“What about the fourth one?” asked Harper.
The CIA station chief paused. “If you are in danger of being apprehended, then insert the fourth SIM card and discard your phone. It will begin to melt the internal circuitry within thirty seconds.”
“Well, that’s very Mission Impossible,” quipped Harper.
“It is,” said Levy. “Dr. Randolph, you have to understand. You’re on your own out there. We have to treat you no differently than any other deep-cover operative of the U.S. government. Dr. Li understands this. If you are captured, you will be disavowed. I need you to confirm your understanding of this.”
Harper took a deep breath. It was gettin’ real, as they say. “I understand.”
Levy glanced down at his watch. “I want to place you on the last flight to Urumqi. The airport is fairly quiet at the end of the day, and the security personnel are watching the clock, awaiting the end of their shift. Please get something to eat, study the materials you’ve been provided, and consult with the analysts who’ve accompanied me.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Underground Great Wall
Urumqi, Xinjiang, China
The citizen journalists were all abuzz in the main karez beneath the hospital. Dr. Zeng and his wife had settled in, and each had adopted a role within the underground community. His wife relished the opportunity to act as a mother figure to the students in exile. Dr. Zeng was an icon in their eyes although he maintained they were the true heroes. He’d given them a cause and an opportunity to flummox the Communist Party.
There was another person who’d been instrumental in giving the citizen journalists a voice. Despite living in the functional equivalent of a giant water tunnel, the group needed computer technology and other supplies to keep their undercover journalism operation going. This required money, and they relied heavily upon a financial benefactor who was supportive of their activity. They had just learned that their money source might soon dry up.
Ren Zhang was a multimillionaire. A retired real estate tycoon who’d never been shy about sharing his feelings toward the Communist Party leadership or any other persons in power, right down to the administrators of hospitals.
Ren was angered by a recent decision of the Beijing government to enact a hugely controversial security directive in Hong Kong. Using the rubber-stamp parliament under the thumb of the Communist Party, a law was enacted to bypass Hong Kong’s legislature. The law declared a ban on sedition, secession and subversion of the central government in Beijing. The move would allow the Chinese government to crack down on any form of anti-government protest but was largely seen as an erosion of Hong Kong’s autonomy.
Hong Kong lawmakers retaliated in kind by adopting a national anthem in spite of the Communist Party’s explicit threats not to do so. As a result, widespread unrest broke out in Hong Kong that became increasingly violent and disruptive throughout the night.
Ren, who was politically astute, saw the parliament’s activity as a distraction from the news reports related to the mysterious illness that was emerging in the western part of the country. As he had often done in the past, he took to social media to go on a rant.
He referred to President Xi Jinping, easily the most powerful leader in modern Chinese history, as a clown. He commented on the president’s address to parliament when the Hong Kong Sedition Bill was voted upon.
He said in his social media post that President Xi was not an emperor standing before the parliament in his new clothes, a veiled reference to the Hans Christian Andersen fairy tale from the early nineteenth century. He said the president was nothing more than a clown stripped naked for all to see, yet insisting he was an emperor.
He went on to say the Communist Party control over the parliament and the country’s lack of a free press and free speech had led to the burial by China’s state-run news media of another burgeoning viral outbreak.
To be sure, Ren Zhang had a megaphone and millions of Chinese listened to his every word. He’d had a busy night making the rounds on Chinese social media. And then he vanished.
At first, the citizen journalists were convinced he’d gone into hiding, as he had several times before. Many times, he’d traveled from Beijing to Urumqi to seek refuge in the Underground Great Wall. They’d waited throughout the day, not only for him to post something to prove to his loyal followers that he was safe, but also to rejoice in his sudden appearance in the karez.
Neither occurred.
As day turned to night, the group became increasingly concerned. There were rumored sightings of him on the high-speed bullet train from Beijing to Urumqi. Despite his wealth, he was a frequent traveler aboard the hard sleeper, the name assigned to the less expensive, bunk-style train operated by China Railway High-speed. The other type of CRH train car, known as a soft sleeper, was similar to what you might find on an Amtrak passenger train in the U.S. or train travel across Europe.
The concerned journalists immediately left the relative safety of the aqueduct tunnels and made their way above ground to assist in the search for Ren. They staked out all of the depots for public travel between the two cities as well as some of the hotels Ren was known to stay in. Soon, a discreet army of two hundred citizen journalists were canvassing the city, hoping to assist their beloved benefactor.
Dr. Zeng, seeing the disappearance as an attack on free speech by the Communist Party, didn’t share the hopeful mindset of the young ideologues. He saw Ren’s disappearance as the government’s way of stifling dissent by making the problem disappear. It caused him to look for a quiet place alone while he reflected on his plight. After he thought it over, he sought his wife and nephew. The three of them, while wholly supporting the cause of the dissidents, needed to make an unemotional decision without getting caught up in the excitement surrounding Ren.
“Wife, nephew, I am seeing a repeat of the events of a decade ago. The Party continues to disavow its inherent system failures in dealing with viral outbreaks. They punish those, like me, who try to deviate from official orthodoxy or even reality. They continue to commit the same mistakes while expecting a different outcome.”
“It is the same, husband. They will never disclose information regardless of the consequences. We agree there should be more openness and transparency. However, we cannot demand it.”
Fangyu agreed. “It must be forced. Ren knows this. His mistake was getting personal in his criticism. It is a common mistake that serves no purpose.”
Dr. Zeng wasn’t so sure. “Perhaps he wanted to be arrested. He believed China needed a martyr. Until now, he was but a gnat in the president’s ear. With the direct insults, he could no longer be ignored.”
His wife squeezed his hand. “Husband, what is troubling you? Are you concerned for Ren? Or for yourself?”
He nodded and allowed a slight smile to come across his face. “I tried to warn my colleagues. Fangyu circulated the posts and the information on WeChat. Some have shared their information with us while others have not.”
“We are doing our best, Uncle.”
Dr. Zeng squeezed his nephew’s shoulder. “You are a hero to me. You are making your best efforts, but my refusal to speak out, in my own voice, is delaying the ability to learn about this disease from others. I must speak in my own voice. I must be brave like Ren.”