The Great Zoo of China Read Free Page A

different about the private jet.
    All its windows had been blacked out.

C J stepped warily up the airstairs.
    ‘Why black out the windows?’ she whispered to Hamish.
    ‘I have no idea,’ Hamish said, equally concerned. He carried his Canon EOS 5D digital SLR camera slung over his shoulder.
    Arriving in the plush main cabin of the jet, CJ stopped, surprised.
    Already seated there were two Americans, both men, one of whom was in the process of being interviewed by a Chinese television crew.
    CJ paused in the doorway, not wanting to interrupt.
    She had always been a good observer, a close watcher of things. It came, she guessed, from observing predators in the wild—you didn’t settle in to watch a croc or a gator without first assessing the surrounding area for other predators. Whether she was in a shopping mall, a meeting or here in a private jet, CJ’s eyes always swept the area for important details—and with her memory, she remembered everything.
    She saw many details here.
    A sticker on the television camera read CCTV: that was the Chinese state television network. The cameraman’s jacket was a cheap Lacoste rip-off, common in China. The female TV reporter looked like a stewardess on an aeroplane: crisp brown skirt-suit with the same CCTV logo on the breast pocket.
    The American being interviewed—and he seemed quite comfortable being the centre of attention—was a big-bellied man of about fifty with a carefully trimmed grey beard that had clearly been grown in an attempt to conceal his wobbly jowls, the jowls of a man who had enjoyed many long lunches.
    ‘That’s Seymour Wolfe,’ Na whispered reverently to CJ, ‘from The New York Times .’
    Na needn’t have singled him out. CJ knew who he was. Everyone knew who Seymour Wolfe was.
    He was not just a columnist at the Times , he was the columnist , the paper’s most well-known and influential op-ed writer. After a few successful books on twenty-first-century global affairs, he was regarded as the man who informed America about the world.
    He also, CJ saw, appeared entirely untroubled to be travelling in a jet with blacked-out windows.
    CJ heard snippets of what Wolfe was saying:
    ‘—I was here for the Beijing Olympics in 2008. What a spectacle! Things move so fast here. If the government wants a new high-speed train built, it is built. If it wants a new city, then a new city is built. It is just so dynamic —’
    ‘—China is the future and the rest of the world had better get used to it. One in five people on this planet is Chinese—’
    The CCTV reporter smiled broadly, almost fawning as she asked, ‘Are you excited about what you are going to see today?’
    Wolfe leaned back and smiled. ‘I’m not sure what to think, as I don’t yet know exactly what I am going to see. If China has re-imagined the concept of the zoo, then I am curious to see what she has done. I cannot imagine it will be small. I am . . . how shall I put this . . . officially intrigued.’
    The interview concluded and CJ and Hamish were ushered inside the jet.
    Na introduced them to Wolfe, before indicating the other, much younger man travelling with him. ‘And this is Mr Aaron Perry, also from The New York Times , from their e-news division.’
    Aaron Perry was about thirty and he had spiky black hair that had been carefully moulded into position with large amounts of gel. He wore serious thick-framed glasses, a designer suit and the attitude of someone who knew more than you did. He slouched in his seat. CJ hadn’t heard of him, but evidently Hamish had.
    ‘You’re the Twitter guy!’ Hamish boomed. ‘I love your shit, dude. Forget the paper, I get all my news from your Twitter feed.’
    ‘Thank you.’ Perry smiled wanly, apparently too cool to accept praise. He held up a small Samsung phone. ‘My office. Although not today.’
    ‘Why not?’ CJ asked.
    Na answered. ‘Our destination is a secure facility. It is covered by an electronic scrambling system. No