Beijing

With pride, Orlov recounted in detail for Zhou everything he did to arrange President Dalton’s assassination. The two of them were alone in Zhou’s office.

At the end, Orlov said, “In summary, I believe it was the perfect operation.”

To Orlov’s astonishment, Zhou was smiling. That alarmed Orlov. He had never seen the man smiling before. He was on guard, fearful Zhou’s objective was to suck him into some kind of trap.

“You did a good job,” Zhou told Orlov. “With Dalton’s assassination.”

“Thank you,” Orlov said. “Now I want to arrange for you to come to Moscow and meet with President Kuznov.”

“I intend to do that,” Zhou said. “I am interested in forging an alliance with your president.”

“Good. Let’s set a date.”

“I’m not quite ready,” Zhou said. “I need you to do one other thing first.”

So there it was, Kuznov was right. Zhou was yanking him around. But what could he do about it?”

“I thought we had an understanding.”

The smile was gone, replaced by a hard, cruel look. “Then you thought wrong.”

“Perhaps you can have the meeting with Kuznov in Moscow. Afterwards, I’ll do this additional thing.”

“That’s not possible. I had you kill Dalton to prove yourself. Now I’ll let you and President Kuznov share in something incredibly valuable.”

Orlov recalled Kuznov’s words when he told the Russian president that Zhou wanted him to assassinate Dalton. “Does Zhou really want to have an alliance with Russia? Or does he just want you to do his dirty work?”

Kuznov would not be happy that Orlov hadn’t been able to arrange Zhou’s visit to Moscow after the Dalton assassination. He wasn’t looking forward to being the messenger for that news. But for now, he had to listen to Zhou. Hear what he wanted.

As if reading Orlov’s mind, Zhou said, “This is the last thing I’ll ask you to do before I come to Moscow to meet with President Kuznov. And when you hear what it is, you’ll realize how beneficial this will be to Russia as well as China.”

“What is it?”

“The United States has developed, but not yet built, a new class of sophisticated long-range missiles. If China and Russia had this technology, then China could launch attacks against Japan and Taiwan, and Russia could launch attacks against Eastern Europe, knowing that the United States wouldn’t dare retaliate for fear that we’d launch our own long-range missiles against American targets. So this technology is critical to our alliance.”

Orlov was puzzled. Zhou continued, “Do you know what I’m saying?”

“I hear you, but what do I have to do with this?”

“I want you to steal the American technology for these long-range missiles. And provide it to Kuznov as well as to me.”

“Let me be clear. I have had no education or training in technology.”

Zhou interrupted him. “But I presume that your KGB masters gave you lots of training in how to steal American secrets.”

“Of course.”

“Good. Then I will have you meet with Jiang Hua of the Technical Branch of the Chinese Defense Ministry. He’ll explain to you exactly what you need to know to steal this technology. I’ll attend this briefing. It’s important for me to understand it as well.”

Zhou pressed the intercom and said, “Get Jiang Hua over to my office.”

While they were waiting, Zhou said to Orlov, “Have you seen Androshka?”

“The last time I was here. Not yet on this visit. I came to you from the airport. I plan to see her after our meeting.”

“Is your sister happy in Beijing?”

What an explosive question, Orlov thought. He had spent enough time with Zhou to realize that the man had a massive ego. If Orlov said “no,” Zhou would likely expel Androshka from China or perhaps kill her. He couldn’t let that happen, not only because he loved Androshka but because having her in Zhou’s bed gave Orlov a
personal connection, albeit tenuous, with Zhou, and perhaps a source for information if Orlov ever wanted to use Androshka to spy on Zhou.

Choosing his words carefully, Orlov responded, “Androshka told me she was very happy in Beijing. That you’ve made her feel like a Chinese Empress.”

“That’s good. I care a great deal for Androshka.”

Orlov felt as if he’d dodged a bullet, not just for himself, but for Androshka.

With relief he watched the door open and a short, slight man, barely five feet tall, with a shaved head and dressed in civilian clothes enter. He was carrying a thin laptop.

“Jiang Hua,” Zhou said. “Meet my friend Orlov. He’s a Russian who failed math in school and now wants to learn about the most sophisticated military technology in the world, dealing with long-range missiles. Can you provide him with what he needs to know?”

“I can do that, Mr. President,” Jiang said deferentially.

Zhou pointed to the table in the back of the room and the three of them sat down with Zhou at the head of the table.

Jiang locked his fingers together and began speaking. “This new American weapons system is called Prompt Global Strike, sometimes referred to as PGS. It is capable of reaching any corner of the earth from the United States in under an hour and with such incredible precision and force that they could destroy an Iranian nuclear site, attack a North Korean missile on a launch pad, or kill a terrorist in a cave in Afghanistan. And all from the United States.

Orlov gave a long, low whistle. “Exactly,” Jiang said. “It clearly changes the balance of power in the world. The technology has just been completed. Implementation will begin if and when the construction budget is approved by Congress. PGS was developed by Rogers Laughton, a huge U.S. defense contractor located in Gaithersburg, Maryland, outside of Washington. Rogers Laughton has a special unit, called the Epsilon Unit, of five brilliant engineers devoted to the PGS project. We’ve compiled detailed bios on the five.”

“How do you know all this?” Orlov asked.

“We had our military intelligence people sift through information on various websites. Of course, we don’t have the PGS technology,
but we’ve zeroed in on the five engineers who developed and have access to it. Four men and one woman.”

Jiang opened his computer, punched several buttons and turned the screen toward Orlov.

Displayed was a picture of four men and one woman.

“The members of the Epsilon Unit,” Jiang said. “I can pull up bios for each of them.”

“Can you print the photos and bios for me?” Orlov asked.

“Yes. Give me a couple of minutes.”

Before Jiang had a chance to print them, Zhou slammed shut his computer, narrowly missing Jiang’s fingers. “You don’t get the bios until I know Kuznov is in.”

That evening, Orlov arranged to have Androshka come to his suite at the St. Regis for dinner.

An hour before her eight thirty arrival time, he checked the suite for bugs. He found one attached to the bottom of the frame of a landscape picture hanging on a wall in the dining room.

Orlov was convinced that Zhou, knowing Androshka was coming for dinner, had planted it. At eight twenty, Orlov disabled the listening device. He’d reconnect it when she left. He didn’t tell her about it. His objective was to persuade her to stay in Beijing. If she learned Zhou was spying on her, she’d go home, pack, and head to the airport.

Orlov, who was three years older than Androshka, knew very well how impulsive she could be. Growing up, she was always flying off the handle.

After their father’s death, their house became a virtual war zone. Their mother, a nervous chain-smoker with aspirations of grandeur, became embittered once her husband died and the Party perks ended. So she declared war on her daughter, jealous of her younger age; and Androshka responded by rarely doing what her mother asked.

Orlov, as the man of the house, took responsibility for Androshka. That meant taking her side in battles with their mother, the despised enemy, which led the two of them to develop a closeness.

In the end, Androshka always listened to Orlov. If he told her to follow mother’s command on some issue, she would do it.

He hoped that he still had that kind of influence over his sister. He knew that he’d need it this evening. As soon as the waiters deposited champagne, vodka, and caviar and departed, Androshka said to Orlov, “Can I leave Beijing now and move back to Moscow?”

Oh oh, he thought. “Not quite yet.”

“The last time we had dinner, you told me I’d only have to stay a month. No longer. That’s my limit.”

He gulped down some vodka. “I was unduly optimistic. It’ll take a little longer. I’m sorry. Factors beyond my control.”

“Screw that!” she said in an emotionally charged voice. “I’m leaving tomorrow.” She stood up and bolted toward the door.

He cut her off before she reached it. “Don’t go. Please. Let’s at least talk.”

She relented and slumped down onto a sofa. “Zhou’s a changed man since he returned to Beijing to take over the Presidency,” she said. “He has no time or interest in me. In Paris, he had an amazing sexual appetite. Here, many times he can’t even perform.”

“He’s under a lot of pressure in his job. You have to appreciate that.”

“You don’t understand. It’s more than that. He had an Intelligence Minister, Bao Yin, whom President Li had appointed. Zhou got rid of him.”

“He’s entitled to select the members of his own government.”

“He didn’t simply remove Bao from his job. He had Bao arrested in the middle of a meeting. The next morning at sunrise, after being tortured all night, he was executed by a firing squad without a trial.”

“What was Bao’s crime?”

“Zhou said that he was not only incompetent, but he was a spy for the Americans. He made Zhou angry.”

“How do you know all this?”

“Zhou told me. He’s proud of it. Sometimes, when he gets angry, he frightens me.”

Her words shook Orlov to the core. If he weren’t careful, both he and Androshka would end up like Bao. But for now, he still had to talk her into remaining in Beijing. Just as she had told him about Bao, she might learn other valuable information being with Zhou. Having her on the inside was important to his mission.

“No more than two months,” he said.

She sighed deeply. “I don’t know if I can.”

“Please, Androshka. I’m asking you to do it for me.” Those were the words he used when they were growing up and he was trying to persuade her to accede to one of their mother’s arbitrary commands.

She ran her hand through her hair, then finally said, “Only for you, Dimitri, but in my mind, I’m planting a calendar and I’ll tick off the days one by one. If it hits sixty, I’m gone.”

“That’s all I ask. Now, let’s get the waiters back. Time to eat.”

“I have no appetite.”

“You’ll see the food. You’ll be hungry.”

Androshka called the waiters. As Orlov looked at her sad face, he realized he was playing a dangerous game, not letting Androshka leave. At some point, she might lose her temper, fly off the handle and tell Zhou what she really thought about him. Just as she had told their mother. That would be in character for Androshka. And having heard about Bao, Orlov was afraid to imagine how Zhou would react.