Paris

Ever since Captain Cheng’s effort to kill her, Mei Ling didn’t answer her cell phone and rarely returned calls because she worried the call was a ploy by Zhou to determine her location and to send someone to kill her. But when the caller ID showed that Yin Shao, the Chinese Health Minister, was calling, she made an exception. Mei Ling and Shao were longtime friends. She knew that Shao despised Zhou. She doubted whether Shao would be working with the Chinese president. While there was a chance that Zhou’s security people were eavesdropping on the call, unbeknownst to Shao, Mei Ling was willing to risk it. Weary from being cooped up alone in the safe house, interacting only with French security people, Mei Ling desperately wanted contact with one of her countrymen.

“Yes,” she answered in a halting voice.

“This is Yin Shao. I’m in Paris for an international health symposium and I would like to see you.”

She hesitated. Was it a genuine social visit? Or a trap? Something Shao had been coerced by Zhou into doing? Then she recalled that Shao had been with her in the observation booth above the surgery theater when President Li had been assassinated; and he had been appalled. He knew what had happened: That Zhou had killed President Li. It was possible that Shao was bringing her information: maybe a message from one of her friends on the Central Committee. Attending an international health conference was the perfect cover.

She had to risk it and meet Shao. She was confident that Jacques would agree to let her do it with sufficient security. If not, she’d call Elizabeth.

“I can meet you this afternoon,” she told Shao.

“Tell me where and when.”

Mei Ling couldn’t let Shao come to this house. Too dangerous if she was making a mistake. She had to call Jacques and get his consent. Also ask him to set a place. “I’ll call you right back with the details,” Mei Ling said.

She then called Jacques. “This could be an important meeting for me. I need your help in arranging it. I’d like a place that would be natural for a Chinese tourist to visit yet easy for you to defend.”

When he didn’t respond, she said, “I could call Elizabeth or Craig and get their approval if you’d like.”

“You’re in France,” Jacques said gruffly. “This is my turf. I call the shots.”

“I’m sorry,” she replied demurely.

“Okay. Okay. Call your friend, the Health Minister, back. Tell him to meet you at three this afternoon in the Sculpture Garden in back of the Rodin Museum on the Left Bank. At noon, I’ll clear out the museum and have the large metal gates in front closed. No other visitors will be permitted until you both leave. We’ll post a ‘private event’ sign.”

Mei Ling arrived first, walked through the Museum and into the bright sunlight of the garden, and took a seat on a bench in front of Rodin’s Thinker. As she opened a small umbrella to shield her face from the sun, she glanced up at the museum roof. Three French sharpshooters were lying flat on their stomachs, their guns raised. Ten minutes later, precisely at three, Shao arrived.

Approaching her, he was looking around anxiously, his gait unsteady. While the day was warm, it didn’t justify the perspiration that dotted his forehead.

A terrible thought ran through her mind. What if I’m wrong? What if he reaches into his pocket, pulls out a gun, and shoots me?

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. It might be her last.

Then she felt the bench vibrate as someone sat down. She opened her eyes to see Shao staring at her. “Are you alright?” he asked.

“Yes. And very glad to see you.”

“I hope you’ve been well.”

“Thanks. The French are taking good care of me.”

“Is this place secure for us to talk?”

No one else was in the Sculpture Garden. “Absolutely,” she replied.

“I know that Zhou sent Captain Cheng to assassinate you, but the French killed Cheng.”

“How did you learn that?”

“A group of us, including supporters of yours on the Central Committee, share information about Zhou and the outrageous things he’s doing.”

“He had my son murdered. Didn’t he?”

Shao looked down at his feet. “Yes, I’m sorry to say. Zhou ordered your son’s Captain to force him to divulge your location so he could send Cheng to kill you.”

“I figured as much. I hope my son didn’t die in pain.”

“He was tossed into the sea.”

“After he was no doubt tortured to give up my location.”

Shao didn’t respond. He fiddled with his ring.

Mei Ling asked, “Who else has Zhou killed?”

“Bao Yin, the Minister of Intelligence; and your friend Qua Ping, on the Central Committee.”

“No!” Mei Ling said in horror.

Shao wasn’t finished. “Zhou also killed his Russian mistress, Androshka.”

Shao looked around nervously. Then reached into his pocket, removed a cell phone, which he slipped it into Mei Ling’s black bag.

“What’s that?” she asked.

“On the phone is a video of Zhou killing Androshka. It shows the behavior of a crazed man.”

Mei Ling was astounded. “How did you get it?”

“One of Zhou’s servants, who hates him, took it. He forwarded it to Wei Fuzhi on the Central Committee. Wei knew I was coming to Paris. He asked me to meet with you and give you the video. I also have a message from Wei,” Shao paused and leaned his face close to Mei Ling’s ear. “Wei asked me to tell you that when you believe the moment is right, he wants you to return to China to seize the Presidency from Zhou. The country needs you, and he will line up support in Beijing.”

Mei Ling swallowed hard. “You’re asking a great deal.”

“You’ll have broad support. The business community is unhappy with Zhou’s erratic behavior. Though I have no proof, I heard that even Zhou’s brother, the billionaire industrialist, Zhou Yun, is finding his brother to be an embarrassment.”

Shao’s words made a deep impression on Mei Ling. Also, the risk he took by meeting with her and carrying the video from Beijing.

“You’re a brave man doing this,” Mei Ling said.

“I care deeply about my country. Our country. We cannot afford a lengthy rule by another Mao. Now I must get back to my conference.”

Mei Ling told Shao to leave first. “I’ll wait fifteen minutes before going myself.”

As she sat alone on the bench, she decided she had to get the video of Zhou’s murder of Androshka into Elizabeth’s hands. Craig and Elizabeth would know what to do with it.