Buddhist hypocrite if you like, from what I understand you’d fit in quite well there."

"Yes Madam."

"Again, you four are the backup team. Depending where in the hotel we grab him, you will be given standby locations. Exits mostly, to catch him if he flees. Leave all your gear on the plane. You’ll get a pistol, printed and sent from a safe house. You’re on staggered departures, so you don’t appear connected to each other."

The four men nodded.

"Understood," said Wong. "What about the strike team?"

"The strike team will be myself, Zhu, Huang, and Liao," two men and a small made woman looked up at her. "Ms. Liao, no one will expect either of us to start shooting people. Sri Lankan agents will book two rooms for us, and then give us the keys. The hotel has a high volume, no one is going to notice. We’re going to familiarize ourselves with the place, and prepare for the grab. It may come at any time, preferably at night.  It depends on Al-Moussawi. However, it won’t be sooner than tomorrow morning."