Wollerton hadn’t been to China for over ten years. He’d been a family man on his last trip, married with two kids. That was before Esther had decided he was an inferior version of the man she’d married and took herself and the kids off to live in Aberdyfi, a tiny seaside town on the Welsh coast. He rarely saw them, and felt their loss every single day. Freya and Luke had been his world. Their sweet faces had always lit up even the darkest day and he missed them terribly. More so because he spent most of his time alone in Overlook, the family bolthole that had cost years of self-denial. No drinks with the lads, no expensive holidays, no flashy car. But the sacrifice would have been worth it if he’d been able to live the dream he’d had throughout his years in Six. The house, situated on the Moray Firth, was supposed to be where he and Esther grew old together and welcomed armies of grandchildren to be spoiled with jams and treats. Now it was just an empty cave where he drank too much and moped around feeling sorry for himself. Maybe he needed to move on, to live somewhere more vibrant? And there were few places in the world with more energy and dynamism than China.
Echo had given them a potted history of Qingdao and its recent explosive growth. Situated on the Yellow Sea, the city had long been of strategic importance and had been occupied by the Japanese twice in the twentieth century. After the Second World War, Qingdao developed as a trading and manufacturing hub, and when the Chinese government implemented an open-door policy in the mid-eighties, it became one of the largest ports in the world. But Echo’s enumeration of the tons of steel, concrete, miles of cable, railtracks, roads, population and GDP growth didn’t impress Wollerton. What gave him the best sense of the scale of human endeavour was the view. They’d driven south from the airport, passing through a vast residential neighbourhood made up of towering apartment blocks, until they’d reached the Qingdao Haiwan Bridge, one of the longest in the world. It straddled Jiaozhou Wan, a large bay, heading towards Hongshiyacun, another residential district on the Huangdao side of the bridge. They branched off and continued south, down the peninsula towards downtown Qingdao. When the heart of the city finally came into view, Wollerton couldn’t help but be impressed. The gleaming skyline of the business district lined the shore to the south, and to the west of them lay the vast port complex. Everywhere he looked there were huge glass and steel structures that rivalled anything a western city could aspire to, and there were so many of them. Such grand symbols of prosperity had taken centuries to materialize in Europe, but this city would have been nothing but fields fewer than forty years ago. Wollerton had always had to adjust his British sense of scale when visiting the grand open spaces of America, but he now had a new benchmark: China. The Covid-19 pandemic had slowed China’s relentless growth, but the country had quickly adapted to the testing and public health challenges and was on the upswing again. The speed and scale of the transformation here was a testament to the strength of human will. Whatever its politics, it was impossible to see such grand achievements and not believe the People’s Republic would play a defining role in the twenty-first century.
‘Of course, we never talk politics,’ Echo said, veering away from her tour guide spiel. ‘I’m not sure I could even tell you what our politics are anymore. But at least there’s money,’ she shrugged. ‘For some, anyway.’
‘What are you doing now?’ Brigitte asked.
‘Same as before. Public relations for a manufacturer. We make body armour and specialist military equipment. They like my intelligence background.’
‘How many kids have you got?’ Wollerton chipped in.
‘Two. A boy who’s four and a girl of two.’
‘Any names?’
‘Their English names are Alex and Bethan,’ Echo said. ‘I’d like them to go to school in the West.’
‘And your husband?’ Wollerton asked.
‘Sorry about the interrogation,’ Brigitte said.
‘What? I’m just making conversation. Just because we’re . . .’ He hesitated. ‘Well, whatever we are, it doesn’t mean we can’t be human.’
‘He’s a lawyer.’ Echo tooted her horn at a van that veered into her lane. ‘It’s not the most exciting job in the world, but it’s stable and the money’s good. So, since you’re –’ she mimicked Wollerton’s hesitation – ‘well, whatever you are, what brings you to Qingdao?’
‘The fresh air,’ Brigitte replied, and Echo giggled.
One consequence of the relentless industry was the air pollution which hung low over the bay.
‘Still keeping things close,’ Echo remarked. ‘You’ll never change. Well, I’ve got you an apartment for whatever it is you’re doing. It’s owned by a friend of my aunt. He’s in Hong Kong on business for a couple of months, so the place is free. It’s on the seventeenth floor too, so you might be high enough to get some of that fresh air.’
‘Thank you,’ Brigitte replied.
‘Anything for an old friend,’ Echo said as she turned off the main thoroughfare through Qingdao and took them into a development of four octagonal apartment blocks that towered above them.
They were so close to the sea Wollerton could smell brine in the air. Echo drove through the complex to the building nearest the waterfront and double-parked by the entrance.
‘We should have drinks one night?’ she said.
‘Sure. Let me know when you get a babysitter,’ Brigitte replied.
‘Of course,’ Echo said with a broad smile. ‘Well, must dash. I’ve got to collect the kids from their grandma.’
‘I’ve got your number,’ Brigitte said, and she and Echo embraced.
Wollerton stepped out of the car and grabbed their bags from the boot.
‘Apartment one seven six. The porter is expecting you.’ Echo dangled a set of keys at Brigitte, who took them and got out.
‘Thanks again,’ she said.
‘No problem. Call me.’ Echo stepped on the accelerator and the car lurched forward.
‘She always like that?’ Wollerton asked as they started towards the building. ‘Or is this her losing her touch?’
‘She’s not losing anything,’ Brigitte assured him.
They entered an air-conditioned lobby that was decked in brown marble and trimmed with gold. A porter in a uniform that could have been snatched from a 1950s cinema usher sat at a counter and nodded curtly as they walked towards the elevator.
Their apartment faced the sea and had a great view of the waterfront park and wide promenade. Beyond the calm waters was a lighthouse that marked the southernmost tip of the bay. Echo’s aunt’s friend was a man of peculiar taste. The décor made Wollerton think of an eighties stockbroker. Everything was black, red or gold, and the walls were lined with framed prints of performance cars and scantily clad women.
‘Where do we—’ Wollerton began.
But Brigitte cut him off. ‘That was pretty outrageous what that guy did on the plane,’ she said.
Wollerton had no idea what she was talking about until he saw her pull something from her holdall. He put his bag down on an eight-place glass dining table. ‘You think that was outrageous? I heard a story about a guy in LA who used to go up and down Venice Beach and—’
‘I hope this isn’t gross,’ Brigitte cut him off. ‘We should see what the beach is like.’
She crossed the room, opened the sliding doors and stepped onto the small balcony.
‘I thought we were talking about the gross guy,’ Wollerton remarked as he followed her out.
‘We were,’ Brigitte replied, manipulating a small computer tablet. The device was slightly larger than a cell phone and a red sensor strip ran along one end. ‘Now we’re talking about beaches.’
Wollerton looked at the seafront and saw a long wide stretch of sand to their west. He glanced down at the device Brigitte was concealing from unseen eyes, and saw the screen had come to life. She pressed a button that said ‘Run Scan’, and the sensor, which was pointed at Brigitte’s midriff, emitted a low light in a series of pulses. A processing spiral appeared on screen.
‘It’s beautiful,’ Brigitte said, nodding towards the bay. ‘And Echo was right, you can see everything from here.’
‘It’s really something,’ Wollerton agreed.
Whatever programme Brigitte was running came to life and the device displayed a three-dimensional representation of the living room. Emphasis was placed on any electrical items, such as the television and lights. Brigitte zoomed in on the 3D model to reveal six listening devices and three cameras concealed in walls and objects around the room. She turned the device slightly and the image updated to show a listening device directly above them – but no camera.
She took Wollerton’s arm. ‘What do you want to do tonight?’ she said. Her fingers silently tapped Morse code. Said Echo sharp. Need know if she is curious or threat.
‘I don’t know,’ Wollerton said. ‘Maybe grab something to eat?’ He took her hand and tapped his genuine reply. How do we find out?
Bugs I planted on dress and in car will help, she replied, flashing a crafty smile. ‘Sounds good. Why don’t you see if you can find some towels?’ she suggested aloud. ‘Let’s check out the beach.’