He smiled and stretched his arms across the back of the couch, evidently completely at ease. That, Wexler hoped, would change shortly. “I treasure the friendship that makes such candor possible between us,” he began, a cruel expression on his face. “And, as friends of the United States, I wish to tender a warning from our government — many would not understand, although we do, of course — about the United States’s decision to deploy Patriot batteries in Taiwan.” He waited, searching her face for an expression of surprise, and looking faintly disappointed when it was not forthcoming. “Of course, Russia understands the necessity, and we’re willing to support the United States in this move.”
“There has been no discussion of such a matter,” Wexler said.
The Russian ambassador wagged a stubby finger at her. “Ah, there is no need to dissemble. Not with your few friends,” he said. “Rest assured that we know the United States plans to do this. And, as I said, we’re not opposed to such move. Certainly allowing China to repossess Taiwan would destabilize the region. Although,” he continued, a look of longing on his face, “there’s much to be said for the firm repatriation of wayward provinces.” He seemed to reflect for a few moment on Russia’s previous days of glory, then shook his head. “No, Taiwan and China — Hong Kong was bad enough, but this cannot be allowed.”
“Then we can count on a contingent of Russian ships to assist us in defending Taiwan, I hope?” she asked.
He shook his head. “No, it would not be wise to be so openly aggressive to our eastern neighbor. There are many issues to be worked out between Russia and China, you understand. Many issues.” His eyes undressed her for a moment, and he said, “What Russia is willing to promise is her silence.”
“I see. Russia’s silence. And that would be in exchange for…?” She let the question hang in the air.
He splayed out his hands in a gesture of openness. “Silence on the issue of the Kurile Islands. I think you must agree that our claim to them is far stronger than China’s claim to Taiwan. Besides, it is a rocky, useless chain of islands. Of no import in the world economy.”
“The Japanese don’t think so,” she said.
“The Japanese — bah.”
“Yes, the Japanese. I believe they are currently in possession of the Kuriles and would probably object most strongly to a military action to retake the Islands. And I assume that is what you are proposing, since that is normally Russia’s way. Or are you asking me to support the fair and democratic election in the Kuriles to allow the inhabitants to determine their own destiny? It is possible that they would choose to return to Russia’s domination, I suppose.”
“But as I said, I suspect the issue is entirely moot,” she said, bringing them back on track. “Because we have no plans to deploy the Patriot missiles in Taiwan. None at all.” Now she leveled a hard glare of her own at the Russian Ambassador. “But I do think this little conversation has answered a number of questions in my mind. And perhaps some debate in your contingent as well.” She stood, dismissing him. “I would not advise attempting any aggression toward the Kurile Islands or Japan,” she said sternly. “Speaking as a friend, of course.”
“But… but… you will regret this, Madam Ambassador. You will regret this.”
“Ambassador! Such a tone to take with a friend. Before you go, please do me the favor of rendering me one final opinion. I would treasure your thoughts on the matter of redecorating my office.”
“What nonsense is this?” he blustered. “Do you take me for a fool?”
“In particular, I am considering repainting my office. That red circle — it does not go well with the rest of the decor, does it?” She pointed to the red circle that covered a small portion of her wall and the molding around her door.
All the air seemed to rush out of the Russian Ambassador as he grasped her meaning. He turned on her, his expression ugly. “You tricked me!” he thundered.
“And you spied on me,” she said calmly. “I wonder which action the world will find the more objectionable? I think I can guarantee, with some degree of certainty, that every delegate to the United Nations would be most interested in what we have discovered.” Watching the emotions play across his face, she smiled brightly. “But, as originally proposed, we would be willing to remain silent. As a friend, of course. In exchange for Russia’s full and complete support of our operations in Taiwan.”
“Japan has denied you landing rights,” he pointed out. “And yet you would choose them over us?
“We would, indeed,” she said crisply. “But under the circumstances, I do not think we will have to choose at all.”
NINETEEN
Coyote paced the bridge of the ship, dividing his attention between the impenetrable fog around them and the radar screen. Every two minutes, the ship sounded a prolonged blast on her whistle, warning others of her presence. From out on the bridge wing, although the fog had a sound-dampening effect, Coyote could hear a chorus of other small vessels sounding off as well. The other vessels’ fog signals ranged from tinkling bells, and air horns, to an occasional voice shouting in panic.
“Nasty, isn’t it?” the captain of the ship said as he walked up to Coyote. “And it’s going to get worse, according to the weather reports.”
“All these little boats are clearly insane,” Coyote said. “They’ve got to know we’re here, and have to know that we can’t turn on a dime. If I were in a small boat, I’d stay well clear of us, you can bet your ass on that.”
“We’re in the middle of some good fishing grounds, Admiral,” the captain said quietly. “It’s the only source of income — and food — that some of these folks have. They live on those boats, spend most of their days just searching for enough fish to buy fuel and feed their families. They can’t afford a day off because of the fog.”
“They’ll be taking a lot of days off if we run into one of them,” Coyote muttered.
“I doubt it,” the captain said, cynicism in his voice. “Because you know our government would pay reparations immediately. Any family that we run into is set for life.”
“So that’s why they’re so close, maybe?” Coyote asked. “Hell of a way to play the lottery.”
They both stared at the thick soup, trying to see what lay before them. Visibility was reduced to a mere fifty feet around them, far too little for them to even attempt evasive maneuvers should it be required.
“It’s going to get worse before it gets better,” Coyote said at last. “The president can’t put up with this situation; he just can’t. I expect a message within the next eight hours ordering us to conduct freedom of navigation operations. And the closer we get to shore, in the shallower, warmer water, the heavier the fishing activity will be.”
“Smaller boats, too,” the captain agreed. “And more desperate people.”
Freedom of navigation operations were designed to exercise the provisions of international law that gave a ship the right to sail into foreign territorial waters as long as it did so expeditiously and did not stop to conduct military operations. Although the Chinese claimed that their territorial waters were contiguous with their economic zone, extending out to three hundred miles — and that their airspace extended a thousand miles off the coast as well — and claimed the entire Yellow Sea as their own, they had never before actively objected to freedom of navigation operations. That, Coyote suspected, was about to change.
“Constrained waters — I know you’re not going to like it,” he said, casting a glance over the captain. “Going to play hell with the flight schedule as well.”
“CAG is still complaining that not everybody has all their traps,” the captain said. “He wants to stay here in
