bombardment of Taipei were greatly exaggerated in the world media. At first the reports indicated that tens of thousands of people had been killed and the city had been destroyed. In fact, the loss of life numbered in the low hundreds and only 20 percent of the metropolis was hit. By the time all the general’s landing craft had brought his army to Taiwan’s shores, the island’s own forces had gathered en masse to repel the invasion. Tun, aboard one of the Luda-class destroyers in the strait, watched with horror as his plans to conquer the island and become a national hero in the People’s Republic diminished with each passing minute.
Then, despite his warnings to the U.S. government that he had a powerful weapon at his disposal, the American military joined the melee. The navy’s ships had been stationed around the island all along, watching and waiting for the moment when those in charge in Washington gave the command to strike. Tun had warned the U.S. that any attempt to stop his invasion would result in the loss of a major American city. For the first two hours of the assault, the Americans did nothing. As soon as it was evident that Tun’s army had failed to establish a beachhead, the U.S. destroyers moved in and began to fire at Tun’s ships. In actuality, the orders were given to go ahead and strike before the armed MRUUV was found in Santa Monica Bay and just happened to coincide with the first inklings of Tun’s defeat.
In a panic, General Tun had issued the orders to the submarine
Thus it was a heart-wrenching blow to General Tun when he learned that the bomb did indeed explode — miles away from the California coast and very deep below the surface. He couldn’t understand why the MRUUV hadn’t been closer to shore. What had gone wrong? The plan was foolproof. Even though sketchy reports were coming in that as a result of the explosion Los Angeles had suffered an earthquake and considerable damage, nothing along the magnitude Tun had envisioned had taken place.
In a last-ditch appeal, Tun contacted Beijing and asked for support from the rest of the PLA. The Politburo refused to acquiesce. In short, General Tun was on his own. China wasn’t going to lift a hand to help or protect him. Several powerful officials in the military protested the Politburo’s decision but there was nothing that could be done unless other independent branches of the army joined the battle on Tun’s side. To have done so would have meant political disaster for the generals involved. It became a case of China at first believing her arrogant son was making a risky but necessary challenge to Taiwan, but in the end the child had become an embarrassment and needed to be disowned.
Tun also didn’t know that China’s president gave the U.S. permission to stop the general. The Politburo had to do so to save face with the rest of the world. Nuclear bombs exploding off the coasts of countries were not acceptable forms of diplomacy. China conveniently blamed General Tun for the “unfortunate incident” and thus sacrificed him to world justice. During the fourth hour of the conflict, the U.S. Navy sank General Tun’s Ludo destroyer with torpedoes. The general and his entire command support team went down with the ship. Shortly afterward, his men on the beach were forced into surrendering. American forces joined the Taiwanese in rounding up the surviving army and eventually turned them over to Chinese authorities. Most of them would undergo trials for treason.
While all this was going on, Andrei Zdrok lay in a hospital bed in Fuzhou. He had slipped into a coma shortly after his skull was fractured by Sam Fisher and had remained in critical condition ever since. The medical facilities in Fuzhou were far from adequate even though the doctors did everything in their power to save Zdrok’s life. The Chinese government had expressed a fervent desire that the man would answer for his crimes against the country. But it was not to be.
Ironically, Andrei Zdrok died peacefully in bed at the exact moment when the nuclear bomb he had supplied to General Tun exploded off the coast of California. His last great arms deal was, to that extent, a success.
The Shop, however, would no longer be a threat to world peace.
40
Once again I wake up in a hospital bed. I have no clue as to how I got here or how much time has elapsed since I was swept away in the aftermath of the explosion. Frankly, now that I think about what happened, it’s difficult to believe I’m alive. I note that my arm is in a cast and my hands are covered in gauze. There’s an IV stand and the usual clap-trap of machines around the bed. But oddly enough, I feel no pain or discomfort. In fact I feel more rested than I have in weeks. The only minor problem is I feel hungry and my mouth is as dry as cotton.
A young nurse’s pretty face comes into view and she smiles. “Hello!” she says. “You’re awake! How do you feel?”
My voice comes out sounding like nails on sandpaper. “Okay.”
“Let me get the doctor. I’ll be right back.”
A few minutes go by and a U.S. Air Force doctor enters the room. “Good morning, Mr. Fisher,” he says. “I’m Dr. Jenkins. How are you feeling?”
“Okay,” I say again. “Thirsty.”
“I’ll bet you are. Nurse, give Mr. Fisher some water.”
She puts a straw to my mouth and I suck the cool, lovely liquid into my throat. It’s like heaven. When I’m done, I ask, “Where am I?”
“Edwards Air Force Base,” the doctor answers.
“How… long have I been here?”
“Three days.”
“I’ve been out for three days?”
“Mostly out. Occasionally you’d wake up for a few minutes at a time in a feverish state. Perfectly natural for someone who went through the kind of trauma you did.”
“What happened? I remember the explosion—”
“The protective shell of the CHARC and your scuba equipment saved your life. You rode a tsunami wave as if you were a piece of driftwood and ended up on the beach near Santa Monica Pier. It’s a miracle you weren’t killed but the CHARC is one tough piece of machinery. All you have to show for it are a broken arm and a lot of bruises and cuts.”
“What about… what about radiation?”
“Well, that’s what we’re not sure about but we think it’s going to be all right,” the doctor says. “The bomb went off deep underwater. Most of the radiation was contained below the surface. A lot of fish have died. Our beaches are littered with thousands of dead sea life — whales, fish, sharks, dolphins — it’s tragic. We think the wave you rode in on was well ahead of the spread of radioactivity. The air, ironically enough, is no worse now than it was prior to the explosion.”
I shake my head. “Amazing.”
“The military picked you up and whisked you away before any news teams got to the beach. No one saw you. Now get some rest, Mr. Fisher. You’re going to be fine. I’ll have the nurse fix a small meal for you and we’ll see how you take it. We’ve been feeding you intravenously since you were brought in. I’ll let Colonel Lambert know you’re back in the real world.” He pats my shoulder and says, “It’s good to have you back. It’s no secret around here that you’re a hero.”
After a yummy meal of Jell-O and ginger ale, with promises of a more protein-based lunch of eggs a little later, Colonel Lambert walks into the room. He’s all smiles and I’m really glad to see him.
“How are you, Sam?”
“Good, Colonel. I’m almost ready to get out of here.”
“Well, you probably need to stay put another day or two. We have to check you out through and through. You were awfully close to a nuclear explosion, you know.”
“Yeah. I don’t remember much of it, though.”
“I bet you have a lot of questions.”
“Colonel, I bet you already know what they are, so why don’t you fill me in on what’s been happening while
