The Second Chinese Revolution (The Russian Agents Book 5)

by Ted Halstead

  As soon as they were out of sight of his parent's apartment building, Xu had grabbed Deshi's arm and pulled him into an alley after checking to make sure they were unobserved.

  Slamming Deshi against the alley wall, Xu had snarled, "Who told you I was stationed at the Indian border?"

  Deshi had laughed and shrugged. "Easy, cousin. Nobody told me. But where else are our snipers fighting? I figured if not now, then soon."

  Xu's glare had softened as he could see Deshi was telling the truth. But he hadn't released his grip.

  "How did you get the videos on that drive?" Xu had hissed.

  "A friend with a Gateway. How else?" Deshi had asked as though the answer should have been obvious.

  Xu's suddenly nerveless hands had dropped from Deshi's shoulders. Yes, how else, indeed?

  Xu was sure a civilian caught with a Gateway would be punished, but not how severely. But a soldier, subject to military justice?

  Then Xu had realized he was not the only one at risk.

  Another wave of anger had swept Xu, and once again, he'd found himself holding Deshi up against the alley wall.

  "You do know you've put all of us in danger, even your aunt and uncle?" Xu had asked furiously.

  Deshi had shaken his head sullenly. "Too much drama, cousin. The police can't watch over a billion people every minute. You're out there risking your life, and this was stuff you needed to know."

  That had made Xu stop and think and finally release Deshi.

  It was true. The Barrett was a mortal threat, and he did need to know more about it.

  After making Deshi swear he'd never repeat his use of a Gateway, they'd returned home.

  Now, every time Xu was out with his rifle and spotter, he thought about those videos with the Barrett.

  Those videos were the reason Xu was changing position about twice as often as he'd been told to in training. And why he was moving about double the recommended distance.

  A gout of earth rose from their previous position, with bits falling on both Xu and Guan, followed by a distant craaak.

  With a sheepish smile, Guan whispered, "Good call, sir."

  Xu nodded absently, but in truth, felt no satisfaction.

  Had the Indian sniper really been too slow to take the shot?

  Or had they been dialed in the whole time, and the round fired as a deliberate warning?

  Chapter Seven

  The White House

  Washington DC

  President Hernandez smiled with genuine warmth as Eli Wade and General Robinson were ushered into the Oval Office, though for different reasons with each man.

  Wade had always shared his belief that rebuilding America's crumbling infrastructure and restoring its educational system to its former world leadership should be top government priorities. For that matter, Hernandez saw SpaceLink as the best chance to get Internet access to the millions of Americans without broadband access. That would address a key infrastructure need as well as improve access to educational resources.

  The fact that Wade had backed their shared beliefs with generous campaign contributions didn't hurt either.

  As the Air Force Chief of Staff, General Robinson was at this meeting in part because Wade's company had just received a major Air Force contract. It was also due to Robinson's role as unofficial National Security Advisor, one he had refused several times to allow Hernandez to make official.

  Robinson had told Hernandez he preferred to avoid the bureaucracy and media scrutiny that came with the title, and Hernandez had reluctantly agreed.

  Hernandez and Wade were both busy men, and so pleasantries were brief. Robinson sat quietly as Hernandez explained China's request to Wade that SpaceLink stop providing satellite Internet access to countries surrounding its territory.

  Wade frowned. "So, are you asking me to go along with China's request?"

  Hernandez shook his head. "I think you know me better than that. First, I thought it was important you knew exactly what the Chinese were asking for, whether or not you decided to agree to it. Second, I won't lie. It would be nice to have the Chinese stop military construction in the South China Sea. But if you agreed to stop SpaceLink services around China, I doubt it would be long before they started up construction again."

  Now Wade smiled. "Glad to see I backed the candidate with some common sense. So, what next?"

  Hernandez spread his hands. "Up to you. It might be worth asking the Chinese how much compensation they'd be willing to offer for your backing out of a dozen or so contracts if only to buy time. Just out of curiosity, how much are you getting paid to provide SpaceLink services to those countries?"

  Wade shrugged. "The only real money has come from Taiwan, which is funny in one respect. They already have the world's highest average Internet speed, and most of the population already has broadband access. But getting service to people in mountainous areas and on a few outlying islands was a government priority, and they were willing to pay a premium to be first in line."

  Hernandez nodded. "Sounds like they'd be pretty unhappy if you cut them off."

  "That's for sure. India wouldn't like it either, though they have many other companies working on improving Internet access. Anyway, I've already decided that short of a government order or a threat to withdraw your satellite launch contract, I'm not going to go along with what the Chinese want," Wade said.

  Then Wade nodded towards General Robinson. "When I saw the General, I thought that's why he was here."

  Now Robinson spoke for the first time, his voice a bit more gravelly than usual. "That's not how this administration does business, sir."

  Wade leaned back in his chair and laughed. "Glad to hear it. Now, I may take you up on the suggestion that I pretend to be interested in negotiating an end to our SpaceLink contracts. I have manufacturing interests in China, and if they're going to be shut down in retaliation, a little time to prepare would be nice. I imagine some more time to think about what the Chinese will do next would help you too."

  "Yes, it would. Speaking of your factories, I'm surprised the Chinese didn't start by threatening to close them," Hernandez said.

  Wade shook his head. "They know it would be a dumb move for them, though they may end up doing it anyway. I have local partners with a lot more to lose than I do and friends in the Communist Party leadership. The technology in my main factory was great when we started, but we've made improvements in many fields since then that I've been very slow to incorporate in China. Especially in batteries. If they nationalize my assets, they know they'll never see that tech."

  Hernandez frowned. "But you think out of frustration, they may do it anyway."

  "You're right," Wade said, standing and offering first Hernandez and then Robinson his hand as he said, "Thanks for your understanding and support. I'll let you know whatever I hear from the Chinese."

  Hernandez walked him to the door and said quietly, "We'll do the same, Eli."

  SpaceLink DC Area Offices

  Bethesda, Maryland

  Eli Wade had expected Mark Rooter, his SpaceLink project manager, to be waiting for him when he arrived.

  He hadn't been expecting Rooter to be holding a single piece of paper as though it were radioactive. As soon as Wade walked into the building entrance, Rooter handed it to him without comment.

  Wade had finished reading it by the time they stepped off the elevator and into the top-floor conference room. Rooter knew Wade wouldn't want an audience for their discussion, so they were the only ones at the table.

  "So, this message came to you directly by name from the Chinese Embassy here in DC?" Wade asked.

  Rooter nodded. "They sure didn't waste any time. I figure their compensation offer is worth about twice the value of the contracts we'd be canceling. We have no financial reason not to go along with China's request to stop providing Internet service to the countries on their border."

  "So, do you think we should do what the Chinese want?" Wade asked.

  Rooter shook his head
vigorously. "Absolutely not. Once we pull the plug on China's neighbors, who's next? Russia's neighbors? Saudi Arabia's? No, let's make it clear we won't let any country tell us not to provide Internet service to countries nearby, just because some of their citizens access our service without paying for it."

  Wade smiled. "Exactly what I was thinking. So, what should we do instead?"

  "Well, we've done some more research, and I think we've figured out what most of the Chinese users are doing with our service. They're accessing websites blocked by the Chinese government and sending each other communications they don't want the government to see," Rooter said.

  "OK, that explains why their data use was low. Do you think we could pull the plug on them without inconveniencing our paying users?" Wade asked.

  Rooter nodded but with a distinct lack of enthusiasm. "Yes. Our Chinese friends did a great job of counterfeiting our equipment. But we were able to zero in on the lower signal strength they built-in, so I'm sure we could disable all of them remotely."

  Wade smiled. "Great job! But why do I feel that you're not so happy about this?"

  Rooter shrugged. "This is your call, boss. But now that I know why these users want access to the Internet through our satellites, it doesn't feel like a victory to cut them off."

  "I'm with you on that. The truth is, I haven't decided what to do. I might cut them off, or I might leave them alone, depending on what the Chinese government does after I refuse their compensation offer," Wade said.

  Rooter just nodded, but Wade could tell he was relieved.

  Wade frowned and said, "If the Chinese go ahead and nationalize my manufacturing operations, they'll hurt themselves more than me. I think that's why so far, they haven't even threatened to do so. If they do nationalize, though, I want options. Especially if they give me inadequate compensation."

  "Options. You mean, besides cutting off non-paying users or letting them stay connected," Rooter said slowly.

  "That's right," Wade replied. "You've analyzed what they're calling the 'Gateway.' Am I right to think we could produce those same devices easily and cheaply?"

  "Well, sure. They're just a copy of our standard satellite Internet equipment, with a deliberately weaker Wi-Fi signal. I suppose to make them harder for the authorities to detect. If we wanted to, we could crank them out fast and cheap. But if we sold them in China, wouldn't that give the authorities there a valid reason to complain?" Rooter asked.

  "It would. But I never said I'd sell our version of Gateways," Wade said with a smile.

  Rooter stared at Wade. "You mean…just give them away?"

  Wade nodded. "Do we have any way of getting in touch with the organization selling these Gateways? I don't want to involve anyone working for us who is now actually in China."

  Rooter shrugged. "The head of our Singapore regional SpaceLink office is originally from China and still has good contacts there. Whether any of them could help with this, I don't know. But it's our best shot."

  Then Rooter hesitated. "Not my business, boss, but who have we got running things on the manufacturing end in China? If we go down this road, it could work out badly for them."

  "You're right," Wade said. "And never hesitate to tell me what you're thinking. I can miss important details just like anyone else. Not this one, though. Our last American citizen employee there got on a flight to LA this morning. I've been pulling our top people out of China one at a time since this business started."

  "Good," Rooter said. "You think the people we have left in China are safe from retaliation?"

  "With that government, you can never be sure, but I think so. All we have left in place besides factory workers are Chinese middle managers and technicians. The authorities know none of them would have had any policy-making role in the company. Besides, they're exactly the people the government would need to squeeze value out of my plants," Wade said bitterly.

  Rooter nodded. "That makes sense. OK, I'll get my people working on our Gateway version. Now that I think about it, the best approach would be a version letting us dial the wireless strength up or down. That way, if this business somehow blows over, we can use the equipment anywhere."

  Then Rooter paused and snapped his fingers. "We were just about to make a lot more units anyway to go with the SpaceLink satellites that will be launched by the new Spaceship next week in Florida. I'm going to go right now and get that production run held and replaced with a new variable wireless signal design."

  Wade grinned. "Perfect! Now we'll be covered no matter what the Chinese do. Go to it!"

  As Rooter nearly ran from the conference room, Wade mentally kicked himself. Never, never invite the wrath of the gods through the cardinal sin of pride. It was as though all those Greek legends Wade had read in his youth had taught him nothing.

  Nationalize his manufacturing assets in China. Arrest his American staff in China. Get the American government to lean on him.

  Wade shook his head. No, he couldn't think of anything else the Chinese could do to him.

  Then Wade grimaced.

  That left what he couldn't imagine.

  Chapter Eight

  Russian Embassy

  Washington, DC

  Boris Kharlov peered over the cup of coffee he was holding at Neda Rhahbar. They had come to the Embassy cafeteria for a break, since now at mid-afternoon, it was deserted.

  Unlike everyone else at the Embassy, they had no desk where they were supposed to be working during fixed hours. Instead, Kharlov and Neda had spent days studying technical documents of the rocket they were supposed to destroy.

  If, indeed, those orders arrived. So far, they had only been told to prepare and wait.

  "Did you notice the sign marking the space just across from the Embassy as 'Boris Nemtsov Plaza'?" Kharlov asked.

  Neda shook her head. "No. A Russian, I'm guessing. Who was he?"

  "Ah yes," Kharlov grinned. "This other Boris was before your time in Russia. He was a political opponent of the previous President."

  "When you say 'was,' I suppose you mean he's now dead," Neda said.

  "Yes," Kharlov replied. "He was shot multiple times within sight of the Kremlin while accompanied by his girlfriend. She was untouched. Nemtsov died instantly."

  Neda frowned. "Well, if this happened so close to the Kremlin, surely the crime was recorded on video. I've walked in that area many times, and it's full of cameras."

  "You're right. There was a recording of the murder," Kharlov replied. "Unfortunately, the camera with the best view of the area was obstructed by a parked municipal vehicle, so the recording's image quality was poor."

  Neda's eyebrows rose. "But surely a murder so brazen didn't go unpunished!"

  "Naturally not," Kharlov said solemnly. "The then-President took personal charge of the investigation. The prime suspect died when police surrounded his apartment building in Chechnya, and he blew himself up rather than surrender."

  Neda looked at Kharlov incredulously. "Isn't Chechnya almost two thousand kilometers from Moscow? How did he get that far despite a nationwide manhunt for Nemtsov's killer directed by the President himself?"

  Kharlov shrugged. "A reasonable question. However, the incident's outcome did save the government the expense of a trial."

  "OK, I get it. You think Russian government agents killed this Nemtsov, and then someone else was killed to cover it up. I guess the Americans do too, and that's why they named the space across the street from our Embassy after him," Neda said.

  Kharlov shook his head. "I haven't said I think anything. But I do agree with your assessment of the conclusion drawn by the Americans."

  Neda grimaced. "Well, the Americans' opinion of us doesn't seem to have improved much since they named that plaza. Every single time we've left the Embassy, they've had men following us."

  "Good," Kharlov said with an approving nod. "I'd wondered whether you'd noticed them. The authorities here are quite capable and seem to have devoted significant resources to following us as unob
trusively as possible."

  "Yes, I saw that too. Multiple teams, switching off to make detection more difficult. Well, I bet they're getting bored," Neda said.

  Kharlov laughed. "I'm sure you're right. Yesterday, I thought I saw the last team call it a night before we got back to the Embassy."

  Each evening since their arrival at the Embassy, they had walked together to a restaurant for dinner. At first, they had stuck to the three closest, one Mexican, one Chinese, and one Italian. Then they had walked further down Wisconsin Avenue into Georgetown. Last night they had turned onto M Street and went to within sight of the Potomac River and the Key Bridge leading to Virginia.

  Each time Neda and Kharlov had done nothing but window shop and eat dinner. No dead drops. No clandestine meetings. As they'd been trained, their conversations were limited to comments about details observed during their walk.

  Yes. By now, their watchers surely realized there was indeed nothing to see.

  Neda looked up sharply. "That's the whole idea, isn't it? Get the Americans bored, so they stop paying attention to us."

  Kharlov nodded. "That's my guess. It helps explain why there was such a rush to get us here, even though the launch we may or may not target is still days away. After all, we could have reviewed the SpaceLink rocket's details in Moscow."

  "So, let me go back to that other Boris," Neda said.

  Kharlov frowned and twirled his finger in the air, the signal that the cafeteria was probably monitored by Embassy security.

  "Obviously," Neda said with a shrug. "Do you really think anyone cares what we think of the previous President?"

  Kharlov grinned and said, "No, you're probably right. I guess old habits die hard. When I served in Spetsnaz, he was still very much alive."

  "So, any misgivings about what happened to Nemtsov on that bridge?" Neda asked.

  Kharlov sat back in his chair and thought for a moment before answering. "We saw what Russia would be like with a weak leader in the 1990s under Yeltsin. Nobody wants to go back there. That leaves the question of whether killing your opponents makes you strong or just feared."