The Ghost War

“No. He’s still around. In fact, he’s senior enough that he gets into the papers over there every so often. His name’s Cao Se.”

“Still. He could be doubled. Robinson could have given him up along the way.”

“We ran him out of Australia rather than China. Not for any great reason. Just that he initially found us at a military conference in Sydney. Then later he wouldn’t do business with any other office.”

“You really think he’s protected himself?” Shafer said.

“It’s possible. By luck or design.” Tyson huffed and settled back down in his chair. “I think if they’d doubled him he would have reached out a few years back. He would have been another thread in the web they spun for us. Instead he just disappeared.”

“So he’s been gone ten years?”

“Until last week. A visa applicant in Beijing dropped off a letter with the right codes. Amazing but true, the consular officers recognized it and passed it to our head of station. Cao wants a meeting. He says that he would, quote, ‘prefer an officer who has never worked in East Asia.’ Hard to argue with that.”

SHAFER JUMPED TO HIS FEET. “I know where you’re going with this, George. And I want to say for the record it stinks.”

“Where’s he going?” Wells said.

“He wants you to go over there, make contact with this general.”

Tyson nodded.

“Why don’t you send somebody two years out of school, somebody who’s not in their files?” Wells said.

“At this point we have no idea who’s in their files,” Tyson said. “Like Ellis said, the Chinese don’t care about bin Laden. What you did in Times Square was a sideshow as far as they’re concerned. And Cao needs to know we care enough to send somebody important. Like it or not, you’re in that category.”

“Let me add another reason,” Shafer said. “Vinny Duto can’t stand you and wouldn’t mind you spending the rest of your life in a Chinese jail. This is his big chance to get rid of you. If it works, great. If not, bye-bye.” Shafer looked to Tyson. “Et tu, Georgie? Still embarrassed you were on the wrong side last year? Or just looking for new and exciting ways to kiss Vinny’s ass?”

“That’s nonsense, Ellis. This is up to John. If he doesn’t want to go, there’ll be no hard feelings—”

“I’m not finished, George.” Shafer turned toward Wells. “He knows you’re too hardheaded to turn this down, even though we can’t save you if this is a trap. You know that, John. They may not even lock you up. Considering the way things are right now, they may just shoot you.”

Tyson pushed himself to his feet. “Ellis, the PLA has no reason to set up such an elaborate sting at this moment. They’re more worried whether we’re going to bomb Shanghai. I think this approach is genuine, and I want John to go because he gives us the best chance of reaching Cao. No other reason.”

“Yeah, he’s a great choice, considering he doesn’t evenspeak Chinese.” Shafer stepped toward the desk and leaned over Tyson. He looked like a terrier about to launch himself at a bulldog. “What exactly do you think Cao’s going to tell us? You think he’s gonna give us their launch codes so we can nuke Shanghai and not worry about them retaliating? What we ought to do is pull the Navy back to Hawaii and let things settle down.”

“Maybe. And maybe then the PLA will think they have carte blanche to invade Taiwan. The point is we don’t know what they want, what they’re thinking. Now somebody on their side, somebody who knows, wants to tell us.”

“Let him defect, then, if he’s so damn important.”

“He’s making the rules, Ellis, not us. And what he wants is a meeting, his terms, his turf. If John doesn’t want to go, that’s fine. I’ll find someone else.”

“One last question, George. Did you and Duto discuss this little plan?”

“Why wouldn’t we?”

“I rest my case.”

“I’d like to say something,” Wells said.

Exley folded her hands together in an unconscious prayer.

“I’ll go.”

Exley and Shafer spoke simultaneously.

Shafer: “Don’t do this—”

Exley: “No, John—”

“I’ll go.”

PART 4

28

EVERY MORNING MORE PROTESTERS SHOWED UP in Tiananmen Square: peasants stooped by age and work, university students, factory hands, even office workers. They came on bicycles and buses that dropped them by the McDonald’s at the south end of the square. They carried bags of fruit and dumplings so they could stay all day. Each evening they emptied out, as thousands of police officers watched. And all day, under the hazy sky, they sang and chanted and waved banners:

“The will of the people is strong!”

“One people, one China!”

“Hegemonists apologize! No more American war crimes!”

“U.S. out of China Sea! China will never forget the twenty-two murdered martyrs!”

A few of the sloganeers even showed sly humor:

“1.5 billion Chinese can’t be wrong.”

“The American century is over! The Chinese mil lennium begins today!”

The first morning after the Decatur sank the fishing trawler, 50,000 people came to Tiananmen. Two days later, the Beijing police estimated the crowd at 150,000. Similar crowds filled People’s Park in Shanghai, Yuexiu Park in Guangzhou, and the central squares in the rest of China’s metropolises.

On the fifth day, with the Beijing police estimating the crowd in Tiananmen at a quarter-million, Li Ping took a helicopter over the square and looked down on the people, his people. They weren’t yet close to filling the square — Tiananmen could hold a million or more — but even so Li’s heart swelled at the sight.

What a change from 1989, the last time Tiananmen had been so full, Li thought. Then the people had been angry at their leaders. Not this time. The peasants were glad to have an officially sanctioned outlet for their fury at being left behind. The middle class wanted to show the world that China could no longer be cowed. The sinking of the trawler had brought them together. Li had brought them together. This outpouring was the living emblem of his will. Soon he would replace Zhang as the unofficial leader of the Standing Committee. Two of the liberals on the committee had already reached out to him, hinting they would support him if he promised not to push them off the committee when he took charge.

Then, at the next Party Congress, he’d take over from Xu as the party’s general secretary. It was time for the old man to retire. Li would be the head of the army and the party, the most powerful leader since Mao. He would remake China, making sure ordinary people shared in its prosperity, while building up the armed forces. No longer would the United States be the world’s only superpower. This was China’s destiny, and his own. Around him the great city rose in every direction, Beijing’s apartment buildings and office towers stretching through the haze, traffic thick on the ring roads and boulevards, and Li thought: Mine. All this. Mine.

But first he needed to press his advantage. The people filling the square beneath him were crucial to his