Invasion: Alaska (19 page)

“Yes?” he asked.

“Anna Chen would like a word with you, sir,” the secretary said.

“This young lady?” asked Green.

“She belongs on your staff, sir.”

“You do?” Green asked Anna.

She nodded, feeling more miserable than ever. She should never have let down her hair. Why did she think she’d needed to do this to see the National Security Advisor?

“She heads the China Desk to your Third Assistant,” the secretary said.

“Oh,” Green said, frowning, and looking at Anna anew. “Did you do something to your hair?” he asked.

“Sir,” Anna said, “I think you should see this.” She held a computer-scroll in her hand.

Green was shaking his head. “I’m late for a meeting, I’m afraid. The President—”

“I believe China is about to attack America,” Anna said.

“Eh?” asked Green, who had already taken two steps through the office. He stopped and stared at her, the grin no longer there.

“They’ve massed ice-mobile battalions in Eastern Siberia at the most northern edge,” Anna said. “It looks as if they mean to cross the polar ice and attack Canada or Alaska.”

“Why would they do that?” Green asked. His frown had deepened, putting lines on his aging face.

“I’m not sure,” Anna admitted.

“Oh,” Green said, and a building tension seemed to leave him. “Well, write a report and give it to the Third Assistant. I’ll read it later, if he believes it’s warranted.”

“Sir,” Anna said, as he began walking again. “The Chinese are putting T-66 multi-turreted tanks in special cargo vessels.”

Colin Green waved his hand in dismissal. “The Chinese are having their yearly naval exercise,” he said.

“I know that, sir,” Anna said, following him into the quick-exit hall for the underground garage. “But the T-66s tanks are special. They’re the latest in Chinese battlefield technology. There are only a few regiments of them, and now the most combat-ready regiment is being placed onto cargo vessels. The Chinese have never done that before.”

“I’m sure it’s all part of their naval exercise.”

“Sir,” Anna said, “what is the President afraid of?”

Colin Green whirled around. His famous intensity radiated from him. He was known for his outbursts and during them his foul language. “What are you talking about, young lady? What have you heard?”

“The Chinese attacked our oil well off of California,” Anna said. “They did it to sabotage the Secretary of State’s talks in Sydney.”

“Where did you hear that?” Green said, and his eyes flashed. He seemed ready to hit her.

It frightened Anna, but this was too important for her to back down now. She forced herself to say, “Deng Fong didn’t deliver the Tea Ceremony speech in Tiananmen Square a day ago. Jian Shihong did, in the company of the Chairman.”

“Is that supposed to mean something to me?” Green asked.

“Yes,” Anna said. “It’s a powerful political indicator. You and I both know that Deng Fong wishes for peaceful relations with us. What does Jian Shihong desire?”

“Attacking America is madness,” declared Green. He glanced around, and he seemed surprised to find himself in the hall. He scowled, and he shook his head, as if struggling to suppress his emotions. “The President has told me this many times over the last few days.” Green studied her, searching for something.

It compelled Anna to say, “I only want to do what’s best for America, sir.”

“Your idea of a Chinese attack on the Californian oilrig is ludicrous.”

“I know about the White Tiger Commando they found in the water, sir.”

His mouth dropped open, and he swore before saying, “I don’t know how you learned about that. You’re going to tell me how, but right now that doesn’t matter.” He swore again, shaking his head. “Listen to me. The Chinese assault on the oilrig is highly classified information.” He stopped speaking as his eyes roved up and down her body and lingered on her breasts.

It made Anna nauseous.

Green took several steps nearer. “Listen to me, Ms. Chen. This is very important you understand what I’m about to say. President Clark wants peace more than any man on the planet. Too often, nations have conflicted with each other for petty reasons. There were many in the Pentagon who wished to invade Mexico during their recent civil war. Wisely, President Clark kept us out of that.”

“I’m aware of that, sir. It was one of the reasons I voted for him.

Green didn’t seem to hear her as he kept talking. “China is a young country.”

“Excuse me, sir, but China is old beyond measure, the oldest culture on the planet.”

“Don’t interrupt me, Ms. Chen.”

“I’m sorry, sir. I don’t mean to do so. But you must understand—”

Green lurched close and grabbed one of her wrists. His grip was strong. “Don’t ever interrupt me when I’m talking. Do you understand?”

Anna nodded, suddenly afraid. She’d heard strange stories about Colin Green, but had never believed them. The things he’d allegedly done as Senator of California to several visiting actresses—no one could be elected and do such things.

Green wore musky cologne and he had gin on his breath. “I’m telling you that China is a young country, the new great power. There are military men in China who would like nothing better than war with the United States. President Clark isn’t going to give them the provocation their military desires. The Chairman has told the President more than once that he wishes for universal peace.”

Anna summoned her courage to ask, “Then why did the Chairman invade Siberia and Taiwan?”

The grip tightened around her wrist, grinding bones together.

“You listen to me, you little witch. I won’t have people on my staff beating the war drums against China when the President has already made his decision. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, sir,” Anna whispered.

“You are to immediately go home and lock yourself in your house. Stay there until I send a security team to guard you. If you fail to do this, young lady, there will be serious consequences. Do I make myself clear?” He tightened his grip so Anna squirmed.

“You’re hurting me, sir.”

“Yes, because I don’t want you hurting the President’s policies. Now do as I’ve said, Ms. Chen. Go,” and he shoved her.

Anna stumbled and might have fallen, but she steadied herself against the wall.

National Security Advisor Colin Green straightened his tie and let his gaze rove over her body one more time. Then he nodded and headed down the hall.

FORT RICHARDSON, ALASKA

Stan Higgins was in the officers club of Fort Richardson, which was an Army base just north of Anchorage. He didn’t feel like going home today and arguing with his wife again. She didn’t want him posting bail for his dad. He’d tried to get a loan at the bank….

Stan scowled as he sat at a table sipping beer. He appreciated Pastor Bill’s advice and his friend’s insights. According to Bill, Sergeant Jackson had been in the process of giving him a break with his dad. Bill had pointed out that he’d threatened or practically threatened a police officer. Cops usually went ballistic if you did that. Jackson had held his cool and had even been willing to give his dad another chance. Maybe the police officer felt bad for what he’d done to his dad in jail.

“I doubt it,” Stan muttered to himself, sipping his beer.

“Professor.”

Stan looked up to see Brigadier Hector Ramos standing there. The slender officer nodded. He had a beer and glanced at a chair.

“Be my guest,” said Stan.

Ramos sat down. He was the Brigadier of the 1st Stryker Brigade, ‘the Arctic Wolves.’ The Army and National Guard officers meet more often these days. With the Army’s shrinkage and the National Guard gaining tanks, Bradleys and other fighting vehicles, they needed to coordinate more.

Of Mexican descent and with a dark mustache, Hector Ramos was considered a controversial officer. Some of the higher brass in the Pentagon thought of him as a hotshot and a maverick. Others like Stan appreciated the brigadier’s candor and quick intelligence.

“You looked troubled,” Ramos said.

“It shows, huh?”

Ramos shrugged and then suggested, “Let’s play a game of darts.”

A crooked grin crossed Stan’s face. The other officers knew of his love of games, of competition. Ramos was just as fierce a competitor as Bill. Stan had thought before the two should meet, and he’d tried to get the brigadier to come to church with him. Ramos had always declined, saying his interests were more scientific.

They took their beers and went into the other room. For the next fifteen minutes, they tossed darts at the round board. Stan had natural ability, and despite his preoccupation with his dad, he played well. The brigadier had intense focus, and his muscles seemed perfectly wired to his brain. Hector Ramos won.

“Again?” the brigadier asked.

Stan sighed and shook his head.

Hector rubbed his chin. “I’ve been meaning to ask you. Would your father like to come to the officers’ barbecue next week?”

Stan looked alarmed. “What have you heard?”

“Ah. So it
is
your father.”

Stan features fell.

Frowning, Ramos said, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have pried. You just didn’t seem yourself and I was wondering….”

“You haven’t heard anything then?” Stan asked.

“No.”

“Then why did you just ask me that?”

“I had a premonition.”

Stan shook his head. Hector Ramos often amazed him. The man was uncanny. He wondered if General Lee of the Confederacy had been like that. Now there had been a tactical genius of the battlefield. Hmm. The Army had made a mistake posting Brigadier Ramos up here in Alaska. The only real potential war was on the Rio Grande, where they could use a man like Hector Ramos if things ever got hot.

They played another game of darts and each had another beer. Stan found himself telling Ramos about his dad and the incident with Sergeant Jackson.

“A war veteran like your father shouldn’t be in jail,” Ramos said as they sat down. “He needs professional help.”

“Tell me about it,” said Stan. “I’ve tried to post bail…but you know how tight money is these days.”

“They say the Depression is over, but no one told our economy that.”

“Exactly,” said Stan.

Ramos cocked his head. Then he reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. He opened it and extracted two hundred dollar bills. “I would like to donate to your father’s bail.”

Stan blinked at the money. He swallowed, touched by the brigadier’s generosity. “No. I couldn’t—”

Ramos placed the two bills on the table. “Take them. If you don’t get enough for bail, use this for your lawyer.”

“Brigadier—”

Hector Ramos stood up. There was something dark in his eyes. “I remember my father….” He looked away, shook his head and turned back to Stan. Whatever had been in his eyes was hooded now. “Take the money, Professor. It’s the least I can do for our best tank commander.”

“Sir—”

“No one receives proper wages these days. Tell me later what happened.”

“No,” said Stan. “This is too much.”

“Isn’t that always the case, Captain? A good day to you.” Then Brigadier Hector Ramos strode away, leaving Stan staring at the two hundred dollar bills lying on the table beside the darts.

-7-

Beginnings

SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA

First Rank Lu Po of the White Tiger Commandos doubted he would survive the attack against the two American carriers. That didn’t mean he wasn’t going to try to survive. And if that meant jeopardizing the mission…Lu shrugged his thick shoulders. In that case, the High Commander of the White Tigers should have picked someone else. Well, it actually meant that Lu should have wrestled with less vigor. He’d known even during the matches that he should have faked an injury. The trouble was he couldn’t do that. No one had ever beaten him wrestling and he hadn’t been about to let anyone do it then, either. Besides, if he’d lost, the commander and others would have been suspicious, and that sort of suspicion directed against him would have been unhealthy.

Pride and fear have brought you here
.

As the San Francisco-registered fishing trawler creaked among the bay’s waves, Lu flexed his pectorals. They were iron-hard. He could bench-press four hundred and forty-five pounds and had once broken a man’s hand simply by squeezing it. He’d apologized afterward and had felt guilty. Still, it had let everyone in the combat group know how strong he was.

Lu Po sighed. He was strong, and he was smart. He wondered what winning wrestling matches had to do with aiming a Dragon Claw missile. Practically nothing was the answer. The wrestling matches had been about winning the chance to go on a suicide mission for China. It was a morale-booster. It showed the remaining White Tigers what a hero the winners were. It made the others proud to belong to such a warrior elite.

We wrestled for the chance to die heroically for China
.