Dark Ambition

by Allan Topol

  He was barely conscious, hanging upside down with his feet tied by a rope to a metal bar, when the sadistic colonel who had been directing Chen's interrogation walked into the prison cell with a swagger. "Cut him down," he said.

  They put Chen in a chair and tied him to it so he wouldn't fall over. Blood was oozing down his face.

  "We know all about you, Chen," he said, smiling with a mouth missing several teeth. "Your father in Taipei is the owner of Diamond Computers. Your wife is Mary Ann. Your children are Ted, Walter, and Donna. We know where they live."

  The colonel's words jolted what was left of Chen's senses to attention.

  "You have a choice," the colonel said. "Do you understand what I'm saying?"

  Chen nodded.

  "You have a choice. Either you tell me who arranged this despicable crime of yours, there will be an explosion tomorrow night at your house when they're asleep. An explosion large enough to kill all of them."

  That broke Chen. "No... No... No..." he stammered.

  "Then talk," the colonel said.

  Chen told him the entire story, beginning with his recruitment by Chip Donovan in Boston. He told him about Donovan's proposal for Operation Matchstick and then its execution.

  When he was finished, the colonel picked up the phone and reported to a superior. As if Chen weren't listening, they discussed the alternatives for his fate—a show trial followed by the death sentence, or killing him now.

  In the end, someone in Beijing decided that a show trial would embarrass the United States and Taiwan, but it would also expose to the Chinese people and to the world how lax security had been at the missile site, which was humiliating for the regime.

  The colonel put down the phone. "Take him outside and kill him."

  Chapter 30

  "You must come to my office immediately," Liu said to Cunningham on the phone. It was eight-fifteen in the morning, and the secretary of defense was scheduled to begin a review of American military movements in the Pacific with the Joint Chiefs in fifteen minutes. That would have to wait. The urgency in Liu's voice persuaded Cunningham that he had to drop everything and get to the Chinese embassy ASAP.

  Mired in heavy rush-hour traffic Cunningham sat in the back of a black Lincoln Town Car on the tedious ride from the Pentagon into the city, trying to guess what new development had occurred. Was this more nonsense about Winthrop's murder? Or had the Chinese decided to ignore the agreed-upon December seventh deadline and attack Taiwan? Had Taipei, frightened by the reports of Chinese troop movements, decided to launch a preemptive strike? Each scenario he envisioned terrified him more than the previous one.

  His anxieties were increased when he was ushered by a secretary into the ambassador's office. Instead of the Liu he had come to know, cool and unflappable, the man looked distraught. Liu's eyes were bloodshot, evidence that he had been up all night. His hair was tousled, his tie loose, and his shirt open at the collar.

  "An extreme provocation," Liu said as he rose from his desk to confront Cunningham.

  "What happened? I don't understand."

  "You've tricked me. Strung me along. You might as well have been signing my death warrant."

  Cunningham was horrified. "What are you talking about?"

  "Please don't insult me by pretending you don't know."

  "Don't know what? So help me, God, I have no idea what you're talking about."

  "The CIA plot to blow up one of our missile batteries."

  "The CIA plot to do what?" Cunningham raised his voice in astonishment.

  "You heard me."

  "I swear I don't know anything about that. You must be mistaken. The CIA couldn't do something like that without my knowledge. Not now, not with the tension between our governments."

  Liu motioned to Cunningham to sit down on the sofa, while he took a chair across a small teak table. "Don't tell me that nobody in your government can control Chip Donovan."

  At the sound of the name, Cunningham cringed. When the Chinese had forced down and stripped the American reconnaissance plane, Donovan had argued and cajoled in White House strategy sessions for a prompt and forceful response. In the end, at the request of the President, Margaret Joyner had stopped bringing him with her to meetings. What in the hell had Donovan done on his own?

  "We've always been straight with each other," Cunningham said. "I won't lie to you now. I'm not sure anybody in my government does control Chip Donovan. You have to believe me when I say I knew nothing about any action of this type. And if I didn't know, the President didn't know either. So you'd better tell me what you've heard. We can deal with it together."

  Liu hesitated.

  His face set in determination, Cunningham pressed, "If it's that bad, you don't have anything to lose by talking it through with me."

  "You don't understand. I'm supposed to file an official protest with your President. Then I've been recalled until further notice. I don't want there to be any misunderstanding about how seriously my government views this action."

  Cunningham sucked in his breath. Jesus, recalling Liu was one step short of a declaration of war. "I appreciate how grave the situation is. Now tell me what happened."

  In short, staccato sentences in his British accent, Liu described everything Chen had done since leaving the Shangri-La Hotel in Shanghai. He walked over to his desk and returned with a faxed copy of Chen's signed confession, which he showed to Cunningham.

  Shaking his head in disbelief, Cunningham read the document twice. "Was he tortured to sign this?"

  "He was questioned at length," Liu replied.

  Cunningham raised his eyebrows. "Can I be blunt?"

  Liu nodded.

  "In view of how the confession was obtained, is it worth anything? Perhaps the whole episode is a fabrication by hard-liners in your country to find one more excuse for launching an attack on Taiwan."

  Liu frowned. "That was blunt."

  "We don't have time for beating around the bush. Are you prepared to respond to my last point?"

  Liu had no problem with that at all. From everything he had heard this morning, the confession, though coerced, was accurate. "You can rely on the confession."

  "You're certain of that?"

  "Quite. Now I need your help. If I'm to have any chance of surviving the next several days in Beijing, it's imperative that I get in to see your President to lodge the protest with him before I fly home."

  Cunningham grimaced. In two hours Brewster was leaving for Paris to attend an economic summit with European leaders. Cunningham would have to find a window for Liu, but only after he got some facts from Joyner.

  Liu gave Cunningham a private office to call the White House. Using his cell phone, Cunningham said to Brewster's secretary, "Listen, Doris, I need thirty minutes with him before he leaves. Fifteen alone and fifteen with the Chinese ambassador."

  "You're kidding."

  "I wish I were. Tell him it can't wait." At a moment like this, Cunningham was glad his relationship with Brewster went back so far.

  "Hold on. I'll go ask." She returned to the phone a minute later. "Come in an hour. Senator Burns will be upset that he lost his slot. I'll get a tongue-lashing, but I can take it."

  After telling Liu about the meeting, Cunningham added, "It's your call, but I don't think you should raise the Taiwan arms package with the President. I'm working on the issue. I need more time."

  Liu didn't reply.

  Once he was back in his car, Cunningham called Margaret Joyner at her office at the CIA. "All hell has broken loose," he said. Then he reported what Liu had told him.

  "If it's true, I'll kill that damn Donovan with my own bare hands," Joyner shouted into the phone.

  Cunningham was relieved. Unless Joyner was the world's greatest actress, which he doubted, this had been an unauthorized rogue operation, if in fact it had occurred.

  "Keep your cell phone on," Joyner said. "I know Donovan's in his office today. I'm going to pay him a surprise visit and see what he has to
say."

  * * *

  A half hour later, as Cunningham's car was passing through the gate to the White House, Joyner called him back. "He did it," she said, sounding upset. "The whole thing, just as you described it."

  "Oh, shit."

  "That pretty well sums it up."

  "Was he defensive?"

  "He's proud of it. Says we behaved like a bunch of pussies when they took our plane. Says all they understand is brute force."

  "Jesus, what'd you say?"

  "Blew sky-high. Chewed him out. Told him that I'm going to take disciplinary action against him. He told me I was a gutless weasel. We'll see about that."

  Cunningham reminded himself that high-profile, unauthorized spy actions that failed were an embarrassment for all governments from time to time. That didn't lessen his fury and outrage. Cowboys like Donovan had to be reined in. With everything on high alert with China over the Taiwan arms deal, this was no time for provocation, which was undoubtedly why Donovan had launched it now: to provoke a Chinese military response that would lead to war.

  "You want me to come into town and join you at your meeting with the President and Liu?" Joyner asked.

  Cunningham looked at his watch. He would have liked Joyner there, but she'd never make it in from Langley in time. "We'll put you on the speakerphone if need be. Meantime, have somebody keep an eye on Donovan. We don't want him walking out with any of the Agency's confidential documents."

  * * *

  "This is the worst month of my life." President Brewster moaned as Cunningham finished his briefing in the Oval Office. Off to one side, Slater shook his head, showing his disbelief at Cunningham's report.

  The President turned back to Cunningham. "What do I tell Liu?"

  "That you deeply regret this unauthorized action. You apologize to his government. You tell him that Donovan will be sacked from his job and dismissed from the Agency."

  "Will Margaret go along with that?"

  "I think so. Let's get her on the speakerphone."

  Waiting for Doris to place the call, Slater said, "You really think it's wise to sack Donovan like this?"

  "We have to do it," Cunningham replied. "What's bothering you?"

  "He knows where a lot of bodies are buried, so to speak. You put someone like that out of the tent and he could come back to haunt us."

  They both looked at the President. "Donovan goes unless Margaret disagrees," Brewster said without hesitation.

  The President didn't even finish asking Joyner about the proposed disciplinary action on Donovan before she blurted out, "He'll be out of this building for good by the end of the day."

  * * *

  The decision to fire Donovan, along with an official, albeit private apology, meant a great deal to Liu, Cunningham could tell when they met with the Chinese ambassador a few minutes later. It was something he could tell the leaders in Beijing he had extracted from Washington. Cunningham knew that Liu was itching to press his case with the President for a reversal of Winthrop's decision on the Taiwan arms package, but, following Cunningham's counsel he kept silent on the issue.

  "We did as well as we could," Cunningham said to the President and Slater when Liu left.

  "You think they'll respond with an attack on Taiwan?" Brewster asked.

  "As usual with the Chinese, it's hard to know how they'll react." Cunningham added, "Our ships are in the area. We're ready to respond if that's what you decide to do."

  Doris stuck her head in the door. "You said to remind you when it's time to leave for Paris."

  Brewster sighed. "This trip couldn't come at a worse time. You think I should cancel?"

  "Absolutely not," Slater said. "It sends the wrong signal to the Chinese and the rest of the world. We'll be in close contact with you from here on a secure line. If they attack, you can get back in a matter of hours."

  Cunningham nodded in acquiescence.

  "You know," Brewster said, "the more I think about what this guy Donovan did, the angrier I get. Firing him is not enough." The President was seething. "I want to throw the book at this... what did you call him?"

  "Cowboy," Cunningham said.

  "Yeah, cowboy."

  "You really think that's wise?" Slater asked.

  "You're damn right." Brewster hit the intercom. "Doris, get me Margaret Joyner again on the squawk box."

  Once the CIA director was on the line, Brewster said, "I want you to call Ches Hawthorne. Tell him to have Sarah Van Buren or one of her people at DOJ find some laws that Donovan broke and charge him. That bastard's going to pay with a criminal conviction for what he did. You got that?"

  "Done."

  Slater was stunned. "You're willing to put the country through a public trial? Donovan could reveal plenty of our dirty little secrets."

  "It'll never go that far. He'll plead."

  "And if he doesn't?"

  Brewster turned back toward the phone. "Also, Margaret, tell Ches I want to know how he's coming on the Winthrop investigation. Tell him to call me on Air Force One. I can't believe they haven't caught the people behind the Winthrop murder. The man was my best friend and a devoted public servant. This is a top priority for me. Tell him I said to use all the resources of this government."

  * * *

  Joyner summoned Chip Donovan, dressed in his usual black suit and black turtleneck shirt, to her office, where Sarah Van Buren was waiting. As soon as he heard the words "head of the criminal division" in the introduction, he knew what was coming. In stony silence he listened to Joyner. "You're being removed from your job for cause as of right now. You'll have ten minutes to clean out your office and to leave the building. You'll be watched the entire time. And that's not all. We're throwing the book at you." She turned to Van Buren. "Sarah, tell him what charges you're filing."

  Before Van Buren could respond, Donovan said, "Why don't you people stop and think for a damn minute? China's hell-bent on their rise and our decline. Nations like that have to be stopped early with a show of force. What I did was right. Cunningham and Brewster are like Chamberlain was in the thirties. How far did appeasement get England?"

  Joyner bristled. "You're not running the country."

  "But what I planned was brilliant. Knocking out that missile battery would have been a powerful blow for Beijing. They'd think twice the next time before they behave like pirates and grab one of our planes out of the sky."

  "Are you finished ranting?" Joyner said.

  "No point trying to talk to people with blinders on who refuse to look at the facts."

  Donovan didn't care about the dismissal from the agency. He was tired of working for a bunch of wimps. As for the ten minutes to clear out, that was a joke. He had hidden in a safe at home false passports and cash if he ever had to beat a hasty exit from the United States. He did not like the idea of being charged criminally, however.

  He was scowling when Van Buren began talking about the laws he had violated and the charges that would be filed. She was in the middle of a sentence when he fired back, "You can charge me if you want to, but you'll lose your chance to find out who killed Robert Winthrop."

  Startled, Van Buren said, "Run that by me again."

  Donovan snarled. "You heard me. His Royal Highness, Brewster, wants to know who killed his great buddy who couldn't keep his pecker in his pants. Why don't you ask him if he wants to know badly enough that he's willing to let me walk?"

  Joyner took off her glasses and fiddled with them, wondering what Donovan was talking about. "Tell us more."

  He paused, letting the tension build. Then, like someone who was tossing a live grenade on the table in Joyner's office, he said, "I know who killed Robert Winthrop. You want to know? Then you have to play ball with me."

  Mystified, Van Buren looked at Joyner, who was cringing inside, but trying not to show it. My God, Joyner was thinking. I hope to hell Winthrop's murder wasn't another clandestine CIA operation, like the attack on the Chinese missile base.

  Van Buren asked, "Wha
t do you want?"

  Donovan gave her an icy stare. She'd better realize that his terms were nonnegotiable. "I'll step down from my job at the Agency. You'll have to paper it over to make it look like a voluntary retirement, so I get my pension. Also, I want total immunity from any criminal charges in connection with the attack on the Chinese missile base and the Winthrop murder." He paused. "And finally, I can't be forced to testify in any proceeding about either event. That's it. Take it or leave it."

  He looked like a poker player who had just bet the limit and laid down a straight flush. Contempt was mixed with arrogance in Donovan's steel gray eyes.

  "You've got to be kidding," Van Buren said. "You don't have anything like the leverage you need to drive a deal like that."

  Donovan pounded the table. "Oh, really? Try this for openers. I can tell you now that someone who works in the White House was very much involved in Winthrop's murder. You can take that back to His Royal Highness."

  The women exchanged horrified looks. "You've got to give me more than that for what you're asking."

  "Sorry, that's all you'll get from me until you sign on the dotted line."

  "It's not enough."

  Donovan pushed a hand through his thick gray hair.

  "I hope Brewster never finds out that you two passed up a chance to learn who killed his bosom buddy."

  Though she found Donovan despicable, Joyner, who less than an hour ago had heard the President refer to finding Winthrop's killer as a "top priority," took a softer line. "We'll let you wait in a conference room outside while we talk this over."

  "Make sure you lock me in. You wouldn't want me stealing any documents."

  "Don't worry," she snapped. "We'll have an armed guard at the door."

  Once he was gone, Van Buren said to Joyner, "You think he knows anything about Winthrop's killer? Or is this just a game?"

  "It's hard to know. I don't want to make that decision."

  They called Ches Hawthorne at DOJ, who was flabbergasted. "This one gets made at the top. You two hold on while I get the President on another phone. He should be on Air Force One by now."

  Minutes later, Hawthorne was back. "Brewster said, 'Hell, yes, take the deal, and keep me informed. Finding out who killed Winthrop means more to me than putting this cowboy in jail.' His words. My thought is, you get Donovan out of the CIA building. Set it up for a four-o'clock meeting with him somewhere in town. That'll give us time to draw up the papers. I'll get somebody drafting ASAP. When you tell him we'll give him what he wants, emphasize that if anything he tells us isn't true, the deal's off. That term goes into the immunity document."