“I thank you, Mr. President,” Kuo said, bowing sincerely, “for your words and for sharing your thoughts with me. But I must still ask about the political realities of your decision; I apologize if I am too forward ...”
“Ask anything, Ambassador,” the President urged.
“Thank you, sir. My government is aware of the opposition party’s inquiries as to your actions against the Islamic Republic of Iran, about the rumors that you sent a stealth bomber over China. Since that incident, you have withdrawn all of your carrier battle groups from Chinese waters, despite the threat of a Communist invasion of my country. Is there a threat of a no-confidence vote in your congress or of any legal action that might preclude you from helping in the defense of my country?”
“I appreciate your concern, Ambassador,” the President replied, “but I think I can handle the opposition party. Fortunately, it takes a lot more than a no-confidence vote to get me out of office. Now I’ve got a couple blunt questions for you, Han-min.”
“Of course, sir,” Kuo responded. “Please.”
“We are very concerned about the protests in your country over the Senkaku Islands,” Secretary of State Hartman said. The Senkaku Islands were a series of small, uninhabited islands in the East China Sea between Okinawa and Taiwan, which were claimed by China, Japan, and Taiwan; Japan had taken the islands from China in 1894 and had not relinquished possession after World War II, as it had with Formosa. Taiwan claimed the Senkakus as part of its archipelago. Diplomatic relations between the three countries had been strained for years because of overlapping fishing and oil-drilling rights in the area. “Japanese nationals have been attacked by protesters in Taipei, and no arrests have been made. It will be difficult to support the ROC if we get in the middle of a Japan-Taiwan conflict.”
Ambassador Kuo thought for a moment; then: “Many in my country feel strongly that the Tiaoyutai, what Japan calls the Senkaku Islands, be returned to us, that they are spoils of war taken from us by imperial Japan.”
“We understand the source of the disagreement, Ambassador, but a Japanese woman is dead and seven more are injured, in the middle of a riot with over a thousand protesters and two hundred police and army units, and no one saw anything? No evidence? No suspects?” Vice President Whiting interjected incredulously. “It looks like a huge cover-up, Mr. Ambassador. The Japanese government is hopping mad, and they want us to set up an arms and technology embargo against your country. We need definitive action immediately, or our Asian coalition will be broken before it has a chance to solidify.”
“What do you suggest, Madame Vice President?” Kuo asked.
“We suggest your government ask for assistance from the American Federal Bureau of Investigation,” Whiting replied, “and I also strongly suggest that you—and this is totally off the record—round up some suspects and publicly arraign them, and fast. Let’s not be losing friends over some small, uninhabited piles of rocks while you lose friendly neighbors and your home island is in danger of being overrun.”
Kuo lowered his eyes for a moment, then raised them and nodded. “We feel that the Tiaoyutai is much more than a 'pile of rocks,’ Madame Vice President,” Kuo said solemnly. “But you are correct—I understand that our inability to solve the murder appears as if we condone it. I shall recommend that my government request immediate assistance from your government in the investigation, and I assure you that there will be swift action.”
“We also need a statement from you on exactly when your country will discontinue nuclear weapons development and begin dismantling your nuclear weapon stockpiles,” Secretary of Defense Chastain cut in.
Kuo swung toward Chastain, then to the President, with a look of horror in his face. “Nuclear weapons?” he sputtered. “Sir, the Republic of China possesses no nuclear weapons.”
“Our intelligence information tells us otherwise, Ambassador,” National Security Advisor Philip Freeman said. “According to our data, over the past fifteen years you have been involved in a nuclear weapons coproduction effort with the Republic of South Africa, and our information suggests you may have developed a warhead small enough to be used on a gravity bomb or cruise missile.”
“I most strenuously deny—! ”
“Don’t bother responding, Ambassador—denials will only embarrass you,” Freeman went on bitterly. “More recently, we’ve received information that you are sharing nuclear-weapons information with Israel, and that you have a nuclear warhead on some license-built versions of the Gabriel anti-ship cruise missile. Finally, we received information from the JIO of the Australian Ministry of Defense that you have been sharing nuclear and chemical weapons technology with Indonesia. Australia is so sure of its information that it has considered a preemptive air strike on Indonesian weapons plants—and some attacks on certain Taiwanese vessels suspected of carrying weapon-making equipment into Indonesia.” Kuo’s eyes bulged at that news—he was completely unable to contain his surprise. “If any of this news ever leaked out, Mr. Ambassador, it would be a political disaster for the Republic of China and a great embarrassment for the United States of America.”
“We trust you’ll do the right thing,” Secretary of State Flartman said, “and eliminate any sharing of nuclear weapons technology, with an eye on completely eliminating your nuclear weapons programs in the very near future. It would be extremely difficult for the United States to support any country secretly violating American nuclear weapons antiproliferation regulations. Very difficult.”
The President hadn’t said a word, but when Ambassador Kuo looked into his eyes, he saw disappointment and distrust conveyed to him as surely as if Martindale had screamed it in his face. The Taiwanese ambassador had noted with amusement the American people’s preoccupation with their new President’s hair, but now he saw what they all fixated on—the two silver-gray curls that had drooped across his forehead and eyes, making him look sinister, like a gray wolf ready to attack. “I... I will convey your message and request an immediate response,” Kuo stammered, averting his eyes apologetically. “I assure you all, the Republic of China will obey international law and honor our treaty obligations, and, most importantly, we would not knowingly do anything to harm our strong and steadfast relationship with the United States of America.”
“Then our commitment will remain equally strong to the Republic of China,” the President said, in a light voice that seemed to clear the room of a dense choking haze. Magically, without a touch, the silver curls were now gone from the President’s forehead. It is true, Kuo thought—this man certainly is bewitched!
Kuo looked very wobbly in the knees as he got to his feet when the President stood, signaling an end to the meeting. He extended a hand to Kuo, who accepted it and added a deep bow. “We’ll set up a hot-line system with President Lee’s office as soon as possible,” the President said. “Until then, we’ll be in contact with you, and you may contact my office or Secretary Hartman’s office twenty-four hours a day, for any reason whatsoever. It was a pleasure to see you again. Please convey my best wishes and support to President Lee and Premier Huang. Good day. ” Kuo looked pale and a little sweaty as he was shown out of the Oval Office.
“God bless it,” the President muttered, after Kuo had departed. “I’m getting ready to put our political necks on the chopping block for Taiwan, and the whole time Taiwan is handing over the ax to use on us. I’d like to talk with President Lee first thing in the morning—set it up,” he told his chief of staff. Jerrod Hale nodded and picked up a phone to relay the order.
In the reception area down the hall from the Oval Office, Ambassador Kuo was on his way to the staircase down to the West Wing driveway when several men walking toward the reception area from the National Security Advisor’s office caught his attention. Kuo stopped, then turned and walked over to them. “Forgive me, sir,” Kuo said to the youngest of the men walking by, “but do I have the pleasure of addressing Dr. Jonathan Colin Masters?”
Jon Masters was surprised to hear his
name. “You got it,” he replied. “And who are you?”
“My name is Kuo Han-min, Ambassador to the United States from the Republic of China, at your service, sir,” Kuo replied, bowing and then extending a hand. “It is a great pleasure to meet you. We met many years ago at the Singapore Air Show. Your company’s exhibit was most impressive.”
“Thanks, Mr. Min,” Masters said, shaking hands with him, not realizing he had mixed up his surname and given name. When Kuo’s eyes wandered over to the other men, who had walked on past them, Masters, feeling obligated to make introductions, pointed to them and said, “Mr. Ambassador, that’s Brad Elliott, Patrick Me—”
“No you don’t, Dr. Masters,” Patrick McLanahan said. Jon Masters didn’t know, or had forgotten, about the extremely high security classification under which they were working, a classification definitely off- limits to foreign nationals. “Let’s go.”
“Elliott... General Bradley Elliott?” Kuo said, with a knowing twinkle in his eye. “And so you, sir, must be Colonel Patrick McLanahan of the United States Air Force. May I ask . . . ?”
Just then, two Secret Service agents stepped in front of Kuo, blocking his view, and said in a stern voice, “I’m sorry, sir. Please move along.” Masters, Elliott, McLanahan, and the big black general Kuo recognized as Terrill Samson, commander of all the heavy bomber forces in the United States, were quickly hustled away into the Cabinet Room to wait for their meeting with the National Security Council, and Kuo was politely but firmly escorted outside.
So! Kuo thought. The President was meeting with the three-star general in charge of all the long-range bomber forces, and also with Elliott, Masters, and McLanahan. Those three had an international reputation for developing very high-tech attack weapons that were reportedly put to effective use in conflicts from Russia to eastern Europe to the Philippines. Now that he saw them all together, it made very good sense that such forces were used recently against the Islamic Republic of Iran—to extraordinarily great effectiveness. Now, with a probable conflict between China and Taiwan brewing, the President was conferring with them once again? Could the President be considering the use of stealth attack bombers in the defense of the Republic of China?
Kuo Han-min filed that brief but extremely interesting chance encounter away in his head—the information might be vital someday very soon.
“Okay. We’re getting ready to side with Taiwan against China, which is bound to stir up some shit in the Pacific for sure,” the President said. “What about Japan and South Korea? I hope they’re not reacting.”
“I’ve spoken with Japanese deputy prime minister Kubo and President Kim of South Korea, and they’re watching events closely but not reacting, except for a few South Korean reinforcements along the DMZ,” Hartman replied. “North Korea is blasting Taiwan and saying they’re provoking war in Asia, but they don’t seem to be exacerbating any conflicts— at least, not more than usual.”
Hartman looked a little uneasy, and the President picked up on it. “What else? Did Nagai have a comment?” Kazumi Nagai was the new prime minister of Japan, an ultra-left-wing politician of the new Kaishin Party, a coalition of left-wing political parties including the Japan Communist Party. Nagai was staunchly but carefully anti-West and anti-United States; he’d won the recent elections by opposing continued U.S. military bases in Japan, by extending a two-hundred-mile Japanese economic exclusion zone around islands also claimed by South Korea, Taiwan, and China, and by calling for gradual increases in japan’s military expenditures and total Japanese nuclear self-reliance. Few of his more radical programs and propositions had been passed, but the favorable attention he was receiving in Japan was cause for concern in Washington.
“Exactly what you might expect,” Hartman replied with a sigh. “Kubo told me the Prime Minister is going to give a speech tomorrow, calling for the U.S. to end its support of Taiwan as long as they claim ownership of the Senkaku Islands. The buzz is that Nagai will call for the Diet to withdraw basing rights for U.S. warships if we continue support for Taiwan.”
“Christ almighty,” the President muttered. “Jerrod ...”
“I’m ahead of you, sir,” Hale shot back, getting on the phone to order the staff to schedule a call to the Japanese prime minister’s office. From his years as vice president, Martindale had learned that a simple phone call to a foreign leader was worth a dozen communiques and State Department visits, and he spent quite a bit of time on the phone.
“Okay, so Japan and South Korea aren’t saying anything about Chinese military moves,” the President summarized. “It seems no one would really shed a tear—except Taiwan, of course—if China took back Quemoy, Matsu, or even Formosa.”
“That’s because Taiwan has a fairly balanced trading ledger and is a stiff trading competitor with everyone else in Asia—except the U.S. and China,” Hartman explained. “Taiwan is the ninth-largest economy in the world and competes as an equal with Japan, Indonesia, South Korea, and Singapore. But Taiwan has a ten-billion-dollar trade surplus with the United States and holds two billion dollars’ worth of U.S. currency and bonds. Its balance of trade is even more one-sided with China—all in Taiwan’s favor. Most Asian nations see the Taiwanese Nationalists as rabble-rousers supported by the United States, similar to Israel. They feel that China should absorb Taiwan as it is absorbing Hong Kong—as long as the Communists allow them to keep making money. ”
“What’s the balance of trade between Japan and South Korea and China?” Vice President Ellen Christine Whiting asked. A former governor of Delaware, Ellen Whiting’s expertise was economic matters, whether on a local, national, or international arena—she believed the world revolved around money, and she was most often correct. “China’s total economy has got to be, what? Ten times larger than Taiwan’s?”
“Something like that,” Hartman admitted.
“China is the trading partner everyone wants. Over a billion potential customers—that’s why almost every nation in the world, officially including the United States, has abandoned Taiwan in favor of mainland China,” Whiting maintained. “If China wants Taiwan back, who says the other Asian countries would stand in their way? Why would they make an enemy of China in favor of Taiwan?”
“So we shouldn’t expect too much help from our allies in Asia, should Taiwan come under attack,” National Security Advisor Freeman summarized.
“Privately, even secretly, I think we can count on Japan’s and South Korea’s support of any actions we undertake against China,” Hartman said. “Both countries still rely on us for their security and for general stability throughout Asia. If we want to support Taiwan against China, I feel Japan and South Korea will support us.”
“So we’re it,” the President said. “If the Chinese are going after Taiwan, we’re the only ones who seem to give a shit.” He paused, and the Oval Office turned quiet—everyone knew that the President was absolutely right. “And the bottom line is, I do give a shit. I don’t want war with mainland China, but I also don’t want mainland China taking Taiwan by force. They got Hong Kong back peacefully. If Taiwan and the mainland are going to be reunited, it should be done peacefully too. It would hurt our country if Taiwan was taken back by force.”
“No question,” Vice President Whiting joined in. “Trade, financial markets, multinational business, our national debt structure, our standing in Asia would all suffer if Taiwan was attacked and absorbed by Communist China.”
“Agreed,” the President said. “Question is, if the Chinese are moving against Taiwan, what do we have to stop them?”
“Ordinarily, I’d recommend instituting economic sanctions, pulling China’s most-favored-nation trading status, setting up another embargo of high-tech and military goods,” Hartman said. “But with China amassing this naval task force, I think it’s beyond economic warfare. We should hear some military options—low-key, quiet, not too bombastic.”
“We’ve got two briefings set up for you, sir,” Freeman said. “Admiral Balboa will b
rief the first recommendation, and Lieutenant General Terrill Samson from Eighth Air Force will brief the second.”
“Okay, let’s get to it,” the President said. “Where’s Admiral Balboa?”
Jerrod Hale was on the phone instantly to the White House Communications Center; he got his answer a few seconds later. “En route, Mr. President,” he replied, and motioned for the Secret Service to show the others in.
The President got to his feet as Terrill Samson, Patrick McLanahan, and Jon Masters were escorted into the Oval Office. “Damn, it’s good to see you again, Patrick,” the President of the United States said warmly, as he greeted each of them. “How the hell are you?”
“I’m fine, Mr. President,” McLanahan said, shaking hands and receiving a brotherly clasp on the shoulder. “I’m glad to see you, and very glad to see you here, where you belong.”
“Sometimes I wish I was back in the Vice President’s office, working with troops like you—lots of power but no responsibility,” Martin-dale said, rather wearily. “How’s your wife? Wendy, right? Doing well, I hope.”
“She’s well, thanks.”
“Shit hot. It’s a miracle, after her accident. Congrats.” Martindale knew all about the aerial duel between Wendy McLanahan in the original EB-52 Megafortress and the thought-controlled fighter that had been piloted by the Russian deep-cover spy Kenneth Francis James. “And thank you for what you and Tiger Jamieson did over Iran and the Persian Gulf. You averted a major world oil crisis, and possibly another Desert Storm. Job well done.”
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