Red Cell

by Mark Henshaw

  They’re not here for tea, Dunne told himself. And they wanted me to see them. You could have cleared the room before letting me in, he thought. Such things didn’t happen at this level by chance. So many men of this stature wouldn’t convene at Zhongnanhai for social reasons, and protocol would have dictated that he not be admitted until they had left. Racking his memory, he couldn’t remember even seeing these men together at a state dinner, much less for business. If Dunne were suddenly dismissed from the office, what he’d already seen would be worth a cable to Washington.

  “Mr. Ambassador, thank you for coming.” President Tian’s English was excellent, which always frustrated Dunne. It gave the Chinese head of state a significant advantage. Tian stepped forward and offered his hand with a kind smile.

  “Mr. President, it is my honor to come,” Dunne said, accepting the handshake.

  Tian turned to the other men and spoke to them in Mandarin. Dunne interpreted it as a polite request for privacy—or “message sent”?—and the group filed out of the room, Zeng leaving last and closing the door behind.

  Tian slowly lowered himself into his chair behind the desk. “These are dangerous times,” he said without preamble. He was younger than Dunne by less than a decade, shorter by a head, and had a deeper voice than most Chinese men the ambassador talked to. Like Zeng’s, his accent was an odd combination of Oxford English mixed with Mandarin tones. “You are, of course, aware of the recent speech made by President Liang, accusing us of espionage in Taiwan.”

  “I am, sir.”

  “I will not insult your intelligence by denying that our arrested citizens were officers of our Ministry of State Security. We both understand the necessity of intelligence operations.” Tian paused, sipped his tea, and then resumed. “But the facts must be clear now. The Taiwanese citizens were not working for us. Perhaps they were political enemies of President Liang and he seized the opportunity to remove them from his path. Such an act would hardly be beneath him.”

  Dunne straightened his back in surprise without thinking. You outed MSS officers. Why? As one part of his brain worked that puzzle, the part handling the diplomacy arranged his response. “One was an American citizen,” Dunne corrected him to buy time.

  “Yes, but I honestly do not know why he was in the room with our officers,” Tian conceded. Dunne studied his face carefully. If the Chinese president was lying, he was covering it with great skill. “And given his unfortunate death, we will not know until Liang returns our officers to Beijing. Another reason that perhaps your country might persuade Taiwan to cooperate with us in this matter.”

  Dunne stifled his first response and managed to just raise an eyebrow instead. The intel that Mitchell had reviewed with him that morning told a different story. Dunne hadn’t expected the gospel truth out of Tian, but this account was a different lie than the one he had been expecting. “So you don’t deny that the Ministry of State Security was conducting espionage against Taiwan?”

  “No. Of course, we will publicly deny it.”

  “Of course.”

  Tian went on after imbibing more tea. “I tell you this because the presence of our officers in Taipei was legal, and to illustrate the lengths to which President Liang will go to preserve his position. He often seeks to arouse public sentiment favoring independence. My concern is that those efforts could encourage our own native dissident elements. Surely you can see that such political unrest would not be in the interest of either of our countries.”

  “The United States has always advocated a peaceful resolution of the reunification issue. My country does not support a unilateral move by either side to alter the status quo.”

  “I regret that Liang may not allow us to resolve our differences in a more civilized way.” Dunne noted that Tian hadn’t bothered to refer to Liang by the formal title of President. Tian set the teacup on the desk, his hand steady as the porcelain landed on the saucer without a sound. “A careful review of his recent speech suggests that Liang might be preparing to declare Taiwan’s independence.”

  The Chinese president locked eyes with the US ambassador and the two men stared at each other for several seconds. Dunne’s mind raced back over the sentence, hoping that he had heard it wrong, but there was no ambiguity in the phrasing. Tian certainly had chosen the wording before summoning Dunne to Zhongnanhai.

  Dunne picked his own words cautiously. “The United States does not share that conclusion, Mr. President. We hope that your government will allow President Liang the opportunity to clarify his words, lest there be a misunderstanding.”

  “If Liang were to offer a public apology, we would listen. However, we think it unlikely that he will do so.” Dunne stared at Tian, looking for any crack in the performance. He found none. “He is in danger of losing reelection,” Tian explained. “History teaches that desperate men often deflect scrutiny from their own deficiencies by turning the public attention to an external threat. And Liang likely believes that the United States will intervene on Taiwan’s behalf should we respond with more than words. I hope that your country’s past encouragement of Taiwan’s rebellious attitudes does not now drag us all into an unpleasant confrontation.”

  “We have not encouraged independence,” Dunne said. “Our position has been to have both sides treat each other with respect.”

  “And yet you have sold them weapons,” Tian countered.

  “For self-defense only,” Dunne said. It was a weak protest, he thought. A gun was a gun. Two years to retirement and I get to head off a war. He knew his next suggestion would be futile. “We would hope that you would refer the matter to the UN Security Council for deliberations.”

  Tian shook his head. “The Security Council has no place in resolving internal disputes.”

  Tian’s meaning was quite clear. China has a permanent seat on the Council and a veto. You know a Security Council resolution won’t pass. Why waste time playing that game?

  Dunne suppressed an inappropriate smile. He’d been speaking the subtle language of diplomats for decades and he was good at it. Better than good, in fact. It made him feel young to engage in the back-and-forth of subtle meanings hidden in delicate phrases. It was why he stayed on the job at an age when almost all his peers were retired. “Some would dispute that this is an internal affair, despite Taiwan’s size and proximity to your coast,” he said. To buy time. You don’t want a shooting war with Taiwan to get dragged out. Big country, small island—no one likes a bully.

  “I hope that your nation would not be one of those. We have the right to maintain order within our borders.” Is the United States prepared to recognize a declaration of independence by Taiwan? Don’t intervene.

  “Maintaining order can be a delicate task, as you know, where a soft hand is often required.” Let’s not see another Tiananmen Square, or worse.

  “Indeed. Both determination and a firm hand are often needed to manage such events.” We’ll do it.

  “Force is not the only tool that can secure peace. We would hope that an offer to mediate would be accepted by both sides.” Taiwan will accept our help, especially if it’s backed up by the US Navy.

  “Your offer is appreciated, but the United States could best help us keep the peace by abstaining.” Tian took his time before speaking again. “Ambassador Dunne, if I may be blunt . . . ?”

  Dunne nodded. Straightforward talk was a diplomat’s knife—useful but dangerous if misused. Still, there was no polite way to reject it. “Of course.”

  “In 1995, there was an unpleasant confrontation with the province. Your President Clinton sent an aircraft carrier into the Strait—the Nimitz, I believe. General Xiong Guangkai answered by saying that ‘you care more about Los Angeles than you do about Taipei.’”

  What? Dunne lost his composure for a moment. He would have realized that it was the first time in his recent memory, had he been thinking about it. Instead his thoughts turned to fighting his urge to come out of his chair. “Are you—”

  Tian held up his
hand and Dunne stopped midquestion. “I enjoy the history of your country very much,” Tian said. “I have enjoyed studying the confrontation over Cuba with the Soviet Union in 1962. President Kennedy was quite masterful, I think. Still, the opportunity for miscommunication was so great. The world has never been so close to nuclear war.”

  “It was Kennedy’s finest hour,” Dunne agreed. Tian had twisted the conversation and the American had lost his sense of direction. He suddenly felt like he was blind.

  “Yes. His death was a great loss. He might have gone on to do great things.” Tian’s admiration for America’s youngest president seemed genuine. The Chinese president paused, whether to gather his thoughts or for dramatic emphasis Dunne couldn’t tell. “My own generals can be bellicose when their passions are aroused, and Taiwan is a passionate issue for us. Should your president choose to send your navy into our Strait, I want no miscommunication. We are reasonable men, unlike the stupid, selfish man in Taipei who is causing us both so much trouble.”

  “I appreciate your candor,” Dunne said.

  “If there is to be a confrontation, a good leader must consider the peace that is to come after the war, something I’m afraid your country has often failed to do. But if we do find ourselves at odds, your president certainly must care more for your navy than for Taipei.”

  Dunne sat silent long enough for the silence to feel uncomfortable. He felt off-balance, inadequate, like his old skills in assembling diplomatic answers had abandoned him. He turned Tian’s last words around in his head over and over. “That would not be my decision to make,” he said finally. “I’m sure that President Stuart would be willing to discuss the matter.” It was the best answer he could find, but it was still weak.

  “Of course.” Tian placed both hands on the table. “I wish to share with you a copy of the speech that I will give in response to President Liang’s remarks,” he said, taking the conversation down another path again. Tian took a leather portfolio from the small table sitting between their chairs and handed it to Dunne. “I will reaffirm our commitment to reunification and propose the immediate commencement of talks with Taiwan to that end. Please deliver this to President Stuart and extend my compliments.”

  I didn’t hear the word peaceful anywhere in there. “I will, sir. And on behalf of the United States, I thank you for the advance copy of your pending remarks,” Dunne said. He looked down at the speech in his hands. So much for diplomacy, he thought.

  LEESBURG, VIRGINIA

  The hard sound of the truck’s plow grinding on asphalt woke Kyra a good hour before the alarm had the chance. For a few happy moments she couldn’t remember where she was, and then the ache in her arm reminded her. Last night’s dinner tasted foul in her mouth. Beer at night didn’t agree with her, gumbo even less. She’d known that, had finished both anyway, and she prayed that she had some mouthwash somewhere in the bathroom cabinet. She honestly couldn’t remember.

  Kyra opened her eyes and realized she couldn’t see straight yet either. She pushed herself up with the wrong arm and the pain sharpened enough to wake her up. She kneaded the muscle for a minute, more in fascination over the scarred depression running in a horizontal line over her triceps than over the relief the movement didn’t really offer. Well, there was something for that. She still had plenty of Vicodin, even though she was taking more than the dosage on the bottle allowed.

  Kyra rolled over, put her feet on the floor, and pulled the curtains apart. It was still snowing. She forced her eyes to focus and turned on the small television on her dresser.

  The Office of Personnel Management had again not closed the government, instead offering liberal leave to those with enough leave hours stored up to take it. Kyra couldn’t muster the strength to curse the OPM director. She promised herself she would get around to it after the shower.

  The phone on her nightstand rang. Kyra let it sound off three times to help wake herself up before she answered the call. “Hello?”

  “You might want to come in sooner rather than later,” Jonathan said. “Somebody took out a power station in Taiwan. Cooke wants us in her office.”

  In twenty minutes, Kyra was in her truck, driving east far too fast to be safe.

  CIA DIRECTOR’S OFFICE

  “We’re still not sure how the Chinese did it,” Cooke said without preamble. As a general rule, she didn’t call analysts to her office like this, but yesterday’s conversation with Jonathan had left her wanting to see him again even if she couldn’t talk about what was really on her mind. It was a selfish impulse, unprofessional, but she’d caved anyway.

  Cooke laid the satellite imagery on the table and Kyra picked up one of the photographs. The picture, high-resolution infrared, showed a large crater in fine detail with fires still burning around the perimeter. Severed electrical lines arced on the ground.

  “You’re assuming it was the PLA,” Jonathan said.

  “Is there any chance it was an industrial accident?” Kyra asked.

  “I wish,” Cooke said. “We’ve got some SCADA experts coming in, but I’m pretty sure there’s nothing in a power plant that would produce a blast pattern like that. And it would be one amazing coincidence, given the timing.”

  “It’s just the one location?” Jonathan asked.

  “NSA hasn’t reported any other attacks on the electrical grid,” Cooke confirmed. “And one was enough. I’m told that the Tashan Power Plant was the big one. When Taipower brought that one online, they shut down smaller plants at Tai-Wu, Luguang, and Chuangjiang to cut costs. I bet they’re regretting that now.”

  “No doubt,” Jonathan observed.

  “That’s a big hole,” Kyra said. “Airstrike?”

  “The Office of Naval Intelligence says the radar track for Chinese military aircraft and ballistic missiles was negative,” Cooke said. “The only aircraft in the area were Taiwanese commercial and Air Force. All of the PLA MIGs were way outside the missile envelope.”

  “It could have been the work of a sapper team,” Jonathan suggested. “Only God and Tian know how many infiltrators the Chinese have in Taipei. Semtex or C-four maybe, but they’d need plenty of it to make a hole that size. That crater must be ten feet deep. Too much material to carry in by hand.”

  “Car bomb?” Cooke asked.

  Jonathan shrugged. “Doesn’t seem like something a SpecOps team would do, does it? Maybe if it was fifth columnists. Amateurs tend to overestimate explosive yields. The question is whether the PLA would trust this kind of job to fifth columnists alone.” His expression suggested he didn’t believe that particular option. “Anything else?”

  “Cable from State Department,” Cooke said. The CIA director extracted a report from a manila folder. “The ambassador met with the Chinese president.”

  FM AMEMBASSY BEIJING

  TO SECSTATE WASHDC IMMEDIATE

  TEXT

  SUBJECT: MEETING OF US AMBASSADOR WITH PRC PRESIDENT TIAN KAI REGARDING ARRESTS OF PRC NATIONALS IN TAIPEI

  CLASSIFIED BY: AIDAN DUNNE, AMBASSADOR PRC

  1. (S//NF) PRIOR TO MEETING WITH PRC PRESIDENT TIAN KAI, AMBASSADOR WITNESSED SEVERAL PRESENT AND FORMER PRC OFFICIALS FINISH A CONSULTATION WITH TIAN, INCLUDING:

  HU JINTAO, FORMER PRC PRESIDENT, FORMER CMC CHAIRMAN

  XI JIABAO, CHAIRMAN, STANDING COMMITTEE, NATIONAL PEOPLE’S CONGRESS

  ZHANG DEMING, CMC VICE CHAIRMAN, MINISTER OF NATIONAL DEFENSE

  WU SHAOSHI, DIRECTOR, COMMISSION ON SCIENCE, TECHNOLOGY, AND INDUSTRY FOR NATIONAL DEFENSE (COSTIND)

  The list of names went on for a half page. “The guy’s got a good memory,” Kyra said.

  “Who’d’ve thought diplomats could be so observant?” Cooke said. “I guess it helps with the job. Check out the last few paragraphs. Good stuff in there.”

  Kyra turned the page.

  7. (S//NF) TIAN ADMITTED THAT THE PRC NATIONALS DETAINED BY TAIWAN’S NATIONAL SECURITY BUREAU ARE MSS OFFICERS, BUT DECLINED TO IDENTIFY ANY BY NAME. HE ALSO STATED THAT BECAUSE TAIWAN IS
A PRC TERRITORY UNDER THE “ONE CHINA” DOCTRINE, THE MSS OFFICERS WERE OPERATING LEGALLY IN TAIPEI. TIAN ALSO DENIES THAT ANY ARRESTED CIVILIANS WERE MSS ASSETS.

  8. (S//NF) TIAN ANNOUNCED THAT HE WOULD DELIVER A TELEVISED SPEECH WITHIN TWENTY-FOUR HOURS TO DENOUNCE THE ARRESTS AND DEMAND THE EXTRADITION OF PRC NATIONALS AND TO CALL FOR RENEWED NEGOTIATIONS TO RESOLVE THE FINAL STATUS OF TAIWAN.

  9. (S//NF) AMBASSADOR OFFERED U.S. ASSISTANCE IN NEGOTIATING A DIPLOMATIC RESOLUTION. TIAN DECLINED AND SAID THAT POTUS COULD BE HELPFUL BY NOT DEPLOYING USN ASSETS TO INTERVENE, STATING, “YOU CERTAINLY MUST CARE MORE FOR YOUR AIRCRAFT CARRIERS THAN FOR TAIPEI.” TIAN DELIVERED HIS PREPARED REMARKS (ATTACHED) TO AMBASSADOR FOR REVIEW.

  Kyra handed the stapled sheets to Jonathan. “Only a diplomat can make a threat sound like he’s actually worried for the enemy.”

  “Heads of state don’t make jokes about sinking another country’s ships,” Jonathan said. He stared at the sheet for a moment, then dropped it and moved to Cooke’s classified computer and began typing.

  “It could be a psychological game,” Kyra observed. She rubbed her forehead. The Vicodin had done its job with admirable efficiency. “Would the president refuse to send in a carrier battle group if he thought the PLA could sink it?”

  Cooke considered the question for a few moments, tapping her finger on the table. “I played in a war game at the Naval War College a few years ago, when I was still in the service,” she finally said. “The red team’s first move was to launch every cruise missile they had at the Navy blue team’s carrier. The computer judged that they sank the ship. Control stopped the game, restarted the match, resurrected the carrier, and refused to give the red team their missiles back. They said the game wasn’t worth playing if the carrier wasn’t present. Draw your own conclusions.”