by Tom Clancy
The conflict ended when the bus driver simply drove off, leaving the woman shouting and cursing at his thick black exhaust.
After clearing that impediment, Rodgers checked in with the marines. They had gone ahead on the shuttle bus operated by the space center. They had flown in earlier with other specialists from Beijing. Throughout the mission the marines were going to stay in touch via text alert. These were similar to cell phone text messages. The difference was that they were transmitted via wristwatch, as a crawling document. The wearer spoke his or her message, a chip in the watch transcribed it to text, and it was sent to every other wristwatch receiver in the network. The DoD was working on a heads-up display for eyeglasses, which would also display graphics images visible only to the wearer. Tiny but powerful antennae in the hinges would allow the wearer to intercept wireless data sent between stations. Rodgers’s firm was bidding on the contract to develop the lens technology. By connecting to an international number, Rodgers’s cell phone would be able to receive all the messages. His capacity to send was limited to text messages or sending a single tone to each of them. The watches would vibrate, and they would call him on their own cell phones. It was not a secure means of communication, but it might be the only one available to them in an emergency.
For now, all Rodgers needed to know was that they had gotten to the complex. He sent a tone. They were to respond by pushing their watch stem once. The numbers one through four would show up on Rodgers’s cell phone, depending upon who had received. All four responded.
Not long after that, Rodgers received a call from Hood. The former director of Op-Center explained to his former number two what had happened in Zhuhai. Rodgers was surprised. He was also concerned.
“Do we know if our prime suspect blew himself up or was blown up?” Rodgers asked.
“I just got off the phone with Stephen Viens,” Hood told him. “He said a routine satellite sweep of the region picked up the blast. He’s having the photo analyzed now, but it looked like the explosion may have started with a fire under the aircraft. There was a tanker on the field, and the plane had apparently just been refueled.”
“When did it land?”
“NORAD told Viens it was on the ground less than twenty minutes,” Hood told him.
Since the homeland attacks of 2001, NORAD had been linked to every air traffic control system in the United States and, through relays and hacks, to virtually every ATCS in the world. If a plane diverged from its reported flight path for more than ten seconds, the United States Air Force went on intercept alert. That meant fighters were scrambled at once if the aircraft were over American airspace. If they were over foreign airspace, the information was immediately relayed to domestic and allied intelligence services. Flags had not been raised by Chou Shin’s flight. But there was still a radar record of the trip from Beijing to Zhuhai.
“Chou Shin lands, does not get off the plane, and dies in the explosion twenty minutes later,” said Rodgers. “If it wasn’t a setup, it sounds as if Tam Li was willing to seize the moment. Neither man could simply eliminate the other without alienating their supporters in Beijing.”
“It doesn’t make sense, though,” Hood said. “There will be an investigation. Interviews with eyewitnesses. If this was an assassination, Beijing will find out.”
“Yes, if this is just an assassination,” Rodgers said. “Obviously, this was something the general thought he could get away with. Why?”
“Because he expects the political situation in Beijing to be changing soon?” Hood speculated.
“That would be my guess,” Rodgers said. He stopped while a herd of cattle crossed a muddy stretch of road. “We may have been looking at the wrong guy as a potential Xichang bomber.”
“Why would Tam Li attack a project that would give him more prestige?” Hood asked. “What does it do for him?”
“It creates a power vacuum by killing the prime minister and several other high-ranking bureaucrats,” Rodgers suggested. “And an explosion here would not be traced to him. He would not even be a suspect.”
“That doesn’t seem like enough,” Hood said. “Too many key figures are missing. The president and vice president, the defense minister. The people who Tam Li would have to remove if he were planning a coup.”
“Maybe he is working for the defense minister,” Rodgers suggested as the cows finished their crossing. Spitting mud and drawing curses from the farmer, the Xiali started up again.
“Le Kwan Po just spoke with the defense minister,” Hood told him. “The prime minister does not think he is involved in a plot.”
“Is that based on evidence or hope?” Rodgers asked.
“Instinct,” Hood answered. “That is what he told me when I asked the same question.”
“How have those instincts been so far?”
“Untested,” Hood replied.
“Helluva time to start,” Rodgers said. “So let’s assume we have a rogue general looking to blow up his own rocket and create a relatively small hole in the government. What does he gain?”
The men were silent for a moment.
“We may be chasing our own tails here,” Hood said.
“That would make me very happy,” Rodgers said. “But there is still a chance that Chou Shin set a countdown in motion, and his death may not change that. Whatever allies he has in a war against Tam Li might go ahead with it. They may not even know he’s dead.”
“True.”
“And there’s something else,” Rodgers said. “There are two reasons to trigger an explosive.”
“One of them I know. What’s the other?” Hood asked.
“As a distraction,” Rodgers replied.
“Are you referring to the attack on Chou Shin’s plane?”
“No,” Rodgers told him. “I’m talking about the rocket. What if there is a plot to blow it up, but it’s Tam Li’s operation? Something to make Beijing focus its attention here while he does something else.”
“Such as?”
“I’m not sure,” Rodgers said. “General Tam Li is supposed to be here. He is in Zhuhai. Why?”
“That is his command post. He told Le Kwan Po he was getting set to fly over when Chou Shin arrived.”
“So he won’t be coming.”
“No,” Hood said.
“Why would Chou Shin go all the way to the airfield when he and Tam Li would have seen each other here?”
“Not to reconcile, I’m guessing,” Hood said.
“A confrontation would be more likely. Maybe the Guoanbu found out something, and Chou was going to investigate.”
“Chou would not have gone there personally unless he was pretty sure of what he was going to find,” Hood said.
“That’s right. The question is, what did he find out?”
“I can ask the prime minister to check when we reach the space complex,” Hood said.
“No. That doesn’t leave us a lot of time,” Rodgers said.
“The good news is we only need to focus on the space complex,” Hood said. “If Tam Li is planning a diversionary strike and we can stop that, whatever else he has in mind may not come to pass.”
“The material I looked at with the marine leader was tactics from the Guoanbu playbook,” Rodgers said. “We have their MO from past operations, including intel from the Taipei police on the nightclub hit. I have nothing here on the PLA’s covert military actions. Getting anything useful from G2 or Op-Center would take more time than we have.”
“We may not need any of that,” Hood said. “Get your people into position. I’ll call you in about a half hour, after I’ve had a chance to speak with the prime minister.”
“What have you got in mind?” Rodgers asked.
“A low-tech remedy that may be exactly the one we need,” Hood replied.
FIFTY-ONE
Xichang, China Thursday, 10:31 A.M.
The procession to the space complex consisted of seven cars. The only limousine was the one used by the prime minister and his
daughter. Everyone else was put in a clean but inelegant military vehicle.
That was what had given Hood his idea for intercepting a potential bomber.
The space center was shaped like a Y. The caravan drove in through the stem of the Y, then turned west. They drove past the low-lying Communication Center, past the Tracking Station, to the Technical Center. That was where the vehicles stopped and let them out. The launch pad was situated four kilometers to the north. The rocket was clearly visible as the guests stepped out. It stood gleaming white against the silver and black girders of the gantry. Smoke plumed from the three stages, dissipating quickly against the pure blue sky. Heat rising from the field between them caused the rocket to ripple slightly, like a mirage.
Xichang did not have a public relations organization. Security personnel in severe, dark blue uniforms took charge of the visitors. There was one guard to each carload. Interpreters who had traveled with them from Beijing translated the guards’ instructions. Anita had joined them from her father’s car. The prime minister himself did not emerge as the groups moved toward the Technical Center.
“There is a basement beneath the facility,” Anita said for the benefit of the English-speaking group. “We will be observing the launch from there.”
“I need to see your father,” Hood said, sidling over to her.
“He will be out in a moment,” she said. The prime minister’s daughter was wearing an official face and talking in a very official voice. Hood liked the woman better when she was slightly uncertain, pressing him for information.
“I’ll wait for him,” Hood said.
“I think he would rather you go with—”
“Listen to me,” Hood said. He leaned closer. “You’re concerned about appearances. I’m worried about his life.”
That got her attention.
“His life?”
“I will wait for him here,” Hood said, leaning away.
“Then I will have to wait with you, to translate,” she said. “What do I do about the other English-speaking guests?”
“They know what they are here to see,” Hood replied. “They will manage without you for a while.”
Anita looked concerned as she went off to tell the others she would join them downstairs. She returned just as her father stepped from his car.
“Do you have new information?” she asked Hood.
“Some.”
The prime minister walked to where Hood was waiting. He looked from Anita to Hood.
“We have confirmed the destruction of the aircraft,” Le said through his daughter.
“So have we,” Hood told him.
“But you have more,” Le said.
“A question. Is there any reason the general might have for wanting — or rather needing—to stay in Zhuhai?” Hood asked.
“I asked the defense minister a similar question,” Le admitted. “He said there is nothing unusual going on in that region.”
“Do you trust the minister?”
“I have no reason to distrust him.”
“Excuse me. Is that an endorsement or diplomacy?”
“It is my answer,” Le replied.
“Let’s try this, then,” Hood said with a trace of impatience. “Who will appoint Chou Shin’s replacement?”
“The president,” Le answered. “I was just conferring with him on that very subject. There is nothing in the appointment that benefits Tam Li. His replacement will be a Communist, not an ally to Tam Li.” Le glanced toward the rocket. “I am beginning to wonder if this is about nothing more than the rivalry between the two men. With Chou Shin gone, perhaps this facility is no longer in danger. Perhaps it never was.” He looked back at Hood. “You do not share that sense?”
“No, sir,” Hood said. “Allow me one more question. Are there any men from Tam Li’s command on the base?”
“Why?” the prime minister asked. “Do you now suspect that he may be planning an attack?”
“General Rodgers and I were wondering if an attack here might serve as a diversion that benefits Tam Li somehow,” Hood said. He used Rodgers’s title to remind the prime minister that there was a military voice in his reasoning.
“What could Tam Li gain by that?” Le asked.
“We don’t know. But he is sitting on top of a fat arsenal. And an attack on the rocket might be the trigger he needs to launch it.”
“Again, for what reason?” Le asked.
“Ambition?” Hood asked. “I don’t know the man. But we think the explosion at the airfield occurred beneath Chou’s jet, not on it. That could be a singular incident. Or it could be the start of something larger.” He looked at Anita. “A purge of government leaders, perhaps. More than a few are here now.”
The translator’s slightly angry expression suddenly grew more concerned. She finished translating and looked at her father. His own features were still neutral. He was, above all, a good politician.
“The guards are drawn from different branches of the military and rotated every six months,” Le said. “I will find out who may have come from the Zhuhai command.”
“Thank you,” Hood said.
Le excused himself and went back to his car. Anita and Hood remained behind.
“Your concern is for the rocket,” she said.
“And our lives,” Hood told her.
“Why don’t you leave the complex? We can search for the general’s personnel, if there are any.”
“I don’t like the idea of running,” Hood said.
“So you are staying to be manly?” she asked. “Like James Bond?”
He could not tell if she were kidding or not. “I am doing my job,” he replied.
She smiled. “That is a very responsible answer. It is also very Chinese.”
So, apparently, is megalomania and murder, Hood wanted to tell her. He refrained. The woman had her own definition of the Chinese character. It was about industry and honor, very much a reflection of how she saw her father. He would let her have that. He suspected that only events would rewrite her definitions.
Le returned. His expression bore a touch of gravity it had not possessed before.
“A unit was recently rotated in from Zhuhai,” Le said. “I have asked that those individuals be brought to the Command and Control Center. I am going to meet them there now.”
“Where were they stationed?” Hood asked.
“Originally, they were checking passes at the front gate.”
“Originally?” Hood asked.
“Three weeks ago they were relocated at the request of the general himself,” Le said. “He said this rocket was important to his base. He wanted to make sure the boosters were being watched by people he had trained and whom he trusted.”
“I would like to go with you,” Hood said.
“No. I will let you know what I find out. You can wait in the Technical Center if you wish. I will contact you there.”
“Sir, we have less than ninety minutes to launch—”
“All the more reason for me to get to the command center,” the prime minister said as he turned and left.
Hood started after him. “Anita, please ask him to wait.”
“My father has told you what he plans to do,” Anita said.
“Yes, but I have experience in this area—”
“Not here,” she replied. “You don’t even speak the language.”
“I can read expressions, body language.” Hood stopped. He looked back at the woman as Le got in the car. “Dammit, everything—anything—might help.”
“If my father wants help, he will ask for it.”
“When?” Hood asked. “After the rocket is destroyed?”
“My father knows what he is doing,” Anita said. “He is an able man.”
“But not infallible,” Hood snapped. “He let the entire situation with the general and Chou Shin get away from him—”
“Mr. Hood, we are quite finished.”
“No! You’ve stopped listening, which is not the same
thing. The stakes are high here, Anita! This is not a time for ego.”
“For once I agree with you, Mr. Hood. He told you where to wait, and I suggest you go there. Now, please excuse me. I, too, have a job to do.” The woman strode toward the Technical Center.
Hood raised his hands in exasperation. But anger was not going to help, and he lowered them. He remained beside the wide asphalt road that ran through the complex. The cars were still parked by the side of the building. A guard at the door of the center watched Hood but did not move from his post.
The rising sun was hot, and Hood was perspiring. Only the slightest breeze moved across the field. Hood pulled his cell phone from the loop on his belt. He wanted to call Rodgers and tell him what he had learned about a squad from Zhuhai. At least he knew where the general’s team had been. It would allow the marines to narrow their patrol zone.
Unfortunately, the communications at the complex interfered with the signal. He would have to find some other way to get this information to Rodgers.
