China Star Page 5

  The satellite pulsed and began to rotate slowly. With a blinding flash, a beam of high-intensity light emitted from one of its eyes, incinerating its target.

  The guests jerked in their seats. Prime Minister Wen came to his feet and walked slowly down to the stage, not taking his eyes off the satellite. Followed by the others, he edged toward the rear of the stage, gazing through the thick dark window as the satellite continued to turn, targeting, firing, incinerating. With each snap, the men recoiled, then gaped at a metal disk dangling in ruins. Within minutes all were gone, reduced to smoking scraps of twisted metal. The men stood quietly, staring at the carnage. Of the hundreds of disks deployed for the test, not one had survived.

  The men stood silently for several minutes, shaking their heads.

  James stepped up to the podium. “The system, which we’ve code-named Raptor, employs multiple, high-intensity laser beams that will destroy enemy communication, photo reconnaissance, surveillance, and electronic spy satellites, including the DSP satellite system used by NORAD, while simultaneously protecting China from a nuclear attack.”

  He paused and waited for the enormity of that statement to sink in.

  “The satellite gives us the ability to destroy the enemy’s civilian and military communication satellites, leaving them without the ability to wage war. But in the unlikely event the enemy were able to launch a nuclear strike, the satellite also contains highly sophisticated sensors that collect electronic and infrared emissions, tracking the heat plumes of ballistic missile booster rockets. Any such rockets that have been fired, from anywhere on earth, will be targeted and destroyed before they reach China’s air space.”

  “Raptor,” Prime Minister Wen said, almost in a whisper. He turned to James with a new look of respect. “It’s an apt name.”

  A burst of laughter erupted from the group, a release of tension.

  James found himself surrounded by ministers offering congratulations in an uncharacteristic display of emotion. His father beamed at him from the rear of the group. He didn’t need to say another word - they all understood the implications of this new technology for China.

  When the laughter and hoopla died down, the questions began. After the initial exuberance, the ministers were coming to the realization that a shift in power had just occurred. No longer would James be thought of as a gaogan zidi. He was now a contender for one of their jobs and as such would have to deal with their petty jealousies. He braced for their questions.

  “Very impressive, Colonel Lao,” Yang Deguan said. “All well and good in a confined laboratory setting, but how will this system perform in the vast distances of space?”

  “An excellent question,” James said. “The answer is that there is no loss of force because of distance. The intensity of the beam remains the same, with pinpoint accuracy, whether one mile or 10,000.”

  “What powers this thing?” Zhou Yongzheng said.

  “Ultra-efficient photovoltaic cells create hydrogen through an electrolyzer,” James said. “Fuel cells then convert the hydrogen into electricity. Simply stated, the satellite is powered by fuel cells that are replenished by the sun.”

  “Does that mean it will remain viable indefinitely?”

  “Unfortunately, no. The fuel cells will deteriorate over time and will eventually cease to function. That is the one weakness of the system.”

  “But how long will it last?”

  “At least twelve months, long enough to accomplish all our objectives. By then, a newer, more powerful satellite will be launched into orbit to replace it.”

  “How will you deploy?” Xu Junjiu asked.

  “The details of the launch have been classified Most Secret,” James said. “Suffice it to say that the satellite will be launched in an entirely untraditional way in order to evade detection, both pre- and post-launch.”

  The questioning went on for the better part of an hour. James stood at the podium and fielded each query with confidence and poise. His father looked pleased.

  “Thank you, Colonel,” Prime Minister Wen said. “I congratulate you on a most impressive achievement.” He nodded to James’s father. “Perhaps General Lao can give us an update on the post-deployment plan.”

  The general stepped up to the podium. “After the satellite has been successfully launched into orbit, ours is a three-step plan. First, we will destroy all American civilian and military communication satellites, leaving the American forces as well as the U.S. civilian population in the dark. Second, we’ll make it known to the White House through the U.S. ambassador that we have targeted specific American cities - Los Angeles, Chicago, and New York - with CSS-4 intercontinental ballistic missiles armed with five-megaton nuclear warheads as added insurance against the unlikely event of an American nuclear attack. Third, with the U.S. military unable to respond, we will launch a ‘no-warning’ lightning missile attack against Taiwan.”

  “What about Taiwan’s missile defense system?” Wen said.

  “Approximately 700 missiles will be launched from various angles to overwhelm missile defenses,” General Lao said. “These will be targeted at ports, ships, airfields, command posts, fuel depots, and weapons storage facilities, immobilizing Taiwan’s air and naval forces. We will also target Taiwan’s political and military leaders by destroying the presidential palace and the defense ministry. Within forty-five minutes, Taiwan will be paralyzed. Infantry divisions of the People’s Liberation Army, which are even now quietly massing along the coast, will sail across the Taiwan Strait and occupy the island. Because of the information blackout, we expect minimal resistance.”

  “And once the occupation is complete?”

  “We have plans to immediately convert the Taiwanese defense forces to PLA forces once the flag has been lowered and the PRC flag is in place. Those who resist will be shot. Senior political leaders will be immediately replaced with a team standing by in China. Lower level government functionaries will be given the same option as the Taiwanese defense forces and will suffer the same consequences if they refuse. It will all be over before the Americans know what has happened. By then, there will be nothing for them to defend. China will be one again.”

  A burst of applause went up, but the ministers’ approval had little to do with being one again. The old cadres, including James’s father, were struggling to remain relevant. Market reform and encroaching capitalism were eroding the power of the Communist party. Taiwan, like Hong Kong before it, was exporting capitalism onto the mainland. Retaking the island would solidify their support, but it was a risky business. After the initial exuberance, the room drifted to silence. The ministers seemed to be contemplating the long-term implications of what they were hearing.

  “You mentioned that American civilian satellite systems will also be destroyed,” Minister Zhou said. “Why is this needed? We don’t want to provoke the Americans any more than is necessary.”

  James stepped to the podium. “The destruction of civilian communication satellites is essential for two reasons. First, to ensure a complete news blackout over the United States, including American Forces Radio and Television Services, and second, to prevent non-military communication systems such as cell phones from being used to conduct military operations in an emergency.”

  “What impact will the destruction of these satellites have on the American economy?” Zhou asked.

  James hesitated. The American economy was interdependent. It didn’t take much to disrupt it. Nine-eleven had proven that. Even before 9/11, the malfunction of the U.S. satellite known as Galaxy IV had shut down nearly every pager in the country. It had also disrupted cable and broadcast video feeds, credit card authorization networks, and corporate communications systems for weeks. The impact of the simultaneous loss of every U.S. satellite could only be imagined. He was convinced that the securities markets would collapse, triggering wholesale unemployment, which would cause an economic depression worse than the 1930s. But there was no way he was going to tell the ministers that. He had t
o get his plan approved. Tonight.

  “There will be some short-term disruptions,” James said, “but the U.S. economy is resilient. “It should make a reasonably quick recovery.”

  “It’s the price the Americans will have to pay for meddling in China’s internal affairs,” Yang said.

  “What about China’s economics?” Zhou said. “America is China’s biggest trading partner.”

  Prime Minister Wen said, “There are some instances in which a nation must place national sovereignty ahead of economics. I believe this temporary economic loss will be a small price to pay for China’s unification.”

  “What will the Americans do?” Minister Xu asked.

  General Lao shrugged. “What can they do? Invade China? Land of more than 1.3 billion people? The U.S. understands that in war, China is prepared to take unlimited casualties. The Americans, as demonstrated in Viet Nam, are not. For all their adventures in Afghanistan and Iraq, they won’t invade another Asian country - they’ve learned their lesson well. Launch nuclear strikes? Let them. We’re now protected, and they aren’t. If they launch strikes over China, we’ll be protected by Raptor and will be wholly justified in launching strikes over Los Angeles, Chicago, and New York. It’s a mistake they’ll never repeat.”

  “In short, comrades,” James said, “there’s not only nothing they can do, there’s nothing they will do. I’ve lived and studied in America for years. The Taiwan issue is driven by their politicians. The American public cares nothing about Taiwan. The risks are low, and the rewards are high. The net effect of this operation will be a tremendous loss of face for the Americans, a weakening of their military and economic strength, and a shift in the balance of power in the Pacific from the U.S. to China.”

  Prime Minister Wen nodded. “What we’ve seen and heard in this room tonight will mark the beginning of a new world order, one in which China is finally accorded its rightful place after a century of domination by the West.” He extended a hand to General Lao in an unusual display of warmth. “The acorn does not fall far from the tree,” he said with a smile. He turned to James. “Lieutenant colonel, is it?” he said, gripping James’s hand. “I think senior colonel is much more appropriate for one with such responsibilities.” He glanced at James’s father. “See to it, General.”

  “At once, Prime Minister.”

  “Much is at stake here, Senior Colonel,” the prime minister said in a low voice, still gripping James’s hand, gazing intently into his eyes. “I need your full assurance that you will not fail the People’s Republic.”

  James couldn’t believe what he was hearing. An on-the-spot promotion from the prime minister himself. A two-grade jump, from lieutenant colonel to senior colonel, bypassing the rank of colonel altogether. Wonderful. He could use the added status it would give him to implement his plan - though if the prime minister knew what James had in mind, he’d also know he didn’t need to offer an incentive to make it work. This was Phase I. Phase II would be secretly implemented in the morning. Once set in motion, the launch had to go off as planned. If it didn’t, James would be a dead man. He gripped Wen’s hand.

  “You have my word, Prime Minister.”

  The group of ministers gathered their portfolios and stood in line to congratulate James on his presentation and his promotion. After repeated thank-yous and goodbyes, they headed for the door.

  James threw a satisfied glance at his father, who was queuing up to leave for Beijing with the ministers.

  He waited until the last minister was at the door. “I wouldn’t celebrate that promotion just yet, Senior Colonel,” he said, looking James in the eyes. “You still have to get that thing in the air.”

  James smiled. “I assure you, Father, the launch will go off exactly as planned.”

  “It had better. If you go down, I go down with you.”

  Matt Connor wound his way up to the main deck of CoMar Explorer. What in hell was he going to tell Gray Wolf? He’d built a relationship with the famous leader of the Great Wall Triad by always telling him the truth. But if he revealed the rescue plan, not only would he be compromising a top-secret mission, Gray Wolf might also refuse to allow the ship to be used for such a dangerous purpose. On the other hand, if he said he had no job and no prospects, the underworld leader might seize the ship and sell it out from under him to recover his investment. In either case, he’d be finished.

  Matt paused on the ladder and rubbed his eyes. He’d tell Gray Wolf the truth, just not all of it. He’d tell him he had a lucrative job, a freighter run aground on an island east of Macau. No need to mention that the job was a cover for a CIA-sponsored rescue mission. He hated to compromise himself, and he knew the risk in being less than straight with Gray Wolf, but it was his only shot at keeping Connor Marine together.

  By the time he got to the main deck, Sam had been joined by five other crew members. The six men stood on one side of the quarterdeck, arms folded, facing down Gray Wolf’s foot soldiers on the other. Popeye Zhang and his clones, dressed in their trademark black suits, white shirts, black ties, and sunglasses, stood glaring at Matt’s motley crew dressed in the mismatched rags of men who did real work. As Matt approached the quarterdeck, Popeye Zhang leveled a crooked finger at him.

  “You come.”

  Sam stepped across the imaginary line that separated the two groups, arms folded across his chest.

  “Who are you, little man, to be telling my captain to come?”

  Zhang’s hand moved inside his coat.

  “I wouldn’t reach for that,” Sam said. “You won’t be any good to your leader with one arm.”

  “Hei ren.”

  Sam had heard all the Taiwanese epithets for black people in the five years he’d been with him on Taiwan and had learned how to handle those, but Matt wasn’t sure how he’d handle being called “black man” as though it were an insult.

  Sam’s eyes narrowed. “Right on both counts. I’m black. And I’m a man. A better man than you, you little piss-ant. Want to put that to the test?”

  Popeye Zhang glared up into Sam’s fearsome features. The ex-Navy SEAL was a man, all right - six-feet-four and 220 pounds of man. Matt was tempted to let Sam have at him, but it was enough to see the fabled Zhang quavering in his shoes.

  “It’s okay, Sam,” Matt said, stepping in between them. Popeye Zhang looked relieved. Backing down in the face of an enemy would be a loss of face he’d never recover from.

  “What do you want, Zhang?”

  “Gray Wolf say you come.”

  So they weren’t here to take the ship. That was the good news. The bad news was they were here to take him. He flirted with the idea of giving Sam the signal to disarm them and send them packing, which his crew could easily do, but he didn’t want Gray Wolf on his tail or his unarmed crew in danger. He shrugged.

  “No problem.”

  “We better go with you, Captain.” Sam nodded toward the six gangsters as though at a pile of dung. “These piss-ants might sting you.”

  “I’ll be okay, Sam.” Matt forced a smile. “Gray Wolf can’t hurt me, I owe him too much money.”

  He ordered Sam to continue with the preparations to get under way and walked down the gangway, surrounded by Zhang and his men. They moved toward a gray GMC Suburban parked on the dock. Matt strained to see inside but the windows were so dark they were almost black. Not keen on going for a ride with Popeye Zhang and his hooligans, he hoped Gray Wolf was waiting inside, but the van turned out to be empty.

  “Shang che.” Get in. Two of Zhang’s soldiers shoved him into the middle seat where he sat with one on either side of him, two in the seat behind him, and two in front, Zhang riding shotgun. Literally. The doors locked with a clunk and Matt immediately felt closed in. He told himself to calm down and breathe.

  The van pulled away, heading east on Penglai Road. Matt glanced up at the roof a few inches over his head. He shoved against the two thugs to give himself some shoulder room and pulled more air into his lungs. Wherever they were
taking him, he hoped this would be a short ride. He hated being inside anything he couldn’t quickly get out of.

  At a shade over six feet, he was a bit taller than the men who were flanking him. They appeared to be in their early twenties and were trying hard to look tough. The one on his left looked him over, posturing.

  “Look at the hair on this monkey,” he said in Mandarin, staring at Matt’s forearms.

  “What a stinking mess,” the one on his right said, turning up his nose. “Smells like a piss-spraying eunuch.”

  They all laughed.

  Popeye Zhang turned his head to the side, exposing his mutilated face.

  “Didn’t you whores know? All west-ocean foreigners are half monkey. They piss down their legs when they’re captured.”

  They all knocked themselves out laughing, sucking up to their leader.

  The van pulled out onto Kushan 1 Road, merged into traffic, and headed north. The feeling of being closed in started to surface again, and Matt forced it back down. Breathe. Look out the window. To the east, couples strolled in Shoushan Park while small children raced around them, laughing and playing. He focused on the families, wondered what it would be like to live a normal life, then told himself to knock it off.

  The van slowed and turned onto Kushan 2 Road, drove northeast for a few miles and turned left into a narrow road just south of Chenghuang Temple. He’d heard Gray Wolf mention the temple before and knew it was somewhere near his residence. Was he being taken to Gray Wolf’s place?

  The van approached a gated opening in a high stone wall. The wrought iron gate had a wolf’s head logo in the center. It had to be Gray Wolf’s house. Strange. All his prior meetings with the underworld leader had been in the private back rooms of various bars on the waterfront, or in the back seat of his limo, parked on the dock near CoMar Explorer. Strange, but good. The triad leader wasn’t averse to using violence when it suited him, but he’d be unlikely to condone it in his home. Matt began to relax a little.