by Tom Clancy
Su said nothing.
Wei said, “I now must accept my responsibility in adopting a new direction in improving China’s strength.”
Wei looked into Su’s eyes, and he saw the growing pleasure there as the realization came slowly.
Su asked, “This new direction will require our military forces?”
With a nod, Wei answered, “At the outset, there may be… resistance to my plan.”
“Resistance from within, or resistance from without?” Su asked before taking a sip of tea.
“I am speaking, Chairman, of foreign resistance.”
“I see,” said Su flatly. Wei knew that he was giving the man exactly what he wanted.
Su put down his cup and asked, “What are you proposing?”
“I am proposing we project our military power to reassert ourselves in the region.”
“What will we gain from this?”
“Survival.”
“Survival?”
“An economic disaster can only be avoided by expanding territory, creating new sources of raw materials, new products and markets.”
“What territory are you talking about?”
“We need to project our interests more aggressively in the South China Sea.”
Su dropped the veil of detached interest and nodded vigorously. “I absolutely agree. Recent events involving our neighbors have been troublesome. The South China Sea, territory that we have every right to control, is slipping away from us. The Philippine congress passed a Territorial Sea Baseline Bill, staking their claim to Huangyan Island, territory that belongs to our nation. India has entered into a partnership with Vietnam to drill for oil off Vietnam’s coast, and they threaten to move their new aircraft carrier into the theater, provocatively challenging us and testing our resolve.
“Malaysia and Indonesia are actively interfering with our economic zones in the South China Sea, seriously affecting our fishery operations there.”
“Indeed,” Wei said, agreeing to all of Su’s points.
The chairman was smiling as he said, “With some carefully calculated advances into the South China Sea, we will bolster our nation’s finances.”
Wei shook his head like a professor disappointed with his student’s lack of comprehension of a fundamental principle. He said, “No, Chairman Su. That will not save us. Perhaps I did not make the gravity of our economic problems clear. We are not going to fish our way back to prosperity.”
Su made no reaction to the condescension. “Then there is more?”
“Total dominance in the South China Sea is step one, and it is necessary for us to enact steps two and three.” Wei paused, knowing that Su would not expect what he was about to say.
Wei also knew that this was his last jumping-off point. Once the next words left his lips there would be no going back.
After another moment’s hesitation he said, “Step two is returning Hong Kong to the mainland, abolishing the Hong Kong Basic Law, and keeping the territory as a Special Economic Zone. Our long-standing policy of ‘One country, two systems’ will remain in effect, of course, but I want us to really be one country. Beijing should be receiving revenue streams from Hong Kong capitalists. We do provide them security, after all. My advisers tell me that if we can take Hong Kong, and its dirty little cousin Macau, and fold them as a single unit into the SEZ of Shenzhen, we will quadruple our gains over what we now receive from the territory. The money will support the CPC as well as the capitalists, who have been doing quite well for themselves there.
“I also want to push moral national education curriculums in schools and increased membership in the Communist Party among government employees in Hong Kong. ‘Nationalism’ has become a dirty word to them, and I will put an end to that.”
Su nodded, but Wei saw the wheels spinning in his head. Right now the general would be thinking about resistance from the semi-autonomous state of Hong Kong, as well as resistance from the UK, the EU, America, Australia, and any other nation that had massive amounts of capital investment there.
Hong Kong and Macau were Special Administrative Regions of China, which meant they had enjoyed capitalism and nearly autonomous rule since the British handed them over in 1997. This was to last for fifty years, according to China’s agreement. No one in China, certainly no leader of China, had ever proposed dissolving the autonomy of the two city-states and returning them to the mainland.
Su said, “I see why we would need to control the South China Sea first. Many nations would find it in their national interests to fight to retain Hong Kong’s current status.”
Wei all but waved this comment away. “Yes, but I plan on making it very clear to the international community that I am a businessman, I am pro — free-market capitalism, and any change with how Hong Kong and Macau operate will be very minor and almost imperceptible to the outside world.”
Before Su could comment, Wei added, “And step three will be the long-standing stated goal of our nation, the absorption of Taiwan. Doing this in the right way, turning it into the largest Special Economic Zone, will assure, my advisers project, a retention of the vast majority of its economic viability. Obviously there will be resistance from the Republic of China and its allies, but I am not talking about invading Taiwan. I am talking about reabsorbing through diplomacy and economic pressure, controlling access to waterways, and through this showing them, over time, that the only viable option for their people is for them to accept their future as a proud member of our New China.
“Remember, Chairman Su, that China’s SEZs, an economic model I refined and promoted throughout my career, are looked on around the world as a success, a show of détente with capitalism. I personally am looked at by the West as a force for positive change. I am not naive, I recognize that my personal reputation will suffer after it becomes clear what our objectives are, but that is of no importance to me. Once we have what we need, we will grow beyond any prognostications we could make at this time. I will make it my responsibility to repair any relationships damaged by these actions.”
Su did not hide his surprise at the audacity of the plan put forth by the mild-mannered president, a man who was, after all, a mathematician and economist, and no military leader.
Wei saw this near shock on the general’s face, and he smiled. “I have studied the Americans. I understand them. Their economy, to be sure, but also their culture and their politics. They have a saying. ‘Only Nixon could go to China.’ Do you know this saying?”
Su nodded. “Of course.”
“Well, Chairman Su, I will see that they have a new saying: ‘Only Wei could retake Taiwan.’”
Su recovered somewhat. “The Politburo, even with the new membership after the… unpleasantness, will be difficult to convince. I say this with some expertise, having spent the better part of a decade encouraging a more hawkish stance with regard to our neighbors and our rightful ocean territory.”
Wei nodded thoughtfully. “After the events that transpired recently, I no longer expect to persuade my comrades through reason alone. I won’t make that mistake again. I would like, instead, to slowly begin maneuvers, politically and with your force projection, that will make step one of my vision a reality before proceeding with steps two and three. Once we have all the ocean territory around our two prizes, the Politburo will see that our goals are within our grasp.”
Su took this to mean that Wei would adopt small measures at first that would cascade into larger measures as success came closer.
“What is your time frame, tongzhi?”
“I want your help in determining that, of course. But speaking from the perspective of someone with an eye toward our economy, I think within two years the South China Sea, territorial waters five hundred miles to the south of our shores, should be under our control. Some three and a half million square kilometers of ocean. We will void our agreement with Hong Kong twelve months after this. Then Taiwan should be under our control by the end of the five-year cycle.”
Su though
t carefully before speaking. Finally, he said, “These are bold steps. But I agree they are necessary.”
Wei knew Su knew little about the economy past that portion of it that involved China’s military-industrial complex. He surely did not know what was necessary to revive it. Su wanted military power projection, and that was all.
But Wei did not say this. He instead said, “I am glad that you agree with me, Chairman. I will need your help through every step.”
Su nodded. “You started our conversation by asking me about the readiness of our forces. Sea denial operations, which is what you are asking for here, are among the capabilities of our Navy, but I would like to discuss this further with my admirals and intelligence staff. I would ask that you give me a few days to speak to my leadership and prepare a plan, based on what you have just told me lies before us. My intelligence staff can pinpoint our exact needs.”
Wei nodded. “Thank you. Please prepare a preliminary report to hand-deliver to me in one week’s time. We will speak of this in my personal quarters back in Beijing, and nowhere else.”
Su stood to leave and the men shook hands. President Wei knew that Chairman Su already had detailed plans to take every island, shoal, sandbar, and reef in the South China Sea. He also had plans to deny all access to Taiwan and to shell and rocket it back to the Stone Age. He might not, however, have much contingency drawn up regarding Hong Kong. A week’s time should be adequate for this.
Wei knew that Su would be ecstatic to return to his offices and to brief his senior staff about the activities to come.
* * *
Ten minutes later Chairman Su Ke Qiang arrived at the eight-vehicle convoy that would whisk him 175 miles back to the capital. With him was his adjunct Xia, a two-star who had served alongside Su through all of his senior commands. Xia had been in the room during the meeting with Wei, silently listening and taking notes.
Once in the back of an armored Roewe 950 sedan, the two men looked at each other for a long moment.
“Your thoughts?” the two-star asked his boss.
Su lit a cigarette as he said, “Wei thinks we will fire a few warning shots into the South China Sea and the world community will step back and allow us to proceed unmolested.”
“And you think?”
Su smiled a sly but genuine smile as he slipped his lighter back into his coat pocket. “I think we are going to war.”
“War with who, sir?”
Su shrugged. “America. Who else?”
“Excuse me for saying so, sir. But you do not sound displeased.”
Su laughed aloud behind a cloud of smoke. “I welcome the endeavor. We are ready, and only by bloodying the nose of the foreign devils in a quick and decisive action will we be able to pursue all of our goals in the region.” He paused, then darkened a little before saying, “We are ready… only if we act now. Wei’s five-year plan is foolish. All his objectives need to be met within a year or the opportunity will be lost. Lightning war, attack quickly on all fronts, create a new reality on the ground that the world at large will have no choice but to accept. That is the only way to succeed.”
“Will Wei agree to this?”
The general shifted his large frame in his seat to look out the window as the eight-vehicle motorcade headed west toward Beijing.
With determination he replied, “No. Therefore, I will have to create a reality that he will have no choice but to accept.”
THIRTEEN
Valentin Kovalenko awoke shortly before five a.m. in his room at the Blue Orange, a health club, vacation spa, and hotel in the northeastern Letnany district of Prague, Czech Republic. He’d spent three days here already, and he’d taken saunas and received massages and eaten excellent food, but apart from these luxuries he had prepared diligently for an operation he would undertake before dawn this morning.
His orders had come, as the mafia man who’d helped break him out of prison had promised, via a secure instant-messaging program called Cryptogram. Shortly after arriving at the safe house set up by the Saint Petersburg mafia, he’d been given a computer with the software, along with documents and money and instructions to locate himself in Western Europe. He had done as he was told, settling in the south of France and logging in to his machine once a day to check for further orders.
For two weeks there was no contact. He went to a local physician and received treatment and medicines for maladies lingering from his time in the Moscow prison, and he recovered his strength. Then one morning he opened Cryptogram and began his daily password and authentication process. Once that was completed, a single line of text appeared in the window of the instant messenger.
“Good morning.”
“Who are you?” Kovalenko typed.
“I am your handler, Mr. Kovalenko.”
“What do I call you?”
“Call me Center.”
With a half-smile Valentin typed, “May I know if that is Mr. Center, or Ms. Center, or are you perhaps a construct of the Internet itself?”
This pause was longer than the others.
“I think the latter is fair to say.” After a short pause the words on Kovalenko’s screen came faster still. “Are you prepared to get started?”
Valentin fired back a quick response. “I want to know who I am working for.” It seemed reasonable, although he had been warned by the mobster that his new employer was not reasonable.
“I acknowledge your concern about your situation, but I do not have the time to assuage these concerns.”
Valentin Kovalenko imagined he was carrying on a conversation with the computer itself. The responses were stiff, wooden, and logical.
He is a native English speaker, Kovalenko thought to himself. But then he checked that. Even though Valentin was fluent in English, he could not be sure someone else was a native speaker. Perhaps if he heard him talk he would know for certain, but for now he just told himself his master was comfortable with the language.
Kovalenko asked, “If you are an entity that serves to commit espionage via computer, what is my role?”
The reply appeared quickly: “In-field human asset management. Your specialty.”
“The man who picked me up outside the prison said you were everywhere. All-knowing, all-seeing.”
“Is that a question?”
“If I refuse to follow instructions?”
“Use your imagination.”
Kovalenko’s eyebrows rose. He was not sure if that showed a sense of humor on the part of Center, or just a flat threat. He sighed. He’d already begun working for the entity by coming here and setting up his apartment and computer. It was clear he had no leverage to argue.
He typed, “What are my instructions?”
Center answered this, which led Valentin to the job in Prague.
His physical recovery from the ravages of bronchitis and ringworm and a diet that consisted primarily of barley soup and moldy bread was an ongoing process. He had been healthy and fit before going into the Matrosskaya Tishina pretrial detention facility, and he retained the discipline to recover faster than most men.
The gym here at the Blue Orange had helped him along. He’d worked out for hours each of the past three days, and this, along with his early-morning jogs, had filled him with energy and vigor.
He dressed in his running gear, a black tracksuit with just a thin gray racing stripe on one side, and he pushed his black knit cap over his dirty-blond hair. He slipped a black-bladed folding knife, a set of lock picks, and small felt bag the size of his fist into his jacket pocket, and he zipped the pocket closed.
After this came dark gray socks and his black Brooks running shoes, and he put thin Under Armour gloves over his hands before heading out of his room.
In moments he was outside the hotel, jogging to the south in a cool light rain.
For the first kilometer of his run he jogged in the grass along Tupolevova, and he saw not a soul in the dark around him other than a couple of delivery vehicles that rumbled past on the street
.
He turned west on Krivoklátská and kept his pace leisurely. He noticed that his heart was beating harder than usual this early in the run, and that surprised him somewhat. When he worked in London he would run ten kilometers through Hyde Park most mornings, and he barely broke a sweat except during the warmest months of the year.
He knew he wasn’t as fit as he’d been in the UK, but, he suspected, his marginal health was not the reason for his thumping chest.
No, he was nervous this morning because he was back in the field.
Even though Valentin Kovalenko had risen to the rank of deputy rezident of the United Kingdom in Russia’s foreign intelligence agency, the SVR, a person in that position does not customarily undertake actual field operations; brush passes and dead drops and black-bag jobs are the work of men lower on the espionage food chain. No, Valentin Kovalenko did most of his work as a spymaster from the comforts of his office in the Russian embassy or over beef Wellington at Hereford Road or perhaps ox cheek with watercress, bone marrow, and salsa cooked in a Josper oven at Les Deux Salons.
Those were the good old days, he thought to himself as he slowed his jog a bit to try to control the heavy thump in his chest. Today his work would not be particularly dangerous, though it would be considerably less highbrow than his life and work in London had been.
He had done his share of grunt work for Russia, of course; no one could make deputy rezident without coming up the ranks. He’d been an illegal, an operative working without official cover status for Russia, in many postings across Europe, as well as a brief stint in Australia. He’d been younger then, of course, just twenty-four when he worked in Sydney and still under thirty by the time he left operations for desk work. But he enjoyed the duty.
He turned on to Beranových, heading north, following a route he’d been running for the past two mornings, though today he would divert from the route, but for only a few minutes.