enough. It would have been under normal circumstances. Ms. Chen,” Green said, turning toward Anna. “You have my full permission to come and see me at any time if you have further information.”
“Thank you, sir,” Anna said.
“Enough, Colin,” the President said. “Ms. Chen, you believe the Chinese attacked our carriers?”
“Yes, sir,” she said. And she outlined what she had told Colin Green the day before.
“In your opinion, why would they make such an underhanded attack against our carriers?” the President asked.
“I believe the Chinese are using their naval exercise as a screen for a sudden land attack,” Anna replied. “They’ve loaded up an unusual number of naval brigades, and the Chinese Army rolled a regiment of T-66 multi- turreted tanks onto fast cargo ships. Maybe as telling, the ice-mobile formations in Ambarchik Base in East Siberia have been receiving mass air-shipments of supplies and air-mobile companies.”
“You’re better informed than the Pentagon,” the President said, bemused.
“Sir, I believe the Chinese objective is Alaska and particularly the oilfields.”
“Tell me why?”
“I’m not completely certain as to why,” Anna said. “But I believe the key is the oilfields in Prudhoe Bay and ANWAR, together with the oil rigs in the Arctic Ocean. They represent a large supply of crude. Maybe the Chinese are trying to corner the oil market. Their interior rice riots likely frightened the Party. Maybe with the oil market cornered, they can dictate world food prices.”
The President nodded. “I wish I would have learned of this sooner. Now with two carriers destroyed…I don’t see how we can stop this diplomatically.”
Anna leaned forward. She’d been thinking about this for some time. “Sir, I have a suggestion. The Politburo’s Ruling Committee is seldom unanimous. There are strong personalities on the committee vying for power as the Chairman’s grip weakens. Deng Fong, Jian Hong, Admiral—” She shook her head. “The names don’t matter now. My point is that maybe you can shake their resolve.”
“I’m not sure I follow you,” the President said.
“I can’t believe Deng Fong is in favor of war. Maybe you can scare the others with American resolve. Show the Chairman this was a mistake.”
“The Joint Chiefs are showing me how to do that, Ms. Chen. They talk about an ASBM assault on the Chinese Fleet.”
“You just spoke about fixing this diplomatically, sir. I realize blood has been spilled, and it is hard to reset the clock. But this is Greater China we’re talking about.”
“What is your point?”
Anna glanced at the Secretary of State. He looked stern, angry. Colin Green seemed worried. Anger smoldered in the President’s eyes.
“Sir,” Anna said, “I suggest you call the Chairman. He will want to speak with you.”
“Why?” asked Clark.
Anna said this carefully as the President and his advisors were proud, powerful men. “The Chairman believes himself to be very persuasive. In both the Siberian War and against Taiwan, he lied to those he was attacking. He lied in order to get them to drop their guard. Both Siberia and Taiwan were too weak to resist Chinese arms for long. Therefore, the leaders of both countries were eager for any possible solution short of war. Those leaders took a risk and believed the Chairman’s promises. They were psychologically primed, so they grasped at straws. The Chairman, however, believes he possesses a golden tongue, that it was his speaking gift that bewildered the Siberian and Taiwanese leaders into making foolish decisions. Several analysts now see this as his signature tactic. In the Tokyo Interview, the Chairman said that a few words leading others in the wrong direction saved thousands of Chinese lives. He asked which was worse, to speak falsely in a needed time or to let others spill his people’s precious blood.”
“You believe the Chairman will lie to me?” the President asked.
“Yes, sir, I do.”
“He will attempt to trick me, as you say.”
Anna nodded.
“Why should I speak with him then?” the President asked.
“To give
“Go on…” said the President.
“During the call you should tell him you’ve strengthened Alaska with secret reinforcements. Tell the Chairman that you know he’s attacking, that you’ve known of his buildup all along and have taken steps accordingly.”
“That will scare him?”
“
The President stared at his hands.
“It’s worth consideration,” the Secretary of State said. “Fight fire with fire.” He turned to Anna. “You have a subtle mind, Ms. Chen.”
Anna nodded demurely.
The President stood up. Everyone else rose with him. “I appreciate your candor, Ms. Chen.”
“Thank you, sir,” she said.
“Keep her near,” Clark told Green. “We may need more insight into the Chairman’s thinking.” Without another word, Clark, the Secretary of State and Colin Green took their leave.
Paul Kavanagh dropped his M14 on the ice beside a dead Asian, the one with a bullet hole in his back. It had been more than a few years since Quebec. Paul had forgotten some of his combat habits. One habit came back right away, however: looting the dead.
At first, in Quebec, it had been hard touching a dead body, especially if you’d made the corpse yourself. There was something mysterious about a dead man. You certainly didn’t want to touch it. To go through a corpse’s pockets—some Marines hadn’t been able to do it, ever.
Paul swallowed as he nerved himself.
He picked up the corpse’s dropped assault rifle, the one with a fancy scope. There were some Chinese symbols on the sides. With an oath, Paul went through the corpse’s pockets, doing it fast. It made him feel soiled, and there was the fear the corpse would sit up suddenly and grab his wrist. It was a deeply superstitious feeling, one difficult to shake despite its impossibility. Lastly, he fumbled with the belt, unbuckling it from the corpse. Hurriedly, Paul buckled the belt around his waist. It held extra curved magazines, a bayonet, two grenades, a canteen and a small, unknown device. He raised the butt of the assault rifle to his shoulder and peered through the activated scope. He’d guessed right—infrared. The barracks and sheds were blue-colored.
“Hurry,” Red Cloud said, who looted his own corpse several feet away. “We don’t have much time.”
Ignoring the Algonquin, Paul scanned the rest of the barracks, derricks and then out on the ice, using the infrared scope. There wasn’t anyone anywhere. It was eerie. Where had the enemy gone? How had these soldiers even gotten here in the first place? No one had teleportation devices that Paul knew of.
Paul brought the assault rifle to waist level as Red Cloud neared. He sure wasn’t going to trust the Algonquin. The Indian still held the big revolver in his hand, although he shouldered an assault rifle. Paul aimed his own assault rifle at Red Cloud’s midsection.
The Algonquin halted, frowning, but smart enough to keep his gun lowered. He raised his eyes to gaze into Paul’s. Red Cloud’s face was emotionless. “Are you a traitor?”
“Yeah, right,” Paul said. “You are.”
“Because I’m a dirty Indian?”
“Cause you’re alive and everyone else is dead,” Paul said with heat.
“What about you?”
“Yeah, what about me?”
“Your logic proves that you must also be a traitor.”
