by John Ringo
“What is the final destination?”
“I prefer to keep that to myself, to prevent intelligence leaks. You will receive that information at the appropriate time. I require a minimum of twenty-five men able to maintain watch twenty-four hours a day. Extraction from the delivery site is to be provided by you. Expenses will be factored into your final total.”
“When would you prefer to leave?”
Cong shifted slightly in his chair. “There is a small matter that needs taking care of here in Bangkok. Part of my shipment has been held up in customs. The first task for your people would be to get it released, however you wish, as long as it is done quietly. Once that portion is transported to Yangon and offloaded, we would leave within the next twelve hours.”
Mike didn’t bat an eye. “The price is one-point-seven-five million for my team, plus expenses. It is not negotiable. We maintain our own radio equipment and comm channels. My men answer to me, not to you or anyone else in your chain of command. We are to liberate your shipment portion and guard the convoy to its final destination, nothing else. We will have authorization to use deadly force if attacked.”
The Chinese general’s expression turned grave. “As long as you understand that you answer to me.”
Mike’s jaw worked, but his reply was level. “As our employer, of course.”
“Of course. Your terms are accepted.” Cong picked up his glass and saluted Mike with it. “To a very profitable relationship.”
Mike raised his glass too. “I’ll have the standard contract sent to you this afternoon. One-half of the payment will be due on signature.” He knocked back the contents in one gulp.
“Of course. I will have the funds wired as soon as I have approved the contract.” Cong stood, signifying the end of the meeting. His bodyguard had appeared again, and gave the Chinese general a flash drive, who handed it to Mike. “Here is the information regarding the shipment here in Bangkok. Let me know your planned schedule so I can have the trucks prepared accordingly.” He extended his hand again. “I am looking forward to working with you and your people, Mr. Jenkins.”
“And I you.” Mike nodded to Jace and Than, and the three men were escorted back to the lift and down to the main lobby again.
“Contact information is also on the drive,” the bodyguard said. “Be sure to use the correct pass code per day as indicated.”
“Okay,” Mike said as he turned and headed for the entrance, with Jace and Than right beside him.
Only when they were outside and safely in a cab did Jace break the silence. “Are you as concerned about a rogue Chinese army general peddling arms into Myanmar as I am?”
“Well, the thought never crossed my mind until a few minutes ago. Now that you mention it, however, I can think of a few people who might consider that to be a problem,” Mike said. “However, I think I’ll wait until I’m back on the boat to break the bad news.”
* * *
“You agreed to do what?” Pierson asked four hours later.
Despite having heard Mike perfectly clearly the first time, he had asked the question on the off chance the former SEAL was pulling his leg. The problem was that Mike never kidded about mission parameters. If the POTUS had wanted him and the Keldara to infiltrate China and assassinate the Premier, Mike would find a way get it done.
“I accepted a job to guard a convoy of weapons under a Chinese general’s control into the heart of Myanmar. Oh, that’s after I recover part of the shipment that’s stuck in customs here in Bangkok.”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought you said. And this General Zháo Cong, he actually gave you his real name?”
“Vanner’s sending you the video footage from our meeting earlier today, so your analysts can confirm his identity. He sure sounded like a lot of generals I’ve met—pompous, self-important, and with a huge stick up his ass. Likes to beat his women, too.”
“That’ll get some priority at the Pentagon, I’m sure. First nuclear reactor boards, now arms deals in Myanmar? Are you ever going to take a real vacation someday?”
“Maybe, but not today. I figured I’d better kick this up the chain, in case someone had a problem with it.”
“Yeah, but didn’t I say to let us know if you got involved in China?”
“You keep saying that. Look, I thought I’d be dealing with another South Asian criminal, maybe a local warlord. The Chinese angle was a complete surprise, especially since the boards came from there in the first place. Besides, as I recall, you said to let you know if this took us into China, not if we spoke with one of them. The guy was ready to deal right then and there. If I had said I needed to think about it, he might have gotten cold feet or gotten someone else.”
“Okay, I hear you. The only problem is that this takes the mission in an entirely new direction. If the brass scrubs this, how are you going to back out?”
“Easy,” Mike replied. “I’ll just turn my boat around and head in the opposite direction. But you know as well as I do the Old Man’s going to want this followed up.”
“Yeah, I do.” Bob sighed. “I’m off to get my ducks in a row over here. I’ll be in touch as soon as I have the orders.”
“Talk to you soon,” Mike said. “I’ve got an extraction to plan.”
“And just plan it for now, okay? Remember what time it is over here? I probably won’t be able to get everyone together for a couple hours. Just sit tight, and I’ll get back to you ASAP.”
* * *
“Are you telling me that China is involved in this Myanmar situation?” the President asked.
“Not exactly. All available information indicates that this is the act of a lone Chinese army general who has been using his contacts throughout the region to both foment unrest and line his pockets at the same time.”
Having assuaged the POTUS, the director of the National Security Agency activated the hastily assembled PowerPoint briefing, bringing up the first slide of their potential enemy. “General Zháo Cong was born in 1963 to Bolin and Daiyu Cong. Bolin was a senior Party member who schooled his son in the Communist doctrine from an early age. Zháo entered the military on his eighteenth birthday, and swiftly ascended the chain of command. It is unknown whether his rapid ascent was due to his family’s status or simply natural talent. Assigned to the Department of Military Intelligence in the General Staff Department, he was promoted to the rank of general by age thirty-four.”
The NSA director advanced the program, showing a breakdown of China divided into its various military districts. “Six months after his promotion, General Cong was reassigned to the Chengdu Military Region for an unknown reason. Despite its proximity to India, Myanmar, and Thailand, in Chinese military circles the region is considered a backwater for officers whose careers have stalled. When he was unable to transfer out, Cong apparently decided to capitalize on his new assignment. He was still a hard-core Communist, but got onboard fast when the capitalist movement swept the nation in the ’90s. Since then, rumors have circulated that he’s been using his military connections to facilitate shipments of arms, drugs, and even people in both directions between China and neighboring countries for whoever’s willing to meet his price. We’ve heard from more than one source that he is involved in Myanmar’s heroin trade, but he’s very good at keeping his hands clean. Two separate investigations both failed to connect him to any of the major players in the area. However, in the past few years, the general has been living a lavish lifestyle that would be impossible on any normal army general’s salary, even one who was taking bribes inside the Chinese system.”
The director brought up the next slide, a close-up of the border between Myanmar and China—much of it adjacent to Cong’s military region. “Lately he’s been seen hobnobbing around with several of the Myanmar’s old guard. All career military men who are known to be against the democratic government established in 2010, although there’s no way to prove that. There is a legitimate concern that these men, if given the means, would do whatever they can to retur
n the nation to what they would consider the good old days of military dictatorship.”
“And a large convoy of weapons would go a long way toward achieving that goal.” The President merely said what everyone in the room was already thinking.
“I suppose it’s too much to ask that Mike simply dispose of this general and ensure that those weapons never make it to their destination?” The CIA director asked.
The President studied the map and border between the two countries. “Tempting as that option is, I need every bit of leverage over the Chinese that I can get. Taking Cong out and telling the Chinese we cleaned up a mess in their own backyard isn’t bad, but if we can link him to the parties actively trying to destabilize another country . . . well, that could almost be seen as an aggressive act on China’s part now, wouldn’t it?”
“Mr. President, you can’t possibly be thinking of trying them in the world press, would you?” The NSA director asked. “First, they’ll deny the hell out of it and claim he was acting on his own, which he is, so I don’t see what that would gain us by making it public. Hell, they’d probably try to find some way to say we had made up the whole damn thing to discredit them. Then they stop buying our foreign debt, and the economy goes even more in the crapper than it is already.”
The President waved off the man’s protest. “I’ll settle for aiding and abetting. I’ve been considering having the secretary of state visit China later this year or early in the next. Having conclusive evidence that one of theirs was involved in a military coup would be a great thing to have in our hip pocket for that trip . . . just in case.”
He turned to Bob Pierson, who had remained quiet during all of this. “Let Mike know to continue the operation. Tell him to ingratiate himself with this General Cong as much as he can stomach, and gather as much information on him as possible. Video identifying him actually involved in the transfer for the weapons would be great, if possible.”
* * *
“He wants what?” Mike asked.
“Look, his exact words were, ‘if possible.’ You’re already doing enough over there, I’m sure the Old Man doesn’t expect miracles.”
“No, but . . . well, it’s not necessarily impossible—”
“Really?”
“Yeah. We’ve been working more surveillance on this op than usual, and it’s gone pretty well so far. That file we sent to you was taken with a hidden pen HD camera we ordered over the Internet, if you can believe that. Plus, I’ve got another way that’s practically undetectable. If you tell him that, he’ll know what I mean. Probably have to disguise her to make sure Cong doesn’t get his hands on her . . .”
“What was that last part, Mike?”
“What? Oh, just thinking out loud. We’ll get on the job. Will let you know more when there’s more to know.”
“Okay, and be careful out there, will you? The jungle can hide a lot of secrets—or bodies.”
“I know.” Mike said. “I’ll just have to make sure they’re all the other guys’, that’s all.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“So, that’s what we’re looking at. Any questions before I continue?” Mike had assembled his officers, Daria, and Katya together to brief them on the operation as well as continue planning it.
“Is no one else concerned that Cong is being so secretive about the final destination?” Neilson asked from the monitor. “Taking a guess by the sketchy information he provided, you could be heading to Pyin U Lwin or Mandalay—”
“—or any one of a number of other towns nearby. I saw the map,” Mike interrupted. “Your point is noted, David, but we don’t have a huge choice. Washington wants us to both find out if there is a reactor somewhere in Myanmar and get hard evidence on Cong, so right now we have to play his game by his rules.”
“Perhaps, but the point I wish to make about Pyin U Lwin is that it is a training site for the Myanmar military. If you really are driving into there, it could be a problem,” Nielson said.
“Not if Cong will live up to the agreement that we sent to him. As we are working for him, under the terms of the contract, no foreign military should be able to impede us or prevent us from leaving when we have completed our assignment,” Mike replied.
“Assuming that this dirty Chinese general is going to play fair with you, too,” Neilson said.
Jace raised a hand. “Colonel Nielson brings up a good point. How certain are we that he’s even going to adhere to the terms? I mean, he’s certainly not acting on behalf of the Chinese government here, so what incentive does he have to play fair with us? I mean, besides the fact that we would shoot him full of holes if he doesn’t?”
Mike smiled. “The typical rule of thumb when dealing with men with guns is that you do not want to stiff them—on anything. We signed a piece of paper, but that doesn’t mean I trust him. We are simply going to have to stay on guard even more than usual, not only from outside forces, but also from Cong and his own people.”
Jace nodded. “Works for me.”
“Anyone else with questions?” When no one spoke up, Mike kept going. “All right. We’ll need reliable transportation for the Keldara teams, as well as the command and support staff. Even if Cong allows us the use of his vehicles, I don’t want to rely on him any more than necessary. Daria, we’ll need two transports able to hold twelve men plus gear apiece, as well as three of the toughest off-road SUVs or pickups you can find. You know my preferences, but whatever’s available will have to do. Get the best deal you can, and try not to let them know that we are in a hurry. Coordinate with Jace and Vanner on any issues about foreigners purchasing vehicles. Hopefully the amount of cash we’re plunking down for these will remove those obstacles before they become a problem. Before I turn to the customs issue, a couple more things to address. First, Patrick, how are the contract negotiations going?”
Vanner pushed a manila folder toward him. “What negotiations? He signed the base contract as is, even with our built-in escalators for extended time in the field and heavy combat. Drag your feet a little and pop some caps at the trees, and we could be looking at another half-million in fees before we’re done. This guy must really be in a hurry to get these weapons on the road.”
“He certainly seemed impatient when we met him,” Mike said.
“Probably couldn’t find what he needed around here without alerting the locals,” Jace said.
“Good thing we just happened to be in the neighborhood,” Adams commented.
“Indeed.” Mike finished flipping through the boilerplate agreement. “What about the down payment?”
“Already deposited in a bank account opened specifically for that purpose this morning.” The intel chief shrugged. “Like I said, dude’s in a hurry.”
“Probably coming out of some Chinese army slush fund anyway, although he’d be crazy to use any cash that could be traced,” Mike said.
“Hell, the U.S. has spent billions on PMCs and outside contractors in the past decade, why shouldn’t other countries get in on the fun?” Adams asked.
Mike shrugged. “Point. I guess we could consider this doing our part to address America’s trade imbalance with China. All right, one last thing on the agenda. I’ve been advised that certain parties on the other side of the world would like to have video evidence of General Cong and his misdeeds. That—” he pointed at Katya. “—is where you come in.”
“Not that I am complaining about another job, but surely you have other methods of doing this,” she said.
“We do, and they probably wouldn’t cost as much—” Mike exchanged a thin smile with her. “—but none of them are as undetectable as you. Besides, we might need your other assets, too. There is one thing that, to be honest, I’m not sure if you’ll care about or not. I think it will be best if you go in dressed as a man.”
Katya cocked her head. “Why?”
“Two reasons. One, a blond woman will be too distracting to the other men out there, and prevent you from being able to do the job you are there to d
o. Two, General Cong has some unusual hobbies in the bedroom, and I don’t want him getting any ideas around you. Bottom line, you are in my employ, not his.”
“You are too kind,” she said.
“I have my moments. All right, how are we fixed for the customs job?”
“Team Inara has reviewed the operations documents and is sacked out right now, pending the 0100 mission launch time. However this turns out, I would suggest that we try to stay off this Cong guy’s shit list, ’cause he is fucking thorough.” Adams held up a thick sheaf of papers. “The jacket on the customs guy who’s holding up the shipment has everything in it but how he holds his dick when he pisses, and I’ll bet if we asked for it, he’d find out and get it to us. We’ve got his daily schedule, family intel, house blueprints, security plans, neighborhood maps, the quickest route from there to the warehouse and from there to the rendezvous point, everything we need. We’ve even got the proper forms that this jackass needs to approve, stamp, and sign. You give the word, we’ll be up and running it within twenty minutes.”
“Works.” Mike frowned. “Do we have any idea why this shipment is being held up in the first place? We don’t need any foreign entanglements if we go in to get this and find out it’s in quarantine or some shit like that.”
Daria answered this one. “According to the documentation on the drive, this shipment of ‘televisions’ is currently pending a ‘supervisor’s inspection’ because the ‘special duty payment’ offered was not enough.”
“Just can’t make a living on a public servant’s salary any more, can you?” Mike asked. “Is the paperwork in order?”
She nodded at Jace. “With Captain Morgan’s assistance, we were able to make sense of it. Everything is in order except for the final inspection and sign-off by the official.”
“Okay . . . so why don’t we simply make our own customs stamp, process the paperwork ourselves, and go pick up the shipment without ever getting this guy involved?”
