Razing Beijing: A Thriller (93 page)

Rong’s eyes wandered over the map spread out on his desk.

Deng folded his hands on the desk.

Rong appraised the Commissioner. “Would it surprise you to
learn that we believe the Americans are aware of our satellite weapon?”

“Aware? In what sense?”

“In the sense of classified information acquired through an
informant.”

Deng’s face dawned with cold recognition. “Here I thought
you summoned me to discuss turning the weapon to the defense of our Iranian
ally.” His jaw clenched beneath flaccid skin. “If this is just another of your
assaults on the integrity of my staff—”

“Did you not meet with an American in Tokyo?”

“Tokyo...yes, I’m sure I met several. It was an
international trade summit.”

“This particular meeting occurred quite late in the
evening, discreetly, most notably without the knowledge of your security
detail.”

“You mean, with my friend Stuart?” Deng searched both men’s
faces. “Is
that
what this is about?”

Chen took pause at the candid admission. “Do you deny
knowing this man’s business, or that you did not discuss it?”

“Did I mention that this was a trade summit? Mr. Stuart
said he had recently returned to work at his old medical instrument company. We
actually met years ago here in Beijing. But we didn’t talk about medicine.”

“What is it you talked about?” asked Rong.

“Telecommunications.”

“Telecomm...how interesting.”

“I see you don’t believe me—I suppose I should be insulted.
Mr. Stuart is interested in allying his company’s expansion with a Chinese
partner, something about managing telecommunications business accounts. I
didn’t follow it all, as it seemed to me, well, dry. We talked about family. Tragically,
his wife is deceased, his ex-wife.” Deng reflected with a frown. “His little
daughter likes to ride horses. Our chat was cut short by the fire.”

“You knew it was a false alarm,” said Chen.

Deng cranked his head toward the security officer. “I seem
to recall a good deal of smoke. There were injuries...”

Rong slid open a drawer beneath the surface of his desk and
removed a cigarette. The other men watched as he lit it before tossing the
lighter onto the map. He stood from his chair and walked over to gaze out the
window. “Commissioner, you have my sincerest apology for the inconvenience I
have caused you today. I am sure you understand our concern. We are all looking
forward to things proceeding smoothly this evening. Our quest for national
security must spare no man.”

Deng pushed himself up from the front of Rong’s desk. “I
had better get busy then.” He stopped and turned at the door. “Given our
audience tonight, it might be appropriate that my staff assist in the
targeting. The technicians seem to me a bit overwhelmed, what with this being
their first shot.”

“That will not be necessary.”

“The parameters can be tricky.”

“Respectfully, Commissioner, the security...”

“I’m not suggesting that we sidestep security, or receive
specific knowledge of the nature of the target. Such information is not—”

“I believe that the PLA can handle it.”

Deng nodded. He turned and disappeared through the
doorway.

DENG STEPPED ALONE
into
the elevator and the car began its descent to the ground floor. He closed his
eyes, overwhelmed by emotion—he could barely bring himself to occupy the same
room with the man. He did find revealing Rong’s implication that his military
technicians were already adept at targeting the weapon.

The elevator car came to an imprecise halt, a remnant
of slipshod 1970’s workmanship, and Deng limped onto the linoleum floor of the
lobby. The anecdotal evidence mounting in support of Stuart’s theory
highlighted the insane level of stakes and risks for everyone. He should never
have bought into the American’s proposal.
Well, I did, and now it’s out of
my hands.
The only thing left to do was hope for his son’s providence. It
was unfortunate that he was unable to visit home before tonight’s activities
began. If things were to go badly, it was going to be a long while should he
ever again see his family.

RONG WAITED UNTIL
well
after Deng had disappeared. “I will never understand what would make a man
undermine his career’s crowning accomplishment by turning traitor. The old fool
is guilty as hell. Explain once more why we should not immediately destroy this
American facility.”

Chen recognized his sudden opportunity—despite Rong having
already dismissed as foolish optimism his suggestion that there soon might not
be a Pentagon to develop their own such weapon. His risk, then, was appearing
too quick to float the very idea he had previously advised against.

“Do you mean, tonight?” Chen asked.

Rong seemed to absorb the dimensions of his subordinate’s
tacit admission. “So.” He waggled his cigarette. “You’ve come around to the
idea, after all?”

Chen held his breath.

Rong’s eyes sparkled. “The idea of destroying it
tonight
hadn’t actually occurred to me. Let’s say I was to overlook your dismal
handling of the matter.” Rong drew on his cigarette, signaling a reprieve from
a deeper examination of Chen’s shortcomings. “The idea of eliminating that
liability tonight does have merit. Can it be done?”

Chen exhaled. “So far as we know, their computer system is
the exclusive warehouse of this technology. We know the building layout. We are
not talking about a prohibitive quantity of transportable material...I would
have to consult with our physicist.”

“Dr. Zhao is being cooperative, is he?”

“Quite, and he is conveniently here in Beijing. With the
second satellite successfully launched, I arranged to have Zhao’s wife
transferred to Capital Hospital.”

“We must take every reasonable measure to preserve our
technological lead in such weaponry. This will be one albatross removed from my
neck.”

Chen was likewise relieved of his own albatross. By the
same token, formulation of target parameters for the Pennsylvania Three Mile
Island nuclear reactor had received his personal attention. It was he who had
accompanied the engineer to survey the Russian containment vessel methodologies
inside Bushehr, which reflected industry-wide upgrades similarly employed
within the American plant.

“Second thoughts, Deputy Minister?”

“Only...there may be unexpected consequences of destroying
the CLI facility, now that their law enforcement is again sniffing about. With
regard to re-sequencing the attack, my recollection was that the nuclear
reactor was to have been—”

“The final provocation? That just so happens to be a problem
I’ve been struggling with.”

Judging by Rong’s sudden uplift in mood, Chen thought
whatever problem there had been now appeared to be gone.

“There was a blustery exchange of threats today between
Washington and Tehran—the pump is primed, you see. And none too soon, as I am
sick
of dealing with these clerics. But my sense is that tonight is simply premature
for the masterstroke. You mentioned our second satellite. When does it become
operational?”

“I am told by the engineers who are stepping it through its
start-up procedure that it will not be ready for another week yet.”

Rong considered the timing with a sigh. “I want more
pressure to build, particularly on the pacifist American president. While he is
inclined to govern with emotion rather than intellect, he is proving lamentably
slow to do much of anything. I have prepared some additional aggravation for
him. We should probably delay Iran’s final, egregious attack on America. Could
we postpone TMI for the following attack in the sequence?”

“I believe we can do as you wish, so long as the decision
is soon.”

Rong blew two full lungs of smoke at the ceiling. “How many
casualties do we expect from the nuclear fall-out?”

TMI cooled its reactors with water drawn from the
Susquehanna River, a major tributary to the Chesapeake Basin. Its strategic
proximity to the populous American capital had been a primary consideration. “In
the many thousands,” Chen replied.

“And tonight, at this corporate office building?”

“I would think only a handful of technicians in the
computer center.”

“Very well—the decision is made. I would like you to change
tonight’s target to the CLI facility. I shall inform the Standing Committee
members of the change.” Rong reached for the phone. “You had better see to the
details.”

Chen rose to leave.

“With regard to Deng’s son.”

“Yes?”

“Have him arrested. Do it tonight. Clapping his son in
irons should loosen up the old bastard’s tongue.”

This was one decision for which Chen had prepared. “I’ll
put two men on it immediately. With his dissident record, we can put him away
for twenty years.”

“I am interested in the contents of this package delivered
by his father. Use whatever means necessary, except...” Rong frowned. “Better
not let the arrest present too big a distraction tonight for Deng. I will defer
those details to you.”

Leaving Rong’s suite, Chen Ruihan passed a bank of windows
overlooking what in daylight was an expansive view of the manicured gardens
surrounding the State Council Building. Tonight the sidewalks through the
grounds were illuminated, like rivers of chance winding through the darkness,
and Chen allowed himself to believe that he would live to see the morning,
after all.

“LET’S JUST KEEP THIS
in
perspective,” said President Denis, slowly shaking his head, drawing inquisitive
stares from his cabinet advisors. “Beijing’s gone to some lengths to assure
leaders around the world that their Spratly action was in response to Middle
East instability. I might take umbrage with their claim, but can I sit here and
honestly deny the plausibility of it?”

Lester Burns wondered what, if anything, he might’ve
overlooked which the President had not. China had prodigiously stockpiled their
crude oil reserves in more than a hundred tank farms. CIA estimates, with which
even the Paris-based International Energy Agency numbers closely agreed, put
the reserves at an equivalent eleven months of petroleum consumption. If that
weren’t enough, for the past five months their armed police and state security
thugs had waged their bloodiest crackdown ever on Muslim separatists in western
Xinjiang Province, stabilizing an important domestic source of China’s oil and
natural gas production. As bad as disruptions involving Iran were liable to be,
Burns found it difficult to accept that Beijing would embark on the largest
territorial grab in history simply to ‘protect vital economic interests against
American gangsterism.’ No, the President must simply be exercising his
commander-in-chief’s prerogative to push back against his advisors.

Burns said to the President, “My analysts say the PLA has
enough oil to float their navy in. Unfortunately, we don’t yet know what
Beijing is up to. Maybe this is all just some calculated ploy to corner the oil
market. For the sake of argument, let’s accept the foreign minister’s remarks
at face value and ignore that they’ve disrupted global trade, attacked our
allies in the region, that at last count some four army divisions were pouring
over the border into Vietnam and that Hanoi and Da Nang are under assault.”

They had briefed President Denis on the major naval
skirmishes around Vietnam’s Big Bear oilfield, Nha Tang, and Phan Rang; Chinese
shots fired across the bows of both Japanese and Australian Aegis warships; increased
submarine presence detected between the Philippine coastline and Shantou. The Thai
defense minister had called his Pentagon contact to announce that Myanmar was
threatening to reinforce Malay peninsular border troops all the way to
Singapore, with the potential to completely constrict movement through the Malacca
Strait. Filling out the scenario of a complete regional meltdown, North Korea
suddenly found the temerity to send a message to the forward deployed force
command on the 38
^th
parallel, informing him that he had thirty days
to begin a draw-down, with bland assurances that the DPRK would not in the
process exploit their numerical advantage. The clock, he was told, was ticking
on the nuclear fuse.

General Marcia Fuller said, “Mr. President, we are down to
one carrier group in the region, and between bases in Korea, Okinawa, Tokyo,
Thailand, a total of nine air attack and bomber squadrons. There’ll come a
point where our erstwhile allies may themselves assess our presence over there
as inadequate. And that is dangerous for not only the obvious reasons but also
because it risks strategic allegiances being re-evaluated and more public denunciations
of the sort out of Seoul, or quietly through back-channels, any of which
embolden the opposition. The Chinese know this.”

“For now, the PLA seems to be going out of its way not to unduly
harass merchants transiting the South China Sea between the Luzon and Malacca
straits,” Burns added. “But no merchant still wanting to transit is able to
even buy insurance, not at any price. We’d be deceiving ourselves not to recognize
that the sea lanes of communication are now controlled by the PLA. That’s
fifty-five percent of the world’s maritime shipping, the world’s busiest sea
lanes. New York and London have followed the Nikkei and All Ordinaries markets
into the tank, to name a few that even opened today, and—”

“Oil futures markets have hardly budged,” Herman pointed
out.

“They were already trading over $370 a barrel because of
our action with Iran.” Burns allowed Herman a moment to rebut. “Now then—we are
talking about the seizure of 2 million square kilometers of planet earth. Between
what the Chinese already had and their recent acquisitions, they now have air
bases on Pratas, Hainan, Woody Island in the Paracels, on Mischief and Zengmu
Reefs. You add to that list outposts on the Vietnam peninsula, and they won’t
need expensive aircraft carriers to project their power over the region.”