and stuffed all of it, along with the towel, back into the cooler and set it near the front door.
For carbon monoxide poisoning to be believable, there had to be a source. Cheng walked back into the kitchen and, searching through the fridge, cupboards, and freezer, assembled an array of fatty, unhealthy foods—the same kind someone might want to cook up after a night of drinking—and set them on the counter next to the stove. He then turned on the oven and two burners, blew out their flames, and left the oven door open.
He waited to make sure enough gas would collect in the room. Once he was satisfied, he left the party official’s home, returned to his life, and kept watch for news of the man’s death.
When word did finally make it to the Second Department, it was just as Cheng had planned. It had been ruled an accident—death by stupidity, as many were calling it. He had been so drunk, he didn’t realize his gas had been left on. Suffering from carbon monoxide poisoning, he had fallen, hit his head, and died.
Based on the man’s reputation, no one was surprised. He became a cautionary tale of what lies at the end of the road to excess. When speaking of him, people simply shook their heads. No one remembered what, if anything, he had accomplished, only how ignobly he had died.
It was a fitting demise. Cheng chose to leave the son alone. He did not deserve to be punished for the monster of a man his father was. Cheng’s battle with the party official was over, but his battle with himself had just begun.
He slipped into a drunken haze. He ignored his wife’s attempts to contact him. He ignored his friends, and, most unforgivable of all, he ignored calls from the Second Department. Colonel Shi then came to see him personally. Cheng was a mess. When he wouldn’t answer his questions, Shi began digging, starting with the man’s wife.
Shi eventually put everything together, but Cheng was in no condition to care. When the colonel asked him if he’d been behind the death of the party official, Cheng ignored him. That was the only confirmation Shi needed, and he ordered him to pull himself together.
That was the last he had heard from the colonel or anyone else, until Shi informed him he was going to America to carry out at least one operation, and possibly two. It wasn’t a request. It was another order. And when it was explained what he was expected to do, Cheng had debated resigning on the spot. Such theatrics, though, would have been useless. He would have been given two very clear alternatives, comply or face a speedy trial and receive a bullet to the back of the head.
There was so much wrong with what Cheng had been asked to do that he didn’t know where to start. Moving so quickly was dangerous. Doing things right took time. Unfortunately, time was something China did not have. The General Secretary, the Politburo Standing Committee, Colonel Shi, and General Wu were expecting him to move as rapidly as possible. They had, though, made one concession. Since Cheng knew the United States best, he would handle the details as he saw fit. They would not micromanage him from Beijing. All that mattered were his results.
Now, sitting in the American Airlines Admirals Club, he looked up from his Wall Street Journal and noticed a young man of Chinese heritage approach. He pointed to the seat on the other side of the power port next to Cheng. “My iPhone is almost dead. Is anybody sitting here?”
Cheng shook his head and motioned for the young man to sit down. He was carrying a small plate of carrots and celery. “Where did you get the vegetables?” Cheng asked.
The young man nodded back toward the bar area. They had just put them out, near the coffee station.
Cheng folded his paper, set it on the arm of his chair, and stood up. “Would you mind watching my things for a minute? I’m going to go get some.”
“Sure thing.”
Cheng went to the bar area, fixed himself a plate of vegetables, and returned. The young man had plugged his iPhone into the power port, plugged his earbuds in, and was now listening to music. Cheng slid the Wall Street Journal into his suitcase and ate his vegetables.
Twenty minutes later, the young man unplugged his iPhone and left the lounge.
Cheng waited for fifteen minutes and then followed.