The Second Chinese Revolution (The Russian Agents Book 5)

by Ted Halstead

"I'm sorry," Peng said sincerely. "But it really is urgent."

  Zhong nodded. "I know. It's the only reason I'm still talking to you. I saw how high the water is in the reservoir before I touched down. But help is almost here. You can't see them yet, but troops and heavy equipment should reach this dam within the hour."

  "That's good, Zhong. But it's not enough. Unless I can get to Xiluodu, the water they're sending us will make any attempt to shore up this dam pointless. The typhoon has cut all communication. Their manager is also unlikely to cut back the flow of water enough unless I'm standing in front of him," Peng said.

  Zhong shook his head. "Just like the old days, Peng. You're the only one who can save the day. Well, you're not my commanding officer anymore. It's Captain Zhong now. And you're just a reserve officer who hasn’t been called up. So, you have no authority to give me any orders. I came here as a favor. And I meant what I said before. I'm not going to make my wife a widow."

  Peng nodded. "I understand. Let me ask one last favor. To get out of this wind, you can walk with me to the elevator, which will take us to the dam's control room. Along the way, you can experience what the reservoir's level means. Then you can talk to the dam's manager and decide whether staying is safer than going."

  Zhong shrugged. "Honestly, I stopped listening once you said, 'get out of this wind.' Let's go."

  They had only gone a few meters towards the elevator when both of them were drenched from head to toe.

  Teeth chattering, Zhong yelled, "Can't you release some of this water from the reservoir?"

  Peng shook his head. "We're already at maximum release volume. Flooding downstream is already a certainty, but nothing communities in this area haven't dealt with before. But if this dam collapses…"

  Zhong turned around. "Fine. I'm convinced. Let's get to the helicopter."

  Both of them ran as fast as they could, with the wind buffeting them from side to side.

  Zhong and Peng both clambered aboard the helicopter. Peng's nose wrinkled at the smell.

  Zhong had begun vomiting well before reaching the Three Gorges Dam.

  "Strap in," Zhong said as he started the engine.

  Once the rotors had begun to turn, Zhong turned towards Peng. Shaking his head, he tightened Peng's flight harness so much that he had to make a real effort to breathe.

  "Trouble breathing?" Zhong asked.

  Peng nodded.

  "Good," Zhong said. "That means no matter how badly we get shaken, there's some chance you won't be vomiting next to me. Not that it would matter much to how the cockpit smells at this point. But I can't afford the distraction."

  "Understood," Peng forced out through clenched teeth.

  Zhong fastened his flight harness and asked, "What have you had to eat today? I'd just like to know what to expect."

  Peng shook his head. "Nothing. Not my first time in a helicopter."

  Zhong laughed. "You were always smarter than me. After all these years flying, I thought I could take anything. I was wrong."

  Then they both sat still as the wind rocked the stationary helicopter from side to side.

  Zhong looked at Peng, who looked back at him silently.

  "Good," Zhong said. "You do remember something about helicopters. If I don't wait for a break in this wind, it's going to be a real short trip."

  Another minute passed, and finally, there was a pause in the rocking. Zhong immediately pulled up on the helicopter's collective, and it lurched into the air.

  Then Peng corrected himself. The control in Zhong's hand was a mixing unit, a device that combined the inputs from both the cyclic and collective and then sent along the "mixed" input to the helicopter's control surfaces.

  In truth, Peng was trying to occupy his thoughts with anything but what a corner of his brain insisted was his imminent death.

  It took several minutes for them to reach what Peng thought of as a safe altitude.

  Several very long minutes.

  But Peng was almost immediately proved wrong.

  What felt like a giant hand appeared determined to press them down into the ground, and the altimeter wound down with alarming speed before Zhong was able to regain control.

  And they were less than five minutes into their flight.

  Zhong hadn't been exaggerating. Nothing about this was safe.

  The entire flight was much like the first five minutes. Several times Peng had been sure they were finished. In particular, he would never forget the sound of tree branches scraping against the helicopter's bottom one time before Zhong was able to wrestle it back upwards.

  Zhong was shaking and sweating by the time Xiluodu's helicopter landing pad was finally in view.

  As though resenting their success, the wind sent a gust that left their helicopter careening at an angle so sharp Peng was certain they were finished.

  Gripping the edges of his seat, Peng closed his eyes and was sure his last thought would be, "We tried."

  And then Peng opened his eyes to find they were on Xiluodu's landing pad.

  Peng looked across at Zhong, who was trembling as he wiped his hands on his pants.

  A sudden wave of nausea struck Peng, and he fumbled with his flight harness, finally managing to free himself and fling open the helicopter door.

  Just in time. Peng had told the truth about having had nothing to eat that day.

  But it appeared his stomach hadn't fully processed the previous day's meals. And his stomach continued its determined effort to empty itself long after nothing was left.

  Peng's eyes finally refocused to see a bottle of water and a scrap of cloth in front of his face.

  Held there by a still shaky Zhong, who was, however, able to manage a smile.

  "No handkerchiefs in the Army, but at least the cloth is clean," Zhong said.

  Peng repeated the routine he had seen Zhong perform what seemed like a lifetime ago with the bottle and the cloth.

  "Thank you, Zhong," Peng said once his face was clean. "I owe you."

  Zhong gestured dismissively. "As usual, you're trying to do the right thing. Feels good to help. Now, let's get out of this wind."

  Peng wasn't sure who supported who as they made their way to the dam's upper entrance.

  What if they'd changed the entrance code?

  Peng had the thought just as he entered the code he knew into the elevator's keypad.

  The elevator door slid open, and Peng breathed a sigh of relief.

  As the elevator descended, Peng asked, "Did you see any troops or equipment approaching this dam on the way here?"

  Zhong shook his head. "No. But that doesn't mean much. At the end there, I could have missed an entire division marching anywhere but right in front of us."

  As the elevator door opened, Peng heard a distinctly unfriendly voice to his right.

  "Director! What brings you here in such terrible weather?"

  Peng thought to himself that the unpleasant, whining voice of Xiluodu Dam Manager Jiang had one virtue.

  It was instantly recognizable.

  "Jiang, it is precisely this terrible weather that brings me here. The Three Gorges Dam is at immediate risk of collapse. You must sharply lower your water release rate at once!" Peng said.

  Jiang nodded but said nothing for several moments.

  Finally, Jiang said, "My manners! You both look exhausted. Let's sit down in the conference room, and I'll get us some tea."

  Jiang gestured towards a glass-walled room to the right with a large table. And chairs.

  Peng realized he was indeed exhausted. And Zhong looked close to collapse.

  Peng nodded curtly, and a few moments later, they were seated at the conference room table. A plant worker appeared with a tea service, and shortly they were all warming their hands on steaming cups.

  Well, at least this part of the dam's operation is well organized, Peng thought.

  "So, what about it, Jiang? This helicopter pilot brought me here through what you rightly just called 'terrible weather' so I c
ould save the Three Gorges Dam and prevent a terrible disaster that will kill thousands, or maybe even millions. Will you follow my order?" Peng asked.

  "Well, I must first consider my standing orders from headquarters in Beijing regarding power production from this dam. We have indeed met our quota for this month. But we have not yet met it for this quarter. If we reduce our water release rate as much as you wish, I am concerned that meeting the quarterly quota may be impossible. So, I will have to ask Beijing for authorization," Jiang said.

  Peng pointed to the phone in the center of the table. "Fine. Let's do that now. We can speak to headquarters together."

  Jiang shook his head with what appeared to be regret. But Peng could tell from the gleam in his eye that it was actually poorly concealed satisfaction.

  Jiang had been a dam manager nearly five years longer than Peng when he had been named Director overseeing all of the Yangtze River dams. Peng's appointment was one Jiang had always bitterly resented.

  And now his petty vindictiveness was going to get a lot of people killed, Peng thought.

  He knew what Jiang's next words would be before he spoke them.

  "I'm sorry, but the weather cut both our landline and cell phone service. Our Internet service, too. And we've heard on the radio that another storm is on its way, so I think it will be some time before we can reach Beijing," Jiang said.

  Jiang's tone was even and reasonable. But Peng knew Jiang was anything but willing to listen to reason.

  Still, he had to try.

  "Look, you have the authority to override any rules or quotas when it's necessary to safeguard the lives of our citizens. If you're worried, I'll put the order in writing. You can blame me if anyone in Beijing later objects," Peng said.

  Jiang shook his head again, but this time he made no effort to conceal his satisfaction.

  "Sorry, no. I'm not going to take that chance. And nothing you can say will change my mind," Jiang said.

  Both Peng and Jiang jerked upright as Zhong slapped both his hands on the table with enough force to shake it.

  "He's not lying," Zhong said to Jiang, pointing at Peng. "I've just seen the Three Gorges Dam from the air. The reservoir is full, and the dam near collapse. You have to listen."

  Then Zhong turned to Peng, "Captain, why are we wasting time with this weasel? You're the Director, right? Just tell the workers here what to do so we can save the Three Gorges Dam!"

  Before Peng could say anything, Jiang stood up, his face contorted with rage, and pointed at Zhong. "Who are you to speak to me that way?"

  Without waiting for an answer, Jiang swung to Peng. "So, 'Captain' is it? I knew you served in the Army before, but not that some there still follow your orders. Well, tell this fool that this is not the Army and that you can't force me to do anything against Beijing's orders."

  Peng took a deep breath and shook his head. "It's true. Unless I can reach Beijing, I can't make him reduce water flow from this dam that could cause them to miss their power quota."

  Zhong stared at Peng in disbelief. "Go to the plant workers directly. Surely they will understand the need to act."

  Jiang sneered. "And tell them to raise the reservoir level of this dam to a dangerous level to prevent a supposed, unconfirmed risk to the Three Gorges Dam? Against my orders? Orders from the man with authority to fire them on the spot? I don't think so."

  Peng looked Jiang in the eye. "I'm not lying about the danger, Jiang. If you don't do as I say, the Three Gorges Dam will collapse, and you'll be responsible. You won't be fired after the investigation. You'll be executed for gross negligence."

  Jiang looked back at Peng defiantly. "I don't believe you, and I don't care about your threats. The Three Gorges Dam is all you've ever cared about. Well, Xiluodu and the other dams count too. It's about time you were reminded of that."

  The silence that followed was absolute.

  Peng's mind raced as he tried to come up with some alternative that would work.

  It was clear nothing he could say would change Jiang's mind.

  From Zhong's glare at Jiang, Peng could see he was thinking about a more direct approach.

  Peng was about to tell him that it wouldn't help when the elevator doors opened.

  Five soldiers in full battle gear emerged, led by an officer holding a small envelope. Peng squinted through the glass and could see that he was a full Colonel.

  Peng waved to him, and the Colonel gestured to his men to follow him.

  The Colonel entered the conference room and said. "I am Colonel Dai. Is one of you Director Peng?"

  Peng nodded tiredly. "Yes, I am, Colonel."

  Dai nodded and lifted his envelope. "Good. These orders signed by General Shi say that we are to assist you as needed in securing all Yangtze River dams from collapse. I also have troops and equipment at the Three Gorges Dam who are already at work doing what they can to support your staff. I have more troops and equipment awaiting your orders nearby. How can we help?"

  Peng turned to Jiang. "Now you see that Beijing does take this crisis seriously. Order your staff to reduce the flow of water through your turbines by three-quarters immediately."

  "I will not," Jiang snapped. "I don't answer to these soldiers. I won't do anything you say until I have authorization directly from Beijing."

  Peng turned towards Dai, intending to ask him whether military communications were available to call their headquarters.

  But Dai had already removed his pistol from his holster and was pointing it directly at Jiang.

  "Arrest this man," Dai told his soldiers. Two soldiers immediately stepped forward and, grabbing Jiang by each arm, yanked him to his feet.

  "Get him out of here," Dai said. "We have work to do."

  Then Dai turned to Peng. "Come with me, please."

  Ignoring Jiang's protests as soldiers dragged him to the elevator, Dai stood in the middle of the control room with his hands on his hips.

  "May I have your attention!" he began.

  It was an unnecessary request. Every eye in the room was already on him.

  Dai pointed at Peng. "You all know Director Peng," he said rather than asked.

  Nevertheless, everyone present nodded.

  The room suddenly became much quieter as the closing elevator doors cut off Jiang's frantic protests.

  Dai lifted the envelope he was carrying. "I have orders here signed by General Shi, Army Commander. They say I am to support Director Peng in doing whatever is necessary to prevent any dam's collapse on the Yangtze River. My troops will arrest and remove anyone who fails to obey Director Peng's orders. Do any of you have questions?"

  The silence that followed was absolute.

  "Good," Dai said.

  Then he nodded towards Peng, who quickly gave the orders that he hoped would save the Three Gorges Dam and all the millions who lived downstream from it.

  As the plant workers rushed to carry out Peng's instructions, he told himself that there was still time to avoid disaster at the Three Gorges Dam.

  There had to be.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  The South China Sea

  Captain Jim Cartwright sat up and ran his hand through his closely cut, prematurely graying hair as Lieutenant Commander Fischer approached him with the type of printout that always meant one thing.

  New orders for the USS Oregon.

  Short and thin with sandy hair, Cartwright thought for maybe the hundredth time that Fischer looked like a much better fit for submarines than an officer like him who stood over two meters tall without shoes.

  This would be their last deployment together. After Fischer's recent well-earned promotion, he was about to get his own command.

  Cartwright frowned and shook his head.

  "Are they serious? We haven't tested a single one of these new weapons, and they want us to use one on a Chinese base?"

  Fischer nodded. "My first reaction was the same, Captain. But it did work perfectly when it went through surface ship trials. And the und
erlying Tomahawk missile design has been around for decades."

  Cartwright grunted. "Maybe so. But you know as well as I do none of that is the issue. Once that Tomahawk breaches the surface, it's going to be visible to anyone who happens to be in range to look. At least, until it's able to lower itself to cruising altitude."

  "Well, Captain, we'll have two things going for us there. This Tomahawk's surface is coated with a radar absorbing material that should reduce its return to the point it can't be identified as a missile. And its launch profile should minimize the time its altitude is high enough to allow detection at all," Fischer said.

  "Yes, and you know the tradeoff there, too," Cartwright said. "Depressing the missile's flight trajectory so quickly comes at a fuel cost that will mean a significant range reduction. So we have to move closer to the target."

  "Yes, sir," Fischer acknowledged. "But so far, we've seen no hint of Chinese submarine activity out here."

  "And how long do you think that's going to last? You've seen the reports on how quickly the Chinese are building new submarines. If you were a Chinese admiral, don't you think you'd park one or more on the approach to their newest and most advanced base?" Cartwright asked.

  "Yes, sir, I would," Fischer said thoughtfully.

  Then he grinned. "Glad to have one last opportunity to learn from the best. So, along with getting that new course laid in, I'll stop by sonar to remind them about that report the Chinese have deployed their first Type 095 sub."

  Cartwright winced. "The new Sui class. Yes, please do. I just wish we knew more about that new type."

  "Yes, sir," Fischer said with a shrug. "I still wouldn't trade places."

  As the first Block IV Virginia class attack submarine to be completed, the Oregon incorporated numerous upgrades to both passive sonar and propulsion that made its detection extremely difficult.

  Unless it was, say, launching a Tomahawk missile.

  That thought went through Cartwright's head in an instant. But it didn't stop his immediate response to Fischer.

  A smile and the words, "Me neither."

  Chapter Thirty-Six

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