INVASION USA (Book 2) - The Battle For New York (46 page)

The chairman stopped. He was trying to catch his breath. His anger was getting away from him and he sat down and wiped his brow.
“Nothing in my whole life has ever gone wrong. Why would it go wrong now?”
he thought.

“I bet that when Colonel Wee returns, he will tell me who the real antagonists against Zedong Electronics are and that they are going to pay for their atrocities against me and my powerful new order. Believe me, Comrade Wang, they are going to pay.”

The phone rang again, and the chairman answered, listening for several seconds. Wang heard an explosion come from the phone’s speaker and a voice shouting at the other end—something about the men being Chinese infiltrators. They had spoken fluent Chinese and he had even seen the eyes of two of them as they passed him going down the stairs, and that aircraft with propellers were attacking the airport while the big jets were taking off. Suddenly, there was a high-pitched scream and another very loud explosion and the phone must have gone dead in the chairman’s hand. He threw it hard against the wall and it broke into several pieces.

Wearily, the chairman sat down, poured himself and Comrade Wang a fresh cup of tea, and shouted several orders to the two guards standing in the room. They disappeared and returned several minutes later carrying a red consul— a new one this time, with four bright red buttons under locked glass, much like the last and fifth button he had pushed a couple of days earlier on the first consul which still stood on the table.

Breakfast was important, and the chairman spent the next couple of minutes enjoying his breakfast before he spoke another word. Comrade Wang could only sit there, uncomfortable, and eat his own breakfast. A man must be allowed to think.

“You see, Comrade Wang….” the chairman continued as he finished his meal. Wang could see that the phone call had taken away his energy. “You see, Wang, the Americans are too stupid to be a force against us. It was Chinese infiltrators, not Americans. I have always been prepared for attacks against us and knew in my heart that our Chinese government would be the ones to let us down. I am prepared for every occasion.”

“Chinese attackers?” asked Mo Wang in shock.

“Yes, Wang, the only nation as intelligent as Zedong Electronics…. and a nation about to die,” the chairman replied, looking at the man as if he were stupid.

The chairman shouted for a new phone and continued speaking while one was found in another room. “Everything is preparation for people trying to stop me. I’ve spent 30 years and much money making sure that my plan doesn’t fail. I’m now going to tell the rest of our aircraft to take off out of Shanghai. Our position there is compromised and I have always had a backup airport ready for this, you know, you have often been there—Harbin Airport in one of the most northern cities in China. I really wanted a second base in the city of Sanya, further south of Shanghai and our most southern city, but any flight directly into New York from Sanya Airport was too far, even for our most advanced 747 and even the Airbus aircraft. So I chose Harbin in our north western territory—very cold in winter but closer to America and far away from Beijing, Guangzhou, Hong Kong and Taipei in Taiwan, where in a few hours they are going to feel my wrath. From our new airport, flying time to New York is shorter by two hours for our troops. We only need one flight of troops, because I honestly believe we don’t need any more. They will fly from Harbin to New York 24 hours before we arrive. Comrade Wang, I bet you my life that we will see no Americans in New York other than women and children begging for food and ready to become Chinese citizens to get a free meal.”

It only took minutes for the men to find a new phone, and it arrived quickly. The chairman made just one call. It was back to the airport, and he talked with someone new. He gave orders for all remaining aircraft to take off immediately, as full of the most elite troops available, and leave everyone else behind. He got angry when he was told that he had only 20 aircraft left. The Chinese pilots had stolen 12, three had been blown up, and the transporter was one of the missing aircraft. It had already been 30 minutes since the attack had begun, and he told his contact at the airport, somebody Wang didn’t know, that they had three hours to get the aircraft onto the ground in Harbin, otherwise their aircraft could fall out of the sky. “Exactly three hours!” he stated into the phone, looking at his watch and explaining to the man on the other end that they had 30 minutes to get out of Shanghai because flying time to Harbin was two hours and that the deadline gave them 30 more minutes to get back on the ground.

“I want three hours of time so that those thieves can fly those stolen aircraft into Beijing,” he stated to Wang as he put the phone down. “They are certainly going to get a shock.”

Wang thought he knew what was about to happen, and he felt sick. He felt sick because he had spent his life helping this mad man, this crazy communist, as crazy as his father before him. The Chunqiao family had spent their lives trying to destroy everything others had tried to build. His father had tried to destroy the world Mao Zee Tung had built 40 years earlier. Now this man, the son of Chunqiao, was doing his best to destroy the world—not only the whole world, but all of Chinese history, thousands of years of advanced history—a nation that had always been in the forefront of progress.

He felt sick inside, but still smiled at the man and begged to leave. With a motion from his right arm, the chairman dismissed Wang. He had already forgotten about the story Wang had told him and from now on he would only listen to his own ideas. He had never understood why he had to listen to anybody else. “Comrade Wang, what a waste of time,” Chairman Chunqiao thought to himself as Wang walked out of the room and back up on deck. Comrade Wang did not feel well.

*****

General Allen felt worried for the first time. He had achieved his main plan of not deserting the deployed American troops, especially on the front lines in the Middle East. There was not much more he could do for the civilians back home. Preston and his team would sort and help as many of the remaining population as possible.

General Pete Allen was a military man—a person who understood war and combat—not feeding millions of starving people. To date, he had achieved much and was satisfied with his team’s accomplishments. They had taken the attack to the enemy. Thanks to Carlos and Lee Wang, the United States had communications with many parts of the world, and the Russian and Chinese governments now knew that it wasn’t America that had carried out this ghastly deed.

Pete Allen also realized that the world, totally dependent on its desperate need for all types of electronics to run, was literally on its knees, and millions more were going to die long before modern civilization got back on its feet. The whole of the world’s civilization had been pushed back to before the Industrial Age—more than a hundred years earlier.

It was going to take time, probably decades, before all the First World countries became First World countries again. All the First World countries were now Third World countries, and he realized that all the poor people in Third World countries, and who had existed last year, depending on free food supplies from other countries, would now die or at least drop their population numbers to those few who could survive this catastrophe—not many, but maybe enough to survive as a nation, or a nationality.

Zedong Electronics had certainly done a number on the world, certainly turning civilization back and maybe it was a good thing. Maybe it was a good thing to learn from, maybe to re-write society so that it didn’t depend on the stupid ideas of war and greed and electronic trinkets that had been plaguing civilization as a whole.

He had one more stop in Beijing to hand over the cell phones for American and international communications with China. He would refuel there and, as a captain leaving a sinking ship, his would be the last of the flying aircraft to land in Turkey. There he would gather every aircraft and all the military personnel he could and get them to New York to repel Zedong Electronics’ first and only attack on the United States. Once this attack was thwarted, he reckoned that they would run out of steam and be unable to launch another one. If they believed that America was such an easy push over in terms of invasion, then they would be in for a shock. That could also mean that maybe their top brass were on board the ships or aircraft coming in and it would be necessary to destroy every uninvited guest trying to put their feet onto American soil. He remembered the area around the entrance to New York, and for the next two hours as they flew onto Beijing, he designed a plan of defense around New York Harbor.

He was 30 minutes out of Beijing when he called Colonel Patterson who was on his way to Elmendorf in Alaska. The large group of 747s were currently cruising at 38,000 feet, 1,500 miles west of Shanghai, and would be leaving Chinese air space in just over an hour, heading north of Pakistan and into Turkey. They were on a fast cruise and were five hours away from the Incirlik Air Force Base in Turkey.

General Allen spent the next 20 minutes talking to Patterson and outlining the plan of defense he wanted set up as soon as Colonel Patterson arrived back in New York. The colonel was ordered to take the first C-130 out of McGuire and set up the defense plan in New York Harbor so that men and arms were moving before General Allen got back in an estimated two days. The general wanted to head into Baghdad and Kabul and organize the troop extractions himself. He wanted to find all the Special Forces—Seal Team Six was out there somewhere—and he wanted them in New York ASAP. He wanted every aircraft full to the brim with troops out of Turkey, clearing the base and country of all active American personnel and, in one sweep, fly them into the three New York airports.

They would deposit their cargos and then return straight back to Baghdad on alternate days to do the same until Iraq was totally clear of troops. On the other days, the fleet would fly into Kabul and transfer all U.S. military and civilian personnel out of Afghanistan.

Then General Allen spent ten minutes describing the best way to defend New York Harbor against an air or naval attack. He had detailed such a plan decades earlier when he was a major in the Air Force. The then Major Allen had been given the task of defending New York as a scenario against a possible attack from Cuba around The Bay of Pigs timeframe.

He had just finished explaining his plan to Patterson when the pilot told the general they were five minutes out and the weather was clear and the sun bright but cold.

The landing was normal. The same runway had been cleared and the pilot had actually communicated on the radio with the airport tower ten minutes before they arrived over the vast city.

The Lull before the Storm

The Chinese radio controller in Beijing stated in bad English that government officials were being driven to the airport and that they would be another half an hour. Before the lonely Ghost Rider landed, General Allen called the other aircraft to check on their progress while his crew got ready. The temperature outside was well below freezing, but the sunlight was nice to see as he looked through the cockpit windows.

Blue Moon, Lazy Girl, and the tanker were three hours out of Omsk and about to enter Mongolia. All the Russian and restored U.S. radio beacons were working well and they were on track. The transporter was well on her way and about to enter Alaskan air space.

Now he had to have this meeting and then get back to what he wanted to do—move the troops back home.

It was nearly 30 minutes before the same three limousines arrived, flags flying. They were escorted by military jeeps in front and behind the cavalcade. The same three men got out, each with an interpreter, and they gathered in a group around the middle vehicle. Pete Allen walked up to them and gave each man a satellite phone. He also gave them the numbers of the phone, explained that the red number on each phone would dial the enemy, and gave them a short list of only five other phone numbers—the U.S. President’s, his, and the three numbers on their way to the Russian government.

The Chinese delegation thanked the general, got into their cars, and much to his relief, drove off in the same way they had come in. Once again, he was left alone at the international airport, which was desolate and empty except for a few newspapers and candy wrappers rolling by in the wind.

Refueling took another ten minutes, and the crew made sure that the tanks were as full as possible, since the next stretch to Omsk was only 50 miles shorter than Ghost Rider’s longest fuel range before she had to switch to reserve tanks, and those only gave her another 45 minutes of flight. It was going to be tight.

He looked around and went for a short walk while the crew got everything stashed away. He realized for the first time that all of the airport terminal slots were actually full of aircraft, whereas at the U.S. airports they had been mostly empty. He looked around a little closer and realized that there were hundreds of aircraft—mostly Chinese airlines at the terminals. From where he stood, he could see well over 70 aircraft and he realized why the 747s in Shanghai had been parked in a line and easily stolen. There were hundreds of aircraft everywhere.

They hadn’t lost hundreds of aircraft in the air. The Chinese aircraft were all on the ground when the lights went out. They must have been warned by Zedong Electronics. Pete suddenly felt like he was in a trap. He immediately walked over to the nearest aircraft—the older 747 with China Airlines on its tail he had entered on his last visit. It was as dead and empty as the last time he’d been in it. He just wanted to make sure, and this time he checked all the electronic switches he could in the cockpit. It would never fly again.

He checked the galleys where the cabin attendants made drinks and food and discovered that the smell wasn’t good. There were meals rotting in the galleys—meals that had been ready for passengers when they boarded. That foxed him. It looked like the aircraft had been grounded just in case there were bad parts on them, which there were, but the aircraft had been made ready for flight once it had been grounded, which meant that somebody was expecting to fly it again once the emergency was over.