would hoard food, China would have to take matters into their own hands. Cheng Ho had freely given to the world. Now it was the world’s turn to give to China. If they would not give, China would rouse itself to act. On this, everyone present must assure themselves that the Chairman would do what was needed.
There had been more of the same. At the end of the increasingly passionate speech, the Agricultural Minister had turned to the Chairman, kneeling before him and bowing like a eunuch of old.
The masses had erupted with wild clapping and cheering, while the Chinese national anthem blared over the loudspeakers.
As she sipped her morning tea, thinking about the speech, Anna sat up in sudden wonder. She turned on the computer and brought up the video of Tiananmen Square. Using zoom, she carefully scanned the people on stage with the Chairman and Jian Hong. After the third scan, Anna concluded that Deng Fong was nowhere to be found with them. Quickly, she brought up old Tea Ceremonies commemorating the dead of the Taiwan reunification. Each time, Deng Fong had delivered the speech. In some, the Chairman was present, but not in others.
“Something has happened,” Anna whispered to herself. What did she know about Jian Hong? He was ambitious and driven, a youth of fifty-six sitting on the Ruling Committee of the Politburo. He also ran the failed Agricultural Ministry.
In Sydney, Deng Fong had wished to trade oil for grain.
Anna studied old notes. Deng had handpicked Jian for the post. Then she recalled a counter CIA brief. It took her a full ten minutes to find it. This analyst believed that Deng wished to torpedo Jian by stationing him in a post that couldn’t succeed. With the new glaciation, how could any Chinese, no matter how gifted, hope to increase crop yields?
Was there a hidden power play in progress?
Thinking deeply, Anna took the elevator to the cafeteria and refilled her cup with herbal tea. When she returned to her cubicle, she read CIA and DIA reports concerning China’s latest military moves. Then she used a special program to search the Black Files the NSA sent to the President.
Anna’s pulse quickened as she read a paragraph concerning a regiment of T-66 multi-turreted tanks that had been driven onto special cargo ships. Those were Army tanks, not Chinese naval infantry vehicles. Why were the Army’s latest T-66s taking part in the naval exercise?
Anna’s palms felt moist. She turned off her computer and stared at the dead screen. She saw her reflection and shook her head. She didn’t want to do this, but Anna Chen found herself standing. Taking a deep breath, Anna headed for the bathroom. She needed to speak with Colin Green, the National Security Advisor. The usual way was to first speak with the Third Assistant and gain an appointment. Anna had the terrible feeling that it might already be too late.
Thinking that, she broke into a run, causing several people to look up and stare at her in surprise. It made her queasy, them looking at her, but she kept running until she hit the bathroom door and hurried inside.
Soon, Anna came out and made her way across the West Wing to the National Security Advisor’s office. She walked inside and cleared her throat.
The National Security Advisor’s secretary looked up. “Oh my,” the man said. “Anna Chen?” he asked.
Anna tried to smile, but failed. She felt uneasy and self-conscious. In the bathroom, she’d tightened her shapeless dress with a belt, cinching it around her waist. She’d undone the bun and brushed the hair to her shoulders, scrubbed off the makeup hiding her smooth skin and had even taken off the thick glasses.
“You’re beautiful,” the secretary said.
Anna wanted to groan. She hated those words, and it made her blurt, “I need to speak with Colin Green— please.”
The secretary kept staring at Anna.
“Is he here?” Anna asked.
“Pardon?”
“The National Security Advisor—”
The door opened as Colin Green stepped out. He’d served in the Air Force for the first twenty years after college. He was brisk, of middle height and the former Senator of California, his influence helping Clark carry the State in his first bid for the Presidency. Green grinned upon sight of Anna. He wore an Armani suit and had short cut, prematurely gray hair. He was known for his extravagant style.
“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 Hong 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 Hong 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 oil rig 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
