Invasion: Alaska (15 page)

She was gifted in looks, ability and drive, but Anna Chen was supremely unhappy. She was fairly certain it was because she didn’t know how to fall in love. Why otherwise couldn’t she find a man? She might have bought a dog or a cat as compensation, but she was highly allergic to both. She’d dated half a dozen times since Harvard and either had been bored or had been forced to use defense techniques she’d learned to fend off the I-won’t-take-no-for-an-answer suitor. Her unhappiness didn’t directly show on her face, but she seldom smiled and never indulged in jokes, pranks or random silliness. She had written the definitive tome on present China and its policies,
Socialist-National China
, and had taught at Harvard for a time. But she had found life there too tame. Then one of her old professors had entered Presidential service, asking her to be his assistant. She’d accepted. Unfortunately, he’d been asked to retire after the first year. Afterward, Anna had taken his place.

Presidential service in the shark-like environment of political D.C. suited her. During his terms, President Clark had jury-rigged the country’s domestic problems well enough that now he took timid steps in international affairs. The President was considered a dove. For election reasons, he wanted to buff up that image. After reading a summary on a popular historical novel,
Continental Soldier
, Clark had told his image-makers that he wanted to be viewed as a Don’t-Tread-On-Me kind of leader.

“I’d like the nickname, ‘the Snake’,” he’d said. That was because of the old Revolutionary flag with the snake symbol on it.
Continental Soldier
had made a great deal about that flag.

Anna could have told the President the nickname wouldn’t help him with the Hispanic vote. It was the critical piece to his reelection puzzle. The pundits said he needed to capture at least forty-two percent of the Hispanic vote if he hoped to have a chance at electoral victory. That wasn’t completely accurate, of course. In her spare time, Anna had figured out a way for Clark to win with only thirty-seven percent of the Hispanic vote. It all depended on California and Texas, the most important and heavily Hispanic States. But Clark’s reelection wasn’t Anna’s primary concern.

As the Chinese expert, she was supposed to figure out what was going on over there. Had Deng Fong gained enough personal power to broker a deal on his own? Or had Deng simply been a mouthpiece for the ailing Chairman? According to what the Third Assistant had told her, the President and the National Security Advisor had been second-guessing the Secretary of State’s decision in Sydney for days.

“Did we undercut Deng?” National Security Advisor Green had asked the Third Assistant several days ago. The assistant had related the story to Anna five times already. Here in Washington, proximity to power was the measure of worth, and the amount of time one spent with the President and his closest advisors. Because of the President’s increasing interest in foreign affairs, the National Security Advisor had become more important, and that had increased Anna’s importance.

She now paused in the phone conversation as she cradled the receiver under her chin. She’d underlined the word
lunch
as she waited for Alfredo Diaz of the NSA to speak again. She wasn’t worried that Alfredo was trying to hit on her, as he was a homosexual.

“Let’s go to lunch, Anna,” Alfredo said over the phone, “somewhere loud and obnoxious. With good food, of course.”

Anna underlined
lunch
again. She understood now. Because he worked in the NSA, Alfredo was worried their line was tapped. Part of the job over there was using sophisticated means—satellites mainly—to eavesdrop on foreign and domestic enemies. People seemed to worry most about what they themselves did or dealt with. Therefore, liars seemed most worried about other liars. She’d read a study before that said some off-duty police officers took their gun with them when they went outside to empty the trash. Dealing with muggers and thieves all day gave them a darker worldview than a software engineer, say, who probably worried more about identity theft.

“Do you know of a good place to eat that fits your description?” Anna asked.

“You pick it,” Alfredo said promptly.

“How about Herod’s by the University Mall?” she said.

“Herod’s,” Alfredo said. “Yes, that’s perfect. Can you meet me in an hour?”

“Make it an hour and half,” she said.

“You’re beautiful, my love. I’ll reserve a table for us next to the band.”

“Are you sure I’ll like the music?”

“I’m very sure,” Alfredo said, sounding serious now. “You must come, yes?”

“An hour and a half,” Anna said. “Bye.” She immediately hung and therefore missed his goodbye, if he’d given one.

Anna frowned at her notepad. What did Alfredo want to tell her that was so important he couldn’t speak about it over the phone? She tapped the pad with her pen, deciding she’d better summon Tanaka.

Her boss didn’t like it when she went places without any security. He recognized that Third Assistant to the National Security Advisor didn’t make him a primary target, or those working for him. But he’d told her more than once that she was a special case, and Anna was quite certain her boss meant it as a compliment. He probably wanted a date with her.

If there weren’t some merit to what he’d said, she’d have declined the protection. The Aztlan separatists seemed to have lost their fire recently, but the incidence of kidnapping and often the execution of government people had risen all over the world. It wasn’t just an American problem. At this point in history, the world seemed hell-bent on continuing to fracture into smaller and smaller national entities. There wasn’t a Great Britain anymore. Instead, it was England, Wales and Scotland, each a separate nation. The favored tactic of many separatist organizations was kidnapping someone officially important. They did it in order to gain a platform for broadcasting their demands and, Anna believed, to intimidate government personnel.

Picking up the phone, Anna decided to play it safe. Besides, Tanaka made her feel better in the city, which was a welfare jungle seething with violence. Her mother had told her many years ago that men wanted her body, and would do outrageous things to acquire it. Anna could often hear her mother’s scolding voice in her head whenever she walked the streets alone. An hour and a half, she’d need the time to prepare her security and run a quick check on Herod’s, Alfredo and the safest route to the mall. These days, with so many people out of work and looking for money, it paid to prepare.

***

The big band music crashed through the dining area of Herod’s. The musicians wore glittering suits as they played their instruments in the alcove. Overhead, massive, slowly rotating chandeliers added to the ambiance. Herod’s was one of the posh spots of the capital. Waiters in tails took the orders. Cocktail waitresses wearing strings of sequins brought the drinks. Because it was the 2030s, a huge fad had developed on the East Coast for the 1930s. Nostalgia for the first Depression was fashionable and growing.

Anna wore a pants suit that did nothing to heighten her beauty. She still wore glasses, her hair in a bun and used makeup to dampen the smoothness of her skin.

Tanaka moved ahead of her. The security agent wore a slick suit and dark sunglasses. There was a gun in his jacket. His hair was greased back and he had stern features, an expert in personal security. Anna liked him because he hardly ever spoke and never offered her an opinion on anything.

Many of the higher government officials hired their own security these days in 2032, gunmen bought on the cheap. Anna’s boss the National Security Advisor kept more guards than average, as he was a rich man. With the state of the economy, it was relatively easy to find competent men.

“You brought your pet goon!” Alfredo shouted over the noise.

Tanaka didn’t even glance at the NSA man sitting at a small table to the immediate left of the alcove. Tanaka glanced around, possibly examining the various tables and their occupants, and then he bent near Anna’s ear.

“I’ll wait outside the dining room,” Tanaka said in a deep voice, his hot breath blowing against her skin.

A shiver ran down Anna’s spine from his voice, but she clamped down on any outer emotions. She nodded as Tanaka turned and strode away. Other security men always pulled out her chair for her. Tanaka had never offered once. She wondered why, and she was surprised that it nettled her. She even glanced back at him as he moved gracefully through the crowd. He was like a panther.

“Are you troubled?” Alfredo asked.

Anna features tightened as she pulled out her chair, sat down and picked up the menu. Like everything else here, it was elegant in overdone art deco.

“The french fries are to die for,” Alfredo said.

Anna lowered her menu. “You order. Make it something light, though.”

Alfredo motioned to a waiter. The dining area was packed with millionaires, lobbyists, important bloggers, ambassadors and Congressmen with daughter-aged companions.

Anna’s NSA official was thin and balding, with a narrow mustache. He wore a black suit and tie in a neo-nineteen-thirties fashion. Alfredo Diaz was good at his job, was a Harvard graduate and chess club member, and he had voted for President Clark. Several times, he’d alerted Anna to potentially explosive information, which she had passed on to the Third Assistant. Once, Anna had received a commendation signed by the President for it, handed to her by the National Security Advisor.

The problem of government leaks had intensified throughout the years with spies both foreign and domestic. Many of those spies were embedded within the bureaucracy. Years ago, Alfredo had dabbled with Aztlan separatism. Aztlan was the name for former Mexican territory now belonging to the United States: Texas, Arizona, New Mexico, Nevada and California. Alfredo had told Anna once that the situation in Mexico had changed his mind.

Mexico had come under heavy Chinese influence. Because of that, the country had exploded with cheap factories and cheaper labor. There was no minimum wage as Mexico exploited its labor with help from Chinese advisors. The economy had grown rapidly, but the wealth distribution had become more uneven. It had been one of the reasons for the civil war. Alfredo had decided to stick with the peaceful government, realizing he didn’t want to live in a country where the rich needed to hire permanent guards. A few times since his
awakening
—as he’d put it—he’d helped pass Trojan horse information to the leaders of Aztlan. They’d been poison pills that had suppressed some of their primary terrorist cells. Alfredo definitely didn’t want civil war here.

Anna and Alfredo now spoke about the latest Broadway play, sipped wine, nibbled on french fries—they were fantastic—and fell silent as each ate his entrée. Anna had sautéed mushrooms and a half order of ribs. Alfredo devoured a sirloin steak. Neither wanted dessert, although both agreed they’d like a cup of coffee.

“I want mine black,” Anna told the waiter, who bowed at the waist to show he’d received the information.

“French cream for me,” Alfredo said.

Soon, each sipped coffee as the band played a newly fashionable Benny Goodman number.

“Is this going to be on my tab?” Anna asked.

Alfredo smiled as he
clicked
his coffee cup onto its saucer. “You’re paying because I have this.” He slid a memory stick across the table.

Anna glanced at the tiny black object before opening her purse and sliding it into a side pocket. Then she gave Alfredo a significant glance.

“What do you know about the destruction of Platform Seven?” Alfredo asked.

“The Shop experts believe CHKR-57 high explosives were used,” she said. “I suppose that’s why the report was forwarded to me. CHKR-57 is of Chinese make.”

Alfredo used his napkin to wipe sweat from his forehead. “The search and rescue workers have discovered a Chinese corpse. The corpse was carrying a TOZ-2.”

“A TOZ-2 underwater pistol,” Anna said. “Those are issued to White Tiger Commandos.” She frowned. “Wait a minute. I glanced at the search and rescue reports. There was never any mention about a TOZ-2. It certainly isn’t in the news.”

Alfredo glanced both ways before he leaned across the table. “The search and rescue people who found the body have been quarantined.”

“What?”

“I heard the order,” Alfredo said.

“You intercepted it?”

He looked down. “I got carried away,” he whispered. “There was no one else at my station, which is unusual but it happens more often than people realize. I kept monitoring the conversation and it became increasingly more interesting.”

Anna became thoughtful. “You have strict policies concerning who and what a NSA officer listens to. You’ve just admitted to a serious Federal crime. They could put you away…maybe forever, for what you’ve just admitted doing.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” Like a shy boy caught stealing, Alfredo looked at her. “I think the President has decided to cover this one up.”

“Why would you believe that?”

“I heard a Presidential order. It went to a Secret Service detail, with orders to bring the admiral in charge of the S-and-R operation to Washington for a briefing.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

Alfredo shook his head. “The Secret Service detail was given top secret orders to reroute the flight and detain the admiral and the entire S-and-R Team in a lonely facility on Federal land in Nevada.”