“This is important, Lao. When will these reductions reach the point where their President will forbid a response to our attack on Formosa?” Song had turned to Lao and intently bored into Lao’s eyes.
“General Secretary,” Lao said with unusual hesitation, “you have shown to have the best feel for timing of any leader I have ever known, including Chairman Mao. I can only give you the facts that are available.”
Lao gave a pause for effect. “That said, it will be at least four months before the PLA can make meaningful changes in their strategy and training. If the American Congress goes through with passing veto-proof legislation forbidding payment on all foreign debts, a true weakening of the American military may take another four to six months. The Americans continue to print money while their real inflation rate has reached over two hundred percent. Your enemies in the PLA and the Politburo may gather their strength before then.”
Lao had bowed his head slightly and then continued, “General Secretary, you are aware of the food riots and Muslim attacks in the western provinces?” At Song’s nod, Lao continued, “Crippling the West’s economies through our temporary discontinuance to purchase oil on the world market and the resulting trade war has, to a lesser extent, negatively impacted our own economy. Industrialists have begun to call in favors from their pets in the Politburo. Government contractor white-collar workers have staged an unofficial and illegal slowdown along the entire coast of China. They are protesting government restrictions and seizures of private and corporate property on trumped up charges.
Song paused within the inner calm he had enforced upon himself. In a faraway voice, he said to Lao, “I will meditate on these matters.” He then made no move to either continue the discussion or dismiss Lao.
Lao waited patiently for over ten minutes.
Suddenly, Song’s head snapped up and he said in his normal voice, “Lao, what is the status of Black Orchid?”
Lao moved closer to Song to speak softly in his ear. “Hu tells me that he is convinced the vaccine will work effectively. It has completed the production run and will soon be fully distributed to essential people. My best covert officer advised the cell in Afghanistan will be ready to perform their duties within the next few weeks.” General Hu Sengai was the Director of the Special Warfare arsenal, including nuclear, biological, and chemical weapons.
“That will be all, Lao. Keep me informed.” With that, Song left Lao standing at the window and walked out to continue his tour.
Lao looked out the window and wondered if his trust in Song was justified. Every time he thought about Black Orchid, he felt somewhat like the apostle, Judas, in the Christian mythology found in their Bible. This time, it wasn’t just the mythical son of God that would die.
Chapter 11
The New Year - Plus Two Days
Washington, DC
1600 Hours EST
Wu Chin waited patiently in the diner six blocks from Eli Fredericks’ office in Washington, D.C. The slightly built Chinese man wore a dark, $4,000 Armani suit. He appeared to be of indeterminate age despite being well over sixty. Wu was the manager and clandestine mouthpiece in America for Chinese industrialist and billionaire Chen Wen, the second wealthiest man in the People’s Republic of China. In this position, Wu held a great deal of power and moved in the highest circles of the most powerful men in the world. Wu was highly paid but knew his fortunes, status, and his life balanced on the thin thread of insuring Chen’s interests in the United States were well managed. With the current relations between the People’s Republic of China and the U.S., Wu’s balancing act had become even more difficult.
Seated in the back of the diner, Wu recognized the advance security man for Eli Fredericks who entered the diner and conducted a quick survey. Wu was pleased to note Eli’s security man did not appear to identify his own security man, who was seated with a young professional woman at a booth by the wall.
A few moments later, Eli walked into the diner and received an almost imperceptible nod from his security man. The nod indicated there were no known threats, from either the criminal element or domestic or foreign intelligence officers, and only the normal electromagnetic traffic was in the air from cell phones and computers. Eli ordered regular coffee at the counter and then walked to the back of the diner to take a seat at the table next to Wu’s.
After a moment, Wu commented, “It may snow later today.” The comment made no sense if one had listened to the clear and cold weather forecast for the next two days.
Eli responded, “I’ve had enough of snow, even this early in the season.”
Both Wu’s comment and Eli’s response were part of a clandestine verbal dance known as a parole. Wu’s comment meant there was no known threat and a normal meeting could take place. Eli’s response merely confirmed this was the case. Eli had strenuously objected to the several days of training given to him by Chen’s security people in such matters. He finally relented after it occurred to him the alternative was death or imprisonment should he be caught. Eli was acutely aware that Chen had the resources to have him killed should that become necessary. This was acceptable since Chen was aware the same was potentially true for Eli as well.
Wu launched into the meat of the meeting while there were no people within earshot. “You requested the meeting. Please share with me what our friend or I can do for you.”
“I think it is time our friend and I should meet again.” After a pause, Eli continued. “I’m planning a two–day trip to Singapore a week from now and hoped our friend might find time to enjoy the sights there.”
Eli would have preferred to have simply picked up the phone and called Chen. Capabilities of the American National Security Agency, the Russians, Israelis, and the Chinese in intercepting such communications – even supposedly secure ones, prevented this.
Wu was mildly surprised to hear the invitation, but understood Eli and Chen had orchestrated many tide-turning events in the world and had profited handsomely each time. “I will pass on your request but cannot say right now if it is possible.”
“I understand,” Eli said softly. “You will let me know within twenty-four hours?”
“But of course,” Wu replied. “My friend will want to know, have you been successful in weathering the economic storm?”
This was one of the tightest ropes Wu had ever walked. A few months earlier he had given Eli a mere twenty-four hour notice of the impending Chinese move to stop buying oil on the world market. With no time to make any moves based upon the information Eli had responded with a veiled threat to Chen for this breach of trust. Wu interpreted Eli’s threat to mean a tortured death for himself and his family just to send a message to Chen. His price to avoid taking these actions was to make sure Eli had seventy-two hours to act before the Chinese government announced the move. The announcement came seventy-two hours later, thereby allowing Eli to protect his investments.
“I’m sure your friend already knows I was able to take appropriate steps and am secure, at least for now.” Eli’s response indicated he knew Chen’s intelligence sources knew a great deal about his financial situation and thereby knew the answer to Wu’s question already. Eli had the same level of intelligence, so he presumed Chen would have done his homework.
Wu nodded with appreciation. “My friend appreciates your understanding in the matter. I anticipate no problem in obtaining a response for you by tomorrow morning at the latest. Is there anything else I can do for you today?”
Eli merely shook his head no, got up, and walked out.
Chapter 12
The New Year - Plus Four Days
Washington, DC
1445 Hours EST
When Walter turned off the power to his covert, burner cell phone he was already f
eeling the stirrings of anticipation. It had been only a little over a week, but he didn’t know how many more times he would be able to savor his little China doll. The day after tomorrow would be another wonderful day. With an effort he tried to clear his head. He had to get ready for a meeting with the representative of a Saudi royal to discuss another sizable donation to the Fontaine Foundation.
Walter knew his fortunes were determined by how effectively he utilized his wife’s office to obtain donations for “favors.” He didn’t think of them as bribes so much as payment for the favors that could be dispensed at the discretion of those in power. Throughout history, wealthy patrons had financed the good works of favored politicians. Of course, payback was expected. No politician ever admitted the payback aspect, but it was always there. Some fools even called the arrangement “pay to play.” Walter, and of course Katherine, simply knew it was the cost of being able to do what was needed for the people. Hell, even Robin Hood had robbed from the rich to give to the poor.
Considering his next meeting with Su Ling, Walter couldn’t decide whether he wanted her to be the dominant one, or if he should plan to use something from her bag of toys. Just the thought of that bag brought an immediate physical response.
. . .
The Broehm Residence
Outside of Cronin, Kentucky
1930 Hours EDT
Mike Broehm sat out by his fire pit with a fine glass of bourbon on the rocks, looking into the fire. Peter Worthington, the slightly built Professor of Mechanical and Environmental Engineering had walked over from his adjacent property to visit. Mike’s offered beer was readily accepted. Peter’s two hundred acres of land backed up to Mike’s place. He was Mike’s biggest supporter and one of his best friends. He had become independently wealthy through non-university consulting that helped mining companies save literally millions of dollars in meeting environmental requirements efficiently. He also had a specially constructed home which included an armored bunker containing arms and a large amount of long-term storage food. Even before the last Presidential election, Peter had begun to nudge Mike into a leadership role in the neighborhood.
“Peter,” Mike said over the crackling fire. “Almost a third of the neighborhood is laid off from work, and the economy keeps going down. That stupid bitch in the White House seems to be doing everything she can to make it worse. Do you think she really intends to drive the economy down to justify declaring martial law?”
Peter considered the question before saying, “Well, it sure looks that way.”
After a moment he continued, “It was my financial guru Scott Shelby that told me Wall Street actually backed her over Donnelson because they thought she would continue the fiscally irresponsible policies that were making them all rich. But for the Chinese oil move, they would be right. It wasn’t just the dirty tricks used by Fontaine’s campaign that got her elected. Wall Street bet their continued fortunes on her being in the White House and financed a lot of her campaign through donations to the Fontaine Foundation. Donnelson had promised to clean up the government and quit paying for stuff that wasn’t needed, including large-ticket social programs.”
Both men sat contemplating the fire and the country for several minutes.
Finally, Mike said, “Peter, you keep pushing for me to head up the neighborhood as things continue to go in the toilet. Why are you doing that? Don’t you like me?” Mike’s question was followed by a wan smile.
Peter cocked his head a little as he considered his answer. “Mike, as you probably picked up on, I think a great deal of you and your abilities. You’ve got a lot more leadership talent than you ever imagined. In fact, you’ve got more ability than anyone I’ve ever met. Hell, people like you! They can’t help themselves. You are who you are, and it comes through more clearly than you could ever imagine. If you’re looking for a leader, you want someone that really doesn’t want to seize control, but someone that is reluctantly drafted. Well, son, consider yourself drafted.”
Peter’s words were more than a little shocking to Mike. He had always thought of himself as someone that just had no problem making decisions.
“I don’t want the job, Peter, and you know why.” Peter knew the horrible fate of the Boy Scout and how it haunted Mike.
“Just the reason you should have it.” Peter didn’t hesitant, despite Mike’s obvious reluctance. “Do you know of anyone else around here that can get the job done as well as you?”
That one stumped Mike for a moment. “How about you?”
Looking at Peter, Mike found he actually enjoyed seeing the hint of anguish that flashed across the older man’s face. Somehow, it felt good and was at least a little bit of payback for Peter having pushed Mike to the forefront.
“OK, asshole,” Peter said with a smile coming to his lips. “Yes, you know I love to be in control of things, but in business I also learned that usually the most powerful people are the ones in the shadows that,” he paused for a two count, before continuing, “…exert influence over those in the public light.”
Peter had hesitated as he was about to say either ‘manipulate or control,’ before deciding to change it to ‘exert influence.’ He could see understanding in Mike’s eyes as well as the building of a stubborn resolve.
“Mike, we’ve known each other a long time, and I think I really do know you.”
When Peter tried to look down, Mike’s eyes held his and seemed to bore all the way into his soul.
Peter continued, “I know you’re going to do what you see is right. Period. That’s why you will always have my full support – even if it goes against what I want.” Peter said this with some reluctance.
“All I ask of you, Mike, is what you already do. Just give me a listen and then do what you need to do. That’s all. Just a listen.”
Mike continued to stare intently into Peter’s eyes for a few moments before saying, “Peter, if things really do get dicey, I’m going to need to know I can count on you in a crunch even if there’s no time to listen. Are you OK with that?”
Both men sat quietly while Peter worked everything out in his head. “Yes, Mike, I am OK with that.”
Mike silently let out his breath, which he had been holding while he waited for Peter’s answer. He knew that in any crisis Peter’s backing was critical. He also knew Peter was a man of his word and nothing more need be said.
Chapter 13
The New Year - Plus Five Days
Beijing, China
0900 Hours Local Time
General Secretary Song waited in silence for the military aid to complete his report, while a near blinding rage began to build within him. The staffer was a mid-ranking officer that brought daily reports from the General Staff of the People’s Liberation Army (PLA) to the General Secretary’s office. The plans to improve training and equipment for the invasion had been scrapped by the General Staff and required an additional twenty-one days to be re-worked. Two additional generals had been arrested for treasonous plans targeting government leadership, and overall morale in the invasion forces was low. The aid tried to add some good news by advising speculation by the General Staff that costs for the re-worked training and equipment could be reduced by twenty-five percent.
After the aid closed the door, Song turned his back on Wong and instructed him to leave. Right after the door had closed with Wong’s departure; Song picked up the steel model of a Mig-25 fighter and hurled it into the glass doors of a display case, shattering them. He then began to curse in a deep, guttural way, bringing intense shame on the ancestors of every member of the PLA’s General Staff.
Suddenly Song froze and looked at the door leading into his private lavatory.
When he had been denied the time to properly use his delightfully t
rained girl from the MSS’s Charm School earlier that day, he had indulged her pleas to come to his office in Beijing. Before the briefing he had instructed her to go into the lavatory and remain absolutely silent. She had, of course, done exactly what he had told her to do.
With a purposeful step, Song walked to the door and opened it. Inside was the girl, standing against the wall across from the sink with a terrified expression on her face. It was obvious she had heard his explosion of temper and feared he would inflict his wrath on her.
Song placed a small smile upon his face and approached her with open arms while saying, “Calm yourself my dear. There is nothing to fear.”
Gathering up the girl in his arms, he asked, “What has frightened you so?”
She was trembling with fear and through a sniffle, she said, “I heard something breaking and didn’t know what was happening.”
Song silently nodded to himself. He then said, “Well, it is time you cleaned up your tears.”
With that he turned her away from his arms as if to push her toward the sink. He then quickly and efficiently moved his arm around her neck to crush her trachea, holding her against him until she stopped convulsing. When she slumped to the floor he stepped away and walked out into his office. Picking up his phone, he pushed a button.
“Wong?” He said softly into the phone. “Clean up the mess in my office lavatory. You will see that it is discreetly done. You will also contact Lao and have him arrange for a replacement for the Charm School girl.”
He hung up the phone without waiting for a response.
Song took his desk chair and moved it to the corner window, where he sat and began to meditate. He did not hear Wong as he quietly came in with a large, plastic bag and cleaning materials. Ten minutes later Song’s meditation was only slightly disturbed when Wong accidentally thumped the girl’s head on a table leg as he dragged the bagged corpse out of the room.
The Final Proclamation (An America Reborn Thriller Book 2) Page 7
