The Second Chinese Revolution (The Russian Agents Book 5)

by Ted Halstead

  President Lin Wang Yong grimaced as he walked into the room and looked around the crowded conference table. He'd told his chief of staff to keep the number of participants in this meeting manageable.

  If he had to keep explaining "manageable" should result in empty seats at this table, Lin thought, it meant he needed a new chief of staff.

  Lin waved all the standing officials to their seats as he took his at the head of the table. Looking at the assembled faces, he had to correct himself.

  No, stopping Chinese subversives from accessing the Internet through American satellites was a complicated problem. Made no easier to address by the many agencies and offices with overlapping responsibilities for solving it.

  Many of those sitting around the table had their offices nearby. The Zhongnanhai Compound included the central headquarters for the Communist Party and the State Council. It also housed his office as the General Secretary of the Communist Party and the Premier's office. The Central Committee's headquarters and its highest level coordinating institutions, such as the Standing Committee, Politburo, and Secretariat, were also found here.

  "Minister Song, please explain why I have called you all here today," Lin said.

  This simple statement accomplished two things at once. First, Lin made it clear that the Ministry of State Security (MSS) now had the lead in solving this problem, even though the Ministry of Public Security (MPS) had been the primary agency so far.

  Lin smiled to himself as he remembered an American journalist who had compared MSS to a combination of the Central Intelligence Agency and National Security Agency and MPS to the Federal Bureau of Investigation.

  It was like comparing barracudas to goldfish.

  Second, it demonstrated that Lin was unhappy with MPS' performance. Or he would have given advance notice to the meeting participants that MSS now had the lead.

  Lin studied the reactions around the table. Everyone here was either a Minister or one of their Division Chiefs. All had long experience at controlling their expressions.

  Lin saw with satisfaction he had put that experience to a severe test.

  Minister Song had nodded and replied as though he'd been expecting Lin's instruction. Well, as the longest-serving member of the Politburo next to Lin himself, that was no surprise.

  "We have no exact count of how many subversives are using the American satellite service. But we know the number is increasing. Many subversives we have tracked in the past have gone dark. A few may have gone overseas, but we are talking about dozens. Also, information ordinarily blocked by the diligent efforts of our MPS colleagues is reaching the public with unprecedented speed," Song said, shaking his head.

  Lin smiled to himself. Well played. "Diligent" was a high compliment. But in the same sentence, Song had made it clear that MPS' best efforts had failed to produce adequate results.

  The "Great Firewall" MPS administered had a technical and enforcement staff of over two million employees and cost billions annually for the hardware, software, and salaries needed to keep it functioning. Censorship administered through the Great Firewall made access to information the Communist Party didn't want Chinese citizens to have difficult to get, and kept tabs on subversives. That made the Great Firewall an essential tool for the Party to remain in power.

  Knowledge is power. Lin knew understanding that cardinal principle was why the Party had stayed in charge in China while Communist regimes in Europe had crumbled to dust.

  Lin returned his focus to Song as the Minister continued.

  "To combat this threat, I first propose coordination between our Science and Technology Investigative Division and their colleagues at MPS. As you all know, the STI Division has long experience with monitoring telecommunications," Song said evenly.

  Lin nodded to show his approval before MPS Minister Yu had a chance to react. MSS was usually focused on communications between Chinese citizens and foreigners. But now, the threat was Internet use routed through American satellites. Coordination made sense.

  "STI Director Ma will now demonstrate the equipment that will begin this collaboration," Song said, nodding towards her.

  Lin looked at Ma curiously. She was the only woman at the table. In fact, few women reached the top levels of the Chinese government. Currently, only two women were Politburo members out of over two dozen.

  But it made sense that Ma had been able to rise to chief of her division. The STI chief would never advance to lead the entire MSS, so all the most capable and ambitious men had gone to MSS divisions like International Intelligence. Leaving the field clear at STI for a woman like Ma.

  Ma removed a small black object from her suit jacket and placed it in the table's center. It looked like a hockey puck, Lin thought. Maybe a little smaller. Next, Ma took out a tablet not much larger than many smartphones and tapped an icon on its surface.

  The object silently rose about a meter and then continued to hover for several seconds while every head around the table rose to track its progress.

  Including his, Lin thought with a smile. Even though he'd been given this demonstration in advance and knew what to expect.

  Ma tapped another icon on the tablet, and the object came to rest on the table as silently as it had risen.

  Ma peered over her glasses and said, "This drone is designed to detect the wireless signal emitted by the device used to provide illegal satellite Internet service, called a Gateway. The signal is deliberately too weak to be intercepted through the walls of a building. But our experiments with captured Gateways show it can be detected a short distance through glass. Since Gateways must be stationed next to a window to connect to an American satellite, this gives us our opportunity."

  The smile that now appeared on Ma's stern face made Lin immediately think of a hungry shark spotting a wounded fish.

  "Thank you, Director Ma," Song smoothly interjected. "We propose that the role of MSS will be restricted to operating the drones and passing the location of intercepted signals to MPS. We will rely on MPS to provide priority targets for drone surveillance and to search the apartments where Gateways may be found."

  MPS Minister Yu nodded thoughtfully. "So, MSS will provide technical assistance, but MPS will continue to carry out searches and arrests?"

  Song smiled. "That is correct, Minister."

  Yu shrugged. "MPS appreciates your cooperation with this important mission."

  Lin beamed. Collaboration and consensus were always the government's goals in China, to the point that formal votes were nearly absent in the Politburo. Those goals were just as valid for meetings like this at the ministerial level.

  "Minister Yu, I understand you also have a proposal," Lin said, nodding in Yu's direction.

  "Yes, Mr. President," Yu said. "To our surprise, one of the first people we arrested when Gateways were initially discovered two years ago has just been released at a judge's order. The rationale was that the person was a teenager resident in the apartment where the Gateway was found, but there was no evidence he had used it to access the Internet. His parents, of course, remain in custody."

  A disapproving murmur passed around the table. Some Chinese judges had the annoying habit of interpreting the law literally rather than carrying out its intent. Which, as far as Lin and the others around the table were concerned, meant doing whatever was necessary to keep the Party in power.

  "Your proposed solution, Minister Yu?" Lin asked.

  "Mr. President, I recommend that the burden of proof be explicitly shifted in law to anyone living in a residence where the Gateway is found who is sixteen or older. Also, that the minimum sentence be increased to ten years at hard labor, except for juveniles between sixteen and eighteen. For them, the sentence would be detention in a juvenile facility until the age of eighteen, and the balance of a five-year sentence to then be served as ordinary confinement," Yu said.

  Some heads around the table nodded with agreement, while others remained still. However, there were no grimaces or frowns, let alone any sign t
hat someone would speak out against Yu's proposal.

  In spite of the fact that ten years at hard labor was effectively a death sentence. Lin thought idly that he'd have to get someone on his staff to check that point. Had anyone ever survived such a sentence, and if so, how long did they live after release?

  Undoubtedly, the police would closely monitor any such survivor. No, check that assumption as well, Lin thought to himself.

  Attention to detail was a key reason Lin had reached his present position.

  Aloud, Lin said, "An excellent proposal, Minister. Please have your staff prepare a bill, and I will see that it is introduced at the National People's Congress."

  This was, of course, a mere formality. Any bill with the President's support would become law, and quickly.

  "I believe we have reached the end of the agenda unless someone has anything they would like to add?" Lin asked.

  All the heads at the table shook, "No," as Lin had expected.

  Lin rose and said, "Thanks to all of you for your service."

  As everyone else quickly filed out of the conference room, Lin called out, "Minister Song, please stay with me for a moment."

  The last person to leave was Song's deputy, who quietly closed the door behind him.

  "I understand you have suggestions to share that must come only to me for reasons of security," Lin said.

  "Yes, sir," Song said. "I have several ideas to address this problem more directly. However, all of them carry the possibility of adverse consequences. I will describe them in order, from least to most risky."

  Lin nodded his understanding but said nothing.

  "First, we could tell the American in charge of SpaceLink, Eli Wade, that he must cooperate with us or risk nationalization of his manufacturing operations in China," Song said.

  Lin shook his head. "My first thought. But Commerce Minister Bao tells me we have more to lose than Wade from such a step. His electric cars, in particular, are a key part of our plan to reduce urban air pollution. Next?"

  "Then I suggest we approach the American government on an informal basis. Tell them we would appreciate their help in convincing SpaceLink to stop its satellites from being accessed by Chinese citizens. Perhaps offer them something of value in return," Song said.

  Lin pursed his lips. "I'd already thought about doing so, but until now hadn't considered it worth the effort. Now I agree it may be worth pursuing that option. The downside?"

  Song shrugged. "Wade is well known as a man unlikely to bow to pressure. The American government needs Wade and his rockets more than anything we can offer. If Wade refuses and makes his decision public, it could be embarrassing to us. Worse, it could make more of our citizens aware that SpaceLink is an option through Gateways."

  Lin shook his head. "I have already considered those points. I think most of our people will learn about SpaceLink and Gateways soon no matter what we do. We are past worrying about embarrassment. Send me a proposal with specifics. Next?"

  Song hesitated and finally said, "We can destroy the SpaceLink satellites."

  Lin smiled. "I recall our first successful antisatellite test in 2007 as well as you do. I presume you are speaking of an approach more subtle than a ballistic missile?"

  Song nodded. "I'm sure you've seen the same reports I have. Laboratory tests suggest the space-based laser we now have in development may succeed in rendering a communications satellite inoperable. More importantly, we believe it could do so without being detectable from any ground-based observation."

  "Well, that is important. I have no intention of starting a war with the Americans over this," Lin said.

  "Of course, sir," Song said. "A reusable weapon like a laser is also a practical necessity. SpaceLink’s service requires thousands of satellites to function. We're not sure exactly how many provide coverage to subversives in China, but probably at least two dozen."

  Lin winced. "So many. And if we destroy or disable only satellites providing Internet service in or near China, suspicion will inevitably fall on us. Whether the damage is observed as it happens or not."

  "That is undeniable, sir. That is why I am proposing we ask the Russians to assist us with the last two options," Song said.

  "The Russians," Lin repeated. "Well, they certainly have been anxious to sell us their oil and gas."

  "Yes, sir," Song said. "The Europeans have increasingly turned to renewable energy sources, and many other markets are closed to Russia for political reasons. We have been increasing our use of solar and nuclear power as well, so to accept all the oil and gas the Russians want to sell us would mean ending supply contracts with many smaller countries."

  Lin nodded. "Doing so is not a real problem. We buy oil from countries like Venezuela to remind the Americans they can't stop us from doing so with their sanctions, not because we have any real interest in supporting Venezuela. But, how do you propose the Russians help us?"

  Song hesitated. "Let me first emphasize, these two options are the riskiest for us, especially if the Russians are discovered…"

  Chapter Three

  FSB Headquarters

  Moscow, Russia

  Mikhail Vasilyev and Neda Rhahbar looked up from the files they were reading as Boris Kharlov entered the secure basement conference room. Vasilyev gestured towards the chair directly opposite him at the long wooden table, which had a file folder just like his waiting.

  "Good morning," Vasilyev said. "We're expected to read through these before Director Smyslov gets here. We'll only have this one chance to ask questions before we leave for the airport."

  "Well then, I'd better get reading," Kharlov replied. "Any chance of coffee?"

  Kharlov had given up his Spetsnaz career years ago for a far more lucrative one as a warlord in separatist eastern Ukraine. While there, he had made himself useful to the FSB, which had called on Kharlov to assist Vasilyev and Neda's last Ukraine mission.

  After an uneasy peace returned to Ukraine, Kharlov took the FSB up on their offer to work for them full time. It had been quite an adjustment.

  Vasilyev shook his head. "No food or drink in this room. Apparently, any drop or crumb could compromise the electronics built into these walls keeping us safe from prying eyes and ears."

  Kharlov opened the folder and sighed. "Reminds of my days with Spetsnaz, where we said 'Drive like madmen to the dock, wait three days for the ship.' I wonder whether the past year of training will have anything to do with this mission."

  Neda looked up from her papers and smiled. "It's been fourteen months. And the answer is yes. Though not exactly in the way we expected. I suggest you start reading."

  Kharlov grunted and began to do just that.

  Half an hour later, the conference room door opened to admit a scowling Anatoly Grishkov.

  As Grishkov aged, he looked more and more like his father, who had also been a policeman. Like him, he was shorter and more muscular than the average Russian, with thick black hair and black eyes. Grishkov's son Sasha was fourteen, and his other son Misha was twelve. Though both had black hair, otherwise, they thankfully looked more like his wife, Arisha.

  Grishkov had worked together with FSB Colonel Alexei Vasilyev, Mikhail's father, on his first two missions. Before that, he had been the lead homicide detective for the entire Vladivostok region.

  But after their first mission, FSB Director Smyslov had put Grishkov on "indefinite special assignment" as a Captain in the Moscow Police Department. This was a cover for his new job, which was high-priority overseas missions for the FSB.

  After Alexei Vasilyev died during their second mission, Smyslov had assigned Alexei's son Mikhail as Grishkov's new partner. This assignment was no coincidence.

  Smyslov knew that Grishkov was close to insisting on returning to police work after his second mission, simply because he thought his luck was unlikely to last for a third encounter with rogue nuclear weapons. He also knew Grishkov was not concerned for himself but felt a strong responsibility to Arisha and his two sons. G
rishkov had a nearly superstitious belief that Alexei’s son Mikhail would help Grishkov survive the mission.

  Grishkov’s third mission, which had taken him to Pakistan and Afghanistan, had nearly killed him. Though Grishkov had been cleared to return to duty after a lengthy hospital stay, Arisha had begged him not to do their fourth mission in Ukraine.

  And she had cried, which had shocked Grishkov. Arisha was a woman Grishkov genuinely believed stronger than himself, and he had never seen her cry. He had finally ended the argument by promising to make Ukraine his last mission. Grishkov had, at that point, every intention of keeping that promise.

  As his father had been, Mikhail Vasilyev was in excellent physical condition. Also, like him, Vasilyev was a firm believer in the value of hand-to-hand combat skills. Vasilyev was only a bit taller than Grishkov but was even thinner than his father. His full head of dark brown hair and his perpetual air of detached amusement had helped Grishkov recognize Mikhail Vasilyev immediately as Alexei's son.

  That recognition had come only after Alexei's death. Alexei had been worried that knowledge of his son's existence would be used against him by the many enemies he routinely encountered in his assignments abroad, a worry which only intensified once Mikhail defied him and also began working for the FSB.

  Grishkov had met Vasilyev's wife, Neda Rhahbar when she was fleeing Iran. The wife of Iran's leading nuclear scientist, Neda had defected to Russia when she learned her husband was making three nuclear test devices available for an attack against Saudi Arabia.

  An accomplished nuclear scientist herself, Neda had been recruited to work in the FSB after her defection. Neda's first marriage ended when her Iranian husband died while setting off one of his nuclear creations.

  Neda's expertise with nuclear weapons and language skills had served Grishkov and Vasilyev well on their mission in Pakistan and Afghanistan. That mission had also left Neda with a scar visible on one cheek and a smaller one on her forehead. Neither one appeared to trouble Vasilyev, who had married Neda soon after that mission concluded.

  Grishkov wasn't surprised since even with the scars, Neda was still a strikingly beautiful woman with long dark hair and flashing dark eyes. He also knew that the sort of danger they'd shared could do a great deal to drive people close together in a remarkably short time.