Wall of Night (46 page)

Following his flashlight beam, Tanner searched the cat-walks until he was at the very stern of the boat. Below him he could see the giant cogs of the reduction gear; aft of these lay the telephone pole-size shaft leading to the waterwheel.

Sitting on the uppermost catwalk, he found the generator Hadin had mentioned. A makeshift hand crank jutted from the side of the rusted machine. Amid the tangle of electrical cables was an ancient Marconi radio the size of a small steamer trunk.

Hadin's contraption,
Tanner realized.
A hand-powered generator.

A pair of cables led upward from the radio, spiraled around the catwalk support, and disappeared through a ragged hole in the ceiling.

He traced the cables to the roof of the bridge. The sun had risen. Aside from a line of scrub bushes and small trees lining the railing, the roof was mostly open. Despite the chill wind, the sun felt good on his face.

The cables ended at a pile of rusted, steel rods, wire mesh, and wire. It took Tanner several minutes of sorting before he realized the mess had been Hadin's attempt at making an antenna. Where Dashing Andy had gone wrong, Tanner didn't know, but he realized the idea might be worth a second shot.

He was climbing down the aft ladder well when suddenly a snippet from Hadin's diary popped into his head:
“I'll come back for you
!”
It had been Nogoruk's promise to Hadin. It had also been his promise to Han and Lian twelve years ago. His mind flashed back to his first sight of her at the camp, sitting in the chair, her hands clasped in her lap as she looked up at him …

“He told me you were coming back for us.
”

“… were coming back for us,” Tanner murmured.

Were
—a certainty. Not “would,” as if repeating an as yet unfulfilled promise, but “were,” as if describing something already happening. Briggs suddenly felt dizzy. He sat down on the steps. Even as half of his brain was putting together the pieces, the other half was arguing against the conclusion.

You're wrong,
Briggs.
You're exhausted and not thinking straight.
You're wrong.

“
He told me you were coming back for us
…
”

He returned to the cabin to find Hsiao sitting beside the stove nursing a small fire. Tanner shivered as the warmth hit him. Soong and Lian were both asleep, Lian curled up on the bunk above the still-unconscious pilot. Tanner stood staring at her face.
God,
let me be wrong.

“Briggs …” Hsiao whispered. “Briggs … ?”

“Yes?”

“What did you find?” Hsiao whispered.

“A way to phone home, I hope. I'll need your help in a few minutes.”

Tanner knelt beside Soong's bunk. Hsiao had splinted his legs with slats from the bunk then secured them with duct tape. Briggs gently shook Soong awake. “Sorry to wake you.”

“What is it? Is everything okay?”

“We need to talk. Keep your voice down. Tell me what happened the day you were arrested.”

Soong frowned. “I was taken to
Guoanbu
headquarters and—”

“What about Miou? She wasn't arrested at the apartment, was she?” Tanner asked.

“No. One of her friends was sick; she decided to take some soup to her.”

“She hadn't planned on it?”

“No, it was last minute.”

“What about Lian?”

“I don't know,” Soong answered. “The last time I saw her was at our apartment that morning.”

“You never saw her again—never spoke to her?”

“No.”

“You're sure?”

“Yes, Briggs. Please, what is—”

“Not even by letter or through an intermediary? Last night was the first time you'd seen her or spoken to her since you were arrested? You have to be sure, Han.”

“I am, Briggs. She's my daughter. I would remember.”

Tanner nodded and forced a smile onto his face. “Okay, thanks.”

“What's this all about?”

“Nothing—just trying to refresh my own memory. Go back to sleep.”

In a daze, Tanner shuffled out of the cabin and stood in the alleyway, listening to the wind whistle down its length. He pressed his back against the bulkhead and slid down to the deck.

It hadn't been Fong,
after all,
Tanner thought. Fong had been just a bit player; a conduit.

It had been Lian from the start. Lian had betrayed her own mother and father to the
Guoanbu.

My God
…

Briggs hung his head between his knees and wept.

Am I wrong about this?
Tanner wondered.

Had Lian's words at the camp been merely a slip of the tongue? As much as he wanted to believe so, the hollow feeling at the pit of his stomach told him otherwise.

Many things made sense now. From what little the CIA had been able to gather following Ledger's failure, Tanner knew that Soong's wife, Miou, had not been arrested at their apartment, but rather at a friend's. He'd always assumed the
Guoanbu
had followed her there, but now he wondered. If they'd had her under surveillance, why not take her as she stepped onto the street? The answer: Just as Fong's feeding of the
Guoanbu
had relieved them of having to keep Briggs under constant surveillance, Lian's had made it unnecessary to follow Miou. They knew about her unexpected trip that morning. Lian had told them.

He now also understood why Xiang had brought Lian to the camp; she was his insurance policy in the event Tanner managed to rescue Soong. What Briggs had mistaken for a leverage gambit was in fact Xiang's ultimate leash on his prisoner.

They were in real trouble, he realized. How long did they have?

Hsiao appeared beside him. “Briggs, are you okay?”

“Yes.”

“You don't look it.”

Tanner pushed himself to his feet. “Hsiao, I have to do something—something I don't want to do. I'll need your help.”

“Of course. Tell me what you need.”

“Just do what I tell you.”

They walked back into the cabin. As Hsiao woke Soong, Tanner gently shook Lian until her eyes opened. “Get down,” Tanner told her.

“Why?”

“Please get down, Lian.” She climbed down from the bunk and stood before him, frail, delicate, her doe eyes staring up at him. “What's the matter, Briggs? What are you—”

“When I found you at the camp, you said, ‘He told me you were coming back for us.'”

“Did I?”

“Yes. What did you mean?”

From his bunk, Soong said, “Briggs, why are you—”

Tanner held up a silencing hand.

“I don't remember saying that,” Lian replied.

Tanner took a step toward her. “I'll ask you again: What did you mean?”

“If I said it, I must have meant my father. He promised me you would come back for us.”

“When did he tell you that?”

Lian shook her head. “I don't know.” She looked at Soong. “Father …”

Soong said, “Briggs, she must have imagined the words. From a dream, perhaps.”

“No, I don't think so.” He turned back to her. “You meant Xiang, didn't you? Xiang told you I was in China, and that I was coming for you and your father.”

“No.”

“That's why he brought you to the camp.”

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

“He wanted you at the camp, and I know why.”

Lian shook her head; tears welled in her eyes. “That's not true. I've been a prisoner—”

“You're lying,” Tanner said, his chest aching. “Hsiao, search her.”

“What?”

“Search her.”

Soong said, “Briggs, why are you doing this? Lian would never—”

“I'm sorry, Han. Go ahead, Hsiao.”

Hsiao stepped forward and began patting down Lian's clothes. As he moved down her body, Tanner studied her face. In the blink of an eye, her expression hardened into a mask of hatred, her eyes narrowing as they bore into his. It was as though he were looking at a different person. In that instant he knew with sickening certainty that he was right about it all.

As Hsiao reached the top of her trousers, he stopped and frowned. He reached into the waistband and withdrew a black box the size of a cigarette pack. He backed away from her and handed the box to Tanner. It was a radio beacon.

Briggs dropped it to the floor and crushed it under his heel.

Lian Soong glared at him. “It's too late,” she said. “He's on his way.”

“Lian, what is that?” Soong said. “What is he talking about?”

Tanner said, “It's a beacon. She's drawing them to us.”

“No, that can't be.” Soong looked at her. “Lian, it's not true. Tell me it's not true.”

She glowered at him. “Of course it's true! You're a traitor!”

“What?”

“You betrayed Zhongguo! You sold yourself to the West like a common whore!”

Eyes brimming with tears, Soong looked to Tanner. “Briggs, they've done this to her. They're making her say these things.”

“I wish that were true,” Tanner whispered. “This started a long time ago—before the defection, didn't it, Lian?”

“Lian … My God, what happened to you?”

“
You
happened to me!” she snarled. “Since I was old enough to listen, you were always talking about the glory of the Middle Kingdom, about patriotism and loyalty—about how we had to defend our way of life. And then those … rabble-rousers at Tiananmen came along and suddenly all your talk was for nothing!”

“Lian, those were students—young people like yourself. Our government murdered six thousand people who were guilty of nothing more than speaking their minds!”

“They were trying to destroy our way of life! For eighteen years I listened to you talk about patriotism only to watch you betray it all over some morally corrupt thugs!”

“They were slaughtered, Lian!”

“And rightly so! They were traitors—just like you! As far as I'm concerned, you should have gotten the same punishment!”

“No, Lian—”

“I would have gladly pulled the trigger my—”

Tanner snapped, “That's enough. Not another word!”

“And you!” Lian snapped. “You're no better! You're scum!” She spat at him.

Soong gaped at her, then looked to Tanner, his face etched in agony. Briggs could think of nothing to say; there was no way to ease his friend's pain. Han had wasted away in a dank cell for the last decade, surviving on the hope of being reunited with his daughter, only to find it was her betrayal that had imprisoned him and killed his wife.

Tanner couldn't decide if Lian's hatred was inherent or had been cultivated by the
Guoanbu,
or was a mixture of the two.
What about her feelings for him
?
Had it all been an act
—
the affair,
their love
—
everything
?
His heart was pounding so hard he could hear it in his ears.
Put it away,
Briggs.
No time for this now.
Xiang was coming.

“Hsiao, get the duct tape out of my pack. Bind and gag her.”

Soong said, “No, Briggs, don't—”

“She'll betray us again if we give her the chance, Han.”

“Please, don't hurt her.”

“I'm not going to hurt her.”

Once Hsiao was finished binding her, Tanner asked him, “How good are you with electronics?”

Hsiao shrugged. “I used to tinker with shortwaves when I was a child.”

“Good enough. Grab one of the AKs and the lantern, then take Lian down to the engine room. On the upper catwalk there's a hand-powered generator and a radio—one of the old-style vacuum sets. Look it over and see what you can do. Take this, too.” Tanner handed him the Motorola.

“And do what?”

“We can't be sure until we try, but aside from a missing battery, the phone might be salvageable. If we can jury-rig the transformer to regulate the power, we might be able to put out a signal.”

“I'll see what I can do.”

Once they were gone, Tanner knelt beside Soong's bunk. He put his hands on Soong's shoulders. “I'm so sorry, Han. I wish to God it weren't true.”

“As am I,” Soong whispered. “I can't believe it, Briggs. They did something to her. She wouldn't say those things otherwise.” He hesitated. “But that only explains part of it, doesn't it?”

“Yes.”

“After I told her about my plans, she went to the
Guoanbu
on her own. Oh, God …”

Soong broke down in tears. Tanner embraced him. “We can't take her with us, can we?”

Tanner shook his head. “No. Han, this invasion your government is planning—do you know how to stop it? Can you tell my people?”

“Yes, I think so.”

“How? You've been in prison since—”

“Night Wall was originally mine; they changed very little of it. I know because for the last decade Xiang has been picking my brain … bragging as ‘his' plan progressed. It makes him feel superior, I think. Have they already started, do you know?”

“Probably, but how far along they are, I don't know.”

“Then we have to move quickly. How many men will Xiang have?”

“A Hind can carry a platoon. Thirty men, perhaps—para-troopers, probably.”

“Too many for you to fight alone.”

“I don't plan on fighting them. Come on, let's get out of here.”

Once in the engine room, Tanner followed the glow of Hsiao's lantern to the upper catwalk. Hsiao was hunched over the generator. Briggs laid Soong down on the grating. Lian sat against the railing and glared at Tanner. Part of him wanted to return her gaze, to study her eyes for even a hint of the woman he thought he knew, but he quashed the impulse. That Lian was gone, perhaps never having existed at all.

He turned to Hsiao. “Any luck, Hsiao?”

“Whoever's boat this was spared no expense: The generator is mostly made of aluminum. There's some rust, but I found an oilcan down below, so I think I can get the crank moving. As for the radio, I think I can rig a crude transformer and get power to it, but it could be tricky. If I guess wrong, the power might destroy the phone's circuits.”

“Do your best. How about the cables?”

“They're in surprisingly good condition—high-gauge copper. A little splicing here and there, and it should be no problem. We're going to need an antenna, though—”

“I'll take care of that.”

Hsiao gestured for Tanner to follow him down the cat-walk, then stopped and whispered, “Are we sure Xiang is coming? How do we know the Hind even survived the collision?”

“Because they're built like flying tanks,” Tanner replied. “If we survived, they did.”

“How long have we got?”

“I don't know. It's safer to assume not long. If you get the radio going, I want you to stay here and keep transmitting as long as you can.”

“What are you going to be doing?”

“Hopefully making things difficult for Xiang and his men. If I'm lucky I might be able to run them around for as long as I can.”

“And when you can't anymore?”

“I'll come back here. We'll use this as our retreat,” Tanner said, then cast his flashlight around. “We're going to need an emergency exit … Come on.”

They followed the catwalks down the bilges where the grating had become a quagmire of mud and decaying plants. Moss and lichen coated the bulkheads.

At the very stern of the boat, where the shaft exited the hull, Tanner found a maintenance hatch. Tanner crouched down and kicked the hatch until it splintered and broke outward. He pried free the remaining slats, then with the flashlight in his teeth, wriggled through.

He emerged inside the waterwheel. Above his head lay one of the massive, horizontal fins. Through the tangle of foliage he could see patches of sky. He pushed his way through the undergrowth until he emerged outside.

Blowing snow swirled in front of his face. He squinted his eyes against the sunlight, looked around, then wriggled backward, pulling the brush closed behind him. Hsiao asked, “How's it look?”

“It leads down to the ice. When we make our break, that'll be our exit. If I'm not here, you'll have to handle Han yourself. Can you do it?”

Hsiao nodded. “I can do it. And once we're outside?”

“Run for the river bend, then get ashore and keep going. I'll buy you as much time as I can.”

Carrying a bundle of loose cable and three ballast stones he'd collected from the bilges, Tanner left Hsaio working in the engine room and climbed to the bridge roof, where he first untangled the mass of rods and mesh, then began untangling the cable, counting arm lengths until he knew how many feet with which he had to work.

Knowing the frequency the CIA had assigned his phone, he turned his attention to determining what size of antenna he would need. The calculation was fairly straightforward, but exhausted as he was he couldn't wrap his mind around the numbers, so he knelt down and traced the formula in the dirt until he had the answer.

He measured off the correct lengths on the cable, cut three sections of it, then shimmied up the smokestack and crimped each cable end to the stack's fluted chimney, tight enough that they wouldn't come undone, but loose enough that he could adjust them. He climbed down and jiggled each cable until all three were spaced evenly around the chimney.

Next he sorted through the pile of rods until he found the three sturdiest ones, then paced twelve feet out from the stack's base and pounded each rod into the dirt with a ballast stone. Once satisfied they were all of equal height, he crimped the remaining cable ends to the tips of the rods.

Finally, he gently placed a ballast stone at the base of each rod until the cables were taut.

What he'd just built, he hoped, was an inverted dipole—or a “big top”—antenna. While he knew the satellite was somewhere up there in a stationary orbit, he wasn't sure where exactly. Though not the most efficient of antennas, the big top was their best bet, as it radiated into the atmosphere in all directions. Now all they had to do was get the frequency right and cross their fingers.

He was turning back to the pilothouse door when something caught his eye.

A half-mile astern, a lone man in camouflage gear appeared from around the river's bend. As Tanner watched, five more joined him, then ten. One of them pointed in his direction, then turned around and shouted something.