TSUNAMI STORM
Page 12
“Only a few parts for our cars come from China, and with the bill I introduced today, American companies will be free to supply all of the car parts we need to keep our vehicles running well into the future. Some of our clothing has come from China, but we get clothing from Malaysia, India and a dozen other countries. There will be no shortage of clothing. Yes, some items may be unavailable for a time, but everything we need will be restored by you and your neighbors as new life is breathed into American businesses and Americans go back to work to supply their friends and neighbors with the products we need and want in our homes and in our businesses.
“Some electronic items have come from China, but many also come from our friends in Japan, Korea and many other countries across the globe. Everything you want or need in electronic devices will soon be available to you, if not from our friends around the world, then from your neighbors working in American companies in your home town or a community close by.
“Instead of focusing on the few items we will have to wait a little while to buy, let’s embrace the massive resources and richness of our American culture, work ethic, and capacity to out-produce every other nation on the planet. We are Americans, and we depend on each other to create and provide everything we could ever need or want. We are not a nation of lack. We are not a nation of shortages. We are America. We are the nation of plenty, of opportunity, and of prosperity.
“Stand with me. Help me bring jobs back to America. Help me fill American shelves to overflowing. Work with me to re-establish the richness of America. We are the answer, but only so long as we stand together.”
She had anticipated the usual questions and her prepared answers flowed smoothly and naturally. The press was eating up her enthusiasm and energy and from the looks on the faces of the crowd, the public was on her side. It was all just the way she wanted it to be.
“That sounded down right presidential,” her Chief of Staff commented. “Do you have plans we haven’t talked about?”
“Maybe,” she said, as the smile on her face deepened.
* * *
Senator Elizabeth Bechtel and her security agent exited the first-class section of her United Express flight at 1:27 PM, in Missoula, Montana. The rental limo and local Secret Service agent driver were waiting outside the small brick terminal building as they emerged from the sliding glass doors.
“How long?” she asked.
“About a two-hour drive, ma’am,” the limo driver replied.
“Round trip?”
“No ma’am, each way,”
She cringed as she and the agent with her slid into the back seat. The ride down U.S. 12 to Hamilton went quickly enough, and then the limo turned up into the mountains. She was intrigued by the tall evergreens that lined the narrow valley, making it appear as if it were a giant verdant trough full of wrinkles. After another hour of snaking curves, the limo turned onto a gravel road which climbed steeply into the dense forest. Forty-three minutes later they arrived.
The log cabin was small with a railed porch and stone chimney. Green metal roofing complimented the stately Yellow Pines that surrounded the primitive dwelling. An old Jeep Cherokee was parked on the right side of the building. Glen Liechtfield stepped out of the cabin door and carefully examined her as she stepped out of the limo.
Glen was six-three, thin, with a gray beard and gray hair pulled back into a ponytail. He wore a red flannel shirt and faded jeans with light brown leather boots and an old floppy Special Forces jungle hat.
“Your agent will want to inspect my humble abode before he leaves you with me,” he said. Her agent drew his weapon and entered the open door.
“I don’t see why we couldn’t have had this conversation over the phone,” she said. “With encryption, it’s perfectly secure.”
Glen smiled. “You don’t believe that any more than I do or you wouldn’t be here to talk with me in the middle of nowhere.”
Her security agent came out of the cabin door and did a sweep around the exterior, venturing slightly into the trees. “It’s clear, ma’am.”
Glen motioned for her to enter. The inside was homey, in a rugged bachelor kind of way, with an antler light fixture hanging over the simple pine table.
“Coffee?” he asked, as he picked an old pot up off the propane stove.
“Yes,” she replied.
“I don’t get many guests – black is all I have to offer.”
“That’s fine,” she replied.
He poured her a cup and sat across the table from her.
“Thank you for seeing me, I…”
He held up a hand to stop her. “You have a lot of friends in important places. You’re on a career arc that might even take you to the White House. I find powerful friends to be beneficial, from both sides.”
“Meaning?” she asked.
“Meaning we help one another. You have access to me now; I get access to you later, when your address changes to something more easily recognized.”
She smiled. “You know why I’m here?”
“I assume it’s the situation with China, otherwise, it’s hardly worth my time.”
“Are we going to war with China?” she asked.
“Maybe, maybe not – it all depends if certain people can keep their wits about them when disaster strikes and I think you can help when that happens. That’s why we are having this conversation.”
“What exactly are we talking?”
“Wars are not what they used to be. In years gone by, an army was put together, moved into position and invaded another country. Once military movements became easily observable, a subterfuge was used to start a war. False flag operations became the popular instigating event – like Pearl Harbor for World War Two, the Pueblo for the Korean War, and the Gulf of Tonkin for Viet Nam. Now, military technology has grown beyond the use of false flags.”
“False flags?” she asked.
“A false flag operation is an attack upon one’s own territory or people with enough evidence left behind to implicate your enemy. Accusations are made, blame is assigned, and war is the retribution, at least in the public view.”
“And now?”
“In addition to false flags, we have entered into a new age of military weapons and tactics. Now we use weather to reward one country and punish another. We deliberately create earthquakes and tsunamis, hurricanes, typhoons, droughts and floods. We starve people, we drown them, and we wipe out their homes, their towns and their livelihood, all so we can put pressure on their governments to do our bidding. That’s why I retired.”
“And they don’t fight back?” she asked.
“These attacks are made to look exactly like natural events – acts of God. There are no accusations, no blame is assigned and no war is started, simply due to a lack of knowledge of the technology.”
“And if a country such as China becomes aware of such an attack?”
He lifted his coffee cup and drank several swallows, glanced around the room, and set his cup back down. “A weapon is a tactical device. It is used to obtain a specific end result. The selection of which weapon to use, and when, is strategic in nature, and as such is determined not only by an end result, but by the perception it will create.”
“So what perception is China creating by throwing our people out, stopping trade with us, and pushing our Navy back from their shores?”
“Having studied Chinese philosophy and actions for many years, I can tell you what China is doing is defensive in nature. They don’t want war with the United States.”
“Then what the hell is this all about?”
He breathed out and looked down. He slowly moved his coffee cup to the side, placed his arms on the table, looked her in the eye and continued. “China has been covertly attacked. Whatever trust has been built up between our two countries over the years has been severely violated. We will be covertly attacked in return.”
“So this is war,” she replied.
He cringed. “It is, and it isn’t.”
“Well, it can,” he replied.
She leaned back in her chair with her mouth open. “How can it be both?”
“We attacked them in a covert operation, of that I am certain. They will respond the same way – covertly. It becomes a war only if we escalate the conflict by attacking China again.”
“And if we do?”
“China is preparing to defend herself.”
“With nuclear weapons?”
“If necessary. That’s one of the reasons I’m out here.” He looked out the window. “The trees should absorb a lot of the radioactive fallout.”
She blew air out of her lungs and glanced out the window at the trees before looking at him again. “So let me see if I have this straight: We are going to be attacked by China and we’re supposed to look the other way? Exactly how is that supposed to work?”
“It won’t be as difficult as you think. The attack will look like a natural event – a natural disaster. You respond to it on that basis only. If we don’t escalate the conflict, it won’t come to a nuclear war.”
“What, in the mind of the Chinese would constitute an escalation?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know exactly. I wouldn’t kill any more Chinese people, or attack anything Chinese. That could easily be interpreted as an escalation.”
“I don’t really have any control over that. The Secretary of Defense does.”
“I know,” he replied. “He’s been here. I told him the same thing.”
“And?”
He shrugged again. “It’s out of my hands. I have given you my best strategic opinion. What you guys do with it is up to you.”
CHAPTER 27
Dolphin Beach, Oregon
Willa walked the streets of Dolphin Beach deep in thought. Her sister’s bill had passed both houses and the President had quickly signed it into law. People had adjusted to not having some things as the economy gradually shifted away from products made in China.
It had been a month since Jason was here. The blue chalk arrows from the evacuation practice had disappeared. Dolphin Beach was mostly back to normal: The tourists had filled the Ocean Grand Hotel and only a few of the B & B’s had any rooms left. All in all, through the ups and downs, it was still going to be a decent year.
Members of the city council had gathered and their monthly meeting was about to start. Willa would be there and she knew what she had to do. She walked confidently into the room and called the meeting to order. After the committee reports had been read and old business completed, Willa made her pitch.
“Despite the complications we had last month, the practice evacuation was a success. Participation was over 60% and I have received many positive comments about the blue arrows that marked the evacuation route. While we have six signs marking the general evacuation route, we now know that the route for individual people is going to be different, and with the probability of dead ends, the blue arrows were the one thing that made the entire process clear in everyone’s mind. The blue chalk markings have since worn away. I know how to get out of my house and which way to go and I think all of you do, too. But what happens if we need to evacuate next year, or three years from now, or even ten years down the road? Will we all remember then?”
The city council members looked connected to her line of reasoning, so she continued. “What I propose, is that while the memory of where the blue arrows were is still fresh in our minds, we make the blue arrows a permanent part of our streets. We can paint the blue arrows just like the chalk arrows were placed. That way none of us has to remember which way to go. We just follow the blue arrows.”
“Kind of like Dorothy and the yellow brick road in the Wizard of Oz?” Mr. Jenkins asked. At 81, he was the oldest member of the city council. Willa smiled at the reference to the old movie.
“Yes,” Willa replied. “Just like Dorothy, but instead of a yellow brick road, we follow the blue arrows. The same color blue that is already on the evacuation signs.”
“There’s no money in the budget for an expense like this,” a council member said.
“Actually, there is,” Willa replied. “After Frank Gillis disrupted our evacuation practice, he paid a heavy fine to the city. We have enough money to at least pay for the paint.”
“But what about the labor? That’ll be the most expensive part of the project,” another council member said.
“Yeah,” another agreed. “That part we can’t afford.”
“What if I can get volunteers to do the painting?” Willa asked.
The city council members quickly discussed the matter and made their decision. “If you can find the volunteers for the labor, we’ll spend the money on the paint.”
“All in favor?” Willa asked. They all raised their hands. “Resolution adopted.”
* * *
Since Jason’s presentation the local hardware store had gone through four large shipments of half-inch galvanized steel pipe, cut into two foot lengths. Now volunteers were stripping the hardware store out of small rollers, while the City of Dolphin Beach was paying for 5 gallon buckets of enamel paint, tinted to what was now known as tsunami blue.
Willa, holding Jason’s original drawings, supervised the location of every tsunami blue arrow on the streets of Dolphin Beach. Several tourists had taken photos of the whole process and created humorous videos which were then placed on the Internet.
* * *
Frank Gillis stormed into Willa’s office and screamed, “You’re shaming our town. You and this stupid tsunami thing are now a national disgrace. How could you be so stupid? Actually you’re not only stupid, you’re INCOMPETENT.”
Willa backed into the corner of her office, glancing out through the glass windows into the main reception area of the City Office, hoping that Chief Dolan was on his way to rescue her. But that was not to be. Frank continued his tirade until he was finally interrupted by Gladys from the Dolphin Beach Chamber of Commerce.
“What’s going on?” Gladys asked, giving Frank a vicious look.
“Frank thinks I’ve brought shame on Dolphin Beach by painting the blue arrows on our streets,” Willa replied.
Gladys glanced down at the piece of paper she held and looked straight at Frank. “We’ve been friends for years, Frank, but I have to side with Willa on this one.”
“Did you see what she has done?” Frank yelled. “Her and her blue arrows are all over the Internet. Dolphin Beach is now the laughing stock of the country.”
“As I said, Frank, I have to side with Willa,” Gladys replied. She handed a copy of the report to Willa, who handed it to Frank after she read it.
“Internet inquiries for everything about Dolphin Beach are coming in so fast, we can’t respond to them in a timely manner. We’ve even booked a few more rooms as a result of the inquiries. It looks to me as if this is a good thing for Dolphin Beach.”
Frank crumpled up the piece of paper and threw it at Willa, bouncing it off her shoulder as she tried to duck. He turned and stomped out of the office, slamming the door on his way out. Gladys turned to Willa. “Honey, you just have to give him some time to calm down. Once he starts getting more reservations for his hotel, he’ll feel better.”
CHAPTER 28
Hainan, China
Guang Xi accompanied Junior General Fong on a military flight south to the island of Hainan. They traveled by van to the Navy Base near the city of Sanya. Guang Xi had expected to see a sprawling Naval Base; instead the only thing visible was the main guard gate and a single road leading to a tunnel entrance in the side of a small mountain. The tunnel was dark and tipped sharply down once they entered. As they continued moving down, the tunnel curved sharply to the left. They emerged into a large underground submarine base with a wide, deep canal running out toward the sea.
The driver of the van stopped at a two-part draw bridge and handed a set of papers to the guard on duty. After reviewing the papers
the guard walked over to a small guard house and entered. The draw bridge slowly lowered providing access to the other side of the canal. The guard came back out and motioned for them to cross. Once the van had crossed the canal and turned right, the draw bridge was raised again. The van entered another tunnel and traveled a short distance until encountering another canal. They followed the same routine with another draw bridge, another tunnel, and arrived at a third canal. The van traveled left again until it reached the end of the canal.
The refitted Russian Alfa class submarine was painted a medium gray so as to blend in with the lighter blue color of the Pacific Ocean. No numbers or any other markings were on the sub to tie it to China. Subs operating near the Polar Regions on the other hand, were painted black, since, due to the angle of the sun in the sky, less light penetrated the colder waters.
Guang Xi worked his way down the main hatch ladder and into the dining area of the sub. He was anxious to see the mines as he used his crutches to navigate the narrow passageways through the control room, the radio and sonar rooms and the officer quarters until he reached the torpedo room.
“These are the torpedo tubes,” the Captain explained. “This is where the mines will be pushed out into the sea.”
Guang Xi looked at the arrangement. The two lower tubes were only a few inches from the floor while the upper tubes were just above eye level with the center tubes located halfway in between. “And these are loaded how?”
The Captain pointed to a complex system of I-beam rails that ran along the ceiling with trollies and block and tackle sets hanging from them. “All of the mines and torpedoes are very heavy,” the Captain explained. “We lift them with the pulleys and guide them into the tubes. The pulleys mounted on the forward bulkhead are used to pull them into the tubes. The doors are then closed, the tubes flooded with water, the outer doors opened and then the torpedo or mine is ejected with water pressure.”