Each such move merely increased the pressure on the Government. China’s business leaders and entrepreneurs had helped create an economic miracle and their key markets were rapidly drying up. Together they were far more influential than any protest movement and the Politburo was having to barter their support in return for future incentives. For those unwilling to co-operate, even senior figures, the Ministry of State Security had a well-established protocol to ensure a change of heart, opposition to the party line dealt with quickly and effectively.
Liang felt some of the same pressures, frustrated by the spurious arguments and exaggerations of those around him who couldn’t seem to comprehend the dangers of prevarication. For four hours the emergency meeting of the Central Military Commission debated and bickered, basically getting nowhere, still unable to equate the varying and complex demands of their political masters with the reality of America’s military power. The U.S. Navy had the resources to take whatever rocky outcrop it wanted and somehow the CMC would have to calculate the most effective riposte: too weak and the Politburo would regard them as nothing more than cowards; too harsh and the chance of an acceptable compromise might be lost forever.
Washington, D.C. – 12:32 Local Time; 17:32 UTC
Anderson had managed to get on a morning tour of the Capitol, embarrassed to admit that he’d never actually visited it before. Normally he hated organised tours, preferring to go at his own pace, but the young guide was entertaining and knowledgeable, coping well with the usual raft of questions and happy to explain the logic behind the Senate’s ongoing pro forma sessions.
Anderson used his camera to the full while trying not to make it obvious he was equally interested in the various layers of security. The physical checks were verging on the laborious, Anderson sensing they were taking even more care than usual and there were plenty of Capitol Police in evidence. Security outside was also tight, with a fair smattering of FBI uniforms in view. Such arrangements might stop McDowell but not the 82nd Airborne, Anderson curious as to whether the heightened security was in direct response to what Carter had implied. Professor Nash had in turn been interviewed at length by the FBI, their warning that he should say nothing of their visit to Anderson ignored after barely an hour.
With Deangelo’s one o’clock deadline having expired, Anderson had anticipated the South China Sea would soon become the main news topic of the day but the headlines were all related to events much closer to home, the majority centred firmly on Congress itself.
In a compromise deal thrashed out between senior members of the two parties, Congress would hold a joint meeting on the Friday after Thanksgiving, the Senate’s first item of business that of rubber stamping Dick Thorn as Secretary of Defence. The confirmation process for installing Jack Shepard as Vice-President would follow-on immediately after, Saturday also set aside should it be necessary. Whilst unusual, such arrangements weren’t unprecedented and although Shepard theoretically now had enough votes, he certainly wasn’t guaranteed such any easy ride as Thorn, Congress needing to at least go through the motions of asking the usual awkward questions.
For everyone it looked to be a fair solution, ending the complex machinations of the House of Representatives while ensuring America at least had a chance of a well-understood presidential line of succession. It would doubtless make for a lively one or two days in Congress, those members due to retire or having lost their seats likely to want a final chance in the limelight, the Democrats keen to get their teeth into Shepard.
The mood of optimism quickly changed as the afternoon progressed, the frustrations and political differences between the two parties boiling over into a public display of intransigence, any promises made definitely not agreed to by all. In part the antagonism had been encouraged by a series of online revelations, copies of recent emails posted to prove that Congress was perhaps no closer to making life easy for its President.
It was a familiar tale of two-party rivalry. Some Republicans were desperate to ensure Dick Thorn would never be confirmed as Secretary of Defence and even if the President eventually tried to used his executive powers, they would do all that they could to block it; if necessary, some were fully prepared to try and force through additional pro forma sessions well beyond the New Year, thus leaving Deangelo with little choice but to nominate someone more acceptable.
Several Democrats were sympathetic to that point of view, even ready to abstain when it came to a vote. Yet Thorn wasn’t entirely without friends and they were similarly unwilling to accept Shepard as Vice-President without something in return – and for the time being the Democrats had a majority in the Senate. In the present state of nervous anticipation over events in the South China Sea, Deangelo might have hoped to push through Shepard’s confirmation without too much controversy, but that now looked to be unlikely.
The President’s attempts to form a stable and effective Administration were falling at the first hurdle, the earlier agreement now jeopardised by the strong opinions revealed in the emails. Anderson had instantly assumed the revelations were down to Carter, some of the emails no doubt genuine, others possibly nothing more than a figment of McDowell’s vivid imagination. The media might consider it newsworthy to see members of Congress fighting amongst themselves but for once the wider reaction was relatively muted, people becoming bored with a daily dose of outrage, their thoughts now more focused on Thanksgiving and Christmas.
Not so the protestors camped out in the National Mall, and Anderson sat and watched as they responded in typical fashion, the loudspeakers booming out in exasperation at those closeted in the Capitol. Sadly, few of their target audience would actually be listening, the handful still there busy rearranging their travel schedules to fit in with a truncated recess. The police simply stood and watched, either under orders to do nothing or unwilling to get involved.
Democracy might literally mean the rule of the people but for many in America, Congress no longer seemed to be part of that political union. Certainly as far as those in the Mall were concerned, it was time for a clean break from those on Capitol Hill and their dubious morals. The public clamour for change that had resulted in President Cavanagh’s demise had clearly gone unanswered and now there was no unpopular President to divert people’s attention away from an equally unpopular Congress. The latter’s apparent dislike of Dick Thorn had only made matters worse, no-one now sure what was happening come Friday: one minute Thorn was being told the Senate would definitely confirm him as Secretary of Defence, the next it was once again all up in the air. How long would it be before he lost patience and decided to take matters into his own hands?
By the time Anderson returned to the Holiday Inn, the problems of the South China Sea were finally re-asserting themselves to provide a suitable distraction from the problems of Congress. With three of the Spratly Islands still waiting to be liberated, Deangelo’s rhetoric had turned the world’s focus towards the United Nations and its feverish attempts to broker a peace. China too had been busy on the diplomatic front, a shambolic press conference publicly illustrating the disarray that existed even within America’s supposed allies.
Vietnam had become the first to break ranks when their ambassador to the U.N. formally announced the immediate cessation of hostilities with China and the ending of its support for the maritime exclusion zone. Seconds later his colleague from Malaysia was interrupted mid-statement by one of his aides and literally pulled from the podium. After several minutes, a slightly dishevelled ambassador returned to affirm that Malaysia had no intention of abandoning its just and rightful claim to any territory within the Spratly Islands.
Vietnam wasn’t the only country struggling to make sense of what was happening, China’s representatives barely able to hold back their anger. Soon after had come the latest reports from Moscow, the city on lockdown with armed troops once more patrolling the streets, tanks stationed outside the Kremlin. President Golubeva had seemed impregnable but that was obviously just an illusion, the Russian military apparently divided as t
o their loyalty.
Despite the setback with Malaysia, China was cleverly managing to make headway in curtailing the number of its potential foes. Now the U.S. Congress needed to do the same, its future very much in its own hands. President Cavanagh had survived barely a week once the knives were out, and the 535 Senators and Representatives would be well advised to at least try and learn from his mistakes. If not, then the white shapes floating down from out of the night sky might well be more than just snowflakes.
Chapter 12 – Tuesday, November 22nd
Russia – 13:39 Local Time; 10:39 UTC
Morozov’s break-out north from Volgograd had been just one element of a co-ordinated series of attacks, Beijing’s continuing complicity ensuring it had met with early success, more army units quickly choosing to swap sides. Much of Russia’s military might was now effectively paralysed, the Kremlin unwilling to go so far as to call it a mutiny; to Morozov’s supporters, it was a just and noble fight, a final opportunity to prevent Russia returning to the authoritarianism of the past.
The General now commanded a force more than fifteen thousand strong, albeit one split into small pockets of control across Russia’s south. The Air Force had avoided a potential split by simply refusing to take sides, it a policy likely to be taken up by others too hesitant or too frightened to fully commit. For the generals in the east waiting close to the border with China, the choice was never in doubt, several of them outspoken supporters of the President; yet even they seemed to recognise that China was no longer the priority, some units already starting to withdraw from their forward positions.
Morozov’s reinforced armoured units had continued to sweep north-west from Volgograd, following the Caspian Highway before diverting west towards the city of Voronezh. It had been a nervous two days, their route a little too obvious to ever feel safe. Everyone had anticipated some large-scale attack or ambush, but apart from one serious incursion there had been nothing. The armoured column had slowed at every village and town before speeding up once back out into the open, and for a thousand kilometres the road had miraculously been empty of traffic, never more than a handful of people watching curiously as the tanks rolled past.
The reconnaissance unit some five kilometres ahead had taken virtually all of the risks, ten men killed and three vehicles destroyed when two helicopter gunships had made a lone foray against them before disappearing off to the north. Since then, a tentative and purely unofficial ceasefire had been agreed with the Commander of the Southern Military District, if left to those in Moscow to work out how best to stop General Morozov.
The four lanes of the M4 highway skirted Voronezh to the east, the city home to Morozov’s 20th Guards Army and for the first time since leaving Astrakhan, he actually felt welcome. Hundreds lined the city streets, the Russian tricolour waved enthusiastically, flowers thrown; it was almost as though they had already won the war, Morozov the saviour who would protect them from the warmongers in Moscow. The irony of such a label was not lost on Morozov: born and bred in the capital and following in the footsteps of three generations dedicated to the military, his forebears would have been eager to support Golubeva’s campaign against China, not actively trying to stop her.
The convoy halted north of Voronezh to review the next stage. The highway would take them all the way to the centre of Moscow, no-one yet sure where the final battle would be or even if the President would abandon the fight. The nature and purpose of Morozov’s armoured convoy was hardly a secret, its every step tracked by satellite; there was even footage on several social media websites, an app available to provide regular updates as to its position. The fact such trivia belittled Russia’s internal struggles seemed to work more against Golubeva than Morozov, her authority diminished with every kilometre the convoy crept closer to the Kremlin.
Markova sat on the central barrier between the two carriageways, feeling more relaxed than she’d been for weeks. Her journey back to Russia had been easier than she’d had any right to imagine, General Liang doing all that he could to smooth the way. From Tieling it had been a flight to Kazakhstan’s capital and then another to the border, before a bone-crunching truck ride into Russia. With new papers and a change of vehicle, Markova had eventually joined the Caspian Highway north-west of Volgograd, her own welcome from General Morozov restricted to little more than a nod and a frown of disapproval at her casual attire.
An ill-fitting and slightly-worn uniform had duly arrived within the hour, the Major’s insignia newly added. Markova had still put it on with a sense of pride, happy to be part of a determined effort to rid Russia of its first female president. The motives of those around Markova were many and varied – for her it was vengeance, pure and simple.
Washington, D.C. – 08:27 Local Time; 13:27 UTC
The mood in the White House Situation Room was one of shock, the President sitting grim-faced as Secretary of State Burgess detailed China’s latest attempt to take another potential aggressor out of the game, a diplomatic masterstroke if it ever came to fruition. Of the other Cabinet members present, only Jensen had known what Burgess was going to say, the CIA the first to make sense of what Beijing was trying to achieve.
The secret negotiations between China and Taiwan had been ongoing since at least the weekend, an historic agreement formally put on the table with both sides apparently just arguing over semantics. The CIA had somehow obtained an early copy, the repercussions of releasing it before any official announcement likely to be messy with no guarantee it would achieve anything worthwhile. If Taipei simply denied it, relations with the U.S. would already have been soured, perhaps enough to destroy the alliance anyway. And what if Taiwan was merely playing her own clever game with no intention of ever signing such a divisive agreement?
The early copy obtained by the CIA was certainly detailed enough to be credible: China and Taiwan would each recognise the other as sovereign nations in their own right; relations normalised; all territorial claims against the other relinquished. A formal conference under the auspices of the United Nations would also be held in the New Year to sort out any remaining difficulties, the official name of each nation one of the matters to be discussed.
One more key component to the agreement was the status of the Spratly Islands. In return for a multi-billion dollar package of economic inducements, Taiwan would renounce its claim to all islands, reefs and other features within the Spratly Group; its two bases – on Taiping Island, the largest of the Spratly group and Zhongzhou Reef – would consequently be added to the growing list of China’s recent acquisitions, specific details as to the actual exchange due to be thrashed out at the January conference.
Jensen well understood the shock on the faces of those around him, and if confirmed the news would be a slap in the face to the people of America. For decades the United States had acted as Taiwan’s ultimate guardian; now such ties could forever be broken, the deal offered by Beijing a one-time opportunity Taipei might well be foolish to ignore. Taiwan’s Ambassador had only the previous day requested a Friday meeting with the President, the purpose now all-too clear, it always possible that Taipei wished first to consult with Washington before accepting.
Whether such a betrayal would – or should – alter America’s present stance with respect to China was just one of many questions needing to be answered. The Philippines and Malaysia might have rejected China’s bribes but was that enough to risk yet more American lives?
“Taiwan’s potential rapport with China changes nothing,” said Deangelo forcefully, once Burgess had finished. “This fight has always been about two countries vying for superiority, China and America, and there is too much at stake to simply cut our losses and settle for some fragile diplomatic solution. We need to prove that America has the military will to stand up to China; if not, they will turn every submerged rock in the South China Sea into a fortress.”
The consequences of China exerting such control were left unsaid, the shipping lanes criss-crossing the South China Sea far more
important than any unproven natural resources. How long would it be before China made full use of its stranglehold on world trade, with Japan, South Korea and even Taiwan starved of oil?
Around the table there was not a single voice of dissent, Thorn and Admiral Adams quick to support the President, his promise to reclaim the islands recently occupied by China the most pressing item on the agenda.
“I assume all of the necessary assets are in place?” continued Deangelo, looking across at Adams.
“Yes, Sir,” Adams responded. “We are simply awaiting your authorisation. The lead elements are due to be deployed in just over an hour.”
Deangelo pursed his lips, deep in thought; if anyone around the table had concerns then they kept them to themselves, only one man able to make the final decision, one way or the other.
“Very well, Admiral,” said Deangelo, resigned to the inevitable. “The time has come to win back some respect. Proceed as planned.”
Adams leaned back in his chair and spoke quietly to an aide, his orders setting in motion America’s first island conflict since Haiti in 1994. The President quickly moved on, wanting to re-examine China’s likely response, preparing himself for the storm of protests at home and abroad. Some would doubtless argue that Deangelo had over-reacted but if the polls were anything to go by then the majority of Americans would be supportive. The President was still in the brief honeymoon period before a bad decision changed everything, his standing depending in part on what happened over the next few hours.
As to whether the day’s actions would help convince Congress to confirm Shepard and Thorn was debatable, the latter’s critics vociferous in their condemnation of his past betrayal and uncaring as to his wider popularity – or indeed any potential backlash. Jensen had followed Anderson’s travels with interest and, despite significant reservations, Professor Oscar’s article had been duly noted and acted upon. The possibility of a military coup had never been completely ignored, Jensen just reluctant to act on little more than a hunch and a set of confused indicators. Even now, there was nothing to suggest the military was actually planning anything so extreme and the single objective of the Capitol Building seemed eminently more achievable than a full-blown takeover of the whole country. Sean Kovak could easily deploy enough D.C. Police to carry it out and the Capitol’s Assistant Chief of Police was even a good friend of Kovak’s, his name added to the task force’s growing list of suspects. If necessary, following the President’s authorisation, Mayor Henry could also activate the District of Columbia National Guard, its Brigadier already under investigation.
The Rule Of The People (Conspiracy Trilogy Book 3) Page 22