The War Planners Series

by Andrew Watts

  The pollution was much worse this time of year, he was told. During the winter months, the coal factories kicked into high gear to provide electricity and heat for the burgeoning population. People walked around in it, coughing and complaining. Many of them wore little white masks over their noses and mouths. Many locals even had an app on their smartphones that told them how intense the pollution was that day. For Natesh, breathing that crap in just made him want to puke.

  It didn’t help that he had to be taken to and from his living quarters in the back of a dark-windowed van. Security precautions, they were told. Driving in Chinese cities was like a mad derby race. Lots of honking horns and unexpected braking. Angry passengers.

  Natesh and Lena had arrived on one of Jinshan’s jets the night before last. They were kept in hiding at a local military base until called upon. Finally Jinshan had summoned them for this strategy session, and their handlers had sped them through the crowded city streets.

  The van came to a halt outside what Natesh now recognized as Jinshan’s residence here in Guangzhou, the third-largest city in China. A guard conversed with the driver, and then the entrance gate rose.

  As they moved forward, Natesh glanced at the seat behind him. Lena stared back, that same cold look on her face. He turned back around to face forward.

  The elevator was cramped. Tiny by Western standards. Lena, Natesh, and their three armed escorts squeezed in for the ride up. No one spoke. The escorts disappeared when they arrived at the penthouse.

  The décor was similar to what Natesh had seen in high-end hotel suites. Modern furniture and paintings. Well decorated. No personal effects.

  Natesh was glad that they were having these strategy sessions in Jinshan’s penthouse, rather than the godforsaken military base Lena and he were holed up at. The air in the penthouse smelled cleaner, and the food wasn’t the local cuisine. It was high-quality gourmet dining—fit for the billionaire that Jinshan was. Plates of steamed dumplings, but also Western-style sandwiches and salads. Two glass bottles of carbonated water in an ice bucket. A stocked liquor bar was off to the side, although no one approached it.

  “Mr. Jinshan will be with you in a moment,” said one of the assistants.

  “Thank you,” Lena said, unconsciously rubbing the burn scar that ran up the side of her neck and face. She did that a lot, Natesh noticed.

  Jinshan had summoned Lena and Natesh to discuss the current state of their operational planning and make changes where needed. Natesh had previously made a living consulting for some of the best companies in the world. He had been around the block enough to recognize a nervous executive when he saw one. Jinshan was worried—with good reason. It wasn’t all supposed to happen this way.

  The Bitcoin mess was not one of Natesh’s ideas. He’d tried to tell Jinshan that it wouldn’t work. Frankly, it wasn’t necessary. If the Chinese army was going to conquer the West militarily, why did they need to attempt economic warfare?

  But Jinshan didn’t like putting all his eggs in one basket. He had argued that if enough nations began using the Bitcoin-backed currency, and Jinshan was able to manipulate the value, it would be an enormously powerful tool in their arsenal. But that idea had fallen apart before it could get off the ground. The CIA had uncovered the plot. And when David Manning and Henry Glickstein had escaped from the island, that had triggered a chain of events that moved all their plans up by several months.

  Natesh had explained how critical it was to conduct all the information warfare attacks at the same time—the cyberattacks, the EMP attacks, cutting the undersea cables, destroying the US satellite communications. But they had not executed that way. Instead, some of these information warfare tactics were used for diversion. Jinshan and his planners were worried that the two escaped Americans—Manning and Glickstein—would shine a light on Jinshan’s entire operation.

  Perhaps Jinshan was right. One thing Natesh had to admit was that he knew how to manipulate the media, and as a result, people’s opinions. When David and Henry had escaped, Jinshan had insisted that they use a few of the weapons in their arsenal immediately. Months earlier than Natesh had recommended.

  So Jinshan’s cyberwarfare team had used the ARES weapon to disrupt the American Internet and permanently damage many US satellites. The results were mixed. US-owned GPS satellites were out of commission until they could be replaced. Most military satellite communications were damaged to a similar level of harm. But the US Internet, as Jinshan had warned, was a self-healing monster. It had grown so large and interwoven that attacking only some data centers and root servers would only create a temporary setback.

  Still, Jinshan’s foresight into the behavior of the media, and the minds of the people, proved incredibly accurate. The Chinese intelligence team had inserted false information to several media centers about David Manning and Henry Glickstein providing the Iranians with a classified cyberweapon. Couple this with the Blackout Attack, and a media disinformation firestorm soon erupted.

  The next few days were days of record-setting ratings for the TV news stations. First, Iran and two American traitors were implicated. Then, the Americans were captured in Australia. Then, they escaped captivity somehow. Then, the Iranian politician was assassinated. Then, the Iranian military attacked US forces in the Persian Gulf region. With the Internet down, everyone was glued to their TV.

  With so much confusion, there was almost no coverage about China. Even after it came out that David Manning and Henry Glickstein had nothing to do with the Iranians, their claim that the Chinese had kidnapped Americans wasn’t widely believed. The US government’s own penchant for secrecy helped there. The two men weren’t allowed to do interviews.

  When news that China might have been involved did break, it was widely discredited. Many of the more extreme media outlets cried cover-up—claiming that certain political and media groups desired to appease Iran, and blame China. Jinshan’s cyberwarriors fed this, of course. They paid third parties to write and publish articles that pointed to David and Henry as Iranian sympathizers. Spies. Traitors.

  This disinformation strategy prolonged the time that the US government spent investigating and questioning the two men, and reduced their credibility. It also gave Jinshan and China enough cover to deny any involvement in the Iranian incidents, or the “ludicrous” idea that the Chinese could actually be holding American citizens on an island in the South China Sea. With all the Iranian-US hostilities, the Chinese connection was soon buried.

  Jinshan’s plan had worked beautifully. Even with the two men escaping, Natesh admitted that there was still a very high probability that their war plans would succeed. However, Natesh was frustrated that Jinshan’s team had lost their most important advantage—the element of surprise. But he also knew that surprise often couldn’t be counted on. Competitive advantage needed to be about much more than just being a first mover. And it would be.

  Natesh and Lena sat in silence on thick cushioned chairs, on opposite sides of a large glass coffee table. He looked at his watch. They had another ten minutes before Jinshan was supposed to see them.

  He glanced outside. Shadows of skyscrapers rose up through the smog. A part of him wondered if his efforts would do nothing more than expand China’s problems around the globe.

  No. Jinshan was not the cause of China’s missteps. He reminded himself of why he had chosen to go down this path.

  In his Silicon Valley job, Natesh could create and improve businesses. It was entertaining, but not fulfilling. But in this role, Natesh was truly changing the world. While Natesh had some disagreements with Jinshan on tactics, he firmly supported the man’s big-picture strategic objective. At first, Natesh was seduced by just the size and scope of the challenge, and the promise of power as payment.

  Now, though, he saw the same thing that Lena saw in Jinshan. Greatness. Vision. Jinshan was what those in Silicon Valley referred to as a thought leader. He was one of those rare men who envisioned a plan to change the world for the better, and m
ade it happen.

  After all, Jinshan was right. Democracy didn’t work. Natesh had seen it with his own eyes. It led to populism. Populism meant that every common person was in control. Regular people. Uneducated people. Commoners who were too stupid for their own good.

  Natesh believed that a group of elite experts were needed to carve out the best path forward. Jinshan believed that as well. But what Jinshan also believed, and had convinced Natesh of, was that a strong and forceful enforcer was needed to control it all, lest men fall victim to their own imperfections.

  It sounded frighteningly like a dictatorship. It was, Natesh realized. But in his talks with Jinshan, Natesh had come to understand that there was one crucial difference. The goals of this new world order were utilitarian. Jinshan argued that you couldn’t please all the people, and that you shouldn’t try. Decisions shouldn’t fall to the people or to the politicians. There was another choice. Decisions should be made by the experts. But who would decide who the experts were? And who would keep them in control? That was the crux of Jinshan’s plan—there had to be a strong and just enforcer.

  The challenge, as Jinshan saw it, would be to make sure that this all-powerful leader was acting in the best interests of the society. Guiding principles needed to be followed, and subsequent leaders would need to be groomed and chosen to follow those guiding principles.

  The world had outgrown democracy, Jinshan preached. It was the duty of the great and capable few, like Natesh, to gift the next great form of government to the world. The hard part for Natesh to come to terms with was the cost of this transition. If their guiding philosophy was Act Utilitarianism, then the greater good would be worth the pain and suffering of those lost in the war to come.

  Natesh took deep breaths of the clean air inside Jinshan’s building. He closed his eyes and breathed out through his mouth in long, deliberate blows. Stress breathing. He had been doing that a lot lately.

  Lena saw him and said, “Are you alright?”

  He opened his eyes. “Yes. Just trying to relax.”

  Her scarred face stared back at him. He wondered if she had ever felt stress, or if she was immune.

  The double doors opened, and in walked Cheng Jinshan and a man in a military uniform. Both Lena and Natesh rose.

  Jinshan said, “Good afternoon. I hope that I have not kept you waiting too long.”

  “Not at all,” replied Lena.

  “This is Admiral Song. He is our closest ally in this endeavor. Please feel free during this discussion to share with him anything that you would share with me.”

  Natesh noticed the “during this discussion” qualifier. Jinshan was a very secretive person. He had to be.

  The group sat, and a woman came to pour them each tea. When she left, Jinshan said, “The two of you will be leaving the island soon. Tomorrow for you, Mr. Chaudry. Lena, you will remain on the island for a few more days and take care of any remaining details there. Then you will follow.”

  Natesh looked at Lena. He tried not to look surprised. He looked back at Jinshan and said, “Where will we be going?”

  The admiral said, “Manta, Ecuador. I believe that you are both already aware, but we have begun deploying a small number of our forces in South America. We have many assets there that have been pre-staged over the last few years. Under the guise of foreign arms sales. These groups will partake in consolidating our military assets in the region and preparing for the arrival of Chinese armed forces en masse.”

  Natesh was familiar with the location and plans. After all, he had helped to draw them up. Manta, Equador, was supposed to be the first of many bases at which the Chinese would begin massing troops in preparation for an invasion. The bases would be throughout Central and South America, and some would even be in Canada. These locations were still months away from seeing any Chinese forces, however. According to the plans, they weren’t even supposed to head to Manta for another month.

  Lena said, “Admiral, if I may be so bold, how does this match up with our timeline of increased military readiness? The plans called for troop transports and increased training beyond current levels.”

  Admiral Song looked at Jinshan, and then back at Lena. “Our plans are at different stages in different locations. Chinese leadership is not fully aligned yet.”

  Or aware, Natesh thought. Jinshan looked tired. His eyes had a yellowish tint. Natesh thought he looked like he was losing weight. Hmmm. Was he doing alright?

  Jinshan said, “I must confess that not all of our political changes have been implemented yet. It is regrettable. However, a good plan is one that must be continuously modified. For now, Admiral Song has provided the capable assets of the PLA Navy’s South Sea Fleet to serve our needs.”

  Lena glanced between the two men. “And senior PLA leadership? Are they aware?”

  Jinshan didn’t bother looking at the admiral, who shuffled in his seat. Jinshan said, “They are not.”

  Lena said, “Mr. Jinshan, you know that I have great respect and admiration for you. But…is this wise? How will we reach the levels of readiness and—”

  Natesh said, “Mr. Jinshan, to be frank, we need bodies. We need truck drivers and logisticians. We need planners and button-pushers. That is the stage we’re at right now. If we are to move millions of personnel across the Pacific Ocean, we need to get prepared for their arrival on the other end. And that means stocking warehouses full of food and materials, building barracks. I’ve drawn up the flowcharts—right now, I’m capacity limited. I need bodies, sir.”

  Jinshan took a sip of his tea and nodded. “Yes. I am aware, Mr. Chaudry. That is one of the things I would like to discuss here today. I believe the minimum number of personnel you said you would need for this part of the plan was twenty thousand workers, is that right?”

  “That’s correct.”

  Jinshan said, “Admiral, would you be able to provide that many people?”

  The admiral shook his head. “I’m afraid that would be hard to do at this time. Not without alerting my superiors, which we don’t want to do yet.”

  Jinshan said, “What kind of people do you need?”

  “They can be unskilled,” Natesh said. “Educated, preferably. And able bodies. We can teach them what they need to do, but I need workers who can help to participate and manage supply chain and logistics work.”

  Lena said, “What about Junxun?”

  The admiral frowned. “What about it?”

  “Could we send some of them? Call it training?”

  “If you will excuse me saying so, that doesn’t seem like a good idea. It would be very unusual to send students like this away. Junxun is supposed to be held during the summer. It is still wintertime. And Junxun is normally held at local schools or military bases. What would we tell the students and their parents? There would be much complaining, I think.”

  Lena said, “We already have a way of hiding the movement of our military assets from our leadership, do we not?”

  The admiral again looked at Jinshan. “We do.”

  “We could enact a special Junxun during the winter months, and say that we are flying them to the Red Cell island,” Lena said. “That would allow us to switch the flight to where we really need them, would it not?”

  Jinshan nodded. “Yes, that could work. By the time the complaints get serious, we will have come to an agreement with our political and military leadership on the way ahead. But this personnel transfer will ensure that we are ready for our large military movements across the Pacific when the war begins in earnest.”

  “What of the Americans on the Red Cell island?” Lena asked.

  Jinshan took a sip of tea. “Are you still able to get information from the Americans that you consider helpful?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then keep them where they are. My men on the island can oversee them now.”

  Lena nodded.

  Natesh said, “I apologize, but I’m confused. What is Junxun?”

  10

  Guangz
hou, 1997

  Li stood at attention next to her classmates. Most were older. But while she was only seventeen, she had also just graduated from secondary school. Her stellar marks and off-the-charts scores on aptitude tests had helped her gain early acceptance into one of China’s most prestigious universities a year early. It didn’t hurt that her father was a colonel in the PLA.

  Like all incoming university students, Li was expected to participate in the two-week military indoctrination course known as Junxun. Each summer in China, over seven million students gathered at their schools or at a nearby military base. Students were taught by members of the People’s Liberation Army how to march, salute, and perform basic military drills. There were different levels of rigor at the various training sites. Most students considered it a rite of passage. A patriotic boot camp.

  Li was in her third week of Junxun, and she had several more to go. While she had started out at her local high school, the military drill instructor there had picked her out as an overachiever right away.

  Always a gifted runner, she had lapped the fastest of her male classmates in the five-thousand-meter race, and her academic test scores were all perfect. That too, had raised eyebrows.

  So after the first week at her hometown location, they had plucked her out of her class and sent her to a special Junxun location near the city. Guangzhou in the summertime was sweltering. When she got off the bus, she quickly learned that she was the only girl in her class. And the boys were all gifted. The military men who trained them here carried clipboards, marking down notes on each student as they went through the training.

  This Junxun was not a two-week summer camp. It was something very different. The boys—and they were all boys, aside from her—were much bigger and leaner. They didn’t joke around in class, and each had an intense look about him.