“This is different. The enemy has too many soldiers this time. This isn’t like Alaska. This is like another World War.”
“Honey—”
“Paul, you swore you’d come home to me. I want you to kiss me again. I want you to hold me. I want you to whisper in my ear that you love me.”
“I do love you.”
“Tell me in person. Do whatever you have to do to get to me.”
“It’s a long way to Colorado.”
“I’m not going there until you come home,” Cheri said. “Do you understand?”
“Don’t be stubborn, sweets. I can’t just get up and leave. I have to do my duty, my part to save our country.”
“I’m not moving until you get here. I swear that, Paul.”
He stared into her eyes, seeing her seriousness and tiny golden flecks in the irises. He’d told her before those flecks meant she was a love goddess. She’d always laughed with delight at that. But she wasn’t laughing now. Cheri could be stubborn, maybe not stubborn like him, but stubborn enough.
“I’ll come home to you, sweets. I promise you. First, I have earn my pay.”
“You’ll come home in one piece?” she asked.
“Yeah.” Through the window, Paul saw a lieutenant marching toward the shack. The tech corporal spoke animatedly, waving his arms as he hurried beside the man. “Honey, I have to go. I love you. Kiss Mike for me. Tell him to take care of you until I get there.”
“When is that going to be?”
“Maybe sooner than you think,” he said. If the Chinese were coming through Texas, where would it end? He still hadn’t told her about Colonel Valdez and possible hit men, but he didn’t want to worry her more than he needed. He wanted to laugh then. What did hit men matter when World War III was threatening?
“Love,” he said.
“Love,” she said. And the way she said it slammed his heart. He put his fingertips on the screen. She put up hers.
“I need you, baby,” he said.
“Ditto,” she said.
The door began to open. “Bye, sweets. See you soon.” Paul cut the connection.
“Who are you talking to?” a lanky lieutenant asked.
Paul stood up, grabbing his helmet and assault rifle off the table.
“I asked you a question, Gunnery Sergeant.”
“Yeah you did,” Paul said. “I was talking to my wife.”
The lieutenant and corporal exchanged startled glances. The lieutenant told Paul, “That’s a court martial offense.”
“Better hurry then,” Paul said. “Me and the colonel are taking off soon.”
“Do you think I’m joking?”
“No. I think—” Paul cut himself off. “Sorry, sir. I’m a bit bitter, that’s all. I haven’t seen my wife for over six months due to hard training for what turned out to be a little exercise in Mexico. I’m not sure I’m going to make it home now. So I took the opportunity to call her.”
“I’ll have to report it,” the lieutenant said.
“You do that.”
“You’ll have to wait here for the MPs.”
“Nope,” Paul said. “But you get them if you have to. I’m driving the colonel to his next stop-off.”
“Do you mean Colonel Norman?” the lieutenant asked in something approaching awe.
“That’s him,” Paul said.
“You’re his driver?”
“Bodyguard.”
“What does Norman need a bodyguard for?” the lieutenant asked.
“Mexican hit men,” Paul said.
The lieutenant and corporal traded another glance. The lieutenant lost more of his stiffness. “Are you pulling my chain?”
“That’s right,” Paul said.
The lieutenant nodded. “Okay. That makes more sense. Who were you really talking to?”
“Are we done here?” Paul asked.
“I saw a pretty woman on the screen,” the corporal told the officer.
“There aren’t any pretty women in the Army?” the lieutenant asked.
The corporal looked crestfallen.
Paul nodded to them as he squeezed past. He shoved the helmet onto his head and opened the door. As he stepped outside, the heat hit like a wall.
“Colonel Norman,” the lieutenant said to the corporal, before Paul shut the door.
He strode across pavement. There were acres of it with the occasional concrete building and pillbox. Here and there, a Humvee or Stryker waited between white parking lines. Paul spied Interstate 5. It was still usable here, but nearer the border, bulldozers and other earth-moving equipment had turned the freeway into overturned chunks of concrete. Paul couldn’t see that, however, as a big earthen berm blocked sight of the Mexican border three miles to the south. Beyond the berm were other trenches, fortifications and minefields. Miles to the rear were massed artillery tubes in hardened bunkers, together with laser emplacements, flak guns and giant reflectors.
Paul strode for the colonel’s pickup. Were the Chinese really thinking about attacking? What did it mean the enemy had started something in Texas? Maybe it was just another game of chicken. He hoped so.
Texas—and they send a DC hotshot here. What’s really going on?
LAREDO, TEXAS
Rising Tension
(NNI) Since the first barrage three days ago, PAA artillery fire has escalated into hours-long thundering against sections of the Texas fortifications. Crack SAF armor units have begun to mass, while long supply columns of Chinese trucks fill the roads.
President Sims has called for talks in Geneva. Chairman Hong has demanded two pre-conditions: the surrender of Colonel Valdez and the dismantling of the Free Mexico Army.
The Chinese Foreign Minister said, “Once Mexico needs no longer fear these terrorist assaults from the criminal Valdez, then Chinese soldiers can stand down, knowing the border is secure.”
President Sims replied. “We’re not the ones who started this, but we will end it if we have to. America doesn’t respond to threats and we know how to defend ourselves. The war in Alaska proved that. I urge Chairman Hong to think long and hard therefore and then meet with me in Geneva so we can solve this problem reasonably.”
American troops are on high alert in Texas and Militia and Army Reserves are reporting for duty.
“The President is right,” General Kemp was quoted as saying. “If the Chinese cross the border, we’re going to teach them foreign boys how to be good patriots and die for their country.”
LANGLEY, VIRGINIA
“You’re to come with me,” Johnson said.
Anna Chen looked up in surprise at her boss. She sat hunched over her e-reader, studying data in her CIA cubicle. Ever since the Laredo Incident, everyone had been working overtime.
“Sir?” she asked.
“Take your e-reader and come with me,” Johnson said.
She grabbed the reader, stood and winced because her back was so stiff. “Just a minute,” she whispered.
Johnson turned, frowning at her as she stretched and popped her back. “Are you through?” he asked.
She nodded, secretly pleased at annoying him. For the past two and a half weeks, he had avoided her, only greeting her once with a monosyllabic grunt. She took it to mean that her report on Blue Swan had achieved something. Realizing that had emboldened her while writing up other reports. She’d become fascinated with the spy in Mexico City. He was a veritable fund of knowledge concerning Chinese usage of Mexican roads and routes. According to him, the Chinese had practically stopped all civilian traffic in the Baja-Californian north during night. That implied mass movement of either supplies or troops, which in turn implied what…an imminent attack in SoCal timed with the Texas Situation? She had written her reports that way; she was more certain than ever that she was right.
Johnson led her past other cubicles to his office door. He opened it and said, “Go.”
“Sir?” she asked.
“Go inside.”
“After you, sir,” she sa
id.
He scowled and pointed within.
Confused, Anna stepped into his office without him. A man sat in her boss’s chair. It took a second before Anna realized the Director of the CIA sat there.
Dr. Samuel Levin was a wizened figure of legend, with uncombed, thick white hair jutting in disorder. The hair with its many points was like an anarchist’s crown or some strange wizard’s hat. It made Levin seem as if he was an ancient in his second childhood, peering at people with quizzical eyes. His neck looked too skinny to hold up his large head and crown.
“Director?” Anna asked.
“Shut the door and sit down,” Levin said.
“Should I call in Mr. Johnson?”
“You’re a smart woman, Anna.”
She hesitated and finally nodded, shutting the door with Johnson still outside and sitting down in a chair before the desk.
Levin scratched an ear as he peered at her. The quizzical eyes seemed to ask a hundred questions. He seemed like one of those youths with an insatiable number of queries, wanting to know everything. He didn’t disappoint, either.
“Anna, how do you know the Chinese are going to attack in Southern California?”
His lack of small talk startled her. If that’s how he wanted to proceed…it was fine with her. “I don’t know,” she said. “But it is my strong assessment.”
He smiled like a fox from Aesop’s Fables, one of those sly creatures able to talk crows into dropping their grapes.
“Your reports are like a blizzard of warnings,” he said. “You’re a veritable prophetess of doom concerning California when everyone else knows it’s one of the few quiet fronts we have. The situation grows increasingly worse in Texas and drone reports show a massing of GD hovers off the Florida Keys. When he should be concentrating on Texas and possibly Florida, the President keeps asking about California.”
“Because of my reports?” asked Anna.
“I believe that’s what I just implied.”
“Why hasn’t anyone told me?”
Director Levin used his pinky finger to scratch the inside of his ear. “You’re on a short list of undesirables. It isn’t my list, but your ethnicity has more than a few people worried. Fortunately for you, the President recalls that you were on Clark’s staff during the war.”
“The Alaskan War?” Anna asked.
“It’s the only war that counts with the President.”
“Yes, sir, I think I understand.”
“I believe you do. Not that it matters. The point of our little meeting tonight is for you to tell me why you think the Chinese are about to invade California. Why not invade Texas—where the sheer volume of shells used has shattered large sections of the Laredo Fortifications? The Pan Asian Alliance and the South American Federation have openly moved large forces into position to exploit any breakthroughs there.”
“I realize that, sir. Still, it’s unlike Chinese generals to advertise their moves so openly. They like to use surprises, to use decoys.”
Levin shrugged. “Perhaps they know we know that. Therefore, acting like a decoy, pretending to be a decoy, these troops in Texas are actually the real thing: an invasion force meant to drive a wedge into our underbelly.”
“I suppose it’s possible,” Anna said.
“But you deem it unlikely?”
“Yes, sir,” she said.
“And this is because…?”
“Marshal Kao helps formulate much of China’s strategy.”
“Tell me about him,” Levin said.
“He’s the Minister of Defense on the Ruling Committee,” Anna said. “He works closely with Chairman Hong. Frankly, what you’re seeing in Texas, it isn’t like Marshal Kao.”
“Maybe it’s someone else’s plan.”
“Maybe,” she said.
Levin pursed his lips. “Give me another reason.”
“I’m troubled by the amount of dedicated road usage in the Baja-California region of Mexico. The usage implies massive shipments of troops, supplies, or most likely both. I’m not talking about corps-level movements as appears to be happening in Texas, but something much larger.”
“You’ve been following the situation in Texas?” Levin asked.
“A little,” Anna said.
“You like to keep your finger on the pulse?”
“If you want to put it like that,” she said.
“Hmm,” he said, scratching his ear again. “If this is all so simple to see, why doesn’t anyone else see it?”
“The data is always there, sir.”
“Meaning what?” Levin asked.
Anna took a deep breath. “That most intelligence agencies have the facts of this or that on the enemy but simply don’t trust the data. It’s only clear to everyone once a thing happens. They say hindsight is twenty-twenty. Then people say, ‘Look. The evidence was right there in front of them all along. It must have been a conspiracy that kept it hidden.’ But there usually isn’t a conspiracy. It’s just that no one believed the reports or the obvious was so obvious that it had everyone’s attention. In this instance I mean Texas.”
“I believe I’d already figured out what you meant,” Levin said.
Anna nodded. “In this instance, I happen to trust our spy in Mexico City, the one in traffic control. He has shown a continuous and massive shutdown of northern roads in the Baja-California area. That implies a mass—”
“I know what it implies,” Levin said. “The trouble is that no one else agrees with him.”
“Exactly,” Anna said. “The massing GD hovers, the artillery attacks near Laredo and the movement toward the Texas Front of SAF armor—some of the same units that so brilliantly conquered Argentina—have diverted everyone’s attention on everywhere but California. And that is why I think an attack is imminent against the SoCal Fortifications.”
“You’re not telling me everything,” Levin said.
Anna looked away. “No, sir, I’m not.”
“Well…tell me the rest.”
Licking her lips, Anna said, “I’m not a military historian, sir.”
“No?”
“But the Battle of the Bulge is a good example of my final reason. There, the Germans practiced strict communication discipline. The critical factor was the movement of troops and supplies into attack positions. The Germans did that secretly, too, usually only moving at night.”
“I’m with you so far.”
“The Chinese are practicing strict communication control. I also believe they’re aware of every satellite shot into space and drone flight sent into their territory. That means to me they’re trying to be very secret about what they’re doing near the SoCal border. The artillery in Texas and the GD hovers, that’s to throw us off.”
“I see. And you’re the only one in America smart enough to see through these Chinese and German deceptions?”
“No, sir,” Anna said. “You see it and I expect that so does the President. That’s why he’s sent you to talk to me.”
“Ah. You’re a smart girl, Anna.”
“And you’re a smart man, sir.”
Levin grinned. “You’re coming with me.”
“Okay. Can I ask where I’m going?”
“To every meeting I have with the War Council. You’re going to be my aide. You’re also going to help me understand what the Chinese are thinking, just like you helped President Clark seven years ago.”
“Then you do believe the Chinese are going to attack in SoCal?”
“I pray I’m wrong. The President hopes I’m wrong, but probably not for the reasons why you would think. If Blue Swan does what we expect…”
Anna perked up. “You sent someone to look at the Blue Swan convoy then?”
“As a matter of fact—yes, we did. It’s why I’m talking to you.”
“The military operation happened because of my report?”
The CIA Director nodded.
Anna grinned, feeling appreciated and as if she had done something useful. “So what doe
s Blue Swan do?”
“Our technicians were fortunate, as our commando didn’t bring back much in way of evidence. Luckily, one of the techs—let’s just leave at this: we’re ninety percent certain the missiles melt electronics through EMP. And they do this without needing a nuclear explosion.”
Anna’s eyes became large. Oh, that was clever.
“It means a national disaster could be in the making,” Levin said. “We’re hoping the Chinese drag their heels using their advantage. They should have already moved. We keep expecting EMP missiles in Texas, but that hasn’t happened. The Chinese appear to be waiting for something. We’d like to figure out what and then see if we can thwart them.”
“I can tell you what they’re waiting for,” Anna said. “They want to line up all their ducks in a row.”
“Explain that, please.”
“In this, the Chinese are more like Russians than World War II Germans. The Germans liked to take bold gambles. The Russians bet on sure things. The Chinese will want to make sure they have enough to win big, instead of going too soon and ruining their chances of conquest.”
“This is your opinion why?”
“Years and years of study and research on the Chinese and their character,” she said.
Levin scratched his ear again, with the pinky fingertip disappearing from view and shaking vigorously so it reminded Anna of a dog. But this man was one smart dog.
“Let us suppose you’re right. The hovers and the Texas artillery attacks are decoys meant to fix our attention. What does that say about California, especially knowing that Marshal Nung is in charge of the First Front?”
“Nung means you’re likely not going to get as much time to get ready as if it were someone else,” Anna said.
Levin looked away as his grin vanished. He seemed old then. “Right,” he whispered. Looking up, he said, “Get your purse, Ms. Chen, and then let’s go.”
“Any place in particular?” Anna asked.
Levin nodded. “White House Bunker Number Five.”
“Sir?”
“The President wants you at the War Council meeting as they decide what to do about Texas and Florida.”
Invasion: California Page 13