Operation Lotus Sunday

Operation Lotus Sunday

David A. Todd

2013

Operation Lotus Sunday

Smashwords Edition

David A. Todd

Copyright 2013

Cover by Veronica Jones Brown

Cover photo by David A. Todd

Operation Lotus Sunday

Sunday, September 11, 1983

Monday, September 12, 1983

Tuesday, September 13, 1983

Wednesday, September 14, 1983

Thursday, September 15, 1983

Friday, September 16, 1983

Saturday, September 17, 1983

Sunday, September 18, 1983

Monday, September 19, 1983

Tuesday, September 20, 1983

Wednesday, September 21, 1983

Thursday, September 22, 1983

Friday, September 23, 1983

Saturday, September 24, 1983

Sunday, September 25, 1983

Monday, September 26, 1983

Tuesday, September 27, 1983

Operation Lotus Sunday

Sunday, September 11, 1983

Roger and Sandra Brownwell stood on the deck of the Star Ferry, backs to each other, their children playing nearby and remaining oblivious to the friction between their parents. Roger looked back towards Kowloon, observing debris in the water churned up by the typhoon that had hit the day before their arrival. Sandra looked forward, toward Hong Kong, using the island as a focal point and scowling frequently. Salt spray occasionally stung their faces.

They had just had another fight. Getting Allen and Rebecca ready had taken longer than expected, Roger didn't help enough getting them ready, breakfast had gone poorly, Allen's clothes needed to be changed, the kids didn't cooperate walking from the Y to the ferry terminal, they had missed the boat they intended to take and were now behind schedule and wouldn't get to church on time.

Roger hadn't helped the situation when he said, So? What's the big deal about being late as visitors to a church we'll attend one and only one time in our lives? Plus, you don't seem so concerned about being on time at home.

That got Sandra started: about his lack of help with the kids, about not getting money for their trip, causing them to delay two days, about overeating at supper the night before, about ogling a beautiful Chinese woman at the airport. Which turned Roger defensive. If he had gotten the money from the bank they wouldn't have lost a day due to Labor Day, then another day for banking, and would have been flying from San Francisco to Hong Kong the day of the typhoon and would have been diverted to Taiwan and been in a bigger mess. Plus China was the big part of the trip. So what if they lost a day or two in Hong Kong? Which got Sandra going about having to drag her grandmother into it to guarantee their check at the tiny Kansas town where they spent a few days prior to the Asian part of their round-the-world trip.

When they reached the landing on Hong Kong Island, a taxi was right there and took them to the church. Elevators whisked them up the high rise and they passed through the church door right as the first song started. Since children's church wasn't available, Roger held two year old Rebecca, while four and a half year old Allen squirmed until Sandra found a coloring book in her bag.

The church service was an adventure all its own. Simultaneous singing in three languages, looking out from the 21st floor onto Hong Kong during the sermon, preaching by the American missionary and translation by the Chinese pastor. The couple momentarily put aside their quarrel to enjoy this break from rushed tourism.

After the service they met John and Natalie Comfort, the missionaries. They had some connection, a couple of decades ago, to Sandra's parents, though Roger hadn't really understood her explanation. The older couple offered to take them out to eat, then on a driving tour around the island.

We just don't get to see many Americans, Natalie said. Most people on vacation won't go out of their way to attend church.

And thank you for the Old Spice, John said. I don't even remember writing to you about that.

You say you live in Saudi Arabia? Natalie asked. How is that?

Sandra explained their expatriate situation, and how after a few years they would return to their Houston home.

The dinner and drive were a nice continuation of the diversion from the ugliness of the morning. The Comforts had been in Hong Kong for more than ten years, and knew all kinds of places to take them, and facts to tell. They had stops at Stanley, Repulse Bay, Aberdeen, and the University area. The children fell asleep immediately, and the adults had a good conversation. It was obvious that the missionaries knew a lot of people that Sandra did, names unknown to Roger. He had only joined the small denomination after meeting his wife-to-be. At last he learned the Comforts were friends of Sandra's grandparents from way back.

They were heading for the ferry terminal when John surprised them.

Say, since you're on your way to Beijing, would you be willing to take some Bibles and tracts in and see if you can make contact with a Chinese Christian who lives there?

Roger was about to say no when Sandra exclaimed, Wow! Of course we would. What an honor.

I don't know if that's wise, honey. What if they're found at customs? We could be thrown in jail.

No, John said. The worst that could happen is they'll be confiscated. They've already been into China once. The Bookers, the missionary couple we told you were on furlough right now, went to Guangzhou for a few days. Two evenings they went to the designated place, but their contact never showed. Rather than leave them and have them fall into the wrong hands, they brought them back. If the Bookers could get them through customs when they had only the Bibles and a couple of carry-ons, surely they won't be seen in all the luggage you must have.

They did have a lot of luggage, Roger agreed. Thirty days of travelling, with two small kids, plus the couple of months Sandra and the kids had spent in the States before he joined them, and they had luggage. Boy did they have luggage.

Roger could see Sandra would not be deterred from becoming a Bible smuggler, at least not in front of the missionaries. They still had a couple of days in Hong Kong before the train ride into China. He was sure he could talk her out of it. Common sense would prevail.

At the ferry landing, John Comfort said he would deliver the package to the Y the next day. They boarded the ferry and were barely away from the shore when Roger began to apply his common sense to the situation.

Why would you jeopardize our trip like that?

How does taking a few Bibles in do that?

Like I said, if the customs inspection finds them, we'll be detained. Comfort isn't giving us the right story. He just wants to get those Bibles off his hands.

It seems to me, Sandra said, her voice a little louder, that he must know more about this part of the world than you do.

Maybe so, said Roger, with his own matching volume increase, but I know how customs checks work around the world. We've been through enough of them by this time in our lives, and seen enough people detained to know we can't risk it.

Maybe they do that in Saudi Arabia, where everything's illegal to bring into the country—and even there we got our Bibles in—but this is China.

Yeah, a Communist dictatorship that bans all religions. They're really going to go lenient with us for bringing Christian materials in. What happens to the kids if we get thrown in the slammer?

Oh come on, Roger. It's a few Bibles. It's not like we're going in there on a spy mission.

They looked around and realized they had been talking quite loudly, for people were looking at them from all directions. About the same time Roger and Sandra saw their children were not with them. Frantically they separated and ran to find the kids. Sandra reached a place near the front of the ship where no adults were at the railing, and saw Rebecca starting to climb up on the rail, urged on by her brother.

Becky! Sandra ran and pulled the girl to herself. Other passengers turned to see what the fuss was.

* * *

Thank you all for coming in on a Sunday. As you can probably guess I wouldn't have called you unless it was of extreme importance. Dragonfly is in trouble. Pritzker's face had been this stern before—many times, in fact. But this was the first time any of his staff had seen a trace of worry to go with the sternness.

What seems to be the problem?

Public Security is on to him, John. That last message he passed is traceable to him, it turns out. We've got to get him out right away. His cover as a mere student dissident will shortly be blown.

Where is he now?

He's still in Guangzhou, still there for political training.

That's good. It's easy to get some assets into Guangzhou.

Pritzker frowned. Easy? No, maybe easier than other places. The problem is we need to lay this on quickly. I want Dragonfly out by the 20th at the latest. Sooner than that will be better. How can we do this? What assets do we have in place?

A freewheeling discussion followed. A plan began to emerge. Certain Chinese assets could be in Guangzhou in two days. American assets could be sent there within three. The extraction would be on. He could be brought out through Hong Kong by the 15th.

Pritzker didn't like it, however, so his team wound up not liking it. The Chinese watched the train to Hong Kong too closely. If Dragonfly had been compromised, the minute he stepped on a train bound for a foreign city he would be picked up. The extraction would have to be somewhere else.

Winston finally broke the stalemate with a plan. I have a team that can get him out through Vietnam if we can get him to Kunming. I think we could have him in safe hands by the 18th, out over the border the next day, or two at the most.

Pritzker liked it, so his team liked it.

Fine. What assets can we send in?

Blumenthal had an answer for that. Mixed Team Charlie is on its way back to Taiwan now. They pulled off that Jakarta operation perfectly. They're due for Stateside leave, but maybe we can delay that. It'll just be a few days and they'll be back here.

No, Winston said. They don't speak Chinese. We need to send in either a Mandarin speaking team or a native Chinese.

But Pritzker thought that would be riskier, so his team thought it would be riskier. Mixed Team Charlie had been having a lot of success lately.

Okay, team, we go with an on-foot border crossing to Vietnam, with the in-safe-hands situation on the 18th. Winston, this is your baby. Work up the details: costs, contact code words, instructions in English and Chinese. We'll need names for our team members in no more than two hours. He looked at his closest aid. Get us an operation name. And contact our American and Chinese teams ASAP. Get to work everyone.

Within three hours details of the plan had begun to emerge. Mixed Team Charlie would be on the ground at Taipei by nightfall. And the operation had a code name: Lotus Sunday.

* * *

On landing in Kowloon, the Brownwells walked to the Sheraton Hotel, where they ate a light supper in the coffee shop, then walked to the Y. Quick baths for the kids, then short reads from their books, and they were soon asleep. So was Sandra, fifteen minutes after them. It was only 8 p.m., and jet lag was sure affecting them all. Roger took the time to record the day's events in a trip diary. In Europe last year they hadn't done that, and the memory of everywhere they went was already fading. He wasn't going to let that happen again.

After writing about all they saw, he put down the Comfort's request in coded language (in case customs should look at their diary), and took time to write out the arguments for and against taking them. He had to admit that the thought of becoming an international Bible smuggler was appealing. Someday he would tell his grandchildren, You know, when Grandma and I were young and foolish, we….

At the end of the day's entry he wrote, I'm not going to take the package into China. I'll call the Comforts tomorrow and tell them we can't risk it. And whatever S says, I won't give in; not this time.

Monday, September 12, 1983

Monday afternoon found the Brownwells again on the Star Ferry, returning from Hong Kong to Kowloon. Just as the chop in the harbor was much reduced from yesterday, so was the anger between Roger and Sandra. The day had been a good distraction, and Roger had not pressed the issue of the Bible smuggling.

Sandra was elated at this chance. All her life she had dreamed of doing something great for her faith, perhaps to be a missionary, or speaking before huge crowds or…even smuggling Bibles behind the Iron Curtain. The Bamboo Curtain would certainly qualify. But she had married young, to a somewhat boring petroleum engineer. Sure his overseas assignment had given them travel opportunities, but life in the compound, two kids always at her heels, no phone in the apartment, no car available, was a boring day-to-day existence. Now she would have a story to tell to the women's Bible study group at Al Khobar.

The day had started jet-lag early, so they had taken an early ferry to Hong Kong, and spent enjoyable hours first at the Tiger Balm Garden then at Ocean Park. It was better than Sea World—not that she'd ever been to Sea World. The kids loved it. Their last view had been of the seahorse made into the hillside out of rocks and flowers and imagination. Just beautiful. Now the kids fell asleep in their parents' arms as the ferry plowed forward.

On the Kowloon side, before returning to the Y they went by the tailor shop they had stopped at the day before. It was 4:00 p.m. by then, and Roger was fitted for some pants. He had lost thirty pounds over the last year, and needed some new slacks. It turned into a bad experience when the tailors were unwilling to have the order ready by 11 the next morning. Roger raised his voice, telling them he was going into China at noon and if they couldn't have them ready he would cancel the order and they could give him his deposit back. That wasn't too far from the truth. The shop people finally agreed, and the fitting went forward. Afterwards they bought an expensive mahjong game, some trinkets, and a frog fishing game for the kids, forgetting for a moment that they would have to lug it all over China, then the Philippines, then Thailand, and back to Saudi Arabia.

* * *

Mixed Team Charlie left the room upbeat, basking in being asked to do this difficult operation with limited set up and no project-specific training. Two of the base team sat at the conference table, watching them holding hands and almost skipping away.

I don't know, Brent. They look too eager for this. Aren't they supposed to be going on leave?

Overdue for it, actually. But you can't beat their string of success.

Granted. Except this time there's no back-up plan in place. What happens if something goes wrong? Are either of them as skilled as they need to be in developing back-up plans on the fly?

No, but what are our choices? The Chinese say we've got only a few days to get Dragonfly out. Pritzker doesn't want to use a Chinese agent. We've got to move now, and Team Charlie is the best we have available on short notice.

Short notice is right. We don't even have a code name for this.

"Sure we do. Didn't you get the memo? Operation Lotus Sunday."

Lotus Sunday? Are those random words? Every operaton is supposed to be defined by two randomly selected words.

Who knows? Since the field team doesn't have time to work on back-up plans between now and tomorrow when they make contact, let's get some people together here to do it.

He sighed. I'll call the wife and tell her I'll be here all night.

* * *

At supper at the Ambassador Hotel, Sandra felt a sudden headache come on, one of her typical migraines. She left early, leaving Roger and the kids to finish their dinners. Then he walked around with them, trying to get them good and tired. They seemed to have recovered from jet lag better than the adults, and he wanted them in bed immediately when they hit the Y. He could bathe them in the morning.

At the front desk the clerk stopped him.

Mr Brownweh, two packages for you. He disappeared for a moment, and returned with a cloth bag and a small suitcase. The bag was from Swire Travel. He looked though it quickly and saw it contained a number of things for their trip, including immigration forms. He was glad to have them before the morning, when it would be hectic enough.

The other was from the Comforts, along with an envelope. He withdrew the sheet inside, handwritten on John Comfort's personal note stationary, and read it.

Roger and Sandra:

How good it was to meet you yesterday! I trust you enjoyed a day of enlightening tourism in our little country. Here are the items to take into China. We thank you for your willingness to do this service for the Lord. They are to go to Peter Chiang in Beijing. He is retired, but his wife works at a cloisonné factory in the western part of the Beijing metro area. I enclose a card with her name, her supervisor's name, and the name, address, and phone number of the factory. This should allow you to make contact and arrange for delivery.

Blessings,

John and Natalie Comfort

The suitcase was a much bigger item than he expected, about the size of two brief cases. Good grief, surely Comfort didn't intend for them to add this to their luggage. He thought of leaving the satchel and writing a note to the Comforts, saying they just didn't have room to take one more suitcase with them. But the kids were fidgety, so he carried it upstairs to the room.

A half hour later, with the kids in bed and his wife knocked out by whatever pain pill she had taken, Roger surveyed the situation. How could they do this? They must have been mad, thinking they could get through China with two kids, the luggage for the thirty-day trip, two suitcases of kids clothes needed for the year ahead, a suitcase of clothes Sandra and the kids had used in the States that summer, the stuff they had bought in Hong Kong, and now this case from the Comforts. Plus, they would probably buy some things in China. Beijing was their last stop in China, which meant they would have to have that case most of the two weeks. He now regretted placing the order with the tailor, which had included his four pairs of pants and as many blouses for Sandra.

He looked over at his wife, blissfully sleeping the medicated sleep she often did. He would have to be firm in the morning. They just couldn't take the Bibles with them. Actually, he had looked in the case and it was a lot more than Bibles. Cassette tapes, thick books that looked like Bibles, thinner books that must be New Testaments, tracks, some kind of book marks, and who knew what. Not a word of English on any of them. No, he would be firm in the morning. They would call the Comforts and leave the package for them. Sandra would be upset, but he could convince her based on how much they had to carry. He had to carry, he thought, since he would have to do all the luggage lifting.

In bed a little later with the lights out, he realized that he should be sound asleep, but was wide awake. It was 9:00 p.m. Nothing like dread of a looming conflict to make the mind tell the body it was over jet lag.

Tuesday, September 13, 1983

At 6:00 a.m. Becky bounded into their bed, excited about the day.

Can we see the seahorse again today?

Roger figured he'd had only four or five hours sleep. He picked his daughter up and put her in the double bed between him and his wife. Not that he really expected her to be quiet, but he could always hope. He turned over in that hope, but soon heard Becky and Sandra, apparently over her headache, whispering and giggling. He threw the covers off, he hoped not too vigorously, and sat on the edge of the bed.

After a shower he heard Sandra say, Oh, wow, are these the Bibles? Cool.

He came out drying his hair. Yeah, they were at the front desk when I got back with the kids last night. He hoped that didn't sound too accusatory. It's a lot more than either of us counted on, don'tcha think?

Oh I don't know, it's kind of exciting. There must be over fifty separate items in here. Think of it, we'll help hundreds of Chinese people to receive the word of God.

She looked at him with big brown eyes, and his resolve almost melted.

No, we can't take them.

What? Of course we can.

No, it's too risky.

But we said we would.

"No, you said we would. Plus we didn't know how much it was. That's a suitcase, not a few Bibles."

Sandra stopped looking through the items and glared at him, but said nothing. She finished combing her hair, grabbed her purse, and headed to the door of their room.

Where are you going?

Shopping.

What? What about breakfast?

Well, let's get down there. There's a couple of things I want at the Ocean Terminal. I'll eat fast. And she walked out.

Roger shook his head but said nothing. This was her way: avoid the decision until it was too late. He got the kids and followed her, though she was already out of sight. They had been eating breakfast at the nearby Sheraton Hotel coffee shop, and he assumed she was headed in that direction.

Over breakfast he tried to reason with her. He would love to bring some Bibles into China, but with all the luggage it was too much. She countered that they'd never have another chance and they needed to do it now. He said it was too risky—they might be prevented from even entering China if the stuff was found at customs. She countered that it would be alright, that they wouldn't have been given these to take in if some kind of divine protection weren't in place. He said he didn't want to lug one extra suitcase across China for two weeks. She said too bad, they had promised and so they had to do it. He started to counter that when he realized their voices were raised. He looked around and