‘Beauty is so ephemeral,’ he said. ‘It exists only for a moment, a fleeting moment. That is why it is so difficult to capture.’
Xie stared at him curiously. ‘But does beauty need to be captured?’
‘Yes!’ Jian exclaimed, as if he had been personally insulted. ‘Otherwise how can you ever keep it?’
Xie remained silent. Not wanting to show his surprise, he
looked
up at the hundreds upon hundreds of frames displayed across the walls and wondered just how many butterflies they contained. It must have taken years to assemble such a collection. Whatever the General was, he certainly wasn’t a standard product of the Chinese army.
Over the last year, certain factions within the Guild had alluded to some ‘unusual’ elements in Jian’s behaviour. It had been decided it was up to Xie to determine the nature of these and, more importantly, whether they in any way compromised the Goma Project. He’d read all the reports and gone through the transcripts, but even now, after such a brief introduction, he already felt that the reports fell well short of accurately describing the man. Jian was clearly multi-faceted, and such types rarely played by the book.
Xie was about to say something to break the silence when Jian suddenly scraped back his chair and signalled for him to follow. Marching on ahead, he led Xie back along a corridor and out on to a wide veranda. A panorama of Beijing’s northern suburbs fanned out before them, the rooftops bleeding into skyrises as they stretched away into the heart of the city. A table had been set with wine already chilling in a cooler.
As soon as they took their places, two servants glided on to the veranda, laying down delicate soufflés and pouring out the wine. Xie stared at the array of cutlery and decided to wait for Jian to start.
‘So what exactly does the Secretariat President wish to know?’ Jian began, dabbing the corner of his mouth with a napkin.
‘It is actually more for my benefit, General. I was hoping you might be able to explain the Goma Project to me, as I’ve only recently been transferred to the Secretariat President’s office.’ Replacing his fork on his plate, Xie waved his hand casually. ‘Mr Kai thought it would be better if I heard it directly from yourself. To get a better sense of it all.’
Jian’s expression remained fixed. Did he really have to explain the minutiae of the Goma Project to some halfwit office junior just because Kai couldn’t hand him a damn’ file? He took a huge gulp of his wine, to wash away the dryness in his mouth. The powerful aftertaste of the Montrachet’s Burgundy grape rose up in his throat and he shut his eyes briefly, revelling in the taste. What would the Guild think of next to waste his time?
‘So how much do you know already?’ he asked.
‘Please, assume that I know nothing,’ Xie said, his voice softening further in apology. If he was going to study Jian, he needed to hear him describe the project from the very beginning.
Jian swirled the wine in the well of the glass before taking another gulp. Pursing his lips, he drew in air through the liquid as he had once seen the sommelier do on a trip to France. The force of the alcohol hit him straight away and he quickly set the glass down on the table, wondering why on earth the Europeans practised such a bizarre ritual. Settling back in his chair, he began to speak.
‘For many years now, the American military have owned and operated a Global Positioning System or GPS using low-earth-orbit satellites. From anywhere on the globe, these
satellites
can triangulate your position and tell you exactly where you are. But it is not just about navigation. Some of their basic missile systems use GPS for targeting, as do many of the UAVs.’
‘UAVs?’
Jian’s lips pursed tighter. ‘Unmanned Aerial Vehicles – or drones, as they are more commonly known. The Americans are the only ones who have this system and can encrypt it or even switch it off any time they like. So, in response, other nations have been building rival systems, predominantly the Russians with GLONASS and the Europeans with Galileo. My division of the PLA was tasked with launching a Chinese version and, after two years of production, we are under a month away from the final launch of the BNS – the Beidou Navigation System. Almost all the satellites required have already been put into orbit by my team.’
‘And the Americans know about this?’ Xie asked.
‘Of course,’ Jian snapped. ‘How do you hide a satellite launch?’
Xie nodded thoughtfully. ‘But if this is a military operation, how is the Guild involved?’
‘Money,’ Jian said, rubbing his thumb against his fingers. ‘A single satellite launch represents an outlay of nearly 150 million US dollars, which means the entire system will cost over 3 billion. With the upgrade of the air force’s J-11 strike fighters, budgets have been stretched across the board, and so we brokered a deal with the Guild to finance two-thirds of the satellite launches.’
Xie nodded again, but his expression made it clear he was
struggling
to keep up. Finally bringing the fork to his lips, he tasted the starter.
‘This is delicious,’ he said. ‘What do you call it?’
Jian stared across the table, his frustration bubbling through into his voice. ‘It’s called soufflé. It’s French.’
Xie took a huge forkful, gulping down the entire portion.
‘Delicious,’ he repeated, smacking his lips loudly.
‘I’ll have the chef send over the recipe.’
Xie leaned forward across the table, his forehead creasing like a man who has recently misplaced his car keys. ‘So all of this because the Guild wants a GPS system?’
‘No, not at all. It’s a carefully guarded secret amongst the PLA’s top brass that each launch contains
two
satellites. One for the BNS and another for a new mobile-phone network. They are designed to work concurrently and, with the expensive part of the operation being the launch of the actual satellite, both sides will be saving money. But, most importantly, the Guild wanted to launch their mobile network secretly.’
‘And why would they want to do that?’
‘Because what they are launching will do nothing less than revolutionise the entire communications industry. Every single phone will be a satellite phone, communicating directly with our BNS system.’ Xie’s expression didn’t alter and Jian leaned forward in his seat, waving his arm for emphasis. ‘Don’t you get it? Every mobile phone will be usable from anywhere in the world; in the middle of the ocean, up a mountain, in downtown New York … anywhere. And with the same signal strength.’
‘But aren’t there already satellite phones?’
‘They exist, but the handsets are huge and expensive. Ours will be just like a normal mobile phone but using high-frequency bursts to communicate with the satellites. Best of all, they will be only a fraction of the normal cost to operate. This …’ he paused, eyes fixed on Xie’s ‘… changes everything. And I’m not just talking about phones here. Imagine every laptop communicating at over 50 megabytes per second from anywhere in the world. There would be no more Wi-Fi, hotspots or routers. Your laptop would just beam directly to a satellite!’
Xie scratched his neck thoughtfully while Jian waited for his response. When none seemed forthcoming, he grabbed his wine glass, swirling the viscous liquid around with such force that he spilled a few drops. The servants quietly entered, swapping the dishes for the main course, and Jian stayed silent until they had left before continuing.
‘Do you have any idea how much the communications industry is worth? Over two trillion dollars worldwide. And we conservatively estimate we’ll corner fifteen per cent of that market in the first year. That’s 300 billion US dollars in the first year alone.’
Jian paused to let the sheer scale of the project sink in.
‘The only issue we face is actually making the handsets. Satellite phones are big and cumbersome, but by using a very rare mineral we have been able to miniaturise them to the size of a normal cell phone. At the same time, through some carefully planned military operations, we have been ensuring that the supply cost of regular cell phones is rising. Coltan is becoming more expensive.’
Jian leaned back, smiling smugly.
‘Ultimately, we will control both sides of the coin – the handsets and the network – of an industry worth over two trillion dollars.’ He raised his glass. ‘This the largest endeavour the Guild has ever initiated, and now it is only a month away from completion.’
‘It all seems very complicated to me,’ Xie said, finally. ‘But I am sure that’s why the Guild entrusted their in vestment directly to you. And you said they invested how much in the project exactly? Two-thirds of three billion, yes? That’s …’ He paused, eyes moving skyward. ‘Well, that’s …’
‘Two billion dollars,’ Jian said, staring at him in credulously.
‘Yes, quite.’
Xie smiled, then glanced down at his watch, eyebrows rising in surprise. ‘I didn’t realise it was so late. I mustn’t waste any more of your time. I am sure Mr Kai is most happy with each of the satellite launches and that the accounts are signed off.’
Jian absentmindedly touched his mouth with his right hand. He then seemed to register what he was doing and quickly brushed away some non-existent morsel of food from his lips. Xie watched the movement. It was a stereotypical response for someone being evasive. Settling back into his seat, Xie studied him closely.
‘How many satellite launches did you say there were again?’ he asked.
Jian stared at him over the rim of his glass, his black eyes appearing almost polished in the low light.
‘I didn’t. We have launched nineteen of the twenty-two satellites.’
‘The next one must be soon, then?’
‘Actually, tomorrow.’
Xie rubbed his eyes, bunching the loose skin across his cheeks. ‘So close to completing the project,’ he said. From the tone of his voice, it could have been a statement or a question. He then stood up and, placing his napkin on the chair, bowed politely.
‘You have been most generous with your time.’
Jian nodded. Xie was about to leave when he suddenly turned back to the table.
‘What was the name of those butterflies again?’ he asked.
‘Blue Morpho.’
‘Blue Morpho, that’s right.’ Xie smiled, then raised a finger towards Jian. ‘Lepidopterology,’ he said triumphantly, and with the air of someone thoroughly pleased with himself, retreated back through the entrance to the veranda, followed by one of the waiting servants.
Jian didn’t move until he heard the clunk of the heavy front door. Reaching into the pocket of his trousers, he pulled out a small plastic bottle of prescription painkillers. He unscrewed the cap and picked up his glass of wine with his left hand. Shaking six of the cylindrical blue pills into his mouth, he washed down the dose before bringing his fingers up to his temples and massaging them gingerly. He was now taking triple the amount of prescribed pills each day and even that wasn’t enough. The headaches were getting worse, the throbbing so bad it felt as if it would split his forehead at any moment.
It was the stress he was under. It had to be. All he had to do was hold on until the money was out of the country, then in only a few weeks the share prices would be where he wanted them. The announcement was coming.
Jian thought about what Xie had said. Could the mention of the next satellite launch have been a coincidence? It had to be. How could the Guild possibly have found out what he was intending? The twentieth launch … That had always been the one.
Playing back every detail in his mind, he tried to think what Xie had been implying. He tried to focus, tried to pick through the intonation of each syllable, but the headache was clouding his vision, the pain absolutely maddening.
Jian took another gulp of wine and screwed his eyes shut with pain. What was he thinking? There were no coincidences. They must be on to him.
But the launch was prepped for tomorrow and an unexpected delay would raise more suspicion than going through with it. Jian’s mouth went dry. For a moment, another sensation superseded the pain – fear. If the Guild ever found out what he was planning, he would have the three hundred most powerful families in China hunting him down.
TWO 125CC MOTORBIKES
twisted round the potholes of Goma’s high street. Despite their drivers being well used to traffic chaos, they were making slow progress. A long line of 4x4s stood idling, with the occasional blare of a car horn as, further ahead, the axle of a decrepit supply truck had sheared off, leaving the vehicle stranded across both lanes of traffic. The driver had already climbed down from the cabin and was gesticulating wildly at the gathering crowd. He shook his fist, scattering insults in every language he knew, while the crowd hungrily circled the grain sacks on the back.
Luca Matthews sat on the rear seat of the second motorbike, clinging to the waist of his driver, Emmanuel. The wind pushed his blond hair back from his face and he was leaning forward, trying to peer over Emmanuel’s shoulder and second-guess their route along the potholed road.
Since they had left Nepal, he had shaved off his beard and, wearing a fresh white T-shirt and long, dark green shorts, looked almost clean-cut. His face was still deeply tanned,
but
in the heat his forearms and calves were exposed for the first time in many months and shone alabaster white. The pallor of his skin accentuated the bands of wiry muscle running down his legs and arms, making him look lithe and sprung with renewed energy. But despite his general appearance, his pale blue eyes still held the same blankness as before. Only when he and René discussed the task of finding Joshua did any trace of life return to them.