announced to his colleagues. “What Yu Yongfu did is an example of the disease they’d bring home to the People’s Republic. What I did was to awake you and the Party to what’s happening to the great Revolution of our fathers. Of Mao Zedong, Zhou Enlai, Chu Teh, Deng Xiaoping. I will not resign. I will leave this room with all those who agree with me, and we shall see who the Party supports!”
He raised his massive body onto his spindly legs and stalked to the door. For a moment, he stood there, the door half open, his back to his colleagues, waiting. No one followed.
The secretary sighed. “Tomorrow I’ll call for a vote of the Central Committee and the Politburo. You’ll be stripped of all posts, all prerogatives, and all honors. You’ll be expelled from the Party, Wei Gaofan.”
“Unless,” Niu Jianxing suggested, “you choose to do as Li Aorong told his son-in-law. But you must act quickly.”
“You could think of your family,” the secretary suggested, although his voice did not sound hopeful.
Wei continued to stand there silently. Finished, he nodded and walked out.
Four hours after the cargo of banned chemicals was discovered aboard the Empress and destroyed, Charlie Ouray invited Vice President Brandon Erson over to meet with the president. Then he ordered Air Force One led for a flight out to the West Coast, took a call from Ambassador Wu, who had just returned to the embassy on Connecticut Avenue, and headed downstairs to the situation room, where President Castilla was on the phone with his wife.
“It’s a pretty darn good ending, Cassie,” the president was saying. As soon as he saw Ouray poke his head into the room, he beckoned him inside. “You’ll be able to make it, darling? I’m sorry about your having to cancel the dinner in Oaxaca, but … yes, I know you’re as excited as I am. And the children? Wonderful! Wonderful! I’ll see y’all then.”
He hung up, beaming.
Ouray waited for the president to look at him again. When he did, he reported, “The ambassador called, Mr. President. He wanted officially to thank you, and he gave me a message for you from Niu Jianxing — the Owl.”
“That’s nice. What’s the message?”
“Niu sends his greetings and expresses hope that your health continues to be robust.”
The president burst out laughing.
“What?” Ouray asked. Puzzled, he watched the president laugh harder. He began to smile, then to chuckle as he replayed the message in his mind.
At last he held his sides, laughing, too. The merry sound filled the big, soundproof room, banishing the shadows of the last week.
“Oh, God.” The president wiped his eyes.
“Priceless,” Ouray agreed.
“We needed that. Robust. But from them, it’s a vote of confidence.”
“An expression of hope for the future.”
“Hell, Charlie. He figures he’s got me broke in, and he doesn’t want to have to go through it again anytime soon with someone new!”
Chuckling, the two men leaned back in their chairs.
Ouray observed, “Well, sir, I guess we can say the same about him.”
“True, true.” At last, Sam Castilla’s expression grew serious as his mind returned to the next task. “Just wanted you to know that Justice is getting ready to bring charges against Jasper Kott. It’s going to be a mighty big scandal.”
“Can’t brush it under the rug.”
“No, Charlie. Wouldn’t be right.” There was one more piece of business that had to be taken care of. He sighed, preparing himself. “Is the vice president on his way?”
“Better than that, he’s here.” Brandon Erikson entered the situation room with a broad smile on his handsome face. Behind him, the military aide closed the door. As always, his sable-black hair was brushed back impeccably, and his wiry body was encased in a tailored three-piece suit. He exuded his usual charm and energy. “My congratulations, Mr. President. A magnificent display of statesmanship.”
“Thank you, Brandon. It was a close thing.”
The vice president took his usual seat in the middle of the long table to the president’s right, directly across from Ouray. He nodded pleasantly to Ouray and focused on the president. “I won’t ask for the details of how you pulled it off, sir, but I suspect we have an unsung hero or two in our intelligence agencies.”
“There’s that,” the president agreed. “We also had a lot of help from inside China, particularly from a high- level politician. Our work with him gives me a lot of hope for our relations with China.”
Erikson grinned. “I suspect you’re being modest, Mr. President.” Sam Castilla said nothing.
The vice president blinked and glanced around the silent room that was essentially sealed from the rest of the White House. Not only windowless and soundproof, it was constantly swept for bugs and illicit cameras.
“Is everyone else late? I assumed we were having a post-crisis assessment session.”
The president studied Erikson’s face, looking for what he had missed.
“There won’t be anyone else, Brandon. Tell me, would your friend Ralph Mcdermid be as enthusiastic about our success as you are?”
Erikson looked from the president to the grim-faced Ouray and back again to the president. “I have no idea how Mr. Mcdermid would feel. I barely know the man.” “Really?” Charlie Ouray said.
Erikson did not miss the absence of his title or any of the other usual courteous forms of address for someone of his lofty position. His left eyebrow cocked. “Is something wrong, Mr. President?”
The president’s hand slammed down on the table. Ouray jumped. Erikson looked startled and a little afraid.
Castilla growled, “You know damn well what Mcdermid would’ve thought.
You know exactly which intelligence agents are unsung heroes.”
“That, sir, is preposterous!” Erikson retorted, as angry as the president. “I know?” He seemed to suddenly hear the president’s exact words. “He … would’ve thought?”
The president said curtly, “Ralph Mcdermid’s dead. Altman’s board of directors is right now running around like vultures with their heads cut off to come up with a plausible story to explain it. And it won’t help. Me-Dermid’s dirty deal is going to come out — I’ll see to it. They’ll be jumping ship faster than you can say Arthur Andersen.”
“Dead?” Erikson repeated, his expression shocked. “It’s going to … come out?”
“Your secret pal Ralph Mcdermid was shot to death in China,” Charlie Ouray told him. “Murdered, I’m told, by one of his own hired thugs.” The vice president blinked, recovered, and said cagily, “Horrible. How tragic. What was he doing in China? Some business deal, I expect.”
“Shit, Brandon,” the president exploded. “It’s over. You’ve been caught with your hands deep in other people’s pockets. I expect your resignation on my desk by morning!” He nodded to Ouray, who pressed a button under the table. Erikson sputtered, “My … my resignation?” Two disembodied voices filled the room, one of them the vice president’s: “Don’t get sarcastic. We need each other. You’re a valuable member of the team.”
“I’ll stay that way only as long as I’m behind the scenes.”
“It’s not as bad as you think.
In the end, neither Smith nor the CIA woman damaged us or our project.”
“That the CIA may have you under surveillance doesn’t concern you? Even if it’s not related to our deal, they’ve traced at least some of the White House leaks to you. That should bother you one hell of a lot.”
“I think that’s enough.” Ouray stopped the tape. “I’m sure Mr. Erikson recalls the rest.” Erikson’s hands were folded in his lap under the table. He blinked as if he did not know where he was. Then he drew a long breath. “I suppose I could claim that wasn’t me … ” The president hooted. Ouray rolled his eyes. Erikson nodded slowly. “All right, but doing favors for an important backer in a future presidential campaign, while possibly reprehensible, is hardly a crime, or all of us would be in prison. You may not like me now, Sam, and it’s certain you can shut me out of everything until your term ends, but I doubt you can force me to resign.” “It’s a lot more damning than that,” the president said. “If you recall the entire tape — made by the CIA, incidentally — you’ll realize you implicated yourself in an attempt to cause an armed conflict with China, in which American military personnel would no doubt have
