Patriot's Farewell: A Political Thriller Fiction Series (Boston Brahmin Political Thrillers Book 7)

by Bobby Akart

“They wouldn’t dare!” asserted Donald.

  “The world would condemn it and we’d immediately respond in kind,” argued Brad.

  “Maybe, but perhaps they’re underestimating my resolve because I’m a lame-duck president. Besides, I don’t necessarily agree with Malcolm.”

  “Why not?” asked Donald.

  “I believe they finally got smart over there and realized that military force alone is not always the solution to regime change, or in this case, reunification in keeping with their One China policy.”

  Donald began to laugh. “Where do you think they got that idea? You, Sarge. Your approach to the Pacific statehood or restoring the Union was different from the likes of Lincoln or Putin. You’re using political means.”

  “Exactly!” exclaimed Brad.

  “Consider what we learned in the two briefings today,” said Sarge. “You have a demonstration that got out of control because China assembled a bunch of thugs that look like students to cause violence at the Legislative Yuan. In the meantime, Taiwanese citizens who are pro-nuclear power will rise up against their president because she won’t fix their power grid problems with a fourth nuclear plant. Taiwanese businesses already stand in opposition to her, which negatively impacts their economy.”

  Brad slammed his right fist into his left palm. “The PLA initiates cyber attacks to disrupt their electricity, effectively fanning the flames of those two groups. Now, nobody is happy with the government.”

  “Which has the effect of destabilizing Taiwan,” concluded Sarge.

  “Why now?” asked Donald.

  Brad answered in part. “Militarily, it’s a chess match. They’ve caught us with one naval strike group out of range. Our other option is to pull a strike group out of the Sea of Japan, which will piss off the Japanese and possibly open the door for the DPRK to make a move against South Korea, Japan, or both. After the collapse and the recovery effort, we simply aren’t prepared militarily to fight wars on multiple fronts.”

  The DPRK was an acronym for the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea despite the fact there was nothing democratic nor of the people about the hermit kingdom. North Korea ranked as one of the world’s most brutal dictatorships.

  “They have the advantage of speed and proximity,” added Sarge. “If my hunch is correct, they’re setting up the geopolitical foundation for justifying an invasion. Without the use of military force at their disposal, they could collapse Taiwan from within. Under the guise of protesting our arms deal, the Chinese could institute a blockade. Using their quick reaction assets, they could divert Taiwan-bound ships to mainland China ports for inspection.”

  Brad paced from one side of the room to the other. “If we didn’t tolerate that, they could attempt a potential alternative—a de facto blockade.”

  “What are you thinking?” asked Sarge.

  “The PLA could attempt the equivalent of a blockade by declaring military exercises or missile-closure areas in the typical approaches to their ports. In essence, by conducting announced military drills, they could choke off the island while having their military assets at the ready for an invasion. Further, it would be intended to deter us from crossing through their military exercises to plant our happy asses in the Taiwan Strait.”

  Sarge ran his fingers through his hair. “The blockade combined with the asymmetric warfare could undermine the fabric of Taiwanese society. If the nation’s economic infrastructure fails as a result of the combination of the two, they’ll effectuate regime change without firing a bullet.”

  “Wouldn’t they still need to involve the military?” asked Donald.

  “Yes, but to what degree depends on conditions on the ground,” replied Brad. “Listen, Chinese military strategists have published numerous texts analyzing the various scenarios and realities of an amphibious landing on Taiwan’s beaches. Recently, I read one titled the Joint Island Landing Campaign, which lays out a complex operation utilizing coordinated, interlocking campaigns for logistics, air, and naval support. Cyber warfare was an added component to the strategy, which hadn’t been discussed often in prior strategies.”

  “Like we said, they’re learning from the Russians and us,” Sarge said with a sigh.

  “That still leaves the question of how would they take physical control of Taiwan if their other measures are successful?” asked Donald.

  Sarge thought for a moment and then replied, “They’d do the same thing we’re doing—move into Taiwan in the name of protecting their citizens on the island.”

  Chapter 29

  10:00 a.m.

  Stafford Regional Airport

  Stafford, Virginia

  Gardner Lowell chose the Stafford Regional Airport approximately forty miles outside Washington for his arrival. There were three regional airports capable of handling his Embraer Lineage 1000E, including Baltimore Washington International, the busiest, and Washington Executive in Prince Georges County, Maryland, the choice of frequent business visitors to DC.

  Stafford suited Gardner’s tastes. The facility offered limousine services, catering with luxurious conference rooms, concierge services, but most importantly, privacy from the media. Despite his arrival in the ostentatious Lineage 1000 aircraft, he could enter Metro DC unnoticed because Stafford prevented media onlookers from catching a glimpse of the airport’s clientele. He could travel into the Capital Beltway and go directly to his suite at the Trump Hotel on Pennsylvania Avenue without raising an eyebrow.

  He chuckled to himself at the irony of staying at the Trump Hotel. Donald Trump was the one candidate, besides Sarge, who couldn’t be bought by men like Gardner Lowell. He shuddered to think what a Trump presidency would be like—completely unpredictable, wild, and unruly, but likely effective in a way that would stump all of the experts.

  He retrieved his iPhone from his briefcase and checked his messages. There was a text marked urgent from his inside man in the House leadership. The final two names were provided to him. He’d think through an approach to these two on his commute into the city. First, he’d call and touch base with his mother.

  After several rings, one of the staff answered the phone and passed the call on to Constance. They discussed his progress with the senators from Colorado and New York. The Senate vote would be close and required keeping a pulse on every one of their yea votes. Swaying them would also require the most political capital. She insisted upon being present for the final vote on Wednesday, so Gardner promised to send the jet to pick her up.

  Following the call, Gardner turned his attention to the final two names on his list, both congressmen from Florida. Over the years, South Florida had turned increasingly blue in its politics. The snowbirds from typically left-leaning states like New York, Connecticut, and New Jersey either became permanent residents in Florida, or they established residency there because of favorable tax laws.

  Unlike the heavy tax burden imposed upon property, income, and estates in their native states back East, they enjoyed a favorable tax climate in the Sunshine State, enabling them to keep more of their money and pass the majority of their estates to their family. There was, however, a disconnect for these new residents between their political leanings and the burdensome tax environment they were fleeing. The majority of these transplants were unable to see the correlation between their votes and the politicians who created the high tax structure from which they fled.

  Due to this migration into South Florida, several congressional districts had turned purple, meaning the votes could sway either left or right depending upon turnout. Gardner knew the two congressmen well. In Florida-26, which encompassed the Everglades down to Key West, a Republican held the seat that had voted Democrat in the last six presidential elections. Likewise, another Republican in the adjacent district, Florida-27, which included Kendall and downtown Miami, won her seat by riding Sarge’s coattails four years ago.

  Both of the congressmen won re-election three weeks ago by the slimmest of margins. With reunification, whether by the passage
of the Pacific Statehood Act or a Constitutional Convention, their seats would be put at risk in the upcoming midterms.

  The text message was one of many that had come to Gardner over the last week, which provided him low-hanging fruit from the tree in opposition to the bill. He was assured the congressmen presented to him could be swayed, for a price, of course. Thus far, he hadn’t been misled.

  Gardner’s next call was to the number one mover-and-shaker on Capitol Hill, daughter of the former vice president of the United States, Barbara Victory with Victory Consulting Group. Victory was known on the Hill for getting things done. In addition to their extensive lobbyist division, Victory Consulting also specialized in fundraising in the post-Citizens United era in which corporations could donate massive amounts of cash into the nonprofit political organizations where Federal Election Commission disclosures were not required.

  Gardner had used Victory Consulting for years to funnel dollars into campaign coffers for the purpose of buying influence. When he needed to set up an impromptu, private meeting with an official of the United States government, Barbara Victory would make it happen. In the last several days, she’d been invaluable in arranging hastily requested phone calls or meetings. She would be rewarded handsomely for her efforts, as would her favorite legislators, with a more prominent seat at the table.

  Chapter 30

  10:30 a.m. ET

  The American Institute in Taiwan

  Taipei City, Taiwan

  Every nation practiced unofficial diplomacy—nongovernmental relations with nation-states that appear to be your enemies on the surface, but require open channels of communications nonetheless. The relationship with Taiwan was different. For the first time in its history, the U.S. maintained full diplomatic relations with a foreign entity through a private, nonprofit corporation rather than the traditional embassy format.

  Yet despite its officially unofficial status, AIT’s website was incorporated in the Secretary of State’s list of U.S. embassies and the director of AIT, Kim Moy, was included in the biographies of the State Department’s diplomatic personnel, as were the two most important of the nine section chiefs who operated AIT. Chuck Miller, the Political section chief, and the section chief for Public Diplomacy, Marilyn Taylor, were both CIA agents.

  Ambassador McBride received a phone call just after 10:00 p.m. that evening after he’d returned to the upscale Mandarin Oriental Hotel. He’d finished dinner and drinks with the managing directors of DuPont Taiwan, 3M, and Corning, all of which maintained manufacturing facilities on the island. The urgent call from Chuck Miller advised him to gather his belongings and wait in his room until a security detail arrived to escort him to AIT.

  His dinner with the corporate executives had taken place inside the hotel’s dining facilities, so he was unaware of the second consecutive night of demonstrations escalating in the area of the Official Residence of the president, Taiwan’s equivalent of the White House. The Taiwanese military had been called in to provide additional security and to quell the uprising.

  The complex sits in the heart of Taipei City and is made up of several interconnected buildings. A total staff of four hundred and fifty maintain the facility and conduct the day-to-day operations of AIT as if it were any other American embassy.

  Ambassador McBride rode without any conversation in the back of the Lincoln Town Car from the hotel until it cleared the perimeter walls and security gate onto the property, which contained a complete city block. The complex’s main features included two guards posted at both the front and rear entrances, the director’s residence, a large office building, and several smaller structures for vehicles, maintenance equipment, and dedicated generators to overcome the power outages plaguing the island.

  Within the building, personnel were mostly diplomatic level although the basement floor was devoted to CIA and NSA activities. Miller, publically known as the Political section chief for AIT, also doubled as the CIA base chief. His deputy station chief and right arm was Taylor.

  The CIA’s command center, nicknamed the dugout, contained the most secure intelligence area, the Sensitive Compartmented Information Facility, or SCIF, which was accessible only through a blast-proof steel door with a cipher lock.

  The dugout was constructed after the facility was completed in the seventies, so-named to honor the Taiwanese love of baseball and the construction process itself. Still in the midst of the Cold War, the Carter Administration thoughtfully created a facility that could withstand a Chinese nuclear attack. Within the dugout, there was a medical area, two bedrooms, and a secure room where AIT security staffers watched video feeds from the cameras mounted throughout the complex and around Taipei.

  Ambassador McBride was led to a conference room where Deputy Moy awaited. Also present was the chief of security for the complex, a Taiwanese national named Lee Matsu.

  “Mr. Ambassador, I must apologize for the unusual circumstances, but this evening’s events required us to take these extraordinary measures,” said Deputy Moy. “May I offer you something to drink, some water perhaps?”

  “No, I’m fine,” replied Ambassador McBride. “Am I in some kind of danger? Has there been a credible threat to my life?”

  Miller responded to his question. “No, Mr. Ambassador, but with the escalation of violence by the demonstrators, out of an abundance of caution, we felt you’d be safer here in a secured facility.”

  “Has it gotten that bad?” asked Ambassador McBride. “Worse than last night?” Visions of the annex at Benghazi, Libya, flashed through his mind. In his opinion, Ambassador Chris Stevens and the rest of the personnel had been abandoned by the administration. He had no intention of being burned alive or beheaded by some samurai wannabe. President Sargent had taken extraordinary moves to protect diplomatic personnel abroad, and from what he knew of the AIT operations, he felt like he was in good hands.

  “I’m afraid so,” replied Deputy Moy. “Dissidents have stormed the Official Residence and are clashing with the military. Matters got worse in the last hour after the security personnel deployed sonic cannons to disperse the crowd.”

  Law enforcement in Taiwan, like many foreign nations, liberally used long-range acoustic devices, or LRADs, to issue shrill warning tones that could be heard as much as sixteen hundred feet away. The devices could blast a maximum sound of one hundred fifty decibels, the equivalent of hearing a loud gunshot within three feet away.

  The use of an LRAD over one hundred twenty decibels was noticeably painful, and any use above one hundred fifty decibels could damage the small hair cells in the inner ear that convert sound energy into electrical signals comprehended by the brain. Misuse of the LRAD could cause hearing loss and concussions.

  Matsu, the chief of security, added, “The Russians have developed a new generation of sonic weapons that span frequencies far above the LRAD devices used by law enforcement. The high-powered, low-frequency sonic weapons cause long-term psychological damage—including panic attacks, depression, fear, and anxiety—on top of the concussive effect.”

  Deputy Moy continued. “As word spread via social media that the LRADs had been deployed, angry citizens from all walks of life descended upon the Official Residence to demand the president bring a halt to their use. We felt the situation might escalate further and we thought it best to pull you in.”

  Ambassador McBride exhaled and sighed. “Well, I certainly appreciate that. Is the president safe under these circumstances? Have you been in contact with her?”

  “We have, and she was safely removed to an undisclosed location. Her staff assures us that the protests will cease as the evening progresses, and tomorrow afternoon’s signing of the arms-sale documents will go on as planned.”

  Ambassador McBride finally relaxed in his chair and looked at his watch. It was approaching midnight in Taipei, but it was only noon in Washington. Under the circumstances, he thought it was a good idea to touch base with State. He was sure the information was based upon what was being provided by
the CIA team here in Taipei. But it wouldn’t hurt to confirm it. “Can you provide me a quiet place to make a secured phone call to the Secretary of State?”

  “Yes, sir,” replied Miller. “They’re expecting your call.”

  Chapter 31

  Noon

  The Palm Restaurant

  Washington, DC

  Washington, DC, was known for its big events. Every day, something was being celebrated or memorialized. Somebody was being honored or laid to rest. Those-in-the-know knew when something big was going down on Capitol Hill, The Palm Restaurant would be packed.

  While administrations come and go, and the power in Congress teeters between political parties, one thing remains constant in the lives of Washington’s elite—the power lunch. Between noon and two, brokers meet to clinch deals with the emphasis more on the power than the palate.

  Fifty years ago, Tommy Jacomo moved to Washington with his brother and built The Palm brick by brick with his bare hands. During the aftermath of the collapse when DC became a dystopian war zone, the brothers took an unusual approach to protect their famed eatery in Dupont Circle—they looted it themselves.

  Acting quickly and decisively, they worked with their staff to empty the restaurant and remove its most prized fixtures and accessories to the Jacomo home on Corcoran Street. Tommy surmised immediately the cyber attack was far-reaching and that the power grid would be down for an extensive period of time. By removing the most valuable fixtures and giving the restaurant the appearance of being looted, he hoped it would avoid the onslaught that would eventually overtake the DC metro area.

  His decision proved to be prudent, and the iconic restaurant survived relatively unscathed. Within a year after Sarge’s election and subsequent move into the White House, Tommy Jacomo had The Palm open for business as the nation’s capital’s most famous power spot. He was once again the keeper of the keys, as everyone knew him.