THIRTY-NINE
Mike Rodgers had the plans for the Xichang space center spread on his bed. The detailed map was nearly the size of the blanket. Satellite photographs of the facility were arrayed on his laptop. Rodgers had printed out blueprints of the rocket and payload. Those were on the floor with a map of the region beside them. The map was marked with public transportation that came virtually to the southeastern gate of the facility. Most of the scientists lived on site for convenience and security.
The former general stood in the middle of the papers. He was looking down at all of them, his eyes moving from one to the other. Rodgers had always solved problems best by “grazing the options,” as he called it. He would get a first impression from one and move to the next. Those initial ideas were usually the best ones.
Assuming there was to be an attack on the rocket, he felt comfortable with one of three scenarios. First, that the rocket would be destroyed over a specific target. That would contaminate the region below with radiation and cause a long-term setback to the use of plutonium-powered satellites. That would be a loss to General Tam Li and would boost his rival Chou Shin in the long term. Second, that the rocket would be destroyed upon takeoff. That would take out a chunk of the Chinese command as well as their capability to launch any kind of rockets, military or domestic. Both men had their eye on power. Both men would gain from a temporary power vacuum. The third possibility was that the satellite itself would be targeted once it was in orbit. That would be a setback for Unexus but not the Chinese military. That, too, would help Chou Shin, who was an advocate of isolationism.
Any of these were plausible. The question was how to pull it off. Rodgers’s eyes drifted toward the blueprints of the rocket. His technical staff had marked off places where a bomb could do the most damage. Rodgers would have the Chinese science crew inspect them all.
Paul Hood would have to let him know who showed up and who left early. That would give the team some indication whether an attack would take place at launch. With an explosion of this magnitude, a potential mastermind would want to be a considerable distance away. Even so, Rodgers was planning to be close by to prevent the individual from leaving and supervise the counterattack.
There was a call from Op-Center. It was Bugs Benet. He gave Rodgers contact information for the leader of the field team.
“He will come to your hotel in about an hour as a messenger,” Benet said.
Rodgers thanked him. “How are things going for you?” he asked.
“Tentative,” Benet answered. “General Carrie will be wanting a military aide. We are pretty lean right now. I’m not sure there is any place she can shift me.”
“Can you go to work for Paul?”
“He has not asked,” Benet said.
“Maybe he will,” Rodgers said. “If not, I will talk with the people in my organization.”
“I appreciate that, sir,” Benet said.
Rodgers put away his cell phone and went back to studying the documents. He bent low over them in case the room had video surveillance. Whenever he walked away, he folded them over. Rodgers used a grease pencil to mark spots on the rocket that his scientists had told him were not just vulnerable but relatively invisible. Bombs in these locations would weigh the rocket down without necessarily destabilizing it. Even five pounds of explosives, positioned off-center — on a stabilizing fin, for example — would pull the rocket quickly off course. That would only help an attacker if the goal were a near-site explosion. Then he folded the blueprints and turned to studying the plans of the launch complex. He had four marines to cover 1,200 square kilometers of terrain. If they ruled out a possible attack from a rocket-propelled grenade, they could limit the patrol area to just the launch pad. Could they afford to make that assumption?
Besides, a rocket-propelled grenade was not the modus operandi of either man. There was also a chance that a oneor two-man team would be spotted by Chinese security forces. They had to assume that any attack would be executed as close to the rocket as possible.
Working on these scenarios, Rodgers felt less like an officer of Unexus and more like an officer of Op-Center. Despite the risks to his employer, he liked the excitement. He also liked the fact that he was in this with a military professional and not Paul Hood. General Carrie may not have liked what he requested, but she asked the right questions and reached the right decision.
Now he had to do the same thing.
Rodgers ordered room service as he worked on the map. He circled several points around the pad and gantry where virtually all the personnel would be visible going about their activities. An explosive device might be placed late in the countdown to avoid detection. If so, they might be able to spot it from these positions.
Exactly an hour after Benet’s call, the front desk called. There was a visitor to see Mr. Rodgers. The former general asked who it was.
“A messenger with a package from a man named Herbert,” the caller informed him.
Rodgers asked to have the messenger sent up. He took a bite of seared tuna from his neglected dinner tray, then walked over to the TV and turned it on. He did not know whether the rooms of foreigners were still bugged in Beijing. He did not intend to take the risk.
The young man who appeared at his door was exactly what Rodgers had expected. Dressed in an olive green jacket with a reflective orange stripe down the back, he was a somber young man with hard eyes, full shoulders, and a ramrod-straight posture. He looked like someone who rode a motor scooter around town and then bench- pressed it. He handed the general a package and a clipboard.
“I require a signature, sir,” the messenger said.
Rodgers invited him in. The young man entered, and Rodgers looked down the hall.
The messenger pointed to his own eyes then made a zero with his fingers. That meant he had checked, and no one was there. He also understood that the room might be bugged.
Rodgers nodded and shut the door. He went to the television.
The messenger followed. He looked down at the papers as they walked past the bed. They were unfolded now, but shielded by Rodgers and the new arrival. His eyes were like little machines, stopping on each for a moment before moving on. It was a standard reconnoitering process: floating data. If the marine saw anything important, he would keep it in his head until he could mention it or write it in a secure place.
The former general did not ask the marine his name or any other personal information about himself or the team.
“What do you know of this situation?” Rodgers asked.
“We were told you would brief us,” the young marine said.
“The plan is still evolving,” Rodgers said quietly. He threw a glance at the papers. “I will be working on it for at least another few hours. There’s a map. I want to pick a spot to meet you before we go in—”
“Sir, General Carrie has ordered that there be no civilian component to our mission,” the marine told him.
Rodgers did not know quite what to say. He said nothing.
“I am sorry, sir. I assumed you understood,” the marine added.
“No,” Rodgers said.
The marine had spoken without emotion or apology. Rodgers expected no less. Marines regarded themselves as representatives of their commanders. As such, they were unfailingly proud and loyal. For his part, though, Rodgers was anything but unemotional. He did not like being left out or outsmarted. He had already agreed that Hood could represent them in the viewing area. If Rodgers did not go to Xichang with the marines as one of the new “technical advisers,” he had no way of getting in. And if he tried that, Carrie might pull her team.
“Wait here,” Rodgers said and went to get his cell phone. “And help yourself to some dinner. I don’t feel like eating at the moment.”
Rodgers grabbed the phone from the bed and went into the bathroom. He shut the door and turned on the shower so he would not be heard. Then he called General Carrie’s office. Benet put her on the line.
“I understand my messenger is there. Have you got all the answers I asked for?” Carrie asked.
“Nearly,” Rodgers informed her. “First I have one more question. Why was I excluded?”
“You were not
