Ming moved through the reception area and down a long corridor. At the closed door of the main conference room, he signaled his aide to wait, then opened the door and strode in.
He scanned the changes to the room since his last visit — April 21, 1997. That had been the greatest day of his life — the day the British Crown had, at last, turned the military garrison over to its rightful owners. On that day, this room had been bare of furniture; the English had taken theirs away, of course. Now it contained a circular conference table and matching chairs, sideboard and audio-visual equipment cabinet, all made of teak hand-carved in dragons and the fishes of good fortune.
The furnishings had clearly been chosen not for utility so much as the way they complimented the room’s original walnut paneling and plush wall-to-wall carpeting.
Ming kept the disapproval off his face. He knew that Major General Wei Ao was responsible for the decor in this room.
Three men sat at the conference table, staring at him first in anger, then surprise. Then they were on their feet and bowing respectfully. And so they should. Ming represented the ultimate authority — not just the PLA, but the entire Chinese Communist Party. In the People’s Republic, all members of the State Central Military Commission also served on the Communist Party’s Central Military Commission — “Two organs with one leading body.” For the PLA, military and politico-social goals were the same.
At least, this was the belief and the goal, especially in the so-called Special Administrative Region. Ming let his gaze scan the group standing around the long table. The men had, he noted, positioned themselves equidistantly around the table, as if to illustrate their separation: Political Commissar nearest the door at eight o’clock, Coastal Patrol at four, and the Major General of the Army firmly enthroned at the twelve o’clock position. They all wore the special Hong Kong uniforms of their departments — dark green for the Army, white for the Coastal Defense Force, khaki for the Political Commissar. The only consistent feature was the shoulder blaze shared by all: the scarlet bahinia blossom of the Hong Kong SAR.
On the day the garrison became Chinese once again, there had been five Major Generals in this room. Unfortunately two of them — the commanders of the Air Force and Navy contingents — had recently died. Filling their positions would be no easy task; it took a special kind of officer to work in the SAR.
Ming fixed his gaze on Wei. Fortunately, the old Army leader was not one of the newly deceased. He had been in command of the entire Hong Kong garrison since the Handover, and got dubbed “First Among Equals” by local newspapers, in sardonic commentary on what the Hong Kongese considered a top-heavy command structure.
Ming marched directly around the table toward the old soldier, who immediately shifted his squat body to his left. The other two moved as well, rearranging themselves to maintain at least one empty chair between them.
Then they all sat, with Ming now at twelve o’clock.
Yeh Lien, the Political Commissar, cleared his throat. “Comrade General Ming, this is an honor. Perhaps we missed the message that you were coming.”
“There was no time for niceties. The Central Council is concerned about the incident with the American yacht. None of your reports on the incident are acceptible. How is it possible the perpetrators of this crime were not apprehended?”
Old Wei, First Among Equals, shook his head. “This incident occurred in international waters and airspace — the provinces of the Navy and Air Force. Unfortunately, both these forces are currently under the command of inexperienced officers. They were not certain how to respond. Until new commanding officers arrive — ”
“Until that time,
Wei drew himself up. “I am. But remember, General, we must all operate under standing orders which forbid us from initiating a ‘potentially hostile encounter’ with foreign military forces — especially the Americans. It happens that several U.S. Navy jets reached the SOS area before we did, and since they were in international airspace, our commanders elected to stand off. As per orders.”
Ming stared at him flatly. “The Americans claim otherwise. In fact, they claim that the People’s Liberation Army was responsible for the attack on the yacht itself.”
“That’s
Ming raised a hand, creating instant silence. “You all deny any involvement, then?”
Now came a barrage of angry affirmation. Ming watched their faces closely. “The Americans say they have both evidence and witnesses,” he said.
“Then let them present this evidence,” Yeh, the Political Commissar, said.
“Yes, let them present it,” echoed Chin of the Coastal Defense Force.
Ming eyed Chin. He was by far the youngest of the garrison commanders, only fifty, but that did not excuse the man’s helpless incompetence. His having a cousin in a position of power on the State Council was a different matter. Ming felt fortunate that he’d managed to limit Chin’s command assignment to the CDF, the least glamorous of all China’s military branches. And the least likely to get the fool into serious trouble.
Ming addressed the table at large. “Let me explain our difficulty. Since even before the Revolution, Hong Kong has been the government’s connection to the foreign world. For now, sustaining it is a necessary evil. The People’s Republic ohas long-term projects under way here; their progress must not be interrupted. This means that to the rest of the world, the image of the SAR must remain one of stability and safety. You will all be approached by the Hong Kong media concerning what happened to the
“What correct version?” Wei asked. “How can we know what to say to the Americans if we don’t even know what evidence they have?”
Ming looked at the staring faces around the table and squelched a surge of anger. Wei was a soldier of the old school, tough but lacking in personal vision; Yeh was a blind idealogue; Chin a cretinous lump. In losing Hsu and Po, the SAR garrison had lost its best military — and political — minds.
“Comrade Major General Wei,” Ming said, “I’m sure you have studied your Sun Tzu.”
“Of course.”
“Then you know that Sun Tzu taught this: The wise general conquers because he has foreknowledge. He employs spies in the enemy camp.”
“You’re saying we have spies?” Wei said. “In America?”
Ming offered a small smile. “And closer to home as well. It is not even necessary to infiltrate our own people. It is only necessary to provide the proper incentive to Americans already in place.”
“Money,” Yeh said.
“What else? Money is Hong Kong’s national product. And thanks to it, we have already learned the broad outlines of what the Americans claim happened to that yacht. Now we need only to create our own story to fit the same circumstances….”
“Semtex,” Lieutenant Jim “Bomber” Marsh said. “There’s no question about that.”
Batman nodded grimly. If anyone would know, it would be the SEAL officer assigned as Special Forces Advisor to the carrier’s staff. Although the explosion had disintegrated the chunk of
Batman realized that against all odds, he had been clinging to the macabre hope that the explosion had been some kind of accident — the spontaneous combustion of a fuel tank on board the salvaged hull, perhaps. That would be better than the thought that someone had succeeded in sneaking a massive bomb on board
