by Andrew Watts
Lena continued speaking for one full minute. Then she turned off the radio and faced him. “When investigators evaluate this vessel, they will likely take fingerprints and see that I was here. Intelligence agencies will match my voice to the radio call I just made and know the transmission location. There are those who would like to see us fail. They are looking for me. This will throw them off my scent.”
“I see.” He looked over towards the speedboat. “We should not waste time, then.”
Lena nodded at Ping, who said, “Everyone on the speedboat.” He then asked Lena, “Do you think we should do anything with the bodies?”
She said, “Dump them over the side. That should be good enough.”
Ping barked orders to his men. The corpses were dumped unceremoniously into the black ocean. Splashing sounds echoed every few seconds. Then the rumble of the speedboat’s engine announced their imminent departure, and everyone hopped aboard.
Lena pushed the throttle forward, and they raced to the northeast.
3
Destin, Florida
David Manning sat on the beach under an oversized umbrella. The clear greenish-blue water of the Gulf Coast lapped gently against the sugar-white shore. His three-year-old daughter was building a sandcastle near the surf with his wife, Lindsay. Their baby slept in the shade next to him.
Henry Glickstein walked up, smearing his face with thick globs of sunblock. He wore a gardener’s straw hat, oversized sunglasses, and a Tommy Bahama tee shirt.
“Sorry you had to come down when the water’s still a little chilly. You’ll have to come back when the weather warms up. But don’t come in April—that’s when all these young college kids get here and ruin everything.”
David said, “Oh no, this is still great, Henry. Can’t thank you enough for letting us stay here for a few days. It’s warm enough for Maddie to play in the sand. That’s all we need.”
“Sorry about the drama last night. I should have known better than to let the riffraff in when you guys were here.”
The prior evening, Henry had had a visitor show up unexpectedly at his home. Apparently, she was a waitress at one of the less-than-reputable establishments in nearby Pensacola.
David’s wife Lindsay had smelled stripper on her from the moment she’d walked in the door. Bleach-blond hair and fake…well, everything. While David had been amused, Henry had been embarrassed at her often inappropriate and less-than-intelligent additions to the conversation. But David suspected that Henry hadn’t been interested in her intellect. Lindsay’s eyebrows were permanently raised and her chardonnay glass permanently full for the evening.
The young woman had stayed for the barbecue they were having, but then left abruptly after dinner when Henry had said that he wasn’t going to be able to go out with her that night.
“She was, ah…nice?” It was the best David could offer. She couldn’t have been more than thirty years old.
Henry smiled, as if it were a compliment. “Yeah, she loves that I was on the news.” Glickstein shrugged, then sat in the empty beach chair next to David. “So you hear from any of the group? The Red Cell folks, I mean?”
The Americans who’d been freed from Chinese custody in the Red Cell had been transported to a US military base.
“They’re being given medical treatment and doing interviews with government officials. I’ve seen some of the debrief reports.”
“The interviews with our government this time?” Henry smiled.
“Let’s hope so.” David snorted. “We’ve flown their families out to be with them. They should all be arriving back home soon, I think.”
“We, now, is it?”
“Yes, sir. I guess it is.” David was now working full-time as an analyst for the CIA. He had only been working in the job for a few weeks and was still getting used to it. He was assigned to the interagency SILVERSMITH team—a program created in response to China’s increased hostility towards the United States.
David was part of the reason the SILVERSMITH operation had been started. He had been an unwitting participant in a Chinese espionage operation. Twenty Americans—Henry Glickstein among them—had been led to believe that they were joining a CIA-sponsored Red Cell. The Red Cell was made up of US defense, intelligence, and technology experts whose mission was to create a plan for China to invade the United States.
But as David had quickly learned, the Red Cell was actually part of an elaborate Chinese intelligence operation, designed to uncover classified American secrets and bolster China’s own soon-to-be executed attack plans. The Red Cell was the brainchild of Cheng Jinshan.
Cheng Jinshan wore multiple hats. A Chinese national, he had risen to become the head of several Chinese Internet and media-related companies. His firms made up a large portion of the cybersecurity and censorship wings of the Chinese technology industry. All throughout his career in business, however, he was also employed as an operative within the Ministry of State Security—the Chinese equivalent of the CIA. His business roles had begun as a mere cover. But Jinshan’s power had grown tremendously.
The influence he wielded in each of his positions—the private sector and the Chinese intelligence world—had served to rocket him into the stratosphere of China’s elite power brokers. The Chinese president had even been friendly with him, and had appointed him as the head of the Central Commission for Discipline Inspection, normally a cabinet position, reserved for a politician.
The CCDI was the Chinese agency intended to root out corruption in the government. But Jinshan had wielded his authority like a sword. He had used the CCDI to consolidate power, installing loyalists in key positions within the Chinese government. His political views were quite unique. Jinshan was obsessed with Chinese dominance of the West and envisioned creating an idealistic form of government, led by an inner cadre of technocrats.
Jinshan had attempted to bring his vision to life through a global conspiracy. Admiral Song—a Jinshan loyalist and commander of the PLA Navy’s South Sea Fleet—had secretly organized the military wing of Jinshan’s campaign. Through a complicated network of spies and secret communications, Jinshan and Admiral Song had engaged in deception and covert operations against the United States in various parts of the globe.
This conspiracy had culminated in a series of naval battles in the Eastern Pacific Ocean, off the coast of Central America. David’s sister, Victoria Manning, had commanded the USS Farragut during the hostilities, ultimately leading the US Navy to victory.
The director of the CIA and the American president had contacted the Chinese president after they had gathered verifiable evidence of Jinshan and Admiral Song’s treachery. They had informed the Chinese president that he was only days away from an attempted coup, and that Jinshan and Admiral Song were the chief instigators.
The Chinese president, embarrassed and surprised by Cheng Jinshan’s rogue activities, had taken swift action. He had called upon all Chinese military forces to stand down and promised no retaliation against the US Navy. The Chinese had fired the first shots in the skirmish, and the US actions had been defensive in nature. The members of those Chinese naval units had been under the impression that they were following legitimate orders, and were considered innocent. Jinshan and Admiral Song were the criminals. And Lena Chou, wherever she was…
For now, the two nations were at peace. But the citizens of both nations were furious at the loss of life, and each felt that they were the victims of a grave injustice. The peace was fragile.
Henry reached into the cooler and pulled out a sparkling water. “Want one?”
“No, thanks.”
He opened the bottle and took a sip. “Seems to me that things quieted down kind of quickly, don’t you think?”
David looked at him. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, our country was attacked. I know the Chinese have publicly apologized and everything, but…”
“You’re not one of those crazies who’s saying we should go to war with all of China now, are
you? I thought that was just for the political websites. I mean, where’s that going to get us?” Much of the country was still in an uproar over the Chinese-American naval battle that had occurred. David knew it wasn’t fair to characterize Henry as crazy and immediately regretted saying it.
Henry said, “Well, you’ve got to admit that they have a point there, David. Hundreds of lives were lost. What was the total count?”
“Including the Chinese ship, I think they said eight hundred and seventeen people died. Mostly from the initial Chinese submarine attack.”
Henry flung up his hands, shaking his head. “Well, that’s what I mean. They can’t just get away with that. They apologize and that’s it? Now our president is just acting like it’s not a big deal. Like we can bury the hatchet and blame it all on one guy.”
“I don’t think that’s what the president is trying to do. But he doesn’t have very good options. And they’re supposedly working on a new bilateral agreement that’s going to make China pay for what they did.”
“Right. The new bilateral agreement. What’s the president going to do? Slap a tariff on them? They’ll just do the same thing to us. Look, I mean, I don’t want anyone else getting hurt. But that was an act of war. That wasn’t just Jinshan. China’s military did that. They were responsible too.”
“It wasn’t a sanctioned military activity.”
Henry folded his arms and cocked his head in protest. “Come on.”
This same argument was being played out on radio shows, podcasts, and news rooms across the world. What it all came down to, David knew, was that China had crossed the line. And the American people wanted them to pay.
“Have you seen all the funeral footage? They had a big one in Bogotá. From the Colombian navy ship that was sunk. And the poor kids of those US Navy men. The ones from your sister’s ship, for crying out loud.”
David looked at his daughter sleeping next to him. She was less than a year old and was starting to stir from her nap. David held his finger up to his lips.
Henry got the hint and began to whisper. “All I’m saying is that people are angry. They feel wronged. I mean, the stock market has crashed since all this stuff came out. GPS isn’t working, and the Internet is half of what it was…”
“Things are being restored. And Chinese sailors lost their lives too.”
“So you’re defending them now? This was all just one big misunderstanding, is that it?”
“Henry, what do you want, World War III?”
Henry frowned. “I already said I didn’t. But they deserve to pay. An apology isn’t enough.”
“Jinshan and the admiral he was working with are on trial. They will pay the price.”
“Says who? China’s president? Can you trust them after what they did?”
“You do sound like the talking heads.”
“And you sound like one of those hippies who just wants to make peace everywhere. Don’t be so naïve, David. You saw what they’re like. You were on the island. You of all people should know.”
“What does that mean?”
Henry took another swig of his sparkling water. “I have a hard time believing that it was really just one person, and no one else is to blame. What about Lena? What happened to her.”
“They’re looking for her. She’ll be caught. It’s only a matter of time.”
“You think China really doesn’t know where she is? They know, believe you me.”
David couldn’t be completely sure that Henry wasn’t right on that point. The CIA had had some of the same discussions about Lena. If the Chinese government found her before they did, would they let the Americans know? She had been a double agent, embedded in the CIA for over a decade. They would want her for themselves—even if she had been part of Jinshan’s unsanctioned operation.
Lindsay and Maddie strolled back up the beach to where the two men were sitting.
“Daddy, Mommy says I can have a snack.”
“Sure, honey. Want a peanut butter and jelly?”
“Yes, please.” She held out her sandy hands. David brushed them off, took out a quarter of a PB&J sandwich from the cooler, and handed it to her.
Lindsay pointed to Henry’s drink. “Can I grab one of those?”
“Of course, madam.” He handed her a sparkling water, and Lindsay sat next to David on the towel.
“She still sleeping?”
“She starting to move, but yes.”
Lindsay sat on the towel next to David, their knees touching. She said, “Henry, how long have you had this home?”
The three-story beach house was stunning. A large open floorplan, great views. Lindsay had been talking about getting a beach house for years.
“I got it a few years ago. After I began working for myself. It’s nice to come out here whenever I want.”
“It’s beautiful.”
“Yup. Retirement is nice.”
She said, “So are you still getting interviews with three-letter agencies, or are they done with you?”
Henry glanced at David. “Not sure I’m supposed to stay this, but yes, I still get calls occasionally. But I think they feel they’ve sucked everything out of my brain that’s going to help them for now. I didn’t get a job offer, like some.” He smiled at David.
“Well, some of us don’t have beach homes, so we still need jobs,” David shot back, also smiling. Henry laughed.
“I mean this, folks—you guys are welcome down here whenever you desire. Even if I’m not here.”
They lay on the beach making small talk for another twenty minutes, until the baby woke up. Then they collected their beach gear and went back into the house. Maddie got cartoons on the iPad. “It’s vacation,” Lindsay said, justifying the extra screen time.
Henry put on Fox News in the kitchen, and the adults made lunch from last night’s leftovers. The volume on the news channel was low, but David could still read the headline. It was all anyone was talking about.
CHINA TENSIONS STILL BOILING AFTER HIGH SEAS COMBAT
One of the talking heads was the recently ousted National Security Advisor. He was making arguments for something he called “strategic patience.”
The other talking head was a China expert from a D.C. think tank. He claimed that the Chinese political scene was like the novel and TV series Game of Thrones, with power struggles and deceptive tactics throughout. His argument was that only time would tell who was really in control, and what China would do. David agreed.
Henry handed David a beer. David opened it and took a sip.
“David, something has been bothering me and I’d like to get your take on it.”
“What’s that?”
“Jinshan is a master planner, right? A billionaire, a genius. Everyone agrees.”
“Right.”
“So why didn’t he have his ducks all lined up in a row when they were attacking our Navy off the coast of Ecuador?”
David furrowed his brow. “Well, I think they were acting in a panic. The Chinese were surprised by a team that we sent down there. I can’t really say more than that.”
“I know. And I read about it online. Some black ops group infiltrated their base in Manta. Blink twice if I’m close.”
David smiled. “I can’t say.”
Henry continued. “But what I mean is…Jinshan must have been planning a coup, right? The Chinese president wasn’t in on it. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have arrested Jinshan when the United States showed their evidence on what he was up to. Right?”
David nodded. “I think it’s generally accepted now that Jinshan had intended to stage a coup.”
“And?”
“And what?”
“That timeline doesn’t strike you as odd? Jinshan, a master planner, a genius, was in the process of staging a coup, but doesn’t strike while the iron is hot? What was he waiting for? I mean, he must have a ton of support. Otherwise it wouldn’t work. Jinshan doesn’t plan something without a lot of preparation. Just look at the island.”
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David felt a tickle in his brain. Henry was on to something. “Say more.”
Henry looked at the wooden blocks that David’s three-year-old daughter was playing with. She had built them up into a tower. “So Jinshan is building this castle, right? He’s been working for years at this. Building it piece by piece. The military forces are starting to be sent overseas. He’s got schemes going on in the Middle East to tie up our forces there and hurt our economy. And he’s got his cyber forces starting to cripple US communications—like how they’ve taken out our GPS satellites. Now to me, it sounds like Jinshan is pretty darn close to completing this castle. But one major piece seems to be missing. He isn’t in charge of China.”
David sipped his beer. “And what you’re saying is that he must have been ready to execute the coup, if he was this far along in all his other plans.”
“Exactly. Which brings me to my real question—why didn’t he? Why didn’t he execute the coup on time?”
“I see what you mean.” David looked out at the ocean. “I guess if Jinshan was planning a coup, and he had everything set up, it might still be pretty easy to move forward with it. But he didn’t. Why?”
Henry tipped his beer towards David. “Yes. That’s been bothering me something fierce. From what I saw in that Red Cell, everything was raring to go. If they stayed on schedule, that means that their military exercises have been prepping for an attack that should take place right around now. And their industrial capability should be shifting over to wartime production. Shipping containers should be specially outfitted for military uses. Undersea cables would be cut. EMP attacks. Everything we talked about over there. The works. But when we were in the Red Cell, we didn’t much talk about convincing the Chinese leadership.”
“No,” David admitted. “We pretty much took that one for granted.”
“Right. Instead, we talked about winning over the Chinese people. Hearts and minds. Popular support for the war. That was what the Shrink kept talking about. And Natesh, the bastard.”
