General Chen thought about what might come next. If the politicians who were investigating him found him guilty of conspiracy, he could face imprisonment or even death. Even if they couldn’t prove anything, he would likely suffer a reduced stature in retirement.
The general looked at a picture on his wall. In it, he stood in front of a military parade in Beijing as tens of thousands of troops and tanks went by. The Chinese president was next to him.
He shook his head. It couldn’t end this way…
Jinshan had promised him title and power — supreme commander of the Asian theater. General Chen would take command of all five PLA branches during the war. His name would go down in history as the greatest battlefield commander in all of China. Perhaps in all the world.
The intercom on his desk interrupted his thoughts.
“Sir, I’m very sorry, but you have a call from Qincheng.”
“Qincheng?”
“Yes, General. From the prison, sir.” What is this? “Fine,” he barked, pressing the flashing light on his phone and picking up the receiver.
“This is General Chen, who is this?”
“Hello, General. This is Cheng Jinshan. I hope you are well.”
A few hours later, General Jin Chen sat behind his office desk, flipping through a brief on the American military’s Pacific deployment schedule. He adjusted his glasses as he read. His three staff members were back in front of his desk, relieved at their sudden change in fortune.
“When do we leave?” he asked his chief of staff. Chen did not look up as he spoke.
“Your car is waiting, sir. The drive is only ten minutes, but the politicians will be arriving soon. Now would be a good time to go,” replied the chief of staff, Colonel Li.
The general nodded and looked up at the colonel. “What are you hearing from your friends to the West?” He was referring to the other chiefs of staff that Colonel Li had spoken to at the behest of his superior.
“It is as Mr. Jinshan said, General. The wheels are still turning. And the politicians’ staffers who inquired about your schedule were doing it to ensure that you would be at this meeting.”
General Chen shook his head and smiled. A rare expression for him. “Cheng Jinshan is a remarkable man. Even in prison, he is in control.”
“Where will the meeting be?”
“Mr. Jinshan will join you and the politicians in the warden’s office.”
“And Song?”
“Admiral Song will also be present.”
Chen nodded. “Excellent. I must say that I am relieved. But I am glad to see this positive turn of events.”
Colonel Li gestured with his arm. “Sir, if you are ready, it would be good for us to depart now.”
The general handed the folder to one of his aides as he marched out the door to a black sedan. Three escort vehicles were in trail, two of which were part of a Chinese special operations security detail assigned directly to the general. The security men held light machine guns with slings over their shoulders. Their eyes took in everything. The other escorts carried small briefcases with secure laptops inside. They had access to any information the general might need during the brief.
The general’s motorcade stopped outside the gate of Qincheng Prison. A gate guard began to check identifications and then spotted the general. He gave a crisp salute and motioned them to head in. The cars passed under the traditional Chinese arch known as a paifang. Then they parked in the courtyard, where several more military guards were waiting.
Qincheng Prison had been built in the 1950s with the help of the Soviet Union. It was located in the Changping district of Beijing, an hour away from the city’s center. The building was highly secretive, and the only prison that belonged to the Ministry of Public Security. Political prisoners, including those who had participated in the democratic protests in Tiananmen Square, had been imprisoned there. But more recently, Cheng Jinshan and the CCDI had used it as a place to send China’s “purged” elite. It was cynically referred to in China as a “luxury” prison. Ironically, Qincheng Prison was where Cheng Jinshan himself had sent politicians he had deemed to be disloyal. The prison warden had been on the payroll for years. He was one of Jinshan’s staunchest supporters.
Several weeks earlier, Cheng Jinshan and Admiral Song had been taken into custody by the PLA military police and sent to Qincheng Prison to await their sentencing.
But their stay hadn’t been uncomfortable. They had been given number identification, just like all the other prisoners. Guards watched them. And they weren’t allowed to leave the premises. But they were able to make phone calls whenever they pleased. And their rooms were filled with creature comforts. Jinshan had a bedroom, an office, and a couch. His personal secretary had even begun working there out of an office near the warden’s own.
Admiral Song’s staff, in disarray for the first day after his arrest, had quickly learned that they were expected to continue their operations on the island and update him several times a day by phone.
The wheels were indeed still turning.
“This way, General.” The commander who was waiting for them wore the uniform of the South Sea Fleet. One of Song’s men; General Chen recognized him immediately.
Minutes later, the general sat upright in an elegant leather chair, sipping tea. Two politicians — the ones who had scared him half to death with their inquiries — sat across from him. They were engaged in a meaningless conversation about each other’s families.
Cheng Jinshan walked through the door wearing the drab clothes of a prisoner. There were bags under his eyes, and his skin was tinted yellow. General Chen was reminded of the rumors that he was in bad health.
Jinshan looked at the guard who had escorted him in and waved the boy away. The guard followed orders and left the room. Probably the highest-ranking meeting ever to have occurred here. General Chen laughed to himself.
“Sorry I’m late, gentlemen. I hope I did not keep you waiting for too long.”
The others dismissed the apology with nods.
“We are each glad to see that you are well,” replied General Chen, unsmiling.
He had first met Jinshan years ago, when Chen had been a mere colonel. That unfortunate situation with his daughter. Chen still wondered about her sometimes. But he never asked. That was part of his deal with the devil.
Chen’s wife had never been the same since then. Li had left with nothing more than a phone call for a goodbye. With Jinshan’s help, Li had been chosen for a prestigious yet secretive program. The general and his wife wouldn’t see their daughter for a long time, they were told. Perhaps never. But it was by far a better outcome than what could have been.
Li’s actions at Junxun had been inexcusable. Criminal, even. She had mutilated another student in response to some sort of disagreement they’d had. Chen’s conversation with his daughter had revealed it to be more than that, but the details didn’t matter. It was her word against theirs, and no one would believe the girl. Besides, an opportunity had presented itself…
Cheng Jinshan had claimed to be a sort of recruiter for the Ministry for State Security. He had explained that, from time to time, he could help wayward candidates to overcome their misfortunes — as long as it was in the best interests of the state, of course.
Li was an exceptional candidate, Jinshan had remarked to Chen. Her slate could be wiped clean. She would be placed in a special program. One where a person of her talents could pursue an honorable and noteworthy occupation. The sky was the limit for someone of her talent. She would be of great service to her country. And importantly, Jinshan would surely remember the sacrifice that the colonel had made as well. After all, he was up for promotion. And Jinshan was well connected to the PLA’s flag officer corps.