“What more can we do?” Mason asked.
“Operation Pripyat was intended to topple the American government and its capitalist economy and replace it with Chinese Communism. Neither of these things has happened yet.”
“But how do you plan to accomplish this? The bond boycott didn’t do it. America losing the war didn’t do it. We’re running out of tools in the toolbox.”
“Never mind the details. You know perfectly well no agent knows all the details of any mission. Compartmentalization. We can’t have one of you weak Americans spilling his guts in fear. You still have one remaining task: decapitate Denali. The rest will fall into place.”
There was no going back now. Mason could decapitate Denali, or he could fertilize Fort Marcy Park. Decapitate Denali it would be.
After weeks of endless meetings in stuffy conference rooms, being in the fresh air of Poplar Tree Park was a welcome relief. With the war over and the emergency budget still in place, President Murray had given Andrea a week off. She’d begged for some time to reacquaint herself with her family before the Chinese repossession teams arrived. The president gladly gave it to her. There was nothing to do but wait for the Chinese repossession teams to arrive.
“Come on, Michelle, let’s have a catch!” Aaron shouted, ball and glove in hand. Michelle and Aaron trotted onto one of the baseball fields.
Andrea helped her mother onto a bench. “Can you watch the kids? I’d like to take a walk.”
“Sure, honey, I’ll keep my eye on them,” Mamie replied.
“Your grandmother is watching you,” Andrea shouted. “Don’t get out of her sight!”
“Whatever, Mom.” Aaron rolled his eyes in mock disgust.
Andrea and Ryan walked the trail that circled the park.
“It is so nice to breathe real air again,” Andrea said.
“It’s nice just to have a little family time,” Ryan responded. “I hardly see you anymore.”
The park was quiet and empty. Chirping birds and the wind rustling tree leaves made the walk a Zen-like experience.
“Remember when we used to take walks by the riverfront in Columbia?” Andrea asked.
“Of course.” Ryan smiled and took Andrea’s hand. “I knew you were special then. Always so observant. You could spot a rare bird or a sailboat from a mile away.”
Andrea exhaled calmly at the pleasant memory. The tension of the last several weeks were draining out of her, at least temporarily.
Andrea glanced back at the kids and smiled. They’d moved on to the little playground beside the baseball field and were climbing the jungle gym.
“I suppose if we could survive them, we can survive anything,” Andrea said. “Remember the time Michelle made a mural on the wall with crayon after she learned about the Sistine Chapel in art class?”
“Oy,” Ryan groaned. “It took me a week to repaint the wall.”
They continued walking along the path. They passed a large tree that had a carving of a heart with “Melvin + Sara” inside.
“You know we’ll make it through all this, right?” Ryan asked. “I mean, we made it this far.”
Andrea snapped back to reality. Tomorrow was the day the Chinese repossession would begin.
“The next few days are going to be some of the worst in American history,” Andrea replied, her head shaking.
“Maybe so, but remember when Aaron accidentally threw a ball through that window and knocked over that armoire of heirlooms?”
Andrea nodded. “He destroyed the whole thing.”
“Remember what I said?”
Andrea nodded again. “You said it’s just stuff.”
“Exactly. Whatever the Chinese take, it’s just stuff. Would you rather be living in China? They have cameras everywhere, and they arrest people for saying the wrong thing. I don’t want to live like that. Wondering if the government will take me or the kids for looking at someone the wrong way.”
Andrea listened, expressionless.
“Let them take statues, relics, furniture, whatever. I’d still rather live in the United States any day of the week and twice on Sunday,” Ryan said.
“You realize people are going to hate me.”
“I won’t,” Ryan said emphatically. “And isn’t that all that really matters? Who cares what other people think.”
“I do,” Andrea said.
“Well stop,” Ryan replied. “You’re in politics. Everybody ends up unpopular in politics.”
Andrea laughed. Ryan always had a way of making her feel better.
They’d nearly completed circling the park when Aaron and Michelle came running up to them. “Can we go to Ledo’s for pizza and then ice cream?” Michelle chirped.
Ryan glanced at Andrea. She smiled.
“Sure, sweetheart, get your grandmother and we’ll meet you at the car.”
The kids ran over to the bench where Mamie was sitting, lifted her by her arms, and began making their way to the family minivan.
“Tomorrow is going to be terrible,” Andrea muttered.
“Forget about tomorrow,” Ryan said. “Just enjoy some pizza tonight. Ledo is your favorite.”
Andrea put on a smile as they made their way back to their minivan where the kids and Mamie were waiting.
Andrea awoke at five a.m. Her holiday was over. The other shoe was about to drop. Chinese soldiers were on their way to claim property to pay back America’s debt to China. The country was about to find out what that part of the cease-fire agreement meant. It would be one of America’s greatest humiliations and, in her mind, she had authored it.
She dressed quickly, drove to work, booted her computer, and read the online headlines. Then she glanced at her smartphone. Her email had filled with alerts from every major news outlet.
The headlines and alerts were as bad as she feared.
“China to Begin Claiming Government Property.”
“Chinese Soldiers, Statesmen Arrive to Collect on Debt.”
“CHINESE REPO MAN” screamed the New York Post, complete with a photo of the poster from the movie, Repo Man, and the Chinese premier’s face superimposed on the image of Emilio Estevez.
Andrea streamed NBC’s morning coverage to see what people were saying while she brewed some coffee.
NBC had supplanted its usual programming with coverage of the arrival of the Chinese repossession teams. Reporter Chuck Reed was broadcasting live from Lower Manhattan looking out toward New York Harbor.
“I’m reporting from New York City, where any moment now the Chinese repossession teams will be arriving. Thousands of Americans have come to watch this historic event.”
The camera panned the crowd of New Yorkers gazing out toward the harbor in the mist of the early morning.
“There! There they are,” said Reed. “If you look just beyond the Statue of Liberty, you can see the silhouette of several Chinese warships.”
The figures of the ships in the Chinese flotilla grew larger and clearer as they approached and then docked at New York Harbor, the Statue of Liberty standing watch in the foreground.
“The people who have come to watch this unfold are in shock,” Reed reported. He turned to one of the spectators. “Sir, what are your thoughts as you watch the Chinese Navy entering New York Harbor?”
“It’s a damned disgrace,” he said. “I had to see it with my own eyes to believe it was really happening.”
Andrea slammed her fist on her desk. The humiliation of the Chinese arriving and the blame she could already hear coming her way were too much. She needed to vent.
Footsteps approached her office.
“Andrea, you here?” Rachel said. She must have arrived in the last few minutes.
“Yes, looks like I beat you in this morning,” Andrea replied. “Come in and watch this with me.”
Rachel pulled a chair next to Andrea’s so she could see her computer screen.
Two of the Chinese ships made a left turn away from the flotilla toward Liberty Island. One of the ships h
ad an enormous crane on its deck.
“Where are those two ships going?” Andrea wondered.
The ships dropped anchor next to Liberty Island. The ships were side-by-side with the Statue of Liberty. The crane of one ship slowly deployed its hook and harness over the Statue of Liberty. Chinese soldiers swarmed from the other ship to the base of the statue, clambering up the stone pedestal to the base of the statue. Bright lights and sparks began to appear at various points at the base.
“What is that?” Andrea asked.
Rachel leaned forward and squinted at the computer screen. “It looks like they’re cutting the Statue of Liberty off its pedestal!”
Andrea leaned back from the screen, mouth agape and eyes bulging.
“Good lord, they’re taking it,” she replied.
The ignominy left her speechless. The Statue of Liberty had greeted generations of immigrants to the United States. It was the first thing her great-grandparents and Ryan’s grandparents had laid eyes on as they sailed into the United States for the first time. It was an indelible family memory, passed down to them just as it surely was in millions of American families. The Statue of Liberty represented their families’ very freedom and victories over the worst regimes in human history. Andrea and Rachel sat dumbstruck as they watched the army of one of the world’s most odious totalitarian regimes set to work removing the statue.
“It looks like the Chinese are using welding torches to remove the Statue of Liberty!” Reed shouted into his microphone.
Onlookers covered their mouths in shock and disbelief as they realized what was happening. A small girl buried her face in her mother’s stomach as her mother gave her a tight hug. Some turned away, unable to bear the sight. An elderly woman dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief. Two burly men gestured obscenely at the Chinese. A group of teenagers threw stones angrily but helplessly into the harbor.
“Jesus.” Rachel scanned the NBC video library. “Play that one.” She pointed to a video titled “Chinese Arrive in Baltimore.” Andrea clicked on the link.
“I’m Anthony Givens, reporting from the Dundalk Marine Terminal in Baltimore,” the reported said.
Three loud booms exploded from the video.
“Chinese ships have entered Baltimore harbor,” Givens said. “The lead Chinese ship just shot three cannons into the air to announce its arrival. The ships are festooned with Chinese flags and red banners. Chinese sailors in their pressed whites are standing at attention on the bows. Large loudspeakers are playing what I think is the Chinese national anthem. The ships will be docking here in a moment and disembarking their crews to begin the repossession.”
“Go to NBC’s live feed,” said Rachel, mesmerized by what she was seeing. Andrea clicked on a link.
“The Chinese repossession trucks are driving along Broening Highway,” Givens reported breathlessly. “They appear to be making their way to Interstate 95, but we don’t know where they are going. Our choppers and news trucks are following them.”
One of the cameras surveyed the crowd of locals lining both sides of Broening Highway as the Chinese repossession convoy drove past. Many held American flags. Others held signs reminding the Chinese that they were “Commie scum.”
The camera captured a young girl with pigtails holding a small American flag with a hangdog look on her face. American soldiers lining the road were restraining onlookers from charging the convoy with bats and hurling projectiles at it.
Cameras from overhead news helicopters captured the convoy emerging from the Fort McHenry Tunnel heading south on Interstate 95 in the direction of Washington.
“One of the trucks is getting off,” Rachel said.
“At the Fort McHenry exit?” Andrea felt as though her eyes were going to pop out of her head.
The Chinese truck rolled up Fort Avenue. Andrea had ridden that road a thousand times as a kid. Givens followed behind in his news van. The Chinese truck rumbled past the brick-wall-lined gate at the entrance to Fort McHenry and into its empty parking lot.
Andrea hadn’t been to Fort McHenry in years, but from the broadcast images it was just as she remembered it. Her father used to take her to the fort when she was a child growing up in Baltimore. She was always so fascinated by the oversized fifteen-star flag that flew over the fort. She liked to run in and out of the reconstructed buildings and along its ramparts. She’d sit on the large green space outside the walls, eat a corned beef sandwich from Jack’s or Attman’s or Weiss’s, maybe a Baltimore-style hot dog wrapped in the traditional slice of fried bologna, maybe a coddie or Western fries too for good measure, and watch the ships going in and out of the harbor.
The truck parked and two Chinese soldiers briskly got out. The National Parks Service employee who was sitting at the entrance to the small passageway leading in reached his hand out to shake hands with the soldiers, but they walked straight past him without even looking.
“Assholes,” Andrea muttered. “Such disrespect.”
The two soldiers walked along the small dirt path under the brick archway entrance and directly to the flagpole. They began untying the halyard from the cleat at the foot of the pole.
Andrea watched in horror as the Chinese began lowering the flag. No ceremony, no salute, nothing.
“Has there been a lower moment in the history of the United States?” Andrea asked. “We’ve let a mortal enemy waltz in and take the Star-Spangled Banner. People died to keep that flag flying over that fort, and now we just let these bastards walk in and take it.”
Givens and his camera crew had followed the Chinese soldiers into the fort. “The flagpole is bare for the first time in two centuries,” he reported, astonishment on his face. “Not since 1814 has a flag not flown on this pole.”
Andrea felt the weight of over two hundred years of history as she watched the flag come down. She sensed the eyes of ghosts on her, of Francis Scott Key and James Madison, of Sam Smith and George Armistead, the heroes of the War of 1812 and the Battle of Baltimore. She imagined the flag surviving through the night, illuminated by the Congreve rockets the British mercilessly fired at the fort in their failed bid to capture it. An entire squadron of British troops and ships couldn’t defeat the Americans. And now, two Chinese soldiers were helping themselves to the sacred artifact the Americans defended to the death that night.
Rachel shook her head in disbelief. “This country will never live this down,” she said. “I’m telling you, people will never, ever forget this image. They might as well have opened our skulls and branded it on our brains. ‘O say does that star-spangled banner yet wave, o’er the land of the free and the home of the brave?’ Not anymore it doesn’t.”
As the flag descended the flagpole a heavy gust of wind began to blow, unfurling it in all its glory for one last time. It was as if Mother Nature herself was unwilling to accept America’s fate and wouldn’t let the flag go down without a fight.
But the Chinese soldiers, pulling harder to overcome the wind’s resistance, continued to lower the flag.
Not even Mother Nature can save the country now, Andrea thought.
The bottom of the flag began to hit the ground; the Chinese soldiers weren’t bothering to catch the flag to keep it from touching the ground as American soldiers would. The flag slowly piled up, folding over itself in a heap, until all that remained of the Star-Spangled Banner was a red-white-and-blue pile of cloth. The soldiers didn’t bother folding the flag. They each took a corner, dragged it along the dirt path out of the fort, and tossed it, covered in dirt, into the back of their waiting truck.
A combination of anger, sadness, and sheer helplessness left Andrea numb. She watched, mesmerized, as the Chinese drove out Fort McHenry’s gates with their first piece of repossessed property.
Just then Andrea’s cell phone chimed. Stanley Marshal was asking if she could come to the Oval Office.
“POTUS is calling,” Andrea said. “He wants me to join him in the Oval to monitor events.”
“I’m sure he does,”
Rachel responded. “Let him know we’re all here if he needs anything.” Rachel patted Andrea on the shoulder. “And one more thing: don’t forget, we are doing the right thing. It sucks, but just remember that, okay?”
“Will do.” Andrea got up and wearily made the trek back to the West Wing.
The EEOB wasn’t nearly the beehive of activity it normally was, with so many staffers furloughed by the emergency budget. As Andrea walked through the lobby, she heard her footsteps echoing off the lobby’s vaulted ceiling. The din of conversation that usually obscured these echoes was gone.
President Murray was seated on the couch in the Oval Office with his jacket off, tie askew, and his chin resting in the palm of his hand as he watched the Chinese repossession on the television that was set up in front of the fireplace. He looked like a stockbroker who’d lost it all in a market crash.
“Thank goodness someone is here.” President Murray sighed. “I don’t think I could take watching this alone. I sent the vice president up to the Hill to monitor events there.”
Andrea dejectedly seated herself next to the president and joined him in silently watching the television.
Stanley Marshal entered the Oval Office and pierced the gloomy silence. “Mr. President?”
President Murray shook his head quickly, as if shaken out of a reverie. “I’m sorry,” he said, turning to look at Stanley. “What is it?”
“The Chinese Embassy has advised that the repossession team will be arriving at the White House within the next thirty minutes.”
President Murray looked shell-shocked. “You want to leave?” he asked Andrea.
“Desperately,” she responded.
“Me too,” Murray said. “I can’t bear this.”
“But we have to stay, Mr. President,” said Andrea. “We need to try to retain as much dignity as we can.” Her conversations with Ryan yesterday and Rachel this morning had fortified her resolve.
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