Threat Vector

complex. He surely did not know what was necessary to revive it. Su wanted military power projection, and that was all.

But Wei did not say this. He instead said, “I am glad that you agree with me, Chairman. I will need your help through every step.”

Su nodded. “You started our conversation by asking me about the readiness of our forces. Sea denial operations, which is what you are asking for here, are among the capabilities of our Navy, but I would like to discuss this further with my admirals and intelligence staff. I would ask that you give me a few days to speak to my leadership and prepare a plan, based on what you have just told me lies before us. My intelligence staff can pinpoint our exact needs.”

Wei nodded. “Thank you. Please prepare a preliminary report to hand-deliver to me in one week’s time. We will speak of this in my personal quarters back in Beijing, and nowhere else.”

Su stood to leave and the men shook hands. President Wei knew that Chairman Su already had detailed plans to take every island, shoal, sandbar, and reef in the South China Sea. He also had plans to deny all access to Taiwan and to shell and rocket it back to the Stone Age. He might not, however, have much contingency drawn up regarding Hong Kong. A week’s time should be adequate for this.

Wei knew that Su would be ecstatic to return to his offices and to brief his senior staff about the activities to come.

* * *

Ten minutes later Chairman Su Ke Qiang arrived at the eight-vehicle convoy that would whisk him 175 miles back to the capital. With him was his adjunct Xia, a two-star who had served alongside Su through all of his senior commands. Xia had been in the room during the meeting with Wei, silently listening and taking notes.

Once in the back of an armored Roewe 950 sedan, the two men looked at each other for a long moment.

“Your thoughts?” the two-star asked his boss.

Su lit a cigarette as he said, “Wei thinks we will fire a few warning shots into the South China Sea and the world community will step back and allow us to proceed unmolested.”

“And you think?”

Su smiled a sly but genuine smile as he slipped his lighter back into his coat pocket. “I think we are going to war.”

“War with who, sir?”

Su shrugged. “America. Who else?”

“Excuse me for saying so, sir. But you do not sound displeased.”

Su laughed aloud behind a cloud of smoke. “I welcome the endeavor. We are ready, and only by bloodying the nose of the foreign devils in a quick and decisive action will we be able to pursue all of our goals in the region.” He paused, then darkened a little before saying, “We are ready… only if we act now. Wei’s five-year plan is foolish. All his objectives need to be met within a year or the opportunity will be lost. Lightning war, attack quickly on all fronts, create a new reality on the ground that the world at large will have no choice but to accept. That is the only way to succeed.”

“Will Wei agree to this?”

The general shifted his large frame in his seat to look out the window as the eight-vehicle motorcade headed west toward Beijing.

With determination he replied, “No. Therefore, I will have to create a reality that he will have no choice but to accept.”

THIRTEEN

Valentin Kovalenko awoke shortly before five a.m. in his room at the Blue Orange, a health club, vacation spa, and hotel in the northeastern Letnany district of Prague, Czech Republic. He’d spent three days here already, and he’d taken saunas and received massages and eaten excellent food, but apart from these luxuries he had prepared diligently for an operation he would undertake before dawn this morning.

His orders had come, as the mafia man who’d helped break him out of prison had promised, via a secure instant-messaging program called Cryptogram. Shortly after arriving at the safe house set up by the Saint Petersburg mafia, he’d been given a computer with the software, along with documents and money and instructions to locate himself in Western Europe. He had done as he was told, settling in the south of France and logging in to his machine once a day to check for further orders.

For two weeks there was no contact. He went to a local physician and received treatment and medicines for maladies lingering from his time in the Moscow prison, and he recovered his strength. Then one morning he opened Cryptogram and began his daily password and authentication process. Once that was completed, a single line of text appeared in the window of the instant messenger.

“Good morning.”

“Who are you?” Kovalenko typed.

“I am your handler, Mr. Kovalenko.”

“What do I call you?”

“Call me Center.”

With a half-smile Valentin typed, “May I know if that is Mr. Center, or Ms. Center, or are you perhaps a construct of the Internet itself?”

This pause was longer than the others.

“I think the latter is fair to say.” After a short pause the words on Kovalenko’s screen came faster still. “Are you prepared to get started?”

Valentin fired back a quick response. “I want to know who I am working for.” It seemed reasonable, although he had been warned by the mobster that his new employer was not reasonable.

“I acknowledge your concern about your situation, but I do not have the time to assuage these concerns.”

Valentin Kovalenko imagined he was carrying on a conversation with the computer itself. The responses were stiff, wooden, and logical.

He is a native English speaker, Kovalenko thought to himself. But then he checked that. Even though Valentin was fluent in English, he could not be sure someone else was a native speaker. Perhaps if he heard him talk he would know for certain, but for now he just told himself his master was comfortable with the language.

Kovalenko asked, “If you are an entity that serves to commit espionage via computer, what is my role?”

The reply appeared quickly: “In-field human asset management. Your specialty.”

“The man who picked me up outside the prison said you were everywhere. All-knowing, all-seeing.”

“Is that a question?”

“If I refuse to follow instructions?”

“Use your imagination.”

Kovalenko’s eyebrows rose. He was not sure if that showed a sense of humor on the part of Center, or just a flat threat. He sighed. He’d already begun working for the entity by coming here and setting up his apartment and computer. It was clear he had no leverage to argue.

He typed, “What are my instructions?”

Center answered this, which led Valentin to the job in Prague.

His physical recovery from the ravages of bronchitis and ringworm and a diet that consisted primarily of barley soup and moldy bread was an ongoing process. He had been healthy and fit before going into the Matrosskaya Tishina pretrial detention facility, and he retained the discipline to recover faster than most men.

The gym here at the Blue Orange had helped him along. He’d worked out for hours each of the past three days, and this, along with his early-morning jogs, had filled him with energy and vigor.

He dressed in his running gear, a black tracksuit with just a thin gray racing stripe on one side, and he pushed his black knit cap over his dirty-blond hair. He slipped a black-bladed folding knife, a set of lock picks, and