Two Peasants And A President Part 13

"Yes, seems to be. Commander, my daughter has been contacted by someone who claims to know that Holly and Raymond were kidnapped by parties on the mainland."

"Did she give you any details?"

"Only that they said they will contact her again," the captain lied.

"Commander, once again I appreciate your allowing me to use the Consulate."

"You're welcome, Captain. Please let me know immediately if you learn anything else?"

"Most definitely."

After he had escorted the captain to the building entrance, the commander returned to the communications room and accessed the system again, playing back the recording that is automatically made of every secure call in or out of the Consulate.

The cab ride to Happiness Balloon Company was a study in contrasts. Situated in an industrial area of Hong Kong, the difference between this and the magnificent buildings in the tourist and business sections of Kowloon and Hong Kong island was truly striking. Here cheaply constructed warehouses and factories were tightly squeezed together with overhead wires festooned everywhere in seeming endless tangles.

The cab dropped him off in front of a building where the number sign was larger than the three plaques announcing the companies residing there. The front door opened into a narrow hall leading to a peeling, painted metal door that was obviously the elevator. It was the most unsettling elevator ride of his life. The lift rattled sideways and made screeching noises as it rose haltingly to the top.

When to his relief, it reached the third floor, the door opened onto a floor filled with machines that appeared to seal the balloon halves as well as apply the artwork. There were pallets stacked with balloon blanks scattered about the factory floor. In one area, collapsed boxes waited to be filled and s.h.i.+pped. A man looked up with a questioning expression: "Yes?" he said finally.

Almost yelling to be heard over the machines, the captain replied: "I'm looking for Dong Heng."

"What?" the man said.

"I'm looking for Dong Heng," the captain said even louder.

The man stopped what he was doing and walked over. When the captain repeated what he had said, the man just shook his head. Across the floor in a gla.s.s walled enclosure, another man with a tie had looked up. He got up and walked across the floor.

"Yes?"

"I'm looking for Dong Heng," The man looked at Richard for a moment and then motioned him to follow. Once they were in the enclosed gla.s.s s.p.a.ce, he waved his arm toward the chair in front of his desk. Then he walked around and sat down.

"Your name?" he said.

"Richard Davis," the captain replied, "Yours?"

The man ignored the question and just stared at Richard for a moment.

"Who told you Dong Heng works here," he finally asked.

"Your balloon did," replied the captain. The man turned his head slightly sideways in puzzlement for an instant before the captain continued: "Does the name Sally Petersen ring a bell?" the captain asked, becoming irritated.

"Sally Petersen is?" asked the man.

"Sally Petersen is my daughter," the captain said with growing annoyance "and Holly Petersen is my granddaughter," he added.

The man seemed to visibly soften.

"May I buy you a cup of coffee, Mr. Davis?"

Ten minutes and a block later they were sitting in the corner of a restaurant that looked like it would be hard to find a table during lunch rush.

"Dong Heng is a fict.i.tious name, Mr. Davis," the man said once their coffee arrived. "The name means strong pillar or pillar of strength."

"My daughter indicated that a letter she received from your company was signed with that name . . . Mr. . . . . ?"

"Gang Guo," Mr. Davis. "Call me Min, please."

"Why did you send my daughter that letter, Min?" the captain asked straightforwardly.

"Because we wish to rescue your granddaughter," he replied simply.

"Why do you want to do that?" the captain asked, stifling the excitement that was rising in his chest.

"Two reasons, Mr. Davis. First, and most importantly, because it was a crime against humanity to kidnap your granddaughter and her husband. No country should ever abduct an innocent person, Mr. Davis. Second, we want to use your daughter and her husband to make a point to the world, that China will do anything to anyone to further its interests, whether they be money or politics. We want your granddaughter and her husband to tell their story to a camera and we want that video to be seen around the world."

"How do you know about the abduction, Min?" asked the captain.

"If what I am about to tell you, Mr. Davis, were to become known by the authorities, my life would be very short. I am one of many in this country who seek true freedom, not just controlled economic opportunity. We seek freedom of thought and of speech, freedom to ask questions and expect answers and finally, freedom to choose those who represent us. Many of us have been imprisoned, others have been murdered in places like Tiananmen Square. Our government continues to silence us everywhere, but they cannot silence our message."

"My group is aware of corrupt officials and police officers who are taking advantage of the lucrative trade in human organs to enrich themselves. In the past, it has been mostly unfortunate Chinese who have been swept up and turned into involuntary organ donors. More recently, a demand for Caucasian organs has arisen among certain wealthy persons who are squeamish about having organs from an Oriental in their bodies. They are willing to pay very large sums, Mr. Davis. That is why, I believe, your granddaughter and her husband were abducted."

The captain sat stunned as the enormity of what he had just heard sank in. Finally he said: "How do you propose to help my granddaughter, Min?"

"We intend to abduct her from her abductors. She and her husband are being held in a hospital in Tianjin where many of these operations are performed. We do not know now much time she has, but we believe it may be as little as a week, based on what we have been told by our people there."

"My daughter mentioned Senator Baines. How does he figure in this?"

"The senator more than anyone, we believe, has placed himself squarely in front of the immoral ambitions of Beijing. He has taken steps to s.h.i.+ne a light on things such as the sinking of the Filipino s.h.i.+p. We believe he is our most important ally in Was.h.i.+ngton, perhaps our only hope. Our goal is to rescue your loved ones and, with the help of Senator Baines, to put them in front of the world as an example of the evil of our leaders."

"I was under the impression that a rogue organization is responsible for these abductions," said the captain.

"You are correct to an extent, however, there are certain high officials who are being paid to look the other way. The harvesting of organs from hundreds of unwilling donors could not happen without the knowledge of people in high places in Beijing."

"Let's get started, Min," said the captain.

"Mr. Davis, I appreciate your love for your family and your desire to help, but my concern is . . . how do you say? . . . you are a stranger in a strange land."

"I may be a stranger in your land, Min, but I am no stranger to danger and, conflict. Before I retired, I captained a billion dollar wars.h.i.+p with the power to incinerate an entire city. I had the best training that the United States Navy can provide and I understand military planning, which in some form I am certain you will be applying to this challenge. And believe me, Min, there is no one in your organization who has one tenth the will to rescue my family that I have. You would be foolish not to utilize the skill and experience that is sitting in front of you."

Fed Ex had to be safe, he reasoned; the authorities simply couldn't read everything that left Hong Kong. He stood at the counter for several minutes, composing his letter to Sally and Jim, telling them that they must contact the senator immediately and that he would be leaving Hong Kong on the next train.

41.

A deluxe sleeper car was $270 from Kowloon to Beijing and would take a day and a night, followed by a 33 minute ride from Beijing to Tianjin. A travel service in Hong Kong that Min's friend owns made the arrangements and booked the hotel in Tianjin. As the Chinese countryside rolled by, he began to immerse himself in both the city of Tianjin and the organ transplant trade that existed there.

The I-Pad he bought in Hong Kong took a half hour or so to get used to. It was an amazing little gadget. You could search the internet as with a desktop computer or do what appeared to be a million other things. And the screen was way larger than a cell phone which made a big difference to his old eyes.

Tianjin is a large, modern city with an adjoining Binhai New Area, a companion city of sorts. Both sit on land created by sedimentation laid down by the Yellow River as it flowed for millennia into the Bohai Gulf on China's northern coast. Like several other cities in China, it had been forcibly opened to foreign trade and the major trading nations once had concessions here. It had also been involved in the Opium Wars and the Boxer Rebellion. During the Second World War, like so many other Chinese cities, it had been brutalized by the j.a.panese.

Given what Commander Moore had told him about how skillful the Chinese are at eavesdropping, he considered the possibility that his internet searches might be monitored. But there had been no indication that any connection had been made between him and his granddaughter who has a different name and resides in a different city. American tourists are continually accessing information on their I-Phones and I-Pads, and even a bureaucracy the size of China's could not possibly keep track of all of them. Besides, he reasoned, they are focused on keeping information away from their own people more than tourists who have unfettered access at home. To be on the safe side, he avoided certain words which he had read triggered the censors.

It nagged at him that Min had insisted that he not fly and instead take the train, so that he could familiarize himself with Tianjin and so that Min could prepare his colleagues for his arrival. The thought that something might happen to Holly and Ray while he was sitting on a train haunted him, but he had no choice. The long ride did provide hours to study and learn. They also gave him time to consider the outline of the plan that Min had shared with him.

Aside from the constant worry for his granddaughter and her husband, his only frustration was that his research was often stymied by what seemed like an army of censors filtering what is available on the net in China. Even though he avoided many words, things he did not expect were blocked. It not only emphasized what he was up against, but ill.u.s.trated how many things the government here considers as secrets not to be shared with its people. But persistent effort did provide some details: Organ transplants had been going on in China since the 1960s.

In 1984 it became legal to remove organs from executed criminals.

Possible ethical abuses due to coercion and corruption led to human rights groups' protests the 1990s.

In 2004, there were over 12,000 organ transplants in China In 2006, there were claims that organs had been harvested from live members of the banned Falun Gong.

2006 BBC report had showed negotiations with doctors at No. 77 Central Hospital in Tianjin for a liver transplant.

Advertis.e.m.e.nts for livers priced $60,000 and up There were also articles disputing some of the claims as well as a.s.sertions by Chinese authorities that organ transplants are under strict control, but chilling clips of kneeling prisoners being meticulously shot through the neck so as not to destroy valuable organs spoke volumes. One article even had a photograph of a sleek, black, windowless motor home, a rolling death chamber that increased the executioner's reach.

After many hours of study, Richard dozed off, sleeping fitfully as the train rushed through the Chinese night, memories of Holly as a small child sitting in his lap appearing again and again in his dreams.

42.

It had been dark for more than an hour; the temperature had already dropped ten degrees on the soccer field outside the hospital. The headlights of the ambulance lit the ground in front of them. Dr. Min Qiang and his fellow doctor s.h.i.+vered as they stood silently, each holding one end of a stretcher.

Several feet away the manacled prisoner was forced to kneel. He was then given an injection that he was told was a tranquilizer to prevent unnecessary suffering. He thanked them profusely; they always did, not knowing that the syringe actually contained heparin to prevent blood clotting.

The prisoner trembled as he felt the cold steel gun barrel touch the back of his neck. The shot pitched him forward, landing first on his face and then tumbling sideways. He lay twitching as the bailiff removed the cuffs and leg irons. The doctors had already set the stretcher beside the prisoner and moved him quickly onto it and then into the ambulance, where urologists stood with scalpels poised. They deftly opened the abdomen as the man continued to breathe, his heart still beating. In less than five minutes, they rushed the kidneys into the hospital.

Then other doctors removed the liver and corneas, while Min Qiang and his fellow doctor removed the skin. When they were done, the half-dead corpse was thrown into a plastic bag and sent to the crematorium. The family was never given the body.

Min Qiang had done this more than a hundred times, he reckoned. But the revulsion never abated. Once inside the physicians' bathroom he vomited into the toilet. He was shaking too much to leave the bathroom, so he sat pretending to have a bowel movement until the nausea pa.s.sed. Then he went back to his office and made it appear that he was doing paperwork. But he merely moved the papers around on the desk to look busy; in reality he was thinking about the plan.

Soon, he and others would attempt something that had never been done, saving two human beings from this ghastly place. Within the hospital there were two co-conspirators, one also a doctor, the other an ambulance driver.

He thought there might be others, but the movement was carefully compartmentalized and that had not been shared with him.

If all went according to plan, they would wheel the 'donors' out of their rooms under the pretext of moving them to another hospital. Once outside, they would be smuggled out of the city to safety. It sounded so easy, but he knew it would be anything but. Min Qiang was well aware that if they failed, he would become an organ 'donor' too. He had prepared himself as best he could if it came to that.

He thought about the plan for two years, slowly, carefully getting to know his colleagues, trying to discern who, like him, detested what they were doing. But they had not only to detest what they were doing, they had to be prepared to risk their lives doing something about it. He felt confident that he could trust the other doctor as well as the ambulance driver. But there were others who they would need to carry out the plan. Those he did not even know. Someone else trusted them. He would have to rely on others. That frightened him.

43.

There was a Crown Vic parked outside, just like they said there would be. The kitchen and living room lights were on. He pulled up alongside the big sedan and rolled down the window.

"How's it going?" he asked the plainclothes officer inside.

"Pretty quiet, I came on about an hour ago. Local PD's been by a few times; they're cruising the area keeping an eye out for anyone who doesn't belong. The stopped a jogger a little while ago, but turned out he lives a couple blocks over."

"Just thought I'd check," said Baines. "Need some coffee?"

"Nah, thanks just the same. I've got a thermos on the seat next to me."

"Well, if you change your mind or need to use the bathroom, just call ahead."

"Don't worry about that, Senator. I wouldn't dream of sneaking up on you not with that big .45 of yours."

Baines turned into the drive and parked. After he'd retrieved the Sig from the console and stuck it in his waistband, he got out, deciding to walk around the house and check things out for himself.

Molly was in the kitchen. When she saw him through the window, she about had a fright. He put his hands up to disarm her.

"Don't you know better than to go sneaking around?" she said when he was inside. "You 'bout scared me to death."

"Sorry, I was just taking a look around. Everything OK?"

"Yeah, phone rang a few times. I let the machine take it. Judging from the news, they think I'm your mistress."

"So I heard. I don't think you can have a mistress if you're not married, can you?" he asked.

She just shrugged. She was barefoot. Her toenails were painted bright red, his favorite color. He had to admit that it felt pretty good coming home and finding Molly in the kitchen. It had been a long time since he'd come home to anything but an empty house.

"What smells good?" he asked.

"I made some spaghetti 'cause I could simmer it as long as I needed until you came home. I'm glad you're here," she said, without looking up. "That cop's outside 'n' all, but I still feel better now that you're here with that cannon of yours. I never did get to thank you, you know."

"For what?" he asked.

"For saving my life, silly," she said. She put her arms on his shoulders and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

Better than nothing, he thought to himself. He'd been trying real hard to keep his hands to himself. He'd just managed to do it again. She'd obviously heard the interview, the one where he'd told the interviewer that he and the lady in the house had behaved themselves. He wondered how long that would last.