Hour of the Rat

CHAPTER THIRTY

CARTER WANTS TO MEET face-to-face. I don’t like that idea. Sure, I called him. But I don’t exactly trust him.

It didn’t take him long to find out what I wanted to know. At least that’s what he claims.

“You pick the place,” he says. “I’m not having this conversation over the phone.”

“When you get to Shanghai, call me. We’ll pick a place then.”

If he’s going to fuck me over, turn me over the Eos people, I’m not going to make it easy for him.

“Fine. I’ll be down tomorrow.”

He calls me around 4:00 P.M. the next day. “Okay. Where?”

There’s a fancy bar down on the Bund that I went to once with Lucy Wu. Not really my thing, but unlike the expat dive bars I generally go to, it’s the kind of place where you’d have a hard time causing trouble.

Besides, now I even have the outfit for it.

I TELL HIM 6:00 P.M. and make sure I’m there first. It’s a bar/restaurant on the first floor of one of the restored European buildings that line the Shanghai riverfront. Sunk a little below ground level, so it’s got that dark, almost speakeasy vibe. I scope out the place. I mean, it looks okay, but what do I really know about this spy shit? There’s some foreign businessmen having cocktails and overpriced scotch. A couple of elegant Chinese women wearing little black dresses. Accent lights glow against the black-and-red walls.

I seat myself at a little table against the wall, where I can see the entrance and I’m not too far from the back exit, then order a beer-some new Chinese microbrew made by an American and an Australian. It’s not bad.

I don’t have to wait too long before Carter shows up.

He spots me pretty fast. Comes over to the table and looks me up and down.

“You’re looking kinda fancy,” he says, pulling out the chair opposite and sitting down heavily.

I shrug. “Yeah, well, don’t get used to it.”

He looks the same. Middle-aged. Ginger hair going grey. Freckles. Blocky body in a cheap suit.

“How much am I gonna overpay for a tequila in this place?”

“Too much. It’s on me.”

He chuckles. “You’re really moving up in the world, Doc.”

“If you say so.”

He pounds his tequila and orders another one. I sip my beer. I’m trying to be smart.

“So tell me,” he says after the second tequila arrives. “What’s your take?”

“My take?”

“Tell me what you think is going on. And then I’ll tell you what I know.”

I sigh. I mean, I could be wrong.

Here goes nothing.

“I think this guy Han Rong worked for Hongxing Agricultural Products, like he said. But I don’t know that he really quit because he was all… outraged or whatever by what Eos and Hongxing are doing.”

Carter stares at me with a neutral expression. Drinks some tequila. “How come you say that?”

“Because… I don’t know, the dude’s a weasel.”

He nods. “Okay. So then what?”

“Could be a lot of stuff. Like maybe he’s helping to fuck up Eos here in China so whoever’s paying him, some other company, can get a leg up with all this GMO crap. Or he’s still working for Hongxing, even. Hongxing decided they wanted to fuck over Eos and steal the patents for whatever it is they’re working on together, raise enough shit about Eos in the international press that Eos just gives up on whatever it is they’re doing here. Make them the bad guys. And whoever, Hongxing or some other company, can take over the market here, for now.”

All the while Carter stares at me, eyebrows half raised, expression a blank. I feel myself flush.

“Something like that,” I mutter.

“Not bad.” Carter lifts his hand to call the waitress. “Go on.”

“Okay. I’m not sure about this next part. Well, I figure Eos knows what Han Rong knows. About the three seed companies.”

“What do you mean?”

I sip my beer. “The American guy said, ‘We know the source of the leak now.’ ”

Carter nods, fractionally.

“The place in Guiyu, maybe that was for real,” I say after the waitress leaves. “I mean, as an address for a fake business. Or a place they could drop shipments to distribute to other stores or to farmers. It’s not like officials or whoever would probably check up on them, right? Who’d go looking for a seed company in Guiyu? Nobody goes there unless they have to.”

I think about the camera at the storefront in Dali. They were waiting for someone. Someone like me.

“The store in Dali, it was a setup. A trap. They were just waiting to see who took the bait. When I showed up at the warehouse in Guiyang, they were expecting me.”

“What about your pal Jason?”

“He’s not my pal,” I snap. “I never even met him.”

“Jesus, you’re touchy,” he mutters. “I mean, how far do you think he got?”

And this is where it gets tricky. Because even if I can trust Carter not to screw me over, I bet he’d love to get his hands on Jason. To collect the bounty on his head.

“I’m not sure. I’m guessing that he got as far as Dali,” I said. “But if he went to Guiyang, he never visited the warehouse. That’s what they wanted to know when they caught me. If I knew where he was.”

“And do you?”

“Like I said, no.”

“Okay.”

Our drinks arrive. Mine’s a Coke. For once.

“Well, I gotta say, Doc, from what I found out, you’re pretty close. I can’t tell you for sure whether it was a faction in Hongxing or some other group of assholes who wanted to fuck over Eos. Whichever it was, Hongxing closed ranks and they’re sticking to the original agreement with Eos. Who knows why? Maybe they’re scared of Eos’s firepower. Or maybe they think they can make more money working with Eos than competing with them. You know these Chinese companies. Most of them can’t innovate for shit.” He tosses back his tequila. “So whaddaya got for me?”

I sip my Coke. “I already gave it to you.”

His face gets that mean look I remember. “Nice. Here all this time I thought you might be playing fair.”

“Hey, I did some checking. You guys work corporate security for another big biotech company. Maybe you might wanna fuck with Eos a little. Help secure some market share here.”

“What if we don’t?”

I shrug. “Up to you. I still told you some useful stuff. You wouldn’t have known where to look if I hadn’t. Besides, you didn’t tell me anything I didn’t already know.”

At that he chuckles. “Okay. So you knew it already. Then what is it you really want?”

The way he’s looking at me, with that little smirk, arm draped over his chair back, he’s not going to help me. I’m pretty sure I’ve wasted my time, or worse.

But I already took it this far.

“Those guys, those guys from Eos. They were gonna kill me. I’ve already got enough people on my ass. I don’t want to be looking over my shoulder for them, too.”

“And you think I can do something about that?”

“I think you know them. You or somebody else at GSC. That’s how you got your intel about Eos. And, I mean, they knew me. Where’d they get that from? Somebody at GSC, right? What was it, a couple of you getting together in a bar, swapping stories? You tell them about that fucked-up head case you threatened and bullied and beat up last year? Or was it… I dunno, a little horse-trading? Like you like to do.”

Silence. Carter’s doing that stare again, trying to psych me out, I figure. Well, fuck him. I can play that game, too.

He blinks first.

“You still haven’t told me what you want,” he says.

“I need for you or somebody to tell them that I’m not going to cause them any problems. That this isn’t my fight. I was just trying to do a favor for a buddy. That’s it.”

He’s quiet again, but he’s not staring at me. Instead he fixes on his tequila.

“Okay,” he finally says. He still won’t look at me.

“Thanks.” I’m so surprised he agreed that I don’t know what else to say. “You want another tequila?” I think to ask.

He shakes his head. “Look, Doc, you’re not gonna fuck me over on this, are you? Because yeah, I know those guys. And they’re assholes.” Now he does look at me. I’d say he seems more annoyed than concerned, but whatever. “So say I talk to them. It’s gonna be hard to call those dogs off the scent. The best thing you can do? Give it up. Don’t give them a trail to follow.”

“Okay,” I say. “Gotcha.”

I DECIDE TO LOOK for soup dumplings. They’re supposed to be a Shanghai specialty, and I’ve hardly had any dumplings since I left Beijing.

Just those ones with Creepy John. And the dog.

Anyway, the famous place is over in some tourist area near a temple, but it’s not close and I’m tired. Plus, my new outfit may look cool, but it’s not quite warm enough for the forty-something-degree weather outside. I ask the hostess about dumplings when I pay the bill for my drinks and Carter’s tequilas, and she tells me there’s a good place not far from here. I find it, tucked on a little street just a few blocks away. Your basic cheap Chinese restaurant, white walls, plastic tables with plastic covers, a couple of fish tanks in the window. I order some dumplings, including the soup kind that come with a plastic straw so you can suck up the hot juice.

I’m aching tired. Seeing Carter again, talking to him, it’s made me think about too much other shit I don’t like thinking about.

What I try to think about, while I’m eating, while I’m limping back to my hotel, is what do I do now?

Go back to Beijing, I guess. I mean, that’s the only thing to do, right? Hope that Carter can call off the dogs.

Which makes me think about Dog Turner. I wonder if he’s out of the hospital.

What the fuck is it with dogs anyway?

I get back to my hotel just after 8:30 P.M., and all I want to do is crawl into bed.

Except maybe I’ll check my email first.

Nothing new from Natalie. Of course, it’s like, what-4:30 A.M. in San Diego right now?

I think I’m going to hate writing that email. Or making that Skype call. The one where I say, I took it as far as I could, but I didn’t find Jason.

Come on, I tell myself. How many people would’ve done as much as I did? I mean, I almost got killed.

I also found a dog. And had that crazy night with John. But that’s not stuff I should be thinking about.

I wonder if Langhai’s posted anything new?

Don’t even look. What if he has? Are you really going to go there?

I could just check.

I go to Youku. Look up Langhai’s account. And there it is.

“Kaili Dreaming.”

Don’t even watch it, I tell myself. Just don’t.

Of course I do.

It’s another tourist video, kind of like “Dali Scene” but more impressionistic, I guess. Jagged mountains draped in mist. Villages made up of wooden houses with peaked roofs. Emerald terraced hills. Dudes in round bamboo peasant hats, plowing fields with water buffalo. Old ladies wearing silver collars and embroidery. People dancing. Old men holding out bowls of something… wine? And there’s these flags, ragged white banners with red stains tied to wooden poles stuck in grass-covered mounds, some fluttering in tree branches. All through it this weird music-pipes, I think, and high-pitched voices.

The last couple shots are of this valley, a stream running through rice paddies, a roofed wooden bridge, a waterwheel.

The End.

No credits. No “thank you” to hotels or businesses.

The video is so beautiful. I figure the place can’t really look like that. All that unspoiled nature and those pretty, hand-carved villages and people dressed up in their groovy ethnic outfits and all. No place I’ve been to in China really looks like that. Like some tourist’s fantasy.

WHEN I WAKE UP the next morning, the same soundtrack I fell asleep to is still playing in my head.

I shouldn’t go there. It’s a bad idea.

Give it up. Don’t give them a trail to follow.

Can I go there without leaving a trail?

I do a little Googling. Find out that Kaili is the capital of a minority autonomous region in Guizhou Province. The capital of which is Guiyang, where I just was. Where I went to the warehouse.

I lie in bed, and I’m aching all over. Really hurting.

I add it up: What happened in Guiyang, that was just the day before yesterday.

The bed at Sidney Cao’s French palace was a lot more comfortable than this one. Too bad about the whole “Sidney Cao is a batshit crazy obsessive stalker and murderer” part.

Fuck.

I sit up, scoot to the edge of the bed. My whole body feels like it’s cramped up. I can barely stand. Percocet. Coffee.

I plug in the electric kettle, make myself a cup of Starbucks VIA, and collapse onto the desk chair. Hold the cup in both hands and sip.

You can’t go, I tell myself. You can’t. You could lead them right to Jason. Plus, you could get your ass kicked even worse.

What you do is, you turn over the information you have to Dog and Natalie. Let them know about Jason’s video channel. They can try emailing him. Maybe he’ll write back.

It sucks, though. I got so close. Found out all kinds of shit. Followed every lead.

Except this one.

And I don’t want to give up. I don’t want to quit. Don’t want to let those Eos fuckers stop me.

I want to complete the mission. Act like I’m not afraid, even if I am.

But I can’t.

I sip my bitter, grainy coffee.

I could take an overnight train to Beijing, or I could fly, but given the way I’m feeling, which is beat to shit, used up, and tossed by the side of a road, I’m not much in the mood to travel.

I try to decide, should I be worried about the Eos guys? About Buzz Cut? I mean, in the long run they’re a problem. Another entry on my list of powerful people that I’ve managed to piss off.

In the short term?

They don’t know I’m in Shanghai-that is, unless Carter fucked me over.

I’m sure they know how to find me in Beijing.

At least I have friends there. People who can help me. Like Harrison. And… well, Creepy John.

I’m really not sure that I want to go there. Asking a guy who works for the DSD for protection?

Talk about getting in bed with the wrong people.

I’ll go home tomorrow, I tell myself. Try to get my shit together so I can front like everything’s normal to Mom and Andy. Set up a meeting with Harrison to discuss the whole Sidney Cao situation. Move forward. What else can I do?

It’s too bad Lucy Wu isn’t in town, because it would be nice to hang out with her. Discuss art or something. Funny. I never would have thought that I’d end up working with her. Being friends, even.

I look at my fancy outfit draped over one of the chairs and think maybe I can pull it off. Put on those clothes and be that person.

Ellie McEnroe, Art Gal.

Hah. What a joke.

I mean, okay, I’ve learned some stuff. It’s, like, I know Lao Zhang’s art is good. I just don’t really know why.

It’s powerful. It makes me feel something. But how it does that I still don’t really understand.

I read art magazines, Web sites, all that, just so I can fake my way through conversations with people who know more than I do, who are experts. But a lot of what I read-all this intellectual stuff, the theories-I don’t know what they’re talking about.

I haven’t read anything or even thought about it since I started chasing Jason.

Harrison takes me places, tries to teach me stuff. I could try harder to learn on my own, I guess. To really know.

Complete the mission, right?

WHAT I DECIDE TO do is go look at art.

I mix and match my pricey jacket with jeans and a faded T-shirt. I pack my sweater, just in case, although it’s warmer than yesterday. Have another cup of coffee and another Percocet. Nothing like a little caffeine and narcotics to start your morning right.

I can do this.

I go to Mogushan, your basic collection of art galleries in a bombed-out factory complex. The art’s okay, I guess, but nothing really strikes me. But I find a fun T-shirt place, with designs ripping off CCP icons-praying hands clasping a Little Red Book. Another proclaiming WE LOVE TIANANMEN SQUARE!

I sit and have a beer at a little café when my leg starts hurting. It’s better, though. I mean, back to where it was before Guiyu, meaning pretty fucked up. But it’s a pain I can live with.

After that I visit the Shanghai Museum. Classical Chinese art. Scrolls. Landscape painting. Pottery. Calligraphy. It’s beautiful. I spend a lot of time there in the hushed gold light, just looking.

When I’m done, I find some soup dumplings at a little dive not too far from the museum, and then I go back to my hotel.

This wasn’t a bad day, I think. I could keep doing stuff like this. Having days like today. It’s not a bad life, right?

Maybe it’s even a good one.

I open a beer I snagged at a mini-mart and flop down in the desk chair. I figure I’ll do a little Web surfing and email before I sleep.

There’s an email from an address I don’t recognize: SparkleOn77@yahoo.com. I open it.

Hi Ellie it’s Natalie. Writing you from hospital. Doug still here. Docs not sure what’s going on. He’s confused and agitated. Asking a lot about Jason. Just wondering if you have any news I can tell him. Thanks for everything. Sent from my iPhone.

Fuck.

I’m not ready to write this email. I’m really not.

Hi Natalie. Re: your question, it’s a little complicated, but I’ve got some good leads for you. Probably better if we discuss on Skype.

I hesitate.

Really sorry to hear that Doug’s still in the hospital, I type. “Hope that the docs get what’s going on with him straightened out soon. Best, Ellie.”

I SLEEP, BUT I don’t sleep well. Maybe I’m missing Sidney Cao’s bed. Maybe it’s the pain in my muscles. Plus the crazy dreams I’m having. For some reason there’s these frogs all over the place. Twitching and jumping. I’m trying to walk down a street that in my head is in Yangshuo, even though it looks more like the electronics village in Guiyu, and the frogs are everywhere, and I step on a couple, and they crunch under my foot.

I wake up in a sweat.

6:00 A.M.

I lie in the bed for a while, but I can’t get back to sleep. I think about drinking another beer. I think about taking another Percocet.

Finally I get up and make a cup of instant coffee and open up my laptop.

Not too many emails. The usual spam. A nice note from Palaver and Madrid, buddies of mine who hooked up during our deployment and got married, like in Vermont or someplace seeing as how they’re lesbians, had a kid. Stayed together.

Nice to see things working out for someone.

I think about my mom and Andy.

No way. No way that will last.

I’m thinking about that, and I look at the next email. The subject line is “Hi,” and it’s from Jason88.

No one I know.

I get this little shiver between my shoulder blades. Open the email.

I heard you’re looking for me, it says.