War of Eagles

strongest, most fertile financial power in the region. Even Japan, with its deepening debt, would not have been able to compete. Some of those profits would have gone to modernizing and expanding the military. Some would have gone to Tam Li and his associates. With its vast workforce and resources, China would have become the world’s greatest superpower in Tam Li’s lifetime. Unlike the plans of other conquerors, there would have been a minimal amount of strife and bloodshed.

The vision had been so clear, the end so clearly attainable. The plan itself had been clean and perfect.

Now it was dead.

Tam Li found that fact difficult to process. It had been in the works for over a year. It had occupied his thoughts constantly as he maneuvered the strife with Chou Shin, planted his personnel at the space center, felt success come nearer and nearer. His peripheral vision caught sight of the firearms in a display case. These were the guns he had carried throughout his career. He thought of using one now to avoid the inquiries and eventual trial. He decided against it, not from cowardice but for principle. He still believed that China was destined to dominate the globe. His people had been using explosives when the rest of the world was still fighting each other with spears and boiling oil. China would seize that advantage again.

But not today. And not with General Tam Li leading the assault.

He did not turn from the window but continued to look outward. Toward the future. He stood there even when there was a harsh knock at the door. The door was unlocked. After a minute the men entered. They stepped behind the general and asked him to come with them.

Tam Li turned. One of the three men standing in the sharp sunlight was a vice admiral, his own handpicked chief of base security. A half hour before, this small, gray-haired man had been an ally.

“The prime minister has asked to see you,” the vice admiral said.

“Only me?”

“Yes,” the vice admiral replied.

The naval officer’s expression was stern save for his sad, guarded eyes. The vice admiral knew it was within Tam Li’s power to stop the investigation by taking the blame for all the misdeeds. He could also boot the responsibility back down the chain of command and take others with him.

Tam Li smiled. “There is no reason for him to see anyone else, is there?” the general asked.

“I would not know,” the vice admiral replied.

“Who will be running operations here?” Tam Li asked.

“Officially, that is no longer your concern. You have been relieved.”

“Unofficially?” Tam Li pressed. He did not move.

The vice admiral’s unhappy expression showed that he understood the choice. He could be stubborn and risk being named by the general. Or he could bend the rules of detention and tell the general what he wanted to know. In so doing, he would lose face in the eyes of the two security officers.

“Come with us, General,” the vice admiral replied.

Tam Li was pleased. The vice admiral still had a backbone. He was willing to risk his future to preserve his credibility as a commander. Perhaps he knew that the general would not seek to bring him down. Through the vice admiral at least the idea of Chinese supremacy would remain alive. If he would not undertake another operation like this one, he might inspire someone under him to try.

Tam Li left between the two security officers, the vice admiral leading the way through hallways the general once commanded. The general stood with his shoulders back, beaten but undefeated. No one saluted as he was walked through the compound to a waiting helicopter. Most of them probably had no idea what had happened. Perhaps they thought this was about Chou Shin’s airplane or some other high-level machination. Whatever they thought, the staff was doing what most people do in a time of crisis. They stayed clear of the event.

Mao had learned that successful revolutionaries have unyielding allies. Defeated revolutionaries have unyielding quarantine. This was not the kind of fallout Tam Li had expected, but he would take the heat. He would stand trial and describe what he had done and why. In a land of over a billion souls, someone would hear.

Someone would continue what he had begun.

Or rather what someone else had begun, he thought, smiling with pride. Those bold and curious ancients who, like him, had used explosives to announce a Chinese presence on the world stage.

SIXTY-ONE

Beijing, China Friday, 10:00 A.M.

The state-run newspapers and telecasts said very little about the loss of the Chinese rocket. They reported that there had been an accident at Xichang involving “foreign-built technology” but offered little elaboration.

It was typical of China, Hood thought. Every failure was easy to hide and absorb because every step forward was tentative, uncertain, almost apologetic. Even if Tam Li had succeeded in getting his confrontation with Taiwan, even if he had enjoyed a personal bump in power, he might not have gotten the coup he apparently sought. After centuries of war and upheaval, the giant nation had become entropic. Change would be slow and prompted by outside economic investment, the spread of technology to the remote farms and mountains, the glacial improvement in education and the quality of life. China probably would not change dramatically in Hood’s lifetime.

Hood wondered if that was also true of Anita.

The prime minister’s daughter had come to the embassy to see him off. She had been there before, at official receptions, but never without her father. Hood saw her in the downstairs library. Anita was standing in the center of the room. She was dressed conservatively in a black skirt and white blouse. She turned when he entered. The big, open smile on her face surprised him.

“Well, that’s nice to see,” Hood said.

“What is?”

“Your smile,” he replied.

“Oh,” she said self-consciously as she frowned her way into a more neutral expression. “Is this better?”

“You didn’t have to do that. I liked it,” Hood said. He motioned toward the high walls lined with leather-bound volumes and even occasional scrolls tucked in cylindrical cases. “This is obviously your idea of heaven.”

“If I believed in heaven, it would be,” she said.

She was looking directly at Hood when she said that. He wondered if he had just made a big foot-in-mouth faux pas. This woman did risk incineration to save him, after all.

“Did you sleep well?” she asked.

“Like Rip Van Winkle,” he replied as he reached her side.

“I’m glad to hear that.”

“You?”

“The same,” she said. “My father is sorry he could not be here.”

“I am sure today will be a busy day,” Hood said.

“He barely slept last night,” Anita said. “But it was a good insomnia, if there can be such a thing. He was more energized than I have seen him in a long time.”

“I assume there will be a trial,” Hood said.

“There will be hearings, but I suspect they will be private. My father does not want to give Tam Li a forum.”

“Understandable,” Hood said.

“Do you think so?” Anita asked. “I would have expected you to be an advocate for free speech.”

“I don’t think a government official should be allowed to justify the lies he told and the murders he authorized to send his nation into a reckless and lawless war,” Hood said.

“I am glad to see that we agree,” Anita said.

“If we had the time, we would probably find we agree on a great deal,” Hood told her.

“By the way, my father asked me to tell you that he attempted to thank General Rodgers and your other associates yesterday,” Anita said. “But they seem to have disappeared.”