The Project 01 - White Jade

finished in an irritating red lined both sides of a polished aisle stretching the length of the room.
    Stephanie walked past them and stopped at a large, semi-circular console in front of another Cray. This one was gray-black . Mounted on a tall cooling unit, i t loomed over them like something out of a sci-fi movie, a huge, dark block transported from an alien dimension. Hundreds of blinking LEDs signaled it was active.
    " This is Freddie. " Stephanie took a seat at the console. " He ' s a Cray XMT, tweaked and maxed out. Freddie uses a multithreaded platform with global shared memory and parallel processing. There are over eight thousand CPU ' s in these cabinets. We can run a million simultaneous threads right here. "
    " How much memory? " Selena asked.
    " Sixty-four terabytes. It ' s perfect for your book. We ' re linked to NSA and the rest of the National Security Network. Freddie will access every database, match patterns and look for anomalies. There ' s a database for every known language , ancient and modern . We can develop probability scenarios relevant to the content of the book and any other factors we choose to put in. When I ' m not programming Selena ' s information, I ' ll be running those. "
    Stephanie looked at the computer as if it were a lover.
    " We have as much time on him as we need. We ' ll input the book. You create the matrix for me, I ' ll program it in. Then we let it run. "
    Selena took a notebook from her handbag.
    " I ' ve already started. "
    They sat down and got to work. Carter thought about the discussion upstairs. Everything came back to Yang and Wu, and through them, to the White Jade Society.
    White jade, immortality and Chinese Triads . It was like something out of a 50s comic book, but it wasn ' t funny.
    ***
    On the other side of the country, Colonel Wu ' s scrambled phone signaled a caller. Very few people had that number. He hoped it wasn ' t the General on the line.
    " Wu. "
    " This is Juggler, " a voice said in English.
    Wu sat up in his chair. Juggler was the code name of one of his best informants, stationed in Washington .
    " Yes, Juggler. "
    " The Connor woman is here in Washington . She is traveling with a man who works in one of the counter-terrorist units. Apparently there was an armed confrontation with your men? In any event, they arrived last night. "
    " You are certain it is the right woman? "
    " Certain. There is concern here. Speculation is high as to reasons for events, but there is no firm analysis yet. You have been identified as involved and your meetings with certain individuals in San Francisco have been noted. "
    Wu smiled. Confirmation the FBI had trailed him, but he already knew that. It was part of the plan. His negotiations with the Triads were complete and i t was almost time to return to China . But not yet. There was still a chance to get the book. The day had just gotten better.
    " The woman is staying with the agent, a man named Carter . It is a non-secure building. " Juggler gave him the address.
    " Good, Juggler. There will be a deposit in the usual way. Inform me of any new developments. "
    " Yes. " The call ended.
    With an address and a name Wu had a man ' s life in his hands. Whoever Carter was, his secrets would soon be Wu ' s. He knew Carter had been in California, from the insurance slip Choy had recovered.
    Carter was probably the man who had stopped the attempt to kidnap the niece. He ' d killed two agents in California and stopped Choy. The direct approach had failed. It was time for something more subtle. Wu knew the perfect person for what he had in mind. He picked up his phone and dialed a number in Washington to make the arrangements.
    Now he could contact the General and give him a positive update. Things were looking up.

Chapter Twenty- T hree

    In a corner office on the fourth floor of the Ministry of State Security in Beijing , Senior Investigator Yao Aiguo studied a folder of reports. It was a hot day . T he windows were open to the humid, smog-filled air outside. A small black electric fan fluttered the papers on his desk.
    A large portrait of a beaming Chairman Mao hung on one wall of the office, across from a picture of the current President and Party Chairman. The room was painted a dingy yellow . It was sparsely furnished with a few wooden chairs, the desk where Yao sat and some filing cabinets. A picture of Yao and his parents provided the only personal note in the room. A cheap print of the famous mountains on the