Decoded (15 page)

[To be continued]

Just like Master Rong, Zheng the Gimp played an important role in making it possible for me to write this book. I interviewed him long before I interviewed Master Rong, and we became good friends. At that time he was already more than sixty years old, and the loss of elasticity in his skin meant that the bones showed through clearly. Likewise, the problems with his gammy leg had only got worse with age – he could no longer conceal the problem by having a raised sole in one shoe; he was now reduced to walking with a stick. People said that he looked very grand, walking along leaning on his stick, but in fact I think that it was the man himself who was impressive and it was nothing at all to do with the stick. When I got to know him, he was the most important member of Unit 701 – the director of the whole place. Given his position, no one would dare call him Zheng the Gimp – even if he asked you to call him that you would not dare obey. Given his rank, given his age, there were a lot of ways to refer to him: ‘Director’; ‘Boss’; ‘Sir’.

Those were the kinds of terms of address that people used for him, all very respectful. The thing is that he often referred to himself as ‘the Crippled Director’. To tell you the truth, even now I don’t know his full name because there were too many other ways to refer to him, some vulgar, some respectful: his job title, cover-names, his code name – there were loads! It seemed like his real name was superfluous and apparently he hadn’t used it for ages – it almost seemed as though he had decided to get rid of it as unnecessary. Of course, given my position, I always used a respectful term of address for him. I called him ‘Director Zheng’.

Director Zheng.

Director Zheng . . .

Let me tell you one of Director Zheng’s secrets – he had seven phone numbers. He had as many phone numbers as he had names! He gave me two of his numbers, which to be quite frank was more than enough – one was the number for his secretary and that phone was always answered immediately. Basically this meant that I could always let Director Zheng know that I wanted to talk to him, but he would not necessarily be able to pick up the phone and answer – that was very much a matter of luck.

After I had interviewed Master Rong, I rang both of the numbers that Director Zheng had given me. No one picked up on the first number and when I phoned the second, they told me to wait for a moment – that meant I was in luck that day. When Director Zheng came to the phone he asked me what I wanted. I told him that even today, people at the university thought that Rong Jinzhen had played a key role in building our first nuclear bomb. He asked me what on earth I was talking about. I said that I was talking about the fact that although Rong Jinzhen had achieved great things in the service of our country, because his work was secret, he was doomed to remain an unknown hero. However, it was because his work was secret that people imagined that he had done even greater things than were actually the case – he was being accorded a crucial role in our nuclear programme. I was interrupted at this stage by a bellow of rage down the phone line. ‘What on earth do you think you are talking about?’ he shouted. ‘Do you really think that you can win a war with nothing other than a nuclear weapon? With Rong Jinzhen we could have won pretty much any war we cared to fight! The nuclear programme was a way to show off our strength; like putting a flower in your hair to attract other people’s attention. What Rong Jinzhen was doing was to watch other people – he could hear the sound of other people’s heartbeat in the wind, he could see other people’s most treasured secrets. If you know the enemy and you know yourself, you will win every battle that you fight. That is why I tell you that from a military perspective, Rong Jinzhen’s work was of much more practical importance to us than any nuclear weapon.’

Rong Jinzhen was a cryptographer.

[Transcript of the interview with Director Zheng]

Cryptography involves one genius trying to work out what another genius has done – it is results in the most appalling carnage. To succeed in this mysterious and dangerous process, you call together the finest minds at your disposal. What you are trying to do is apparently very simple: you are trying to read the secrets hidden in a string of Arabic numerals. That sounds kind of fun, like a game; but this particular game has ruined the lives of many men and women of truly remarkable intelligence . . . that’s the most impressive thing about cryptography.

It’s also the tragedy of cryptography. In the history of human endeavour, the majority of geniuses have been buried within the borders of cryptography. To put it another way: having destroyed one genius after another, having destroyed one generation of geniuses after another, all that we have left are the ciphers. They have brought so many great minds together – not to show what it is that they can do, but to make them suffer, to put them to death. No wonder people say that cryptography is the most heartbreaking profession in the world.

As Rong Jinzhen was bundled half-asleep into the car and driven away from the university at dawn on that summer’s day in 1956, he had no idea that the arrogant man sitting next to him would force him to spend the rest of his life working in the heartbreakingly difficult and secretive world of cryptography. He also did not know that his companion, whom his fellow students laughingly referred to as the gimp who had danced in the rain, was in fact a very important (if mysterious) individual, the head of the cryptography section of Special Unit 701. Or to put it another way, from here on in he was going to be Rong Jinzhen’s immediate superior. After the car had been driving for a while, the boss decided that he would like to talk to his new subordinate; but perhaps because of the sorrow of parting, he could not get a word out of him. The clear light of the car headlights shone into the darkness ahead of them and lit up the road; a strange and unlucky feeling enveloped them.

Just as dawn was breaking, the car drove out of the city limits and came out on National Highway XX. This alarmed Rong Jinzhen very much, and his head whipped from side to side. He thought, ‘Aren’t I supposed to be staying in the same city – the address was a local post-box, No. 36 – why are we going on a national highway?’ When Zheng the Gimp had taken him yesterday afternoon to complete the paperwork to do with his hiring, the car had turned again and again – not to mention the fact that for fully ten minutes they had insisted that he wear dark glasses so he could not see where they were going – but he could have sworn that at no time did they leave the city limits. Now the car was whizzing along the highway, he realized that they must be going somewhere very far away. Puzzled, he asked,‘Where are we going?’

‘To the Unit.’

‘Where is that?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Is it far?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Aren’t we going to the same place as yesterday?’

‘Do you know where you went yesterday?’

‘I am sure it was somewhere in the city.’

‘You have already infringed the oath you swore . . . ’

‘But . . . ’

‘No buts. Repeat the first part of the oath you swore!’ ‘Everywhere I go, everything I see and hear is accounted classified information and I am not allowed to mention it to anyone.’ ‘In future you had better remember it! From here on in, every thing you see and hear is top secret . . . ’

At nightfall, the car was still en route. Scattered lights could be seen in the distance, suggesting a medium-sized town. Rong Jinzhen was keeping his eyes peeled – he wanted to know where he was.

Zheng the Gimp demanded that he put dark glasses on. By the time he was allowed to take them off again, the car was moving along a mountain road with numerous hairpin bends. On both sides of the road there was forest and mountain scenery, but there was not a single road-sign or even any kind of marker to indicate where they were. There were many twists in this mountain road; it was narrow and pitch-black. The car headlights lit up the darkness – the beam of light seemed concentrated, fixed upon the road – as clear and bright as a searchlight. Sometimes he felt as though the car were not being propelled forward by its engine, but as if the light were pulling it along. They proceeded like this for about another hour. Far in the distance, Rong Jinzhen could see a couple of spots of light on the side of the dark mountain – that was their destination.

There was no sign on the gate. The man who opened the gate was missing one arm and sported a livid scar across his face, starting at his left ear and proceeding across the bridge of his nose, until it finally came to an end on his right cheekbone. When Rong Jinzhen caught sight of him, he was instantly reminded of the pirate stories he had read as a child. The surrounding buildings were completely silent, looming out of the darkness. This too reminded him of the medieval castles that figured so prominently in the foreign fairy stories he had read. Two people walked out of the gloom – they looked like ghosts.

As they came closer, it became apparent that one of them was a woman. She came over to shake hands with Zheng the Gimp, while the man got into the car and started lifting Rong Jinzhen’s luggage out.

Zheng the Gimp introduced Rong Jinzhen to the woman. In his scared and unhappy mood, Rong Jinzhen didn’t catch her name – he just heard that she was department head something-or-other and that she was the director here. Zheng the Gimp told him that this was Unit 701’s training base. All new comrades had to come here to receive political education and professional training when they joined Unit 701. He said, ‘When you have finished your basic training, I will send someone to collect you. I hope you will finish soon and become a fully-fledged member of Unit 701.’ When he had finished speaking he clambered back into the car and drove off. It was almost as if he were a human trafficker – having collected his wares in some other part of the country and delivered them to the purchaser, he now washed his hands of the whole situation without the slightest hesitation. One morning, some three months later, just as Rong Jinzhen was getting out of bed, he heard the sound of a motorbike pulling up outside his bedroom. A short time later he heard someone knocking on his door. Opening the door, he saw that a young man stood outside. The man said, ‘Section Chief Zheng sent me to come and collect you. You’d better get ready.’

The motorbike took him away, but it did not drive in the direction of the main gate. Instead it headed deeper into the complex, right into a mountain cave. There was in fact a huge cave complex there, spreading out in all directions; one opening out into the next, like a maze. The motorbike continued on and after about another ten minutes they stopped at a round-topped steel door. The driver got off the bike, went in and then came out again shortly afterwards; then they proceeded on the bike. After a further short space of time, the bike emerged on the far side of the underground complex and a series of buildings many times larger than the training centre unfurled before Rong Jinzhen’s eyes. This was where the mysterious and secretive Special Unit 701 was based, and this was where Rong Jinzhen would spend the rest of his life. His work would be conducted on the far side of the round-topped steel door that the motorbike had stopped next to just a few minutes before. The people here called this series of buildings the Northern Complex; the training centre was known as the Southern Complex. The Southern Complex was the gateway to the Northern Compex – not to mention being its checkpoint: there was something of the feel of a moated citadel accessible only by a single drawbridge to the whole thing. A person who did not pass the inspections at the Southern Complex would never be able to so much as gain a glimpse of the Northern Complex – that drawbridge was never going to be lowered for him.

The motorbike proceeded on its way, before finally coming to a halt in front of a redbrick building entirely covered in creepers. The delicious smell of cooking that came wafting out informed Rong Jinzhen that this must be a canteen. Zheng the Gimp happened to be eating inside and when he spotted Jinzhen through the window, he got up and came outside, still clutching a bun in his hand. He invited him in.

He still hadn’t had breakfast.

The dining hall was full of all sorts of people – there were both men and women; young and old. There were some people wearing military uniform, some in plain clothes; and there were even some wearing police uniform. During his time at the training centre, Rong Jinzhen had been trying to work out what kind of unit this was. How was it organized? Was it military or was it attached to the local government? Now, looking at the scene before him, he was completely confused. He thought to himself, ‘This must be one of the special features of a Special Unit. In fact, in any Special Unit, in any secret organization, there are naturally going to be many unusual features. Secrecy is at its very core. It is ever-present, like a note of music humming through the air.’

Zheng the Gimp took him through the main dining hall and into a separate room. The table there was already laid for breakfast. There was milk, eggs, stuffed buns, plain buns, and a number of little side dishes.

‘Sit down,’ said Zheng the Gimp.

Jinzhen sat down and started eating.

‘Look outside,’ said Zheng the Gimp. ‘They aren’t getting the kind of quality of food that you are eating; and they only have rice gruel to drink.’

Jinzhen raised his head and looked over. The people outside were all holding bowls, but he had been given a cup. There was milk in his cup.

‘Do you know why?’ asked Zheng the Gimp.

‘Is this some kind of special welcome?’

‘No. It is because your work is much more important than theirs.’ When he had finished breakfast, Rong Jinzhen began the work that he would devote the rest of his life to: cryptography. However, right up until that moment, he did not know that he was going to be assigned to this secret and heartbreaking profession. At the training centre, he had received unusual instruction – for example his teachers had required him to familiarize himself with the history, geography, foreign relations, holders of key government office, military might, military installations, defensive capabilities and so on of X country – he even had to read background material on a number of important government and military figures. This had made him very curious about what his future work was going to be. His first thought was that he was going to be researching some secret weapon that X country had developed for some special military objective. Later on he thought that maybe he would be joining some kind of PLA think-tank, say as a secretary to a senior military officer. After that, he thought that maybe he was supposed to become a military expert. After that, he thought of a number of other professions, all unpalatable in the extreme: a military instructor who would be sent overseas; a military attaché at an embassy; a spy, etc. He thought of all sorts of important and unusual professions that they could be intending for him, but he never even considered the possibility of becoming a cryptographer. That really isn’t a job, it is a conspiracy: a trap within a conspiracy.