After a good night’s sleep, Harper woke up first and fixed a pot of coffee. She stood at the dirty window overlooking a large park, hoping to catch a glimpse of a Starbucks or the golden arches of a McDonald’s sign. She decided not to press it when Kwon urgently called her into the living room.
“Take a look at this,” he said. He turned the IBM laptop around and faced it toward the chair across from the sofa. “A lot has happened since we left the embassy.”
“How is this Ren guy connected to Dr. Zeng? And why, after effectively getting the word out without disclosing his identity, would he stick his head out of the fox hole?”
Kwon scowled and shrugged. “This has made our job a lot more difficult. According to this briefing, the city is covered with both MSS and Security Police. They’re gonna be turning over every rock looking for this guy.”
Harper flopped in the chair with her mug of coffee. “Everywhere we go, they’re gonna be there already searching for him. I guarantee their investigators have a better idea where to look than we do.”
Kwon stood from the sofa and wandered around the small living room. He made his way to the kitchen and poured himself a coffee.
“Here’s the good news,” he began. “They’re still looking, which means we’ve got a shot. Also, that means we can eliminate the obvious two stops at the top of our list.”
“The hospital and his apartment,” interjected Harper.
“Exactly. Think about it. This whistleblower was using social media outlets to spread the word about the disease. Last night, using the same types of platforms, plus some friendly, on-the-edge-of-dissidence websites, he publishes this manifesto-style diatribe.”
“Diatribe, criticism, whatever you wanna call it. He’s obviously kicked the hornet’s nest in Beijing.”
“Guaranteed,” added Kwon. “They’re conducting a sweep of anyone who publicly disagrees with them or speaks out about the disease. The financier, Ren, is known for funding these citizen journalists. It appears Dr. Zeng is using these same people to spread his message and gather information. Let’s find them, and maybe they’ll lead us to our doctor.”
“Where do we start?” asked Harper.
“The home of all malcontents. The university.”
Harper laughed. “I’ve got a shirt for that.”
“The one you bought last night?”
“Yes, indeed. I am going to woo them with my Netizen tee and my charming smile.”
Kwon rolled his eyes. “Will you let me do the talking despite the fact that most of these college kids are fluent in English? It’s a second language for them.”
“At first, maybe. Kwon, I’m not the same person who started to freak out at the airport last night. Give me a chance, okay?”
“I will. Get your shirt and let’s get started.”
“Are we taking the guns?” she asked with a smile.
“No. Would you forget about those things for now? The last thing we need is a gun battle, especially now. Besides, they’ve got all kinds of surveillance cameras that can detect them under our clothing. Let’s play it smart and avoid contact with any police or MSS.”
Harper gave him a thumbs-up and went to change shirts. While she was gone, Kwon studied the map of the area to determine which of the universities was closest to them. He pointed at the screen, identifying Xinjiang University as their first stop. Then he recalled that Dr. Zeng’s nephew was a student in the College of Journalism there. He slammed the computer closed and stowed it away with the weapons behind the wall.
“Come on, Harper. You’re late for class.”
She returned from her bedroom wearing the crimson-colored tee shirt with white letters that read NETIZEN.
“Aha!” she exclaimed jokingly. “You can be funny.”
“Maybe.”
They exited the apartment building and realized they were in the midst of more than a dozen high-rises in the complex. Kwon directed Harper’s attention to a parking garage located on the main road in front of the complex where they’d parked the car the night before. The CIA operative who’d picked them up had disappeared into the night, most likely picked up by a vehicle following them.
They made their way in the direction of Xinjiang University. As they did, they passed a kindergarten-age school, where some of the children were sitting outside at round concrete picnic tables. Each of them had a hat affixed to their heads with multicolored foam sticks protruding in each direction like a propeller.
“Check it out,” said Kwon.
Harper noticed they weren’t wearing masks. “Social distancing. Very interesting.”
“They’re teaching safety because they live in a world susceptible to infectious diseases. Hard to imagine, isn’t it?”
The two slowed as they passed, taking in the teachers giving the five- and six-year-old children instructions.
“I don’t know much about kids,” began Harper. “But I can’t imagine finding two dozen five-year-olds in Georgia sitting still like these kids are. That’s just as amazing as the teaching tool.”
“It’s discipline, Harper. This culture is entirely different from what we have in America.”
“I can’t imagine having children growing up in fear of contracting an infectious disease. I mean, have you seen anyone on the street yet who isn’t wearing a mask?”
“No, but it could be a signal that the general public knows something that the Communist-run media doesn’t want the world to know.”
“The disease is spreading,” suggested Harper.
“Right. As much as I despise social media, it is obviously a force of good in a Communist country that controls the news. These people remember what happened in Wuhan a decade ago. They’re willing to sacrifice their vanity, if they even have any, and endure the inconvenience of the mask. Face it, Urumqi doesn’t have the air pollution problem they have in Beijing or even Hong Kong. This city may be the size of Chicago, but it’s surrounded by desertlike landscape with lots of breeze. The mask isn’t because of the air quality. It’s because of disease.”
Kwon suddenly wrapped his arm through Harper’s and pulled her close.
“What?” she asked, her eyes darting around to look for a threat.
“Up ahead, just inside the entrance to that small store, are two men in suits and dark sunglasses. They are completely out of place for this residential area. We’re gonna duck down this side street and then look for another route to take us to the university.”
They continued their steady pace, and when the opportunity arose, they dashed down the side street. As they did, the wail of a siren could be heard approaching them.
“Now what?” asked Harper.
“Stay calm. Eyes forward. Shorten your stride. We don’t need to look like we’re in a hurry.”
The security police car slowed as it pulled alongside Harper and Kwon before abruptly speeding away.
“Good call,” said Harper.
“Listen, it’s easy to be paranoid. I like to call it a heightened state of awareness or even managed paranoia. The key is to act calm and disinterested, but don’t overplay it.”
“I began to learn that last night,” Harper said.