“We owe a lot to Kua,” Liang told them. “He’s given us trees and land, but he had one weakness which led to his death.”
“Arrogance,” Guo replied.
A grin appeared on Liang’s round face. “Yes. The Americans remind me in many ways of the giant Kua. They are big and powerful and capable of accomplishing many extraordinary things, except like Kua, the Americans were blinded by their own arrogance. This was why the attacks of 9/11 were so successful. Who would have thought that such a low-tech attack could be pulled off with such great effect? And wasn’t the same true of our own bold attack? America’s faith in her multi-layered naval and nuclear defenses led her to believe she was invulnerable to invasion. That attitude was exactly what gave China and Russia the advantage we needed. Long ago, Sun Tzu wrote, ‘Pretend inferiority and encourage his arrogance.’”
Now his subordinates understood where he had been heading and many of them were nodding in agreement.
A knock came at the door and General Liang asked them to enter.
In came Colonel Li Keqiang, head of military intelligence, and the deathly paleness of his face wiped the pleasure from Liang’s lips.
“What is it?”
Colonel Li handed the general a note and bowed his head.
General Liang opened the paper and read what was written. His eyes passed over the words more than once and his ears turned a slight shade of pink.
The concentration camp near Jonesboro had been overrun by a group of American insurgents. Not only had all the prisoners been released, a battalion of North Korean forces stationed nearby had nearly been wiped out when they attempted to respond. Liang kept reading and as he did his anger blossomed into a boiling rage.
“They killed the camp commandant and all of his men?” Liang asked, not entirely believing it.
Colonel Li nodded, careful not to make eye contact.
They had a handful of secret agents spread throughout what remained of the American-held territories, and none of them had warned that this sort of operation was underway. One by one the Americans had been unmasking the Chinese operatives in the field, making the collection of information more difficult. It also increased the importance of the few who remained.
“Any word from Phoenix?”
“None,” Li said. “Our last report was about the attack on the truck depot near Jonesboro. The information was passed along to the commanding officer in the region.” Li checked his notes. “A North Korean colonel named Chung Eui-Sun.”
“The same Chung whose forces were just beaten by a group of resistance fighters?”
Li nodded. “Yes. Apparently he dismissed the threat.”
“We were kind to bring our North Korean allies into the fold and yet since the beginning they’ve done nothing but disappoint us.”
The room grew quiet. One of General Liang’s four aides was a North Korean major from Pyongyang and, judging by the stoic expression he now wore, he knew better than to openly show offence at the general’s comments.
“The Russians have also heard about the attack and are asking if we need their assistance.”
“Absolutely not,” Liang shouted back in a rare loss of control. “I’m very familiar with Russia’s offers to help. Next thing we know Federation troops will be swarming over land conquered with Chinese blood and sweat. Inform them that we’re fine and that we’ll handle this on our own.”
“Very well, sir,” Li replied.
“Who’s our top special forces commander in the region?” Liang asked.
“Uh…” Li stammered, shuffling through an armful of beige folders.
“That would be Zhang Shuhong,” his aide Colonel Guo said, flicking through his papers and holding one up. “I believe he and his men are currently in Houston quelling an uprising there. Before the war Zhang distinguished himself in Tibet, subduing the local population. His methods are harsh, but effective.”
General Liang squared his hat back on his head and stood. “Bring me Zhang and his men by tomorrow at the latest.”
Colonel Li swallowed hard. “Our radio communications are only slowly coming back up after the American EMP, but I will send a messenger by motorbike to retrieve him.”
“Use smoke signals if you must,” General Liang barked. “But I want him here as soon as possible and a briefing on my desk by 0600 hours with intelligence on who was behind these attacks. And do what you can about re-establishing contact with our agent in Oneida. If anyone can tell us who these people are, it’ll be Phoenix.”
Chapter 42
Phoenix was also the name Diane heard as she entered the mayor’s office. General Brooks was with Rodriguez in the radio room, speaking with General Dempsey.
“One of my men apprehended him, General,” Brooks was saying. “Saw a man acting suspiciously in the woods and went to investigate. They’re on patrol for this very eventuality. We’ve been on high alert since our Chinese POW managed to escape.”
Diane slowed down as she neared the doorway.
“Very good, General Brooks. You’ve proven yourself a terrific asset to the cause. Have your people managed to extract any information from the suspect?”
“Nothing useful yet, sir,” Brooks replied, “but I assure you my men are using every means at their disposal to pull what we can from the Chinese agent.”
“Our boys intercepted a coded Chinese radio message about an attack on the prison camp outside Jonesboro. Seems like not all of their equipment was fried.”
“That happens, sir,” Brooks replied. “Even an EMP can’t bat a thousand.”
“Yes, but Colonel Mack and his men have not yet returned.”
Diane’s spine stiffened. Could freeing Jonesboro have been the mission John left on? The idea was tantalizing. It meant she might soon be hugging Brandon and her son, right before she admonished them both for having run off in the first place.
“I like his initiative,” Dempsey said. “I only wish we had more officers like him.”
“Colonel Mack isn’t a regular officer,” Brooks said.
“What do you mean? He isn’t a colonel?”
“He’s a retired Iraq vet who’s also the acting mayor of Oneida,” Brooks told him. “Was a lieutenant with the 278th ACR, if I remember correctly. I reactivated him and boosted his rank to colonel when we arrived so he could issue orders.”
“Great thinking, General. Looks like you picked a winner.”
Even from the hallway, Diane could feel the blood boiling in Brooks’ veins. She walked by then, and waved at the general as she passed, the tiniest hint of a smirk on her lips.
•••
Diane found Emma out back, feeding George handfuls of wild grass.
“I think he’s sad,” Emma said, petting the bird’s head with one hand, the other cupping under its beak.
Diane laughed. “What makes you say that?”
“I think he needs a girlfriend.”
George paced around his tiny enclosure, waiting for Emma to hand him more grass.
“You think he’s lonely?” Diane asked.
“Sure. How many geese do you see in this town?”
“You do have a point there.” Diane paused and studied her daughter’s hands. They were trembling. “What do you suggest?”
“Maybe when Gregory and Brandon get back we can head to Stanley Lake and see if we can find a girlfriend for George. I don’t want him to grow old never knowing what it’s like to have someone to love.”
Diane curled an arm around Emma. “I hope you haven’t given up on finding Brandon and your brother.”
Emma tossed a few blades of grass into the enclosure and watched them drop to the ground in spirals. “I hope he got the message I sent him in the leaflet.”
“I’m sure he did,” Diane said reassuringly.
Emma smiled. “You know, sometimes I look at George in his enclosure and it makes me think of Gregory.”
“You mean because they’re both prisoners?”
“Not really. Remember wh
en Gregory was four and he got that bone infection―”
“Osteomyelitis,” Diane said, puzzled. “Yes, I remember vividly. Your brother was an active little boy who fell on his knees one too many times. Doctor said the infection must have entered through the broken skin on his kneecaps, got into his blood and then the bone around his knee. They threaded a PICC line through the vein in his upper arm to his heart in order to drip-feed him his antibiotics.”
“I was only six,” Emma said, “but I still remember how he used to bounce around in his playpen, frustrated that he couldn’t get out and go play.”
Diane felt the tears coming and fought hard to keep them at bay. Her eyes found George again, waddling back and forth within the confines of his cage. “I guess I see what you mean.”
“He came home on Christmas Day,” Emma said. “I remember that most of all because I thought it was the best present I ever got.”
Diane pulled her daughter in tight.
Looking up at her, Emma grew serious. “And don’t you ever tell him what I just said.”
Now Diane did laugh. “Your brother knows you love him, Emma. Even if you’re too proud to tell him yourself.”
Chapter 43
John and his Rough Riders returned to Oneida exhausted from the long and dangerous journey home. When they emerged from the woods and onto Alberta Street, many of the workers busy repairing buildings or bolstering the town’s defenses stopped what they were doing to marvel at the sight.
The men on horseback rode with one and sometimes two children seated behind them. Others had adults too frail or sick to walk. In all, John had returned with over a hundred former POWs, the rest having scattered in all directions to form resistance groups of their own. At least that was the hope.
Seated behind John was his son Gregory, who hadn’t dared let go since they’d set off from Jonesboro. It was only when Diane pulled up in a golf cart, her face a mask of disbelief and joy, that Gregory slipped off and ran to her. The rest of the column returned to the stables. John told Moss he wouldn’t be long.
The streets were noticeably fuller now that parts of the 3rd Infantry Division had showed up. The stress it put on food management was no doubt high, but with rationing of resources, John was sure they would be fine. As long as everyone pulled their own weight.
After dismounting, John went to the crowd gathering around Gregory and Diane.
“You take off like that again and I’ll kill you myself,” Diane said, squeezing him.
Gregory tried to smile, but it was clear he was weak and needed rest and maybe something warm to eat.
“Where did you find him?” a man with a sledgehammer asked.
The mission had been kept a tight secret and John was happy to see it had stayed that way. But now that they were back he saw no reason to maintain the subterfuge. He told the citizens assembled how they’d attacked and freed a camp with American prisoners.
Ray Gruber came out of the crowd to congratulate John. “I’m just glad you made it back in one piece,” he said, patting his friend on the shoulder and beaming that contagious smile of his.
Surely there was a joke coming John’s way, but not everyone had made it home. They’d suffered casualties and there was nothing funny about that.
“A lot’s happened since you’ve been away,” Ray told him.
Diane kissed the top of Gregory’s head and looked up. “We caught Phoenix,” she said.
“Stop being humble, Diane. If it wasn’t for you spotting him in the woods, he woulda slipped through the cracks for sure. He’s being interrogated by General Brooks’ men as we speak.”
Now it was John’s turn to show surprise. “Who was it?”
“David Newbury,” Ray said. “An American born and bred. Can you believe it? The guy pretends to have escaped from a concentration camp and sets out to betray Oneida and its people. Who knows how many have died because of him.”
This wasn’t at all what John had expected. The news was terrific, of course, and it certainly made sense that the Chinese might have managed to pressure David into working for them. Hopefully, John would get his chance to ask the man a few questions.
“I’ll let General Brooks know you’re back,” Ray said. “I’m sure he’ll want a debriefing as soon as possible.”
“Not yet, Ray,” John said. “First, I want some time with my family.”
“Understood,” Ray said, smiling. “Whenever you’re ready.”
•••
John found a quiet spot near the greenhouses where he could sit and talk with his family. A few minutes later, Diane returned with Emma, who’d been at the newspaper office preparing another batch of leaflets.
“You know you coulda gotten yourself killed,” Emma started in as she climbed out of the golf cart.
“It’s not your place to discipline your brother,” John told her. “This is the first time we’ve been together in a while. There’ll be plenty of time for choice words later.”
Gregory’s eyes fell to the grass at his feet. He was still wearing his prison uniform.
“I swung by the house and brought you some fresh clothes,” Diane said. “Why don’t you scoot behind the shed over there and get out of those rags.”
Gregory took the clothes and left.
“What about Brandon?” Emma asked. “Is he with the others at the stable?”
John glanced back at his horse who was a few feet away, nibbling on grass. “Yeah, that’s something we need to talk to you about.”
The muscles in Emma’s face tensed. “If something happened I don’t wanna hear about it.” She pushed her fingers into her ears.
“Come on, honey,” Diane said, gently easing her arms down. She turned to John. “Where is he?”
John conveyed Gregory’s story about Brandon being conscripted into the Chinese army.
Emma stood in disbelief. “How’s that even possible? I mean, why doesn’t he just run away?”
“It’s really not that simple,” John tried to explain. “Brandon believes if he breaks his word then Gregory might be killed.”
“Yes, but Gregory’s here with us now.” Tears filled Emma’s eyes and John understood perfectly well. A big part of her drive to make those leaflets had come from her desire to be reunited with Brandon.
“He and the others were taken away before we arrived. But I’ve got people out searching for him.”
Emma’s face sank into her hands as she began to sob. Gregory returned just then, a greasy-haired kid with a dirty face dressed in fresh jeans and t-shirt.
“What’s wrong with her?” he asked.
“Don’t ask,” John said. “Right now, we’re just so thrilled to have you back.”
Gregory nodded and tried to smile, but John could see there was an ocean of pain behind those eyes. The kind of suffering a child should never have to experience. There was no telling what sort of atrocities he’d witnessed in that camp. Only the mass grave they’d found nearby and the hollow look in his son’s eyes hinted at the damage that had already been done.
But in many ways, John’s own experiences with PTSD had made him intimately familiar with the tortured corridors of a traumatized mind and soul. The pain hadn’t killed him, although it had certainly come close. And while Gregory might have been physically freed from the camps, John knew he might never be free from the memories of what went on there.
Chapter 44
The debriefing room at the mayor’s office was stifling hot and John undid the top button of his fatigues to cool off. A fan would have been nice, but the town’s limited power supply was dedicated for construction and infrastructure work.
Seated at the conference table next to him were Moss, Ray Gruber, Henry, General Brooks and Colonel Higgs. John went over the details of the mission to free the camp.
“How will we keep in touch with these disparate fighting groups you’ve sent off?” Higgs asked. “Is there any way to coordinate them?”
John motioned to the radio operator. “This is wh
ere Henry comes in. As far as I understand it, he’s begun a daily radio broadcast for members of the resistance. Think BBC during World War II.”
“Without the funny accent,” Ray chimed in.
“We should be able to relay target information to them in code through Henry’s daily broadcasts. The trick will be letting the insurgents in on the code itself.”
Higgs seemed pleased.
“Henry’s already got something of a following all over the country,” John said. “And not only in the occupied zone. Didn’t one woman ask you to marry her?”
The room erupted into laughter.
“Just don’t let it go to your head, pretty boy,” Moss said, punching him lightly in the shoulder. “I heard she asked Rodriguez first, but he turned her down.”
When the joviality died down, General Brooks reached into a wooden crate at his feet and set a crude-looking mortar round on the table. A series of white wires snaked out from the nose like strands of cooked spaghetti.
“Something tells me this ain’t your father’s mortar,” Moss said, leaning back in his chair and flicking a hand through the bristling hairs of his mohawk.
“We gave it some thought and realized that our fledgling armaments factory needed to narrow its production line to a single item,” General Brooks explained. “And this is it.”
“A mortar round that can double as an IED,” John said.
Brooks patted it as though it were a newborn puppy. “Sure, it looks crude, but this baby is packed with enough explosives to knock out a tank.”
Everyone in the room looked uneasy.
“Don’t worry, folks,” the general reassured them. “This one’s only a demo. But I’ve got nearly three dozen townspeople trained in how to make them. In a week from now I’ll have double that number.”
“My team that’s planting IEDs along I-40 could really use these,” John said. “They’ve been keeping a low profile over the last few days, but they’re very skilled at living off the land and doing what they can to disrupt those Chinese supply lines.”
Last Stand: Turning the Tide (Book 4) Page 14