Ying became distraught. “And go to jail? Or disappear? I cannot live without you, husband!”
Fangyu stepped in to calm her fears. “Aunt, I can help him speak his truth without putting him at risk. He will not speak ill of the president or even the Party. Am I right, Uncle?”
“That is correct. I simply cannot be silent any longer. As you say, I must speak my truth.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Beijing Capital Airport
Security Checkpoint
China Southern Flight 6912
Beijing, China
Their foreign-services agent turned CIA escort drove them to Beijing Capital Airport. Neither Harper nor Kwon were interested in making idle conversation with the CIA agent. It had just turned dark as she wheeled the sedan onto the 3rd Ring Road, which led them to terminal 2. Their China Southern flight, the last nonstop departure of the day to Urumqi, departed in two hours.
Harper’s mind wandered to Joe as they approached the passenger drop-off zone at terminal 2. It was eight in the morning in DC. He’d likely showered and was hanging out in his office. She wanted so badly to speak with him. Even a text message would have calmed her nerves. Harper was not doubting her decision. She convinced herself it was natural to be nervous considering the position she’d put herself in.
“Just to confirm, you are on CZ 6912 to Urumqi. Departure time is 10:08. I’m sorry, but it’s agency protocol to book passengers in economy class. The China Southern Boeing 737s are part of an older fleet, so they are a little roomier.”
“That’s good,” said Kwon. “We both need it.” It was a rare commentary and hint at humor by the intense DARPA operative. Kwon was six feet three inches tall and Harper was close to five feet ten. The tall Americans would stand out in a crowd of Chinese nationals, who, on average, stood five feet five inches for men and five feet one for women.
They exited the car and grabbed the duffle bags provided by the CIA. Each of them had hidden pockets sewn in to hide the Blackberry SIM cards from prying X-ray machines. They also had external Velcro enclosures for Harper to switch face masks quickly depending on the situation. While traveling, she would be using her dark blue mask, which would reflect her CIA-generated cover as an American English teacher.
As for Kwon, there was no record of his existence in any spy agency worldwide, or Interpol-type database. For each of his missions, he could become whomever DARPA or the CIA needed him to become.
They held ticketed boarding passes printed through a local travel agent frequented by the American embassy. To avoid undue scrutiny by security, they traveled with just carry-ons, enabling them to avoid the ticket counter line. With some time to spare before they made their way to the gate, they followed the instructions of the CIA personnel to approach security as late in the evening as possible.
Harper and Kwon decided to wander the airport before they made their way through the final security checkpoint. Something caught Harper’s eye and she tugged at Kwon’s arm. She made an immediate beeline for a corridor that led away from security.
She passed by the airport lounge, which was full of a variety of travelers of all nationalities. They were chatting and drinking, pulling down their masks in between sips. The aromatic scents of food filled their nostrils as they walked past the bar.
While the food options included a variety of Chinese cuisines and teahouses, a quick way to gain an appreciation of the local culture, there were also Western standbys like McDonald’s, Kentucky Fried Chicken, and Harper’s favorite—Starbucks.
Kwon checked his watch. He was not as impulsive as Harper and believed in a structured approach. Harper noticed his hesitancy.
“Come on, it’ll make us look like normal travelers. Spies don’t walk around with caramel lattes in their hands, do they?”
Kwon furrowed his brow and then tilted his head. He saw her point. While Harper ordered her beloved latte with extra caramel and extra foam, Kwon downed a bottle of water and searched their surroundings. He resisted the urge to glance at the multiple security cameras that were affixed to the walls at just above eye level. A passenger’s searching eyes obsessed with security cameras was an immediate mark for those monitoring them.
“Heaven on Earth,” said Harper as she took a drink and sighed. She glanced around and spied the duty-free shop. “Hey, let’s see what they have.”
Once again, she darted off from Kwon, who found himself slicing through a group of people approaching the Starbucks counter to catch up. Harper was perusing the souvenir shop when he joined her.
He leaned in to whisper to her, “When we’re on the ground in Urumqi, please don’t run off from me like that.”
“I looked before I leapt. Besides, I’m just trying to see if you can keep up.”
“You don’t need to test me.”
Harper was smiling as she spoke. “I’m not. But you can trust me. I’m not a twit and I can play the game. Besides, to be honest, I’m a little nervous, and acting normal helps me bury all of that deep inside.”
Kwon nodded and dutifully followed her around the shops as if they were a couple. After half an hour of browsing, she purchased a netizen tee shirt. In Chinese pop culture, the term netizen appeared often. It’s a blending of the words internet and citizen. Netizen described someone who was actively involved in online communities. Harper was on the hunt for a man who was relying heavily upon an underground network of citizen journalists. She would use any advantage she could to get people to open up to her about his whereabouts.
With Harper having undertaken a little retail therapy, and with the soothing familiarity of the Starbucks caramel latte nestled in her belly, she was ready to approach the security checkpoint, which was far more stringent than U.S. airports.
The Transportation Safety Administration, or TSA, was looking for travelers who might try to commandeer or destroy an aircraft. Basically, terrorists. The security personnel of the China Civil Aviation Administration were not only looking for dangerous substances or domestic terrorist activity, but they were also searching for dissidents, foreign spies, and anyone else who seemed to be pursuing a nefarious purpose.
The line was still fairly long considering the late hour, but Harper immediately noticed the demeanor of the security personnel. They appeared tired and somewhat lethargic. In her mind, the group of four handling her lane was simply going through the motions until their shift ended.
Just as was the case in American airports, passengers were quizzed about electronic products, lighters or matches, and liquid articles. Signs indicating that weapons and explosives were prohibited were scattered about. Harper chuckled to herself and thought, Who in their right mind would try to smuggle a gun through airport security in Communist China?
The two of them were half a dozen passengers away from entering the scanning equipment when suddenly four new, fresh security agents arrived to replace the existing crew. Unlike the heavyset, uninspiring bunch who had worked this checkpoint moments earlier, the new group appeared hardened and intense. Well, like a quartet of Kwons.
Harper immediately became nervous. Her anxiety levels shot up and her palms became sweaty. She tried to remain calm, controlling her breathing the best she could. Kwon noticed her change in posture. She was no longer relaxed and confident. She slouched somewhat in an effort to crawl into her shell.