Razing Beijing: A Thriller

by Elston III, Sidney

  “Let me be perfectly clear.” The President folded his hands over his notes and fixed his gaze on the lens of the camera. “Iran’s sanction of these terrorists is a tacit declaration of war on the United States. Tonight, with support of the congressional leadership, I issue a warning. Moments ago an emergency Joint Resolution appeared on my desk. This resolution, which I signed into law, stipulates a period of forty-eight hours for Iran to commit to these very reasonable requests. Following this period and absent that commitment, the United States shall formally declare war on the Islamic Republic of Iran.

  “It is with deep regret that I make my final announcement this evening. We did not initiate this conflict. Americans generally loathe violence and war. Some harbor doubts of our resolve to endure hardship. Despite evidence to the contrary, many have come to expect America’s tendency to shrink from a fight, to indulge our economic interests above all. As President, I regret these sentiments. They give me no choice but to ensure that our ultimatum be delivered unambiguously.

  “As a medical doctor, I sanctify the value of human rights. The measured response that our military will soon inflict is specifically tailored to minimize the injury of everyday Iranian citizens, with whom the United States has no quarrel.

  “Our hearts tonight are with American women and men who stand in harms way. Thank you, and good evening.”

  THE VOICE OF THE CHINESE interpreter continued several seconds beyond the president’s closing. The wide-screen television in the General Secretary’s briefing chamber momentarily switched broadcasts from the Oval Office to the face of the political correspondent, and became blank.

  One by one, heads fell into alignment toward the figure slumped in the chair on the dais at the head of the room, where the Communist Party General Secretary’s watery eyes were fixed on the floor.

  Seated not far from the faltering leader was Finance Minister Huang Yi. Mindful of the precarious source of his own fragile authority, the vice premier sought to deflect attention by leveling his stare on the military intelligence chief seated in the opposite corner of the room. As the presumptive heir, others followed his gaze. “Your analysis, Comrade General?”

  General Gao, Chief of the PLA Second Department, opened his folder of prepared notes. “Our reconnaissance confirms much of their president’s closing remarks. Their carrier group USS Ronald Reagan is several hundred miles south of Karachi, presumably on its way toward the Gulf of Oman to join John C. Stennis. Various sources indicate a disturbing mobilization of naval assets on both coasts of North America, Pearl Harbor, and Yokosuka. USS George Washington is positioned in the eastern Mediterranean. Excluding carrier-based aircraft, some two hundred US transport, multi-role bomber and air superiority fighter aircraft have been re-deployed from bases in North America to stations in Bulgaria, Britain, and Turkey. These include the tactically superior Joint Strike Fighter, as skirmishes between US and Iranian aircraft have already demonstrated.”

  Gao looked up from his notes. “These conventional forces greatly exceed those of our Iranian ally. It is safe to presume, then, that the Americans anticipate additional adversaries being drawn into the conflict. Or they are staging a display to prevent it. Diplomatic traffic between Arab governments is fervent. Intelligence reports provide no reason at this time to expect that Israel will directly participate in the American assault.”

  Rong Peng, Vice Chairman of the Military Affairs Commission, scribbled absently on a piece of paper. He glanced up at General Gao, their eyes meeting briefly. “Our sources suggest that Denis fiercely resisted taking this action. This is another American leader who is ideologically averse to their military and intelligence institutions. That being said, he is a short-tempered man who finds himself increasingly reacting to events, is prone to act on impulse, even emotionally, if pushed far enough, or as a means to score domestic political victory.

  “He has the support of their legislature,” Huang observed.

  “Understandably so. The president all but acknowledged how badly the US economy has faltered thanks to our special arrangement with OPEC. Remember the political pressure he and others face in the era of faltering American prosperity. It was on a mandate to resolve the economy and medical care that Denis won his election.” Rong smiled. “My own ploy to extract American missile shield concessions in return for our intervention with OPEC has run its course, without the results Denis had sought. It might only have been a matter of time before military tactics were employed.”

  Finance Minister Huang looked puzzled. “Tehran will never comply with his demands.”

  “Not peacefully.”

  “Then it would appear Tehran is caught up in some sort of suicide pact. Or, is perhaps the evidence which the president cited actually bogus?” The finance minister’s tone was openly skeptical. “Do you, or do you not believe Iran is behind the terrorist assaults?”

  Rong appeared to all in the room to be enjoying his upper hand over Huang, as usual, in all matters relating to military affairs. “Despite vehement denials by the Iranian foreign ministry, our deepest source confirms that the evidence presented to their president appears genuine. Bogus or not, the president has set his course of action.”

  Huang said, “If Iran is indeed provoking them, then the president might be intentionally misleading his people when he really intends...what? To seize Iran’s oil fields?”

  General Gao said, “Recent history suggests we would be wise to expect a protracted occupation by American forces and the disruption of regional trade.”

  “Including crude oil shipments to Chinese ports,” Rong added at the predetermined cue.

  That recognition finally sank in and generated a murmur of alarm.

  “The Americans are not blundering idiots,” Huang countered. “They know that Tehran possesses fissionable material, perhaps even a nuclear device.”

  “The Americans look to Israeli intelligence in this matter, whom we know lack conclusive proof of their own,” Gao observed. “To what extent this enters into U.S. military calculations is difficult to say. They have yet to launch all of their SBIRS low earth orbit satellites. The American strategy in the near term can only be to rely on their sea-going theatre Aegis defenses to destroy Iranian intercontinental launch vehicles in boost phase. A very risky approach.”

  Rong said, “The curtain is being drawn for Tehran by US deployment of missile defense, just as it is for P’yongyang, Brussels, and us. The new strategic balance, such as it is, will soon render obsolete our military modernization efforts. Why should we be surprised by the desperation of any other such country?” He glanced at the terrified looks directed his way.

  “No one can predict the outcome of events in the Middle East,” Rong continued. “It is likely that oil tanker deliveries to Chinese ports will slow substantially. And we have stockpiled what, a billion barrels of oil? At our current rate of consumption, we will deplete this in a matter of months.”

  The finance minister possessed a sound working knowledge of China’s petrochemical industry. He moved to protest.

  Rong cut him off. “Comrade, everyone knows our supplies from the Caspian basin are an unreliable dribble as are those from Xinjiang.” Both regions were embroiled in ethnic and political turmoil. “How do you think our people will respond once China’s economy grinds to a halt?”

  “All right then, Rong,” said Finance Minister Huang, conceding defeat in the battle to dominate the discussion. “What would you suggest we do? Launch an invasion on Washington?”

  Rong became reflective. “Defeating America economically by enlisting the aid of OPEC, and then standing back, was always in my opinion fundamentally flawed. The belief that this superpower would crouch without a whimper toward their deterioration is simply mistaken. Our alliance with the OPEC oil czars must itself be viewed with caution. Let’s remember who these barbarians are. How are they different from any other foreign devils, who have always sought to reduce Chinese people to subservient consumers? At their core they are impe
rialist scum, bourgeois landlords demanding their rents. China represents for them a preferred marketplace by virtue of our shared political objective, and even then, only so long as the United States continues to meddle in Middle East affairs and China promises to pay them hard currency. We cannot afford to expect that either of these conditions will last indefinitely.”

  Rong paused to allow his words to hang in the air as he gauged the self-absorbed fear in his colleagues. “With the world’s attention elsewhere, we can rid ourselves of these degrading vulnerabilities. Our opportunity is great, but fleeting, to relegate American hegemony to an historical footnote in university textbooks.”

  General Secretary Zhou’s empty teacup slipped from his hand and shattered on the floor. “And how do you propose we achieve that?”

  “First, we allow events in the Middle East to work their will. The second step toward our destiny lies in the South China Sea, which as so happens, will also bolster the first. And the third, final step? All of us here will be invited to witness the final step. It is already being arranged.”

  101

  Saturday, July 11

  2:05 P.M. Tokyo, Japan

  STUART GRIPPED THE HANDSET TIGHTLY to his ear while listening how his partner’s renowned savvy for crafting a deal had miserably failed. “So, while we hemorrhage red ink, our hopes are riding on some sort of kangaroo court?”

  “We’ve already had our hearing, actually,” Ralph Perry explained, “which is why you were able to find me here at midnight on a Friday. Where have you been? Don’t you know what happened to Lewis?”

  “Joanne? No.”

  “Jesus. Better brace yourself. We were scheduled to motion for an injunction but Lewis failed to show up at the courthouse.” Perry explained that the Maryland State police reached him later at home and reported finding her at a roadside rest stop, bound, beaten and barely conscious. “They took her to Bethesda. We haven’t been able to speak with her yet. I’m sorry.” Perry’s voice was heavy with sympathy. “I thought for sure you’d heard.”

  “Is she going to be all right?”

  “I spoke with her doc. She’s got a concussion and needed a few stitches. Stu, they say she was raped, and brutally so.”

  Raped... Stuart fought to suppress the images of Joanne bravely resisting with every ounce of her being. He tried and failed to put a face on the animal attacking her.

  “Stu?”

  “Senseless...barbaric.”

  “I’ll tell you something. We’re sitting here wondering who might’ve decided to make certain we couldn’t challenge the Appropriations decision.”

  Stuart’s gaze wandered beyond a throng of travelers through a panel of windows to the business jet that would fly him home—that is, as soon as the pilots saw fit to arrive. Sam McBurney’s hulking figure descended the steps and joined up with Carolyn Ross. The two headed toward the Narita terminal in long, hurried strides. Whatever news had shaken McBurney must still be playing out. “Do the police have any leads?” he asked Perry.

  “They sent a detective down who asked a boatload of questions but wouldn’t tell us much of anything. Apparently they think she was the victim of a lone actor. That’s about all we know.”

  A Japanese announcement resounded over the public address system.

  “Where are you, an airport?”

  Stuart realized blind anger directed at no one was impotent anger. He pushed it aside, for the moment. “You say nobody can access the Project facility?”

  “It’s locked-up downstairs and taped off like a damn crime scene. We’re trying to figure what to do with three hundred people when they show up for work Monday. Any ideas?”

  You’re the one who landed this ridiculous contract, Stuart wanted to say. “I’d start by having someone go back and take that security breach a little more seriously.”

  “Too late for that,” Perry grumbled.

  “You’re wrong, and I’m going to prove it to you.”

  Perry was silent, then finally said, “Like the way you proved our security lapse to the government, with help from the stadium guy up in Baltimore?”

  “Alright, I can’t arm wrestle you over it now. I need to catch up with Emily Chang. Any chance she’s still around?” He had already tried unsuccessfully to raise her at home.

  Ralph Perry turned from the speakerphone in the middle of his desk and toward the man slouched in the chair beside the door. “You caught up with her and Thackeray the other day,” Perry recalled aloud. “Did they say where they would be?”

  Steve Reedy puckered his lips. “Mmmm—nope,” he lied, shaking his head. “Didn’t say.”

  Perry addressed the speakerphone. “I’d try her at home. And hurry back here, will you? We’ve got a friggin’ mess on our hands.”

  * * *

  TWO HOURS LATER THE CIA co-pilot put the aircraft into a steep climb, leveling the wings from a thirty-degree bank heading east with the shadows cast by the Tokyo skyline.

  Stuart was relieved to hear Emily answer Thackeray’s telephone. Her voice sounded sluggish, understandably so at 2:47 A.M. on the East Coast.

  “I must’ve fallen asleep,” she replied dreamily. “Thack’s here. We’ve been trying to—oh, it’s happened again. Thack intercepted another suspicious video transmission.” Emily explained how the errant broadcast coincided with what most of the world understood to be a deadly New Jersey refinery explosion.

  “When?”

  “That was Thursday morning, right before we had to pack up our things and leave. You haven’t heard about it? The news coverage has been non-stop.”

  Stuart glanced to his left. Across the biz-jet’s passenger compartment, McBurney sat facing Carolyn Ross, their conversation obscured by the drone of the engines. “We’ve been a little distracted for the last few days,” Stuart replied in a low voice. “Are you confident in the data?”

  “Thack’s been trying to crunch through the encryption. So far he’s only been able to glean what looks like alphanumeric time-stamps and so forth. But the ideograms are definitely Chinese.”

  “That doesn’t come as a surprise. Do you understand what I mean by that?”

  Silence ensued while Emily considered his point. “You were successful, but can’t go into it now?”

  “More or less.”

  “We are a little confused on this end. Police say they’ve captured the terrorists who planted the refinery bomb.”

  Stuart figured the authorities would tend to err on the side of detaining suspicious types following any such event. “Could be a case of mistaken arrest. Listen, did you hear about Joanne Lewis?”

  “Only that she was missing. Is she okay?”

  Stuart shared what little Perry had told him about her being assaulted. As he expected, Emily became very upset by the news.

  “Oh, no, Joanne... Do you think Paul Devinn might have been behind it?”

  “Perry thinks someone wanted to knock the injunction out from under him by taking out his lawyer. I don’t understand what you mean. What’s Devinn got to do with shutting down CLI?”

  “I wasn’t thinking of CLI,” Emily corrected him. “I was thinking Joanne Lewis is Ashley’s godmother.”

  Stuart was struck by how that angle hadn’t even occurred to him. What the hell was going on?

  “Stu?”

  Suddenly there seemed too much going on to get their arms around. The effects of his sleep deprivation were not helping. “We’re due into Dulles late in the afternoon. I think I’ve lined up everything you’re going to need. Now, does CLI’s facility being shut down pose any real problem?”

  “Problem? It’s not a problem, it’s a showstopper! We haven’t been delayed yet, but at some point Thack’s going to need access to the satellite terminal. He cannot access it remotely.”

  “I’ll take care of that with Perry.” Stuart glanced across the aisle in time to catch McBurney looking his way. “So what do you think of Thack’s place?”

  “It’s lovely, and really secluded. You c
an hardly see any of the neighbors.”

  “You, uh, I trust Thack’s being hospitable?”

  “Thack’s being Thack,” Emily replied. “You’re not jealous, are you?”

  “Jealous?” A pause. “I get to see Thack almost every day.”

  “That’s very funny. So you would prefer to be talking to Thack?”

  “Not just yet.” Stuart took a deep breath. “I have something else important to tell you. Very good news, actually. I was hoping to share it with you in person but I hadn’t expected this long of a trip. Are you sitting down?”

  “I am.”

  “Good. I was able to confirm that your mother is alive. She’s very sick, and they’re importing some sort of medication to help her along, but Emily, she’s alive.” Stuart was certain he had stunned her into silence. He decided to give her a moment. It wasn’t every day that a cherished loved-one was resurrected from obscurity.

  “Are you certain?”

  “Both of your parents are alive and well. I guess your dad’s out of prison and working, Deng said ‘shoulder-to-shoulder with his comrades again.’ ”

  “Stu, I...where did he say my mother is?”

  “Deng thinks she’s being moved to Beijing, and that she’s receiving the best hospital care available.”

  He thought he heard Emily sniffle. “I so want to believe what you were told. It’s just that I don’t know what to believe any more. And now, I’m worried about my father.”

  “Didn’t you hear me? He’s no longer in prison.”

  “Deng said that my father was working in Beijing?”

  “That’s right. Oh...damn. I think I see your point. That never even occurred to me.” Stuart lowered his voice to a whisper, “You think he might actually be working there, against us?”

  “My father may not have any choice.”

  “Wouldn’t Deng have taken the opportunity to tell me?”

  “I don’t know. Would Deng want to risk informing my father what we plan to do?”