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4. The Xianxingzhe Group

4 THE XIANXINGZHE GROUP

The Xianxingzhe Group occupied a modern complex in a science and technology park outside Beijing. In an office atop the main building, Sun Yingyi remained quiet as his boss paced past large office windows that overlooked the glassy towers of Zhongguan Plaza. Zheng Liu, still muscular in his fifties, paced the perimeter past the executive desk, conference table, and guest chairs while Yingyi waited near a line of potted grasses and ferns. His boss wasn’t happy, but at least he was no longer talking.

For an hour, the man had probed every detail of the plan, interspersing tactics, strategy, and philosophy, with sporadic referrals to the evil consequences of failure. Usually the source of pressure, Zheng made it clear that he was stressed. “Others” would not tolerate failure. Yingyi presumed the scheme was condoned by and would be monitored by the Ministry of Defense. Maybe by the Central Committee.

Zheng leaned fist-down on his carrier-sized desk. “When will she be here?”

“Her flight landed at ten, sir,” Yingyi replied. “She has instructions.”

“You should have met her.”

Yingyi bowed. “This man did not want her to be seen with a company employee. The agency has handled her travel arrangements, and she must first register at the technical fair.”

Zheng’s eyebrows arched. He grunted and resumed his pacing.

Antoinette Marino and three hundred gritty-eyed passengers on a Delta flight from Dulles entered the immigration lounge at Beijing Capital International Airport. Having flown business class and gotten several hours of sleep during the smooth trip, Andy appeared unstressed. Ruly black hair, a tanned face, sunglasses, and her Michael Kors outfit gave her a fit and relaxed mien. The job possibility had rejuvenated her spirits and restored a natural optimism and confidence. But nerves made her check the time periodically on a gold-banded watch.

She pushed through the crowd of bustling Chinese residents to join the line for nonresident immigration. The reflection in the immigration booth plastic caught her attention. A thirtyish American man behind her stared at her legs where she wore a gold anklet. His gaze rose, and he expanded his chest and leaned forward.

“This is my favorite part of the process,” he said. “Is this your first trip to the land of the sleeping dragon?”

Andy half-turned her head. “Yes.” She stepped forward.

The man followed and leaned close. “How about a drink to celebrate our arrival? Maybe a little party.”

Andy rotated and considered the man for several seconds. Her eyes lasered his smiling face. “Shove it, buddy, before I call security.”

The man sputtered and then adopted a John-Wayne drawl. “Well thank you very much, little lady, and y’all have a nice day. Bitch.”

The “b***h” curtsied as a female voice announced in three languages a British Air flight to Osaka. The line grew shorter when two uniformed immigration officers ushered away a hapless passenger, perhaps one lacking some essential paper or proper answer. Still third in line, Andy willed patience as she recalled the events that led her to Beijing.

During the lunch in Washington, Mr. Wu, the agent for the China Internet Information Center, said the position was delicate and therefore not advertised. In fact, she should tell no one of the trip and would learn the name of the company only upon arrival in Beijing. Her purported reason for visiting would be to attend a technical fair, one of many held around China throughout the year. They attracted foreign visitors, so she would fit right in. Her travel arrangements would be handled by another Chinese agency in New York. Her plane reservations came from the local office of Triway Enterprises in Falls Church, VA. The recruitment effort impressed Andy, who figured it at least implied that the company was legitimate with connections.

When she’d pressed for more information, Wu said the position was one that required technical training provided by the company, but that also depended on her background in intelligence. The objective was to acquire technology. Wu further said that she’d work in the field independently, free from “patronization, condescension, and harassment.”

That, of course, struck a chord after her experience with her CIA supervisor, who’d provided plenty of all three ingredients. Not for the first time did she wonder how the recruiter knew she would respond to such a job description. In the end, the appeal of working on her own, her desperate financial situation, and the prospect of power made her accept the invitation.

“Time to move your shapely butt forward, young lady,” John Wayne whispered.

She considered a groin shot with her briefcase, but decided it wasn’t worth the fuss. At the counter, she handed the immigration agent her passport.

The uniform looked at her passport picture and then at her face. “Please remove your sunglasses. How long will you be in China?” The man spoke in English.

“Perhaps three days,” she guessed and took off the glasses.

“And the purpose of your trip?”

“Business meeting. I’m attending a technical symposium.”

The agent stamped her passport and directed her to the baggage carousels. She worked around passengers struggling with immense pieces of luggage, grabbed her bag, and headed for Customs and then the exit. Before she reached the door, however, a uniformed driver identified himself as from Triway Enterprises. He led her outside to a waiting car, put her case in the trunk, and held open the door. A short drive along the Airport Expressway brought them to the northeastern Third Ring Road at Sanyuanqiao, and then they were in Beijing. The driver left her at the Beijing Foreign Experts Building, a large, modern hotel devoted, as its name indicated, to housing visitors.

In a comfortable room, Andy changed into a Calvin Klein charcoal suit. That and a Kors shoulder bag produced a business-success look that had vaporized her savings. She had lunch, and followed the next step in her instructions, namely, to register at the technical conference, which had something to do with artificial intelligence. She expected to be contacted there by the company that was paying for all this. Surely it would happen right away, because she had no training to absorb anything theoretical or practical about AI.

She made her way past the few blocks to the conference center, signed in, and received a note telling her a Mr. Sun would see her in a second-floor room. He was waiting for her in the hallway when she exited the elevator.

“Hello, Miss Marino. I am Sun Yingyi,” he said in perfect English. “Welcome to China. I hope you had easy travel.” He shook her hand.

“The trip was uneventful, Mr. Sun, and I am ready to learn of the company that wants my service.”

“I see you know how we use our family names. But we will be working together. Please call me Yingyi.”

They descended a vacant, back staircase to a parking lot. Yingyi ushered her into a small sedan and drove her northwest at a sluggish speed familiar to the Washington, DC motorist. They passed Peking University and entered the Haidian District, an open, modern area with industrial sites, office buildings, and shopping facilities.

“This is Zhongguancun Science and Technology Zone,” Yingyi said, gesturing to the many buildings. It contains seven parks, all dedicated to industry.”

The name rang a bell for Andy, and it took her a moment to remember that a major technology program at the University of Maryland had some affiliation with the Z-Park. The connection made her feel more comfortable.

“There are over twelve thousand technology enterprises here. Companies like Google and IBM have facilities.” Yingyi pulled into the front drive of a blue-glass-and-steel, multi-story structure at the center of an array of buildings, parking lots, and landscaped islands of greenery. “And here is your host company, the Xianxingzhe Group.”

Andy heard it pronounced “Zan-zin-she” and imagined a wine conglomerate. Zinfandel was one of her favorite California wines.

Yingyi led the way into a grand lobby, serenely lit, with a large stone Buddha in the center. Background flute-and-bell music, indirect lighting, and wall-hugging potted bamboo conferred a temple atmosphere. Beyond the statue stood a reception desk whose shiny red finish contrasted with the black marble floor. Yingyi gave Andy’s name and, after she surrendered her cell phone, led her to the elevator bank.

“My superior, Mr. Zheng, is in charge of foreign talent recruitment,” Yingyi said as he keyed the elevator with a reader. “He will enjoy meeting you.”

At the top floor, they passed several secretaries and entered an office that seemed far too grand for a Human Resources functionary. It was sparsely furnished for its size, with one wall covered by windows and one with black, lacquered shelving containing a few books and statues of a lion, a bird, and a snarling dragon. White tapestries with black calligraphy coated another wall.

A man with broad shoulders, a thick chest, and a shaved head came around a desk, introduced himself in English, and offered his hand. Andy shook, feeling the strength in the man’s grip. Zheng directed her into a black leather chair with wide arms.

Zheng thanked her for accepting their invitation and asked if she needed anything. When she said she was fine, he did something she thought was out of character for the Asian. Without preliminaries, he plunged into the business of their meeting, lecturing as he walked. She listened with increasing amazement to references to higher purposes of a corporation and the need for a global community.

“We follow the teaching of Zhang Zhidong who gave us the principle of ti-yong.” Zheng then quoted from the man’s 1878 essay: “‘Keep China’s style of learning to maintain societal essence and adopt western learning for practical use.’ This principle has allowed China to take great strides forward, largely by using the information that is so widely available in books, journals, patents, abstracts, and company documents.”

Andy cleared her mind of the thought that Zheng was following Zhang. She was well aware that China had many organizations devoted to acquiring, analyzing, digitalizing, and indexing all aspects of technology. The China Society for Scientific and Technical Information or CSSTI employed thousands. On the surface, only open-source materials were gathered. But Zheng’s next remark showed he wasn’t talking about items in the public domain.

“Some things, however, remain hidden, things essential for peace and global understanding. Such information must be shared,” he continued. “That is why we offer you this opportunity.”

Realizing what Zheng was really talking about, Andy grew angry, stood, and removed her jacket. The room was too warm. Certain that her action breached protocol, she decided she didn’t give a damn. She sat down and held up her hand. “Let’s cut the crap, Mr. Zheng. You’re talking about espionage. As I told Mr. Wu, I didn’t like coming here without more information. It’s clear now that I should have insisted. I don’t know why you picked me, but this is out of my league, and I’m not interested. We’ll just pretend this meeting never took place, and I never heard of Xianxingzhe or you. I’ll be going.”

Zheng’s face reddened. “I would ask you to think differently on several points. It would not be in our interest to let you know the company name before you arrived, precisely because of the nature of the job. We picked you precisely because you are most qualified by background and abilities. Pretending the meeting never took place is impossible. And you will not be going.”

Andy stiffened with the realization of her position. She was supposedly attending a technical fair, had not known the name of the company until she arrived, and had not been seen in public with Yingyi. She had been asked to leave her cell phone in the lobby. No one knew she was here. She’d told no one where she was going and had no friends who might wonder. Her only relative was a mother in a care facility who wasn’t with it enough to miss her. Zheng was a hard ass who seemed quite able and willing to keep her prisoner. At least the statement that she was qualified for whatever scheme they imagined for her was a positive. The wise thing seemed to be to listen and learn. To play along. She feigned relaxation.

Zheng moved in front of the chair. “I think you will find our offer most inviting.” He managed a questionable smile.

Andy held the man’s gaze. “Tell me about it,” she said.