The Elephant Game

by Andrew Watts

  The Standing Committee of the Central Political Bureau of the Communist Party of China was possibly the most powerful group of men in the world. Their official role in the Chinese government was to make decisions when the larger Politburo was out of session.

  But their roles were so much bigger than that. The Standing Committee Politburo members were always the real decision makers. These seven men, which included the president of China as their senior member, were the key influencers of the entire government.

  Cheng Jinshan’s role as the head of the Central Commission for Discipline Inspection had allowed him to become very close to these political figures. While they might no longer feel indebted to him while he was in this faux prison, they still knew how useful he could be, if given the right tools. Jinshan had eliminated their enemies and helped them to consolidate power. What else was possible, given time?

  Another thought occurred to the general. Everyone knew of how much research Cheng Jinshan did on his business ventures. Jinshan must have had leverage on all these politicians, should their relationship ever take a turn for the worse.

  The general pondered all of this as he studied the faces of these men. How would they react? What were they expecting to hear? He doubted very much that they knew what Jinshan was about to propose.

  War.

  6

  Lena’s van drove onto the rural property in the early afternoon, tires crunching against the long gravel driveway. She had taken a few of the Chinese special operation team members with her. The ones who spoke the best English. They weren’t trained for this, but she wouldn’t be using them for much more than a little extra muscle, if need be.

  An old pickup truck sat just outside an empty barn. Two of its tires were missing, concrete blocks in their place. A scattering of dirty children’s toys throughout the yard. A giant black star adorned the house’s siding. Rocking chairs under the front porch.

  There were stacks on the grass next to the driveway. Lena read one of them:

  REPENT SINNERS. THE FIRES OF HELL AWAIT ALL WHO TURN A BLIND EYE.

  Lena knocked on the door, hearing someone stir inside. It was a Sunday, and the man had asked them not to come until their church service was over. His wife was inside, watching TV. For now.

  He opened the door, looking suspiciously at the mix of Asian people at his door. Then recognition hit his eyes and a pleasant look formed on his face.

  “Well, hello. Glad you all could make it.”

  “Thank you for having us,” said Lena.

  Natesh was playing the part of the cameraman. She had to keep an eye on him. His nervous attitude of late was concerning. She would have to speak to Jinshan about him when they arrived in China.

  The American man said, “What program did you guys say you were with again? I was trying to look it up on the iPad, but I must have—”

  “We’re with the Chinese Christian Alliance. We don’t have a specific TV program or channel. But our organization puts out documentaries like this one for TV stations to pick up. We aim to show viewers the persecution that Chinese Christians face. And we want to show like-minded Christians that there is something they can do. We want to bring stories like yours to as many people as possible, in hopes of helping Chinese Christians.” She smiled at the man.

  Charles Beulah let out a grunt in response. “Damn right. Them Chinese have been killing people in Tiennymen Square and persecuting people like us Christians for far too long. You see on the news what they did to them Navy ships? It’s getting crazy. I mean, I can’t believe we aren’t at war after that. And now the president is saying we know it wasn’t really China. Well, that’s…” He looked over his shoulder. “That’s just bullshit if you ask me. Pardon my French.”

  Lena nodded in agreement. “It really is incredible how the Chinese government has hurt our poor Christian brothers and sisters. But, Mr. Beulah, we’re really excited for this opportunity to speak with you. We’d like to waste as little time as possible. I want to hear your story, and get it on camera. Where can we set up?”

  “You mean, like, for the filming?”

  She nodded and smiled, restraining her desire to strike him in response to his slow intellect. “Exactly.”

  “Well, we could go in the barn, I guess.”

  “The barn?”

  “Don’t worry, it’s cleaned out. We just sold our three cows. There’s plenty of space in there. Betsy don’t want me doing this inside, bless her heart. She ain’t been feeling well lately. Trying to quit smoking. She’s on the patch. Makes her a bit irritable, if you ask me.”

  “Sure—no problem, Mr. Beulah. We can use the barn.” Lena looked at Natesh. “Will that work for the lighting?”

  “Sure, no problem,” Natesh said, an uncomfortable look in his eyes.

  “You can call me Chuck. Everybody does. Chuck Beulah, TV star.” The man let out a laugh. Then his face darkened, remembering why the film crew had come today. “It really is a shame what them Chinese have done.”

  Then he narrowed his eyes, looking Lena over. “Now, excuse me for saying this, but you’re Chinese, am I right? So…”

  “Yes, but I’m one of the good ones. We’re Christians, like you.” She hoped he wouldn’t test her Bible knowledge.

  He made a face that implied her answer had just cleared everything up. “Ah, yup. Makes sense now.”

  Lena’s “cameraman” took about five minutes to set up the lights, the background, and the folding chairs for their interview. She knew that both of the Chinese special forces soldiers were monitoring them from the back of the van. If she signaled them, they would be there in seconds, ready to clean up.

  Natesh said, “Okay, we’re ready.” He gestured towards the folding chairs. After they both sat down, Lena said, “Are you okay? Remember, don’t be nervous. Just speak slow and from your heart.”

  “Sure thing.”

  She looked at the camera. “Okay, I’m here today with Mr. Chuck Beulah. He’s a strong Christian and a patriotic American. And he believes that people around the world should be able to practice their religion without fear of government interference. Isn’t that right, Mr. Beulah?”

  Lena had a few names on her list. Chuck Beulah was the first one they had tried. He started off a little shaky, but once he got going, Lena was sure that they would be able to use the footage. That was good. It would save her having to do extra work.

  “Yes, ma’am. That sure is right. My church—and my country—are the most important things in my life. I believe in Jesus Christ and the holy God above. Now you look at what those Chinese are doing over there, and it’s a mess. They’re Communist baby-killers. And I think it’s just awful.”

  Lena said, “And how do you feel when you hear stories of Christians not being allowed to go to the church that they want to go to? Not being free to practice their Christianity?”

  “The Chinese government should allow all Chinese to practice Christianity. Only then, with the help of the Lord Jesus Christ, can China be saved.”

  “But what about the Chinese president? He has said that religion can be harmful. That only state-sponsored churches should be condoned.”

  “The Chinese president is flat wrong. He’s against God and the people.”

  “Would you support removing the Chinese president?”

  “Absolutely. If the Chinese president is against God, he should not be in charge of those people over there.”

  “Are you aware of the government-mandated abortions in Chinese law?”

  The man’s face contorted a little, as if searching which word he should grasp onto. But eventually he found it.

  “I’ve heard about all the abortions in China. And that’s what I am trying to make more people aware of. It’s awful. They kill little baby girls just because they want a boy.”

  “What do you think should be done about that?”

  “Someone should stop those guys! I mean, they’re killing babies.”

  “What would you do if you saw someone tr
ying to take one of those poor women and force her to abort her baby, against her will?”

  “I would kill ’em. I think those Chinese communist bastards who do that deserve to die.”

  “Thank you for your passion, Mr. Beulah. Someone should put a stop to this madness. Tell us about what you do to help Chinese Christians and protect the persecuted.”

  Chuck scratched his beard. “I have a website where I blog about these things. And every second Tuesday of the month, me and a few guys from my church, we go up on the corner of Fifth and Main, in town. And we take a megaphone and signs and tell the whole wide world what we know about it. And I do believe that it makes a difference. Maybe not everyone, you know, but even if we can just illuminate a few people’s brains—that’s all I’m saying.”

  Lena said, “And what is your religion?”

  “I’m a Baptist, ma’am.”

  “You are a Christian.”

  Chuck shot her an odd look. “Yes, ma’am, I am a Christian.”

  “And what do you think about the atheists in China who want to persecute Christians?”

  “I think all atheists are going to burn in the eternal fires of hell. Especially those in China, cuz they’re killing all them Christian babies. Atheism is one step away from worshiping Lucifer himself.”

  Lena had to be careful here. She wasn’t sure if he’d say it exactly the way that she was hoping for. But editing would take care of the rest. “The president of China is reportedly an atheist. What do you think should be done to him?”

  Chuck didn’t disappoint.

  “If the Chinese president is an atheist, then he is an enemy of all God-fearing Christians. He deserves to die, just like the rest of ’em Satan-worshippers. He’s part of the problem then. Spreading atheism and killing babies. And now they’re trying to sink our Navy ships and killing our brave armed forces. Damn those bastards to hell. Pardon my French.”

  Lena looked back at the cameraman, who nodded. “We’re good.”

  Lena slapped her hands on her knees. “Okay. I think we’re done here. Thank you for that, Chuck. You were excellent.”

  She turned back towards the van and signaled, and the doors opened. Two of the Chinese special forces soldiers walked toward them.

  “Who are they?” Chuck asked, bewildered.

  The charter aircraft flew from the US to Mexico, and then to China. The Chinese special forces men had remained behind, meeting up with other operatives in Jinshan’s network. They would be very busy in the coming months.

  Dozens of special operations teams would be stationed throughout the United States. Training only at night, in secluded rural locations. Scouting out positions and targets. A gas pipeline. A highway intersection. A radar. So many undefended targets. It was only a matter of which ones to prioritize. But Jinshan had made that decision. The soldiers at the camp in Liaoning were training for their special targets even now.

  But Lena didn’t worry about that. She had other concerns. Lena sighed as she looked at Natesh, sitting in the seat next to her. Several rows forward of the drugged and sedated American. Chuck Beulah was a nutjob, as they say. But he would serve a purpose.

  Lena had seen how upset Natesh had been after her men had killed Beulah’s wife. But what was Lena supposed to do? The woman had seen them when she’d walked outside, her husband screaming at the sight of her men’s machine guns. The wife had obviously had to be eliminated.

  Natesh was a brilliant mind, but intelligence had no correlation with mental fortitude. Everyone had their limits, and Natesh was reaching his. It was time to see how bad he had gotten. From that, she would determine what her options were going forward.

  Lena broached the subject delicately. But it was like placing a pin into the skin of a water balloon. Everything came tumbling out. Natesh was sobbing after five minutes. Lena tried to say all the right things. She even embraced him for a short moment. A robotic, empty hug. A check in the box, to let him know that she cared.

  “You have to get me somewhere else. I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep seeing all this violence. It’s not what I wanted. It’s not who I am.”

  Lena watched Natesh’s chest heave. He wiped his red eyes and tried to regain his composure, realizing, no doubt, that he sounded like a pathetic child.

  “Natesh, let me ask you something. Do you still believe that we’re doing the right thing?”

  He looked up at her, a flicker of instinctive worry in his eyes. Then, quick nods. Reassuring words. “Of course. Lena, I know that what Jinshan is trying to do is the right thing. I just…I’m not made for this type of work. Put me somewhere that I can help plan logistics and manage people. Give me a team and I’ll optimize your workforce. But what we did to that man’s wife…”

  She fought the urge to roll her eyes. So they had placed two bullets in the forehead of Chuck Beulah’s wife. Get over it already. Lena was glad to see that Lieutenant Lin’s men could obey orders. When Lena had given the word, they had not hesitated to kill the woman. Then they had left the scene quickly.

  Lin’s team would need to be careful to keep a low profile on the American streets. Lena wasn’t quite sure when Jinshan would call for the first wave of the strike on America. But until then, she must assume that American law enforcement investigations would proceed as normal. And she didn’t want the FBI looking for groups of Chinese special forces who were killing the wives of crazed evangelicals.

  Lena straightened her shirt. “Natesh, we all have to do things that we don’t want to do sometimes.”

  “I understand.”

  “Natesh, I tell you what. Let me speak with some people. Maybe even to Mr. Jinshan. I know that there is a place for you, as long as you are still with us. Perhaps that place is a bit removed from the less tasteful aspects of our work. Hmm?”

  He nodded. “Thank you, Lena. I’m sorry for asking, but thank you.”

  7

  Cheng Jinshan began in a soft voice. “Gentlemen, I welcome you each here. We are about to embark on a great journey, and I hope that you will keep an open mind—and a strong conscience.” The flat-screen monitor behind him showed a series of charts.

  “This is classified data. Here you will find the most accurate economic indicators of our nation’s likely future. You will not see these numbers in our newspapers or hear about them in your political meetings. These reports were commissioned anonymously by one of my private firms. There is no bias or fear of repercussion built into these numbers. These numbers, gentlemen, are as close to the truth as we can get. And our esteemed General Secretary of the Communist Party of China does not wish for you to see it.”

  Jinshan paused and saw both politicians frown as they processed the information. The numbers showed very sharp declines in Chinese production and GDP. The charts also slowed very sharp rises in inflation and national debt.

  China was changing. As money flowed into the country, a huge middle class was rising up in financial prosperity. This phenomenon detracted from what had once been China’s greatest advantage—an endless source of cheap labor. With the increased economic prosperity came an increase in life expectancy. Government-subsidized benefits were getting more expensive.

  The people needed more.

  But once the poor switched from low-cost rice-based diets to more expensive poultry-based diets, they could not realistically be asked to switch back.

  China was getting what it wanted—wealth—but with that came the problems of a wealthier nation. Cheng Jinshan had seen the writing on the wall. With an economic downturn and a populace that wanted a better life, the communist system was in danger. And unhappy citizens didn’t bode well for the political lifespan of the Central Committee members here today.

  A new slide came onto the screen. It showed American debt, and the percentage of ownership by each nation around the world. China was at the top of the list—by a lot.

  This was not news to anyone. There was a very large trade imbalance with the US in China’s favor. China was thus flush with
cash and had been buying up US treasuries at a furious pace. It was the safest place to put their money when the markets got jittery. And it gave them a strategic edge in the economic cold war with the world’s only other superpower.

  “Our country has purchased an exceptional portion of US debt throughout the last decade. We have been saving up for a rainy day. Now if you look at this”—the slide changed to show US and European economic indicators and their projected impact on the value of American bonds over the next decade—“you can see that this rainy day is coming soon. In the free market system, the saying is ‘buy low, sell high’—well, it may be time to sell.”

  The first politician spoke up. “Mr. Jinshan, we appreciate your information and advice, as always. These numbers are disturbing to say the least. This is something that our parliament must discuss and take action on soon. But I was under the impression that we were here to discuss your…personal situation.”

  “We will get to that, my friend.”

  The second politician said, “I notice that General Chen has joined us. I suspect that there is another reason for showing us these economic numbers. Perhaps this reason will explain why our esteemed military representative is present?”

  “Yes, you are correct,” Jinshan said, looking briefly towards Chen. The next slide showed a comparison of projected Chinese and American military capabilities every five years for the next three decades. Jinshan said, “Defense forecasts are hard to predict with certainty. National militaries are subject to national budgets. When we evaluate these military comparisons between the United States and China, we should do so with the economic forecasts of the previous slides fresh in our memories.”