A recruiter indeed. General Chen laughed at that claimed occupational title now. Chen knew that no mere recruiter for the Ministry of State Security would have been capable of what Jinshan had accomplished.
A part of General Chen was sad that Li had left them. But truth be told, he wasn’t the fatherly type. The arrangement had been the best thing for all of them, he knew. In one fell swoop, Jinshan had allowed his daughter to retain her honor and ensured that Colonel Chen became General Chen.
Chen’s career had quickly blossomed after that. He had barely made colonel before meeting Jinshan. That was his ceiling, he had been told by the PLA’s human resources staff — idiots.
They hadn’t recognized his talent. That had been four promotions and three decades ago. General Chen was now one of the five highest-ranking military members in all of China. It had taken a man of Cheng Jinshan’s vision to see his talent and assist him up a promotional ladder fraught with politics.
Politics were Jinshan’s strength, not General Chen’s. Chen continued to receive visits from Jinshan throughout the years. They had quickly found that they shared two things in common: persistence and an unbridled ambition. Empires were formed by such men.
Now General Chen looked at the two politicians sitting across the room. The fact that they were here meant that they were loyal to Jinshan. He wouldn’t have invited them otherwise.
But these politicians didn’t yet know why they were here. Did they possess the ambition to become empire builders? Or would they wilt in the face of such a radical proposition?
Why did they think Jinshan had invited them? Perhaps they expected Jinshan to lobby for his release, or to have his sentence commuted? Both of the politicians were powerful members of the Politburo’s inner circle — the Standing Committee. They had likely had to take many precautions in order to come here without being seen. General Chen knew that — like himself — they must expect that the return on this investment outweighed the risk.
The Standing Committee of the Central Political Bureau of the Communist Party of China was possibly the most powerful group of men in the world. Their official role in the Chinese government was to make decisions when the larger Politburo was out of session.
But their roles were so much bigger than that. The Standing Committee Politburo members were always the real decision makers. These seven men, which included the president of China as their senior member, were the key influencers of the entire government.
Cheng Jinshan’s role as the head of the Central Commission for Discipline Inspection had allowed him to become very close to these political figures. While they might no longer feel indebted to him while he was in this faux prison, they still knew how useful he could be, if given the right tools. Jinshan had eliminated their enemies and helped them to consolidate power. What else was possible, given time?
Another thought occurred to the general. Everyone knew of how much research Cheng Jinshan did on his business ventures. Jinshan must have had leverage on all these politicians, should their relationship ever take a turn for the worse.
The general pondered all of this as he studied the faces of these men. How would they react? What were they expecting to hear? He doubted very much that they knew what Jinshan was about to propose.
War.
6
Lena’s van drove onto the rural property in the early afternoon, tires crunching against the long gravel driveway. She had taken a few of the Chinese special operation team members with her. The ones who spoke the best English. They weren’t trained for this, but she wouldn’t be using them for much more than a little extra muscle, if need be.
An old pickup truck sat just outside an empty barn. Two of its tires were missing, concrete blocks in their place. A scattering of dirty children’s toys throughout the yard. A giant black star adorned the house’s siding. Rocking chairs under the front porch.
There were stacks on the grass next to the driveway. Lena read one of them:
REPENT SINNERS. THE FIRES OF HELL AWAIT ALL WHO TURN A BLIND EYE.
Lena knocked on the door, hearing someone stir inside. It was a Sunday, and the man had asked them not to come until their church service was over. His wife was inside, watching TV. For now.
He opened the door, looking suspiciously at the mix of Asian people at his door. Then recognition hit his eyes and a pleasant look formed on his face.
“Well, hello. Glad you all could make it.”
“Thank you for having us,” said Lena.
Natesh was playing the part of the cameraman. She had to keep an eye on him. His nervous attitude of late was concerning. She would have to speak to Jinshan about him when they arrived in China.
The American man said, “What program did you guys say you were with again? I was trying to look it up on the iPad, but I must have—”
“We’re with the Chinese Christian Alliance. We don’t have a specific TV program or channel. But our organization puts out documentaries like this one for TV stations to pick up. We aim to show viewers the persecution that Chinese Christians face. And we want to show like-minded Christians that there is something they can do. We want to bring stories like yours to as many people as possible, in hopes of helping Chinese Christians.” She smiled at the man.
Charles Beulah let out a grunt in response. “Damn right. Them Chinese have been killing people in Tiennymen Square and persecuting people like us Christians for far too long. You see on the news what they did to them Navy ships? It’s getting crazy. I mean, I can’t believe we aren’t at war after that. And now the president is saying we know it wasn’t really China. Well, that’s…” He looked over his shoulder. “That’s just bullshit if you ask me. Pardon my French.”
Lena nodded in agreement. “It really is incredible how the Chinese government has hurt our poor Christian brothers and sisters. But, Mr. Beulah, we’re really excited for this opportunity to speak with you. We’d like to waste as little time as possible. I want to hear your story, and get it on camera. Where can we set up?”
“You mean, like, for the filming?”
She nodded and smiled, restraining her desire to strike him in response to his slow intellect. “Exactly.”
“Well, we could go in the barn, I guess.”
“The barn?”
“Don’t worry, it’s cleaned out. We just sold our three cows. There’s plenty of space in there. Betsy don’t want me doing this inside, bless her heart. She ain’t been feeling well lately. Trying to quit smoking. She’s on the patch. Makes her a bit irritable, if you ask me.”
“Sure — no problem, Mr. Beulah. We can use the barn.” Lena looked at Natesh. “Will that work for the lighting?”
“Sure, no problem,” Natesh said, an uncomfortable look in his eyes.
“You can call me Chuck. Everybody does. Chuck Beulah, TV star.” The man let out a laugh. Then his face darkened, remembering why the film crew had come today. “It really is a shame what them Chinese have done.”
Then he narrowed his eyes, looking Lena over. “Now, excuse me for saying this, but you’re Chinese, am I right? So…”
“Yes, but I’m one of the good ones. We’re Christians, like you.” She hoped he wouldn’t test her Bible knowledge.
He made a face that implied her answer had just cleared everything up. “Ah, yup. Makes sense now.”
Lena’s “cameraman” took about five minutes to set up the lights, the background, and the folding chairs for their interview. She knew that both of the Chinese special forces soldiers were monitoring them from the back of the van. If she signaled them, they would be there in seconds, ready to clean up.