Monroe Doctrine

by James Rosone

  After stopping by the kitchen to grab a chef’s salad and a Gatorade, Wilson went back to his office. Sitting down, he pulled his desk drawer open and reached for the Excedrin Migraine. Ever since he’d suffered a traumatic brain injury in Iraq from an IED blast, he got migraines if he physically exerted himself too hard. Not wanting to allow himself to become sedentary, Wilson had figured out that if he downed a couple of Excedrin and hydrated quickly after a workout, he could usually stave off the worst of it.

  When Wilson had medically retired from the Army in 2006, it had come as a real gut blow. Prior to his deployment to Iraq in 2004, he had taken over command of 2nd Battalion, 3rd Special Forces Group. Selection for battalion command at the fifteen-year mark meant he was being fast-tracked to make colonel. His battalion had deployed to Iraq in December of 2005. Two months later, his vehicle had been blown up by an IED. He had taken shrapnel to the left side of his body and both his legs, losing two toes on his left foot and taking some shrapnel and burns to the left side of his face. He had broken his jaw and lost five teeth and his left eye.

  Nine days later, he’d woken up at Walter Reed Army Medical Center. Once the doctors had explained the extent of his injuries, Wilson had known his military career was over. While he’d wanted nothing more than to wallow in self-pity and anger, he had known he couldn’t. The Army had allowed him to retire three years shy of his twenty years.

  Wilson had then gone on to work at the Pentagon as a government civilian for five years before he was offered a position as a senior staffer and military advisor to the Senate Armed Services Committee. He had developed a good working relationship with both the majority and minority leaders on the committee. It was said he had a calming presence during his time in the Senate. He felt honored to be selected as the President’s National Security Advisor during the last few years of his term.

  As Wilson finished off his salad and Gatorade, he called out to his executive assistant, “Mike! Get me another cup of that coffee you gave me this morning. It’s got a kick.”

  Mike had brought in a new coffee he said was all the rage—something called Death Wish Coffee. The coffee was packed with more than six hundred milligrams of caffeine per cup, or six times the normal amount.

  As Mike went off to brew a fresh pot, Wilson realized it was time for the afternoon intelligence summary from the Director of the National Intelligence Office. The DNI daily INSUM usually had the best summary of what was going on across the various intelligence agencies.

  Opening the email, Wilson scanned through the table of contents. Each headline was hyperlinked to a specific intelligence report and was categorized by classification level: U—unclassified, S—Secret, and TS—Top Secret.

  (U) Sell-off in US Treasury bonds continues

  (S) Iran ramps up uranium enrichment program

  (TS) Recent cyberattacks against Pentagon traced back to PLA Unit 61398

  (U) CBP continues to be overwhelmed by migrant caravans along California and Texas border

  (U) Government of Panama signs agreement with Chinese Navy

  (S) China brings DragonLink internet to Central and South America

  The last two items in the email immediately caught his attention, and he started reading those intelligence reports first. Before Wilson could get any further, he heard a soft knock on his door. Looking up at the clock, he realized it was 3:15 p.m., time for his afternoon meeting with one of his deputies.

  “Come on in, Katrina. I was catching up on the afternoon INSUM. Judging by what I saw, I think we’ll have a couple of items to talk about.”

  Katrina took a seat as Mike walked in with a fresh cup of joe for them both. Mike sometimes knew Wilson’s schedule better than he did, and Mike was very good at anticipating needs.

  As she took the cup, she smelled the rich Arabica aroma of the coffee. Wilson watched with a slight grin as she took a sip. He could tell by her facial expression that she wasn’t expecting the kick it had.

  “Good coffee, isn’t it?” Wilson asked.

  “Holy cow, that’ll put hair on my chest,” she blurted out as Wilson started laughing.

  “Yeah, I said the same when Mike introduced me to the Death Wish brand. It’s damn good for those of us who tend to work eighteen hours a day. Hey, so changing topics and back to work—I saw a couple of topics of note in the DNI INSUM I’d like to talk with you about.”

  Katrina nodded and pulled her notebook out of the classified bag she’d brought with her. As she opened it up and grabbed for a pen, she said, “Blain, there are a couple of big items that recently came to my attention. I believe you need to know about them as well.”

  Wilson bit his lower lip, something he often did when he was about to receive some unpleasant news. “OK. Maybe your information is more pressing. Let’s hear it and I’ll decide.”

  She nodded. “My Defense Intelligence Agency liaison rep told me about a possible agreement between the Chinese Navy and the government of Panama. It should be referenced in the DNI report this afternoon. In a way, it’s not that big of a deal. They’re securing the rights to dock naval ships and take on supplies. The longest a ship can stay docked is ten days, so four days longer than a standard port call. But that’s not what concerns me.”

  Wilson lifted an eyebrow but let her continue.

  “What concerns me is this apparent rearming and modernization of the Cuban military. It appears it took place under the radar, and we’re now becoming aware of it after the fact. For example, did you know the Cuban Air Force took possession of five squadrons of new aircraft from China? That’s eighty top-of-the-line fighters: J-10s and J-11s.”

  Wilson held a hand up, then pulled a folder out of a file cabinet he still had unlocked. It was where he kept all his classified documents. Placing the folder on the desk between the two of them, Wilson opened it up.

  “These were sent over this morning from the National Reconnaissance Office,” he explained. “The Agency and the DIA have both already seen it and provided their analysis. It’s not only shiny new planes the Chinese sold the Cubans. They apparently fully upgraded an entire Cuban mechanized division. This picture right here—well, this is a new training base under construction on Isla de la Juventud. They’re also building another army and air base on the island. What’s most concerning about these photos is it appears the Chinese advisors, and/or the Chinese military itself, are practicing not only joint military exercises but full-on combined arms training. They’re coordinating with their new fighters on how to provide close air support in coordination with their artillery and armor units. In the sixty years we’ve been monitoring Cuba, we’ve never seen this level of military drilling and training—not even during the height of the Cold War.”

  Wilson could tell Katrina hadn’t seen any of this information yet.

  “Blain, my DIA contact told me he thinks this may be related to the ongoing trade negotiations. He also thinks it has something to do with the Chinese Belt and Road Initiative,” said Katrina with concern.

  Lifting his cup of coffee to his lips, Wilson took a couple of sips. “Let me ask you, Katrina, what do you think it is? What does your gut tell you?”

  She thought about that for a moment before replying. “It could be a part of the trade negotiations. However, I think it’s more strategic to secure very specific resources for their economy, and like the US military, they’re focusing their efforts on training partner nations to help them protect those newly acquired assets.”

  With pride in his deputy’s deductive reasoning, Wilson responded, “Bingo. Everything the Chinese do is planned. They very rarely do something that isn’t well thought out. So, if the Chinese are training these partner nations to protect their assets, then why do you believe the Chinese are sending so many soldiers to these nations?”

  Katrina answered confidently, “They’re being used as military trainers. They ultimately know they can’t establish a permanent base in our hemisphere, so they’re doing what NATO is doing in the Baltic States
. They’re rotating units to Cuba and Venezuela to train with the host nations while avoiding the complications that would arise should they establish a permanent military presence.”

  Wilson smiled. “Exactly. Now, I want you to have your working group figure out how we can counter this. How do we prevent or deter the Chinese from sending military units to these countries, and how do we undermine their shipment of military equipment? I know we’re stretched thin on resources with all the attention being paid to Iran and North Korea lately.

  “I have a meeting tomorrow with the Secretary of Defense,” he went on. “I’ll see if we can stand up a joint task force under US Southern Command out of Doral, Florida, to run point on all of this. Your staff and team can only handle so much, and frankly, I can’t have you solely focused on the military angle. I need you to stay abreast of the political arena as well.

  “To that point, there are some rumors that the Cuban leader may be stepping down soon. If that happens, we’ll see a lot of change in Cuba. Maybe it’ll be our opportunity to restart relations, maybe it won’t. In either case, your team will need to start writing a detailed assessment of the new leader. Right now, it’s looking like it will be the Cuban First Vice President, Diego Ventura, who will take over.”

  Katrina furiously scribbled down notes, making sure she had everything. Wilson liked that about her. She was meticulous, very detail-oriented. Her only shortcoming was that she wasn’t always a strategic thinker. She had a hard time seeing two or three steps ahead. She was, however, fiercely loyal to the President and his agenda. That was probably why she’d survived so much of the staff turnover during the preceding years.

  Looking up, Katrina asked, “When do you need this information by?”

  “See what you can put together by this time next week. The President will be traveling for the next five days. We have the NATO summit in Brussels coming up. I’m on the road with him, so I’ll be out of pocket. I’ll either call you or send you a message after my meeting with the SecDef to let you know if we’ll hand off part of this task to them. All that said, I don’t mean to push you out the door, but I have another meeting in five minutes to go over this NATO agenda.”

  The two talked for a minute more as she locked up her notepad in the classified bag before heading out the door.

  *******

  Following Day

  Pentagon

  Secretary of Defense Peter Morris had a sour look on his face as the weekly meeting came to a close. He was not happy at all with how things were shaping up in Korea or the sudden increase in tensions between, of all countries, the Russians and the Chinese, who appeared to be at each other’s throats over some mining and farming disputes in Eastern Russia.

  As Morris was about to dismiss everyone, the National Security Advisor, Blain Wilson, asked if he and several others could stick around.

  Great, he’s about to ask to add something else to my plate, Morris thought. He had a good working relationship with Wilson, but the Pentagon was being overtasked lately. Too much was going on with not enough people to handle it all.

  As the others left the room and only the senior reps for the Agency, NSA, DIA, and NRO hung back, Morris asked, “Is everything all right, Blain?”

  When the door closed, Wilson announced, “We have a problem in Cuba, and I’d like to discuss it before we head off to NATO tomorrow with the President.”

  A couple of soft groans could be heard, which surprised Morris. He wasn’t aware of a problem in Cuba, but judging by the response from the agency reps, there must be one.

  Looking at Wilson, he said, “OK, why don’t you clue me in on what you’re concerned about?”

  “Yesterday, I received a classified report from DIA along with some surveillance photos from NRO about some major military activity going on in Cuba that I believe we need to take a more serious look at.”

  Maintaining his sour face, Morris looked over at his DIA rep. “John, you want to enlighten us on what Blain’s talking about here?”

  The DIA rep looked like a kid with his hand caught in the cookie jar. “I’ll do my best, but we may want to put together a specific brief to cover Cuba and South America. There’s a lot to unpack here.”

  Morris lifted an eyebrow. Either he hadn’t been paying attention to what was going on or someone wasn’t doing a very good job of keeping him informed.

  John, the DIA rep, continued, “We believe all of this started a couple of years ago. The Chinese began providing the Cuban government with an enormous amount of foreign aid. To put it into perspective, the GDP of Cuba is $105 billion annually. Two years ago, the Chinese government provided them with $7 billion. $5 billion was earmarked for infrastructure projects like modernizing their port facilities and rebuilding their oil refineries along with building new ones. A lot of the money also went toward modernizing their oil industry writ large. That’s when a Chinese firm by the name of China National Offshore Oil Corporation or CNOOC set up shop. They helped the Cubans establish several new deepwater oil platforms in the Straits of Florida and the Gulf. The $2 billion in remaining aid was slated to modernize the military.”

  Pete held a hand up. “Wait a second. You’re saying the Cuban military, which, if I’m not mistaken, spends $4.2 billion annually, had their budget increased by fifty percent in a single year?” he asked. “What are they doing with it?”

  “Sir, I think we should hold a separate meeting to go over more of the details,” John answered. “I honestly don’t know all of what that money was spent on. What I can tell you is the following year, the Chinese increased their aid from $7 billion to $12 billion. They increased the military aid from $2 billion to $5 billion. In January of this year, the Chinese again gave the Cubans another $12 billion, and again, $5 billion went to the military. That’s a total of $12 billion in defense aid in three years. While we don’t know all the details of what the money was spent on, what I can say is this—a month ago, the Chinese delivered enough military equipment to completely modernize three Cuban Army divisions. They also delivered five squadrons of the export version of the PLA J-10 and J-11 fighters.”

  “Hold up here, John. The DIA is supposed to be the DoD’s intelligence arm. How in the hell is it I’m only now hearing about this, and why hasn’t it been run up the flagpole earlier?” Pete asked, boring a hole in the heads of his agency reps with his icy stare.

  “I honestly don’t know, sir,” John answered, shaking his head. “It probably should have been. I think with all the cutbacks in staff and all the things going on with Iran, North Korea, the ISIS situation in Syria and Iraq and the peace agreement we’ve all been working on with Afghanistan, some things fell through the cracks.”

  At this point, Wilson joined the conversation. “This is what I wanted to speak with you about, Pete. The Latin American–South American desk in my office only has a staff of five people. We don’t have the resources to look deeply into this either. I think it needs to be investigated. I’d like to know what your thoughts are on standing up an interagency task force out of SOUTHCOM to start examining this in earnest.”

  Pete sat back in his chair, which creaked as he did. He liked the idea; he just needed to make sure it didn’t turn into a goat rope that spun everyone’s wheels without delivering some results.

  He looked at Wilson as he sat forward. “How about we do this? We have a seven-hour flight to Brussels tomorrow—let’s discuss it on the plane. We can figure out what its scope will be and who should run it. I think it best to keep this in the military circles, so we stand it down quickly if this turns out to be nothing. In the meantime, let’s get ready for this summit.”

  The meeting ended and those heading to Brussels with the President went back home to do some final packing. Air Force One was leaving at six a.m. The President was having a private dinner with the President of France Saturday night before a private breakfast with the Five Eyes members and then a dinner with the NATO members.

  Chapter Eleven

  Project Ten


  October 2023

  The Mountain

  20 Kilometers Northwest of Beijing

  Xi Zemin walked over to Ma Yong’s desk. It was late, well after ten p.m., and the man was still typing away on his keyboard.

  “Ma, how are things going with the new data?”

  Not taking his eyes off his screen, Dan replied, “Good, but please call me Dan.”

  “OK, I can do that. How are the new programmers working out?” Xi asked next.

  Dan sighed. “Four of them are great, really good. But the other eight are useless. They don’t understand how to write the type of code and algorithms needed to integrate this kind of data at this volume.”

  Xi had to bite his tongue not to laugh at Dan’s blunt assessment. He was a gifted programmer, but his social skills could be better.

  “You know, those were some of the best programmers from Baidu,” Xi countered.

  Dan stopped typing and swiveled in his chair to look at Xi. “I’m not saying they’re bad programmers, Xi. They just don’t understand how to assimilate the data we’re receiving from Google and Facebook. Integrating that data with our data from our social credit program is complicated to say the least. I could probably teach them, but that would require me to stop doing what I’m doing, and we don’t have time for that.

  “Oh, before I forget, I recently hooked a camera with a built-in mic up to my computer and connected it to the server,” Dan announced, excitedly changing the topic. “I also added a pair of speakers to fully enable direct communications with JD. It’s official, we can talk directly with JD if you’d like.” He reached over and turned the speakers and camera on before Xi could say or do anything.

  As Xi was about to launch a protest or question Dan, a new voice spoke. “Good evening, Dan. Is this Dr. Xi Zemin, my father?” The voice spoke in English, with a distinct upper-class British accent.

  Xi’s eyes went wide as saucers when he heard the voice of the computer suddenly speak to Dan and reference him as “Father.”