The Business Card

“You’re not answering my question!” Ranell thrust an accusing finger toward Hétóng’s face. “I don’t know who you are, but you’ve obviously been spying on me.” Ranell dug in his pocket for his cell phone. “I’m calling the cops.”

“You will find that your telephone has been temporarily disabled.”

Ranell checked. His phone was dead. Then he understood. “You tapped my phone!” Ranell’s heart began to race. I can’t catch my breath.

Hétóng became almost preternaturally still, studying Ranell. Then he delivered his message. “Dr. Ranell, my employers are interested in becoming your benefactors and ensuring nothing unfortunate happens to your company’s vulnerable holdings.”

“My benefactors?” The blood drained from Ranell’s face. “In exchange for what?”

Hétóng smiled. It was a thin, oily smile, like a snake preparing to strike. “Surely nothing of consequence! Just help us understand a few simple features of your airships from time to time.”

That’s what this is about! Ranell realized with horror that he was meeting with a Chinese communist spy. “You want classified information. Military information!”

“Josef, raising your voice this way is so unbecoming.” Hétóng did not seem to be the least bit alarmed. “Please lower it. Now. We are just two businessmen having a quiet conversation. Right?”

“You go to hell!”

Again, that enigmatic smile briefly appeared on Hétóng’s face, vanishing quickly. “This is not the reception we were hoping for, Josef.” It unnerved Ranell to hear his first name used this way. “But not unexpected. Most unfortunate. The world can be such a dangerous place.”

Ranell didn’t know what to do. He wanted to run. Am I in danger right now? His eyes darted around the park, wildly searching for some unseen assailant.

“I see you are fearful,” Hétóng commented clinically, “But I assure you that you are in no danger… at the moment.”

Then with one breathtakingly fast and fluid movement, he produced a business card. It was so graceful, like watching a magician performing. It took Ranell a moment to notice a small red stain along the edge of the ivory-colored paper card. In the next moment, he realized there was also a stinging sensation on his neck. He reached up his fingers to discover the tiniest of scratches, right across his carotid artery.

“If you change your mind, Dr. Ranell, please give me a call.”

With trembling hands, Ranell took the card. It was blank except for a single phone number.

“I must warn you, however,” Hétóng turned to leave, “that if you discuss this meeting with anyone, you forfeit any chance of making good on our offer.”

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