by Don Brown
“I have no reason to believe that anything has happened to Fu Cheuk-Yan … but yes … I am concerned about it.”
“Tang Qhichen! Please—”
“Sister, I must go. I will call you when I know something.”
“Qhichen! Please.”
“Good-bye, my sister. I love you.”
Tang gave the phone back to Captain Lo as the motorcade approached the exit at the southern gate, known as the Xinhua Gate, or “Gate of New China.” The motorcade slowed again, and Tang looked up at the inscription engraved over the gate in the handwriting of Mao Zedong. “The immortal Mao Zedong,” he murmured. The inscription could only be read by those inside Zhongnanhai as they were about to leave. Tang read the words: “Serve the People.”
The limousine rolled to a stop, just under the Xinhua Gate.
Out on West Chang’an Avenue, the broad boulevard bordering Zhongnanhai’s southern perimeter, an explosion of strobe lights resembled a street-level lightning storm.
White-gloved traffic policemen standing on the street outside the compound tweeted through silver whistles, hand-signaling vehicles in the motorcade to move forward.
The presidential limousine rolled onto West Chang’an Avenue through another explosion of strobe lights.
Dozens of television cameras lined the exit route. And beyond the cameras, throngs pushed up to roped police lines on both sides of the boulevard, holding signs proclaiming:
VICTORY …
and LONG LIVE THE PRC …
and TANG—THE PEOPLE’S PRESIDENT! …
and THANK YOU TANG QHICHEN! …
and LONG LIVE TANG THE IMMORTAL!
Standing in front of the crowds and the police lines, stretching as far down the street as the eye could see, were children clothed in white suits and dresses, tossing rose petals in front of the presidential limousine as it passed.
With goose bumps on his arms, Tang settled back and let the aura of the historic moment sweep away all concerns about the Shemnong.
CHAPTER 19
The Oval Office
West Wing of the White House
Washington, DC
8:30 p.m.
President Douglas Surber sat alone in the Oval Office on one of the two black leather sofas positioned in front of his large mahogany desk. He was munching on a small bag of trail mix, a concoction of almonds, cashews, peanuts, and raisins that he had developed an addiction to after his daughter Stephanie had given him five bags of the stuff from the Barnes & Noble café last Christmas.
On two flat-screen televisions mounted on the wall were live images streaming from a sun-baked morning in Tiananmen Square in Beijing, halfway around the world. In fifteen minutes, the president of China was to address his country concerning China’s actions in the South China Sea.
The broadcast was being narrated by the venerable Fox News anchor Tom Miller, whose image, complete with wire-rim glasses, was superimposed in the lower left corner of the screen. Across the bottom of the screen were the words: “FOX NEWS SPECIAL REPORT—WAR IN THE SOUTH CHINA SEA.”
The scene reminded Surber of a Russian Mayday parade. Red flags waving. Streaming red banners. Kids tossing flowers at a dictator’s limousine. Old men and women with tears streaming down their faces.
Alternating cutaway shots flashed from the motorcade to Tiananmen Square, where thousands were jammed in a sea of humanity before a vacant stage and podium. Positioned prominently on the stage was the red Chinese flag. The Beijing Orchestra was playing the “Overture to a New China,” which Fox News anchor Miller explained had been composed for Tang’s installation as president.
The scene switched back to the motorcade just as the speakerphone on the desk buzzed. “Mister President,” Gayle Staff, the longtime presidential secretary, said.
“Yes, Gayle.”
“Sir, Secretary Lopez and Secretary Mauney are here, along with Admiral Jones and Miss Hewitt.”
“Is the vice president here?”
“Not yet, sir.”
“What about the chief of staff?”
“No, sir.”
“Okay, send the others in.”
“Yes, sir.”
Surber stood as his four national security advisers walked into the Oval Office. “Have a seat. Still a big hullabaloo going on over there, but he’s not started his speech yet.” He motioned at the flat-screens. “They’ve gone all out with the propaganda.”
Cynthia Hewitt sat on the sofa beside him. Secretary of State Robert Mauney and Secretary of Defense Lopez took the sofa across from them. Admiral Jones sat in one of the four wingback chairs.
“Mister President,” Secretary Mauney said, a troubled look on his face. He was holding a single sheet of paper.
“What is it, Bobby?”
“Sir, the Chinese know we have the Shemnong. We just received this communiqué from the PRC embassy.” He laid a sheet of paper on the coffee table between the two sofas.
Surber picked up the communiqué.
EMBASSY OF THE PEOPLE’S REPUBLIC OF CHINA
IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
2201 Wisconsin Avenue NW
Suite 110
Washington, DC 20007
Communiqué
FROM: Liu Tanchong, Foreign Minister of the People’s Republic of China Huang Yi, Ambassador of the People’s Republic of China to the United States of America
TO: Hon. Douglas Surber, President of the United States of America Hon. Robert Mauney, Secretary of State of the United States of America
RE: Status of M/V Shemnong
Dear Mister President and Mister Secretary,
Fifteen hours prior to the issuance of this communiqué, the M/V Shemnong, a freighter navigating the high seas and last located in the South China Sea, 100 miles off the coast of North Vietnam, vanished from all radio contact with PRC authorities.
At 0530 hours local time, the M/V Shemnong was spotted by PRC military aircraft 150 nautical miles off course and under escort by American warship USS Vicksburg.
Efforts to establish radio communication with the M/V Shemnong by PRC aircraft failed. Such efforts were hampered by powerful electronic jamming from USS Vicksburg.
As a PRC military plane approached the M/V Shemnong and USS Vicksburg, USS Vicksburg locked onto PRC aircraft with fire-control radar and warned PRC aircraft against overflight, although USS Vicksburg was operating in international waters and PRC aircraft was flying in international airspace.
Be advised that the People’s Republic of China considers the USS Vicksburg action in locking fire-control radar on PRC aircraft, thereby threatening PRC military aircraft against their legal right to fly in international airspace, to be belligerent, and the People’s Republic of China does hereby launch this PROTEST in response to the belligerent actions of USS Vicksburg.
Furthermore, the People’s Republic of China does demand a full explanation from the United States as to why one of its warships, the USS Vicksburg, is engaged in armed escort of the M/V Shemnong.
The United States is warned against any attempt to prevent military forces of the People’s Republic of China from boarding or taking control of the M/V Shemnong, a vessel flying under the protective flag of the People’s Republic of China with full international navigation rights on the high seas.
Failure to comply could result in military and economic retaliation, including a full reevaluation of China’s policy of holding United States Treasury debt, both short-term and long-term.
We await your expedited reply.
Respectfully,
Liu Tanchong, Foreign Minister
of the People’s Republic of China
Huang Yi, Ambassador of the
People’s Republic of China to
the United States of America
Surber laid the communiqué down. “Okay. This changes things. You all had recommended that we get the freighter out of the South China Sea before we confronted them on the cargo. But this forces our hand sooner than I’d hoped, which, in my
opinion, makes the situation much more dangerous for our ships in the South China Sea.” He looked at each one, then looked down at the message again. “You’re all getting paid the big bucks to advise the president. Your thoughts on this?”
Admiral Jones said, “Sir, my first reaction in reading between the lines is that they are going to try some sort of military operation to retake the Shemnong.”
“Agreed,” Secretary Lopez said.
Cynthia Hewitt nodded in agreement. “Sounds like economic blackmail with that last quip about dumping debt.”
“I anticipated that,” the secretary of defense said. “But the more pressing question, Mister President, is whether you’re going to order the Vicksburg to intervene if the Chinese try to remove the Shemnong from our custody.”
Surber looked surprised. “Those are the orders I’ve already given, aren’t they?”
“Yes, Mister President,” Secretary Lopez said. “I just wanted to make sure that your orders still stand.”
“Why would they not?” Surber asked. “We’re talking about several thousand babies murdered in China, likely with the knowledge of the Chinese government. If we as a nation no longer stand for the rights of the most defenseless among us, then we have lost our soul as a nation. That will not happen on my watch.”
Surber glanced at the two flat-screen televisions, showing images of the Chinese president’s police-escorted limousine making a left turn into Tiananmen Square, easing through the throngs of cheering citizens.
“Mister President?”
“Yes, Secretary Mauney.”
“I don’t think we can sit on this thing any longer, sir.”
“Agreed, Mister Secretary. What are your thoughts?”
“A great man once said, ‘The truth shall set you free.’ ”
“Yes, I know,” Surber said. “I talk to the man you’re quoting every day.”
“I thought you did, sir.” Mauney smiled. “I recommend that first, we inform them that we took Chinese sailors off that ship who had been shot in the Taiwanese Navy’s attack. We tell them where the sailors are being treated. We also let them know that we have the bodies of sailors killed by the Taiwanese, including the captain, and that the wounded sailors and the bodies are available for repatriation. We tell them we did not attack the Shemnong. Then we urge them to stand down their military confrontation with Taiwan and let us mediate this dispute.”
“Agreed.” Surber nodded.
“We need to be frank and tell them that we’re aware that the ship contains the bodies of thousands of murdered babies. Tell them that we’ve taken custody of the ship, that we intend to make an issue of this with the UN and, therefore, we aren’t going to relinquish custody at this time. We will repel any attempt to wrest control of the ship from us. We consider this issue separate from their dispute with Taiwan over the Spratlys.”
“I agree with that,” the president said.
“With respect,” Admiral Jones said, “that last part is going to be hard to pull off.”
“What do you mean?” Surber asked.
“I’m no diplomat, sir, but I doubt the Chinese will separate their disagreement on the Spratlys with Taiwan from our dispute over the Shemnong because that freighter is carrying not only those dead babies but also weapons for the Communist forces holding Itu Aba in the Spratlys.”
“The national anthem of the People’s Republic of China,” Tom Miller said on the television, prompting Lopez and Mauney to turn so they could look at the flat-screens.
Tang stood on the elevated platform that had been erected in front of the Great Hall of the People, distinctive with great columns reaching up to a high portico. He was wearing a navy blue pinstripe suit and was holding his hand over his heart. Alongside him were uniformed members of the Chinese military, who were flashing stern salutes in front of flapping red Chinese flags. The Beijing Orchestra was playing the Chinese national anthem.
“You’re watching a breaking Fox News Special Report, ‘War in the South China Sea,’ ” Miller said. “These are scenes from Tiananmen Square in Beijing. Chinese President Tang Qhichen is standing on the eastern façade of the Great Hall of the People with his senior military advisers. The Great Hall, with over one point eight million square feet, was completed in 1959 and was one of the Ten Great Buildings erected to commemorate the tenth anniversary of the People’s Republic of China. The National People’s Congress meets here, but it is a powerless rubber-stamp legislature appointed by the Communist Party. It was also here, in the State Banquet Hall, that in 1972 President Richard Nixon held historic meetings with Communist Party leader Mao Zedong and Premiere Zhou Enlai that led to signing of the Shanghai Communiqué and the subsequent normalization of relations between the US and China. President Nixon was the first president in US history to visit China.”
Another buzz from the speakerphone. “Mister President?”
“Yes, Gayle.”
“The vice president and Mister Brubaker are here, sir.”
“Send them in.”
Chief of Staff Arnie Brubaker and Vice President Rock Morgan walked into the Oval Office.
“Welcome, gentlemen,” Surber said. “Please, have a seat.”
Surber turned to Admiral Jones. “I don’t disagree with you, Admiral, but I still agree with Secretary Mauney that we need to tell the Chinese that we view these positions as separate, whether they do or not.”
“For the record, I agree with that also, Mister President,” Admiral Jones said. “I was just pointing out the difficulties in selling that position to the Chinese.”
“So noted,” Surber said. He looked at the secretary of state. “Any other recommendations?”
“Yes, sir. I don’t think we can delay much longer in alerting the media. I know we had hoped to try to quell the Spratly dispute before making this public, but in light of this communiqué, our hand has been played.”
Surber nodded. “Agreed, Bobby.” He looked at Brubaker. “Arnie, arrange for me to address the nation at eight in the morning. Have my speechwriters prepare a statement for me to read from the Oval Office.”
“Yes, Mister President.”
A swell of sustained applause, growing louder by the second, poured out from the flat-screens.
Surber looked up. His Chinese counterpart, Tang Qhichen, looking modern, dapper, and fit in his trademark navy blue pinstripe suit and red tie, was behind the podium making hand motions to quell the long, sustained applause.
“Why can’t I get that kind of reaction when I make a speech?” Surber quipped.
“Because we don’t have a propaganda ministry to import cheering crowds at gunpoint, sir,” Cynthia Hewitt said.
“I guarantee I can get you that kind of reaction, Mister President,” Arnie Brubaker said.
“Oh, yeah? When and where?”
“Three years from now,” Brubaker said. He grinned. “Republican National Convention.”
“You’re assuming a lot, aren’t you, Arnie?” Surber said.
Tang began speaking, and the translation quickly followed in English. “My fellow citizens. Today marks the dawn of a new era for the People’s Republic of China. For less than forty-eight hours ago, military forces from the People’s Liberation Army-Navy attacked enemy forces from the renegade territory of Taiwan that had been occupying the island of Itu Aba, which is sovereign PRC territory in the South China Sea.
“Today, thanks to the heroic and valiant efforts of our naval forces, we have destroyed the enemy in the South China Sea, and we have restored sovereign Chinese territory to Chinese control!”
Frenzied cheering erupted. Cameras cut away to show celebrating Chinese pumping their fists and waving placards with images of the Chinese president.
“Please! Please!” Tang attempted to silence the crowd. “There will be time for celebration. But first”—he waited for the crowd to quiet down—”first there is more I must tell you.” The crowd was hanging on Tang’s every word.
“While we have destroyed t
he enemy at Itu Aba in the South China Sea, our mission is not complete! For from this day forward, we shall continue to restore sovereign Chinese territory to Chinese control. And no person, and no president, and no nation shall stand in our way!”
More cheering. Pandemonium. The crowd was chanting something.
“What are they saying?” Cynthia Hewitt asked.
“Listen,” Surber said.
“Tang Qhichen! Tang Qhichen!”
Over and over again, they were shouting the name of the Chinese president.
“This is scary,” Secretary Mauney mumbled, as all eyes in the Oval Office focused on the two flat-screens.
“Please! Please!” Tang again motioned the crowd into silence. “Today we have come to pay honor to our comrades and heroes of our victory. Today we present comrade Senior Lieutenant Wang Ju with the coveted Hero’s Medal for his valiant and daring efforts as the lead helicopter pilot in the mission known as Operation Lightning Bolt, the mission that destroyed the enemy at Itu Aba Island!” More cheering. More applause. The camera cut to a young Chinese naval aviator in full uniform, standing at attention on the platform behind Tang. In Chinese, running across the bottom of the screen, were presumably his name and rank. The officer’s face sported a jutting chin and a steel-locked jaw. He did not respond to the thunderous applause.
“And for his second in command”—cheering, applause—”to Lieutenant Zhang Li, the coleader of this mission, the Meritorious Service Medal!” More cheering. More applause. A cutaway shot to another young Chinese naval officer who, unlike the first one, was having difficulty suppressing a smile.
“These are the heroes of a new age of world dominance! For this shall mark the first of many victories. For the twenty-first century shall be the Chinese century! The century of the Raging Dragon! For I declare to you this day, the Raging Dragon has begun to roar!”
Pandemonium erupted. “Tang Qhichen! Tang Qhichen!”
Tang shook his fist over the repeated chants of his name. “The Raging Dragon has begun to breathe fire!”
“This guy is crazy and power hungry,” Admiral Jones said.