Chapter 3
1343 Words
Chapter 3
The sleek black W126 S-Class Mercedes travelled north alongside the Temple of Earth Gardens in Beijing. Years before, Zhang had regularly visited with his parents, running along the tree-lined paths that cut through gardens. The walkways converged on the central altar, Fang Ze Tan, where Emperors of the Ming – and later Qing dynasties – had made sacrifices to appease the gods and help the nation.
It had been so long since he had visited any of the Temples, the others being the Temple of the Sun and the Temple of the Moon, which had all played an important part in the city’s history. Zhang considered taking a walk there later that afternoon if only to offer credence to the sacrifices he himself was about to offer to the nation.
The Mercedes turned east onto Hepingli North Street, along the north border of the Gardens and into a quiet residential road, coming to a stop outside a restaurant. Zhang ordered his driver to stay put and climbed out of the car, walking up the steps to the glass doors, above which red lanterns hung, glowing in the dim light. He caught a reflection of himself in the glass – dark, swept back hair with his goatee beard, brown suit – and wondered if he would still be enjoying these privileges after the coming operation had played out.
The head waiter greeted Zhang as he came through the door and showed him into the empty restaurant, escorting him to his favourite table. He preferred it because it was near the window and more importantly, away from the ears of the kitchen. Three waitresses lined up to receive him, menus in hand; their uniforms immaculate, ironed and crisp. Zhang had earlier ordered the restaurant to be closed to the public.
The first waitress asked him what he would like.
“Green tea. With two cups. My associate will be here shortly. Also, please bring my Xiangqi board.”
The waitress nodded and the three of them scuttled off as Zhang removed his jacket and placed it on the back of his chair.
A tall, gangly, middle-aged man in a dark suit entered and shooed away the head waiter as he walked across the carpeted floor, weaving between the empty tables. Zhang looked up and nodded as Peng Quan, his strategic advisor, hung his jacket over the spare chair and sat down, his sharp breaths suggesting he had been running.
“Peng, have you been working out?”
Peng raised his sharp eyebrows in confusion as he looked at his superior for illumination.
Zhang sighed as he bounced one end of his unlit cigarette on the table top. “Maybe you need some exercise. You’re out of breath from walking from the car?”
Peng grinned sheepishly as he understood, “My driver parked down the road, I just jogged a bit. Sorry, I’m late.”
The waitress returned with a tray holding a pot of green tea and two small china cups, decorated with gold patterns, and placed it on the table. She arranged the cups in front of the men and poured tea into each one. Zhang nodded his thanks and a second waitress appeared, holding a wooden box.
Zhang took it and placed it to his side, opening the lid to reveal the board and game pieces within.
“Thank you. That is all. Please do not disturb us.”
The girl nodded and immediately disappeared.
Zhang opened the box and took out the lined game board and placed it in the middle of the table. He then carefully counted out the disked pieces that were engraved with a combination of red or black Chinese characters. The game, also known as Chinese Chess, was a popular strategy board game representing a battle between two armies and the object was to capture the General. In the middle of the board, a gap represented a river between the two opposing sides.
“I hope I can beat you this time, Peng,” Zhang smiled broadly. “But then, on the other hand, beating my best strategic advisor might not be a good omen.”
Peng laughed, taking his first sip of green tea. “We shall see, Ho Zhang.”
Zhang had worked with Peng Quan for over twelve years in the intelligence community and he was the first person he requested for his small team when setting up the fifth department—a department that did not exist in any official documents or paperwork.
The Chinese apparatus consisted of four main bureaus: the General Staff Department that included organised sub-departments for artillery, engineering, armoured units, operations, training and a host of others, through to the Second Department for military intelligence. The Third was for monitoring of foreign armies and, finally, the Fourth that held the electronic intelligence portfolio, responsible for electronic countermeasures.
It had been Zhang’s idea to form an elite unit specifically for ‘off the record’ black operations. The Fifth’s agenda was to enhance and forward China’s overseas influence without leaving footprints and, wherever possible, leave false trails to foreign agencies.
Zhang believed this was perfectly in keeping with the ministries’ charge by the General-Secretary. That was to ensure “the security of the state through effective measures against enemy agents, spies, and counter-revolutionary activities designed to sabotage or overthrow China’s socialist system.”
The risk, however, was significant and the buck was always going to stop at Zhang. Such were the sensitive circumstances of the bureau’s role, that there had even been a serious discussion about making it financially self-sufficient, even if that meant illegal activities like drug trafficking. Zhang was relieved when this idea was thrown out as it would have, no doubt, given him a myriad of headaches. He would rather leave that type of business to their Triad friends.
Peng Quan moved one of his soldier pieces forward one square, to start the game.
“We need to make a decision on our other game plan,” said Zhang as he studied the board and moved one of his own soldiers.
“Yes, yes, I know,” Quan replied.
“There are still two pieces missing,” Zhang continued.
“Everything else has been set up and is ready to go,” said Quan, his voice flat as if Zhang was chastising him. He moved another soldier forward on the board.
Zhang already knew this, having spent over two years involved in the planning. Every detail of the operation had been scrutinised and approved by him and yet there were still vital cogs that needed to be put in place. He scanned the board of play; wondering how he could get his cannon to control the middle of the board as soon as possible. He moved his piece, took a sip of tea and rested his eyes on the man opposite him.
“Without those two players, the game cannot commence and now is the time, Peng. All eyes are on the Gulf.”
Quan advanced his horse on the same flank to counter Zhang’s cannon.
“Has agent Bashe come up with anyone?”
“Not yet, but I’m hoping he will.” As he spoke, Zhang’s eyes moved over his opponent’s pieces on the far side of the river, which was represented by the middle of the board, trying to second guess him. He moved a soldier piece forward onto Quan’s side of the river.
“What about Orchid? Anything new come through?” Quan asked, casually, as he deployed one of his chariots one square forward. Zhang’s eyes narrowed. He figured Quan must be looking to get it into his left corner, ready to threaten his general—a possible déjà vu of a previous game, where a ‘Jiang si le,’ checkmate had occurred almost before the game had begun. He contemplated moving his right advisor diagonally for a moment as he lit another cigarette, inhaling and slowly blowing out a plume of grey smoke that snaked up to the high, dark red ceiling.
“No, Orchid is standing by and will be called upon. You did a good job recruiting our flower over there, by the way. They have been a great help working to an arrangement with our Triad friends for the handover.” Zhang moved his right advisor disk.
“Thanks,” Quan replied, but he was frowning at the board. He moved a long arm across the game of play and captured one of Zhang’s soldier pieces.
Zhang smiled and considered a move that would surely involve the sacrifice of his castle but could enable him to push his Cannon up his opponent’s right flank.
Sacrifices were always needed in war, he mused.
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