Tang understood his instructions and the priorities they contained. Both men firmly believed that the state could ill afford to give an inch to anyone challenging its authority or resolve. Perhaps they were right, because both men knew Chinese history and their countrymen.
In any event, they were determined men who believed that the party and the government could and should use every weapon in the arsenal, indeed, every resource of the state, to fight for the survival of the revolution. And if pushed, they were fully capable of doing just that.
The telephones had been off for ten minutes when Tang left the governor huddled with his aide, who tried to explain that the computers at the stock exchange had been sabotaged. As Tang rode out of the City Hall parking area in his chauffeur-driven car, two telephone repair vans passed him on their way in.
Three men wearing one-piece telephone company jumpers and billed caps climbed from the vans. Tommy Carmellini removed an armload of tools and equipment from the van he came in while Bubba Lee talked to the security guard in Chinese. Carson Eisenberg unloaded the equipment they needed from the other van. The men strapped on tool belts. When Lee motioned to them to follow, they picked up their equipment and trooped along in single file into City Hall.
Tommy Carmellini was worried. He was an obviously non-Chinese worker who didn’t speak a word of the language. The other two spoke Chinese, of course, and they had assured Tommy that there would be no problem, but still…
When he walked into City Hall, Carmellini took the bull by the horns. The very first Chinese he saw, he brayed, as Australian as he could, “G’day, mate. Where’s your switch-box?”
Carson Eisenberg repeated the question in Chinese, the official pointed and said a few words, and they were in!
The CIA officers went to work on the telephones. Since the system was an ancient government one, this involved picking up each handset and using a noisemaker that allowed a colleague in a manhole just up the street to identify the line and tap it. After each line was identified, there was much shouting in Chinese into the instruments for the benefit of the watching civil servants.
As the crew worked their way from office to office, Carmellini inspected the building and its security system. He did this as one of the uniformed guards stood beside him quietly observing his every move. Carmellini smiled at the guard, nodded, then ignored him.
The building looked modern enough. The hallways and rooms were spacious, with hardwood floors, but, like government offices the world over, looked crowded and cramped.
Carmellini was in the foyer of the governor’s office examining the door locks and alarms when one of the staff began staring at him. Carmellini glanced at the man… and recognized him: It was the guy who had stared at Kerry Kent at China Bob Chan’s party the other night!
The man’s brows knitted; he knew he had seen Carmellini before but couldn’t quite remember when or where. His puzzlement was obvious.
Carmellini headed for the hallway with his escort right behind.
The staffer followed.
Uh-oh!
He had seen a men’s room a moment ago and he headed for it now, his entourage in tow. Inside he went into a stall and shut the door.
He listened as the staffer and the security escort chattered away, their remarks totally unintelligible.
Carmellini unzipped his overalls, shrugged them off his shoulders, and sat.
He sat listening for almost fifteen minutes, then flushed noisily and rearranged his clothing.
When he opened the stall door, the room was empty.
Carmellini was listening at the door of the men’s room when he heard footsteps. He got away from the door just in time. It swung open, and the man, wearing a PLA officer’s uniform, looked startled. Tommy nodded pleasantly and walked out.
The hallway was empty. He went down a flight of stairs, walked toward the service entrance, passed the table with the two security guards, and went out into the parking area. The other three men were still inside. Carmellini got behind the wheel of one of the vans and sat staring at the side of City Hall, waiting.
Everybody in Hong Kong seemed to be on their way to the Central District this morning. Public transportation facilities were packed, with long lines of people waiting to board subway trains, buses, taxis, and the Star Ferry at Tsim Sha Tsui. PLA soldiers at the Central District subway station, the MTR, tried to prevent people leaving the trains at that stop, but there were too many people and the soldiers were overwhelmed. Taxis and buses were directed not to discharge passengers when they stopped at the usual stops, so they stopped in the middle of city blocks and opened their doors. By ten in the morning at least ten thousand people were in the square in front of the Bank of the Orient and on the surrounding sidewalks.
That was the situation when General Tang arrived direct from the governor’s office in City Hall. He became angry with his officers, whom he felt should have made greater efforts to prevent the crowd from gathering.
“Since we failed to prevent the crowd from gathering, now we must make it disperse,” he instructed the staff, only to be told that the officers doubted they had enough soldiers present to make much of a show. Ordering the crowd to leave without sufficient soldiers to enforce the order would make the PLA appear ridiculous, an object of scorn.
“In accordance with your instructions, sir, we have used our men to prevent news media from congregating here.”
“Why not prevent everyone from congregating?”
“We tried, sir, but we simply did not have enough men.”
Tang lost his temper. “Why did you wait for me to tell you to get more men? This demonstration is a direct affront to the government. It is a crime against the state and will not be tolerated! Order the police to send all available men here. They should have been here already, preventing this crowd from gathering in an unlawful assembly.”
“Sir, we have discussed this matter with the police, who say they have no spare men to send. All are engaged in law enforcement and traffic control duties elsewhere.”
“Get more soldiers, as many as you need. Have them brought here by truck as soon as possible.”
“Yes, sir.”
Tang found a vantage point in a third-floor office of a nearby building. The civilians who worked for a shipping company were ejected and the soldiers moved in. From here Tang could see that the crowd below consisted of men, women, and children, all well behaved. People sat visiting with each other and, as the noon hour approached, ate snacks brought from home. Water and food vendors worked the crowd.
“Why have you allowed these vendors to congregate here?” Tang demanded of his staff. “Run them off.”
The soldiers tried. The vendors promptly gave away everything on their carts and obeyed the soldiers, who laughed along with the crowd. Watching from above, Tang was coldly furious.
“Two hours, sir. We will have another two hundred men here within two hours.”
“By truck?”
“Yes, sir. The trucks must go through the Cross-Harbor Tunnel, which is crowded at this hour.”
Tang could contain his fury no longer. He stormed at the staff, berated them at the top of his lungs. When he had vented his ire, he retired to a private office and slammed the door.
Jake and Callie Grafton spent the morning cooped up with a flock of middle-aged British and American tourists riding a small tour bus around the coast of Hong Kong Island. They visited the mandatory jewelry factory — they looked but didn’t buy — and rode a sampan to a fish restaurant in the harbor at Aberdeen.