Bo had ignored the first few emails. The hook was an adjunct professor at MIT named Dao Lin who was working on novel chemical processes applicable to electric vehicle battery design. I wrote in my email to Bo that Dao had joined MIT just a few months ago from a secret Ford research lab and therefore was likely to have had recent exposure to cutting-edge fabrication techniques. After a few days, Bo responded, asking about when he could speak with Dao on the phone. I introduced them over email and set up a dial-in for them to connect in two days. Apparently the call, which was fielded by another FBI agent posing as Dao, went well. After that, Bo invited me to lunch. The agents seemed pleased with this progress and arranged for me to fly back to Beijing the following evening.
Our lunch was set at a Peking duck restaurant in the busy Chaoyang District. I couldn’t sleep the night before and was now running five minutes late. It was more than jet lag—Bo had been frightening enough as a ruthless businessman, but as an MSS operative? Maybe he already knew I was onto him; I pictured a waiter lurking in the corner with a chloroform-soaked towel tucked neatly into his waistcoat. When I finally arrived at the restaurant, I was surprised to find Bo sitting by himself at a table in the open, rather than in a private room, dressed in a polo shirt and khakis.
“Michael, it is good to see you!” he said, waving me over. “Thank you for being so understanding with the situation at Naveon. For an appointment of your stature, it is important to wait for the right moment—not a time when the organization is so distracted.”
As soon as I sat down, the waiter set down a platter of roast duck carvings with spring onion, black bean sauce, and thin pancakes on the side. Bo beckoned for me to start. Remembering my manners, I poured tea for both of us, but got a little spatter on the tablecloth because my hands were shaky. “No, of course I understand,” I said. “For now I’m just focused on doing everything I can to get Naveon on steady footing technology-wise.”
“It’s a good start,” Bo said, and we clinked our teacups together. “So, how did you get to know this man you introduced me to, Dao?”
I recited the backstory that the FBI gave me: Dao did some graduate work at Princeton, I’m friendly with his former advisor, and asked him to put us in touch.
Bo rested his chopsticks on the table. “But earlier you told me you weren’t in touch with anyone from Princeton?”
Was it a genuine question or did he suspect I was lying to him? Why had he stopped chewing?
“I just meant people I used to see socially, like in my graduating class,” I said. “For professional contacts like this, I’ve made an effort to stay in touch over the years. Luckily I had a good relationship with Dao’s advisor while I was a student, so he was quick to respond.”
“I see. Fair enough. Relationships must be nurtured, you’ll learn this soon enough. Will Dr. Lin come to China? For these things it is often good to meet face-to-face.”
“I’ve asked him—he’s too afraid to visit China, given the high-profile cases against other Chinese scientists in the past two years. I’m happy to act as a conduit for anything he shares with us. Maybe we can offer him an honorarium to show our appreciation for his time.”
“Yes, an honorarium is a good idea. Though I should add that in these delicate situations, money really is just a way for us to show our appreciation, nothing more, certainly not a bribe. In my correspondences with many talented haigui over the years, Michael, I’ve noticed a few commonalities. Money is almost never the main motive. It’s usually a patriotism of sorts that is difficult for those who grew up in the West to comprehend—a desire to help the motherland, as natural as a son returning home to take care of his elderly mother, even though he has a family of his own. Those who pursue science feel this noble instinct even more strongly than the average person because their entire existence is dedicated to improving the human condition. For them, it is an honor to lend help, not a service they provide for compensation. It is quite a shame that the government in America has criminalized this noble instinct.”
To my surprise, his tone struck me as sincere. “You’re right,” I said carefully. “As you said to me once, good ideas need the right soil.”
“That’s right!” Bo said. Once again, we clinked our teacups together. “One more thing. Have you seen my niece lately?” His eyes were still smiling but seemed unusually watchful.
“Vivian?” I asked.
“Yes, Vivian. Her mother—my sister—called me the other day, hasn’t been able to get ahold of her. This is not uncommon, as her interests seem to take her to far-flung places on short notice. The two of you seemed close, so I thought to ask.”
“No, I haven’t been able to get in touch with her. Will you let me know if you hear from her?”
“Of course. Anyway, how have the first two weeks in Beijing been for you? Anything interesting to report?”
Did he know that I went back to the US this weekend? Surely someone of his stature could pull my flight records.
“So far it’s been good,” I said. “Maybe a bit lonely. I haven’t gotten around to making any friends yet.”
“Oh, don’t worry about that. I’ll have my assistant Fanfan show you around. She’s around your age. Free tomorrow, I’m guessing?”
“Sounds great,” I said.