by Ted Halstead
Years of drilling propelled Xu upright as well. Please, he thought, please don't let it be…
The unmistakable voice of Colonel Chang directly behind him telling the soldiers to resume their meals told Xu that his prayers were going unanswered.
Maybe Chang didn't hear what I was saying, Xu hoped desperately, as he fixed his gaze a few meters away on one of the thick wooden posts supporting the dining tent.
"Sergeant, Corporal, I think I'll join you. Lieutenant, please get us all a fresh cup of tea, and then take a break. I'm going to spend a little time talking to these men," Chang said.
Xu dared to feel a bit of relief. At least, it didn't look like Chang was going to have him punished on the spot for defeatism, so maybe he didn't hear Xu after all.
A lot of officers would have done that automatically, as Xu knew well. Chang had the reputation of being a good officer who treated his men well, even if he was a bit odd.
"I read the report of your last patrol with interest," Chang said, and all the soldiers within earshot relaxed, including Xu and Guan. Interest in a report was a perfectly normal reason for an officer to speak with an NCO like Xu.
Chang took a sip of his tea and frowned. Putting the cup back down, he said, "From your description, I could see that you took unusual precautions during your patrol. I do not doubt that those steps are what kept you alive, so we could speak today."
Xu did his best to keep relief from his expression. Chang had failed to hear his comments, or he wouldn't be praising him now.
"I had intended to stop by briefly to tell you this but was glad to hear you ask an important question as I arrived. Why are we all here on the border with India?" Chang asked rhetorically.
Now Xu tried hard not to wince, though he doubted he'd been successful.
"I will begin with a question of my own. Have you ever heard of Alaska?" Chang asked.
Xu nodded doubtfully, while as a mere corporal, Guan did his best to look simultaneously attentive and invisible.
"Good. Now, from what you've heard, would you imagine Alaska is as cold and snowy as where we are now?" Chang asked.
Xu nodded again, wondering where this was going.
He was also starting to see why Chang had the reputation of being a bit odd.
"America bought Alaska from Russia in the 1860s, just after the American Civil War. The Russians sold it because they believed the Americans might seize it otherwise. They also feared the British, who ruled Canada, might take it instead. Since Russia had recently lost a war to the British in Crimea, they much preferred to have the Americans on the other side of the Bering Strait, rather than the British and their navy," Chang said.
"That all makes sense, sir," Xu said. And it did. But what did it have to do with anything?
From the smile Chang gave him, for a horrified instant Xu thought he had asked the question aloud.
But no. Chang said, "It makes sense to you. And it did to many Americans. But others considered the purchase of Alaska unwise. The man in the American government who negotiated the purchase was named Seward. So Americans who opposed the purchase called Alaska 'Seward's Icebox' and 'Seward's Folly.' In the end, though, the Americans were repaid handsomely for their investment of seven million dollars. Do you know how?"
There was just one thing Xu thought he knew about Alaska, and he used that knowledge now.
"Sir, don't they produce oil in Alaska?" Xu asked.
"Excellent, Sergeant. Indeed they do, in substantial quantities. Long after Alaska's purchase, of course. In fact, before oil was even considered a resource. Now, let us imagine for a moment that the Americans had declined to purchase or seize Alaska, and the Russians had kept it. How could that have mattered?" Chang asked.
Xu frowned with thought, and then his eyes slowly widened.
"Sir, the Americans and Russians were mortal enemies for decades, and each built a vast nuclear arsenal targeted at the other. A large Russian territory in North America might have been a decisive advantage!" Xu exclaimed.
"Perhaps," Chang said with a smile. "Or, it could have led to a nuclear conflict between the two countries drawing in many others. Maybe including China. And then, you and I might not be talking here now."
That brought Xu up short. Yes, in hindsight, it did seem remarkable that with the thousands of nuclear weapons on both sides, none had ever been used against the other.
"So, Sergeant, what lesson would you draw from our discussion about Alaska that might apply to the territory where we now sit?" Chang asked.
Xu looked at Chang with new respect. "Sir, it seems land that appears worthless today might become much more valuable in the future. Maybe in ways that now we can't even imagine."
Chang stood and, smiling, patted Xu on the shoulder. "Just so, Sergeant. I'm pleased to see that you're as good at using your head as you are at keeping it out of sight of Indian snipers. Continue to do both."
Moments later, Chang and his aide had left the dining tent, and Xu and Guan were looking at each other.
"I feel just like I did when we dodged that round yesterday," Guan said.
Xu's laugh was short and sharp as he said, "You and me both."
Chapter Twelve
Russian Consulate General
San Francisco, California
Mikhail Vasilyev looked out from one of the Consulate General's windows at the pedestrians and traffic below, without really seeing either. Anatoly Grishkov swirled the coffee dregs in his mug and fought the impulse to get another cup. He knew, as usual in any office, it would be no better than the last.
Detailed maps of San Francisco covered most of the large conference room table.
The remaining space was occupied by several large-scale blueprints of San Francisco's tallest buildings. Other blueprints were neatly stacked on a small side table.
It was a sizeable stack. It turned out there were plenty of tall structures in San Francisco, despite Vasilyev's vague hope that fear of earthquakes might have kept their number in check.
They had a schedule of events that would bring Eli Wade out from his home and office's safety, compiled from both public and covert sources. It gave them a starting point, but no more than that.
Wade was notorious for canceling some appearances at the last moment and dropping in at other events with no notice. Publicly this was often chalked up to the billionaire's eccentricity.
Vasilyev had noted, though, that one reporter had suggested one fact did more than any other to explain Wade's behavior.
The people at the events Wade attended or skipped nearly always needed him more than the reverse. So blacklisting him, for example, wasn't practical.
Several of the most experienced diplomats at the Consulate General had worked hard to annotate the schedule, focusing on the events where it was believed Wade was most likely to attend.
Heading that list was a charity event Wade was hosting himself that he had never missed since founding the charity over a decade ago. That fundraiser would be an ideal opportunity.
Except they weren't sure they would receive orders to act before the event.
"I think we should go downtown to get an in-person look at some of these buildings. Enough days have passed since our arrival that I think official curiosity in our movements has dropped sufficiently. Besides, we will look like we're taking in the sights," Grishkov said.
Vasilyev just nodded and continued looking out the window.
"Honestly, I don't know why our consulate was put way out here. There are no American government buildings nearby or other foreign consulates. Was it a punishment of some sort by the Americans?" Grishkov asked.
Grishkov didn't care one way or the other. But he knew he needed to get Vasilyev talking about something inconsequential before moving on to what was really bothering him.
It worked. Vasilyev glanced up and replied, "We asked for this location."
OK, now Grishkov was curious. "Do you know why?"
Vasilyev shrugged. "Not for sure. But you rem
ember the park we walked through yesterday, called Presidio?"
Grishkov nodded. "Yes, very nice and impressive views, but surely not the reason we're at this location."
"Well, it was impressive enough that the Americans offered it as a possible UN location, though the mostly European selection committee picked the much closer New York City. However, when this mission opened in the 1970s, the Presidio was an Army base," Vasilyev said.
Grishkov nodded thoughtfully. "Yes, that was mentioned on several of the signs in the park. Are you suggesting we were conducting electronic surveillance of American military activities?"
Vasilyev smiled. "Well, whether we were or not, as you saw yesterday, it has been many years since the Army left. The base was closed along with many others after the end of the Cold War."
"Yes, and this consulate was closed for years due to American sanctions. It's fortunate we were finally allowed to reopen it, or this mission would have been far more difficult," Grishkov said.
Vasilyev sighed. "Yes. Fortunate."
"OK, let's have it," Grishkov said. "You haven't been yourself since Smyslov told us about our mission."
At first, Vasilyev started to object, and then he paused.
Grishkov sat back, his arms folded. He was glad Vasilyev had remembered on his own that, by necessity, the FSB officers here had been informed of their mission. Both to provide documents to assist with its planning, and with Vasilyev and Grishkov's subsequent exit from America.
Which was likely to be hasty.
So while it was possible their conversation was being monitored, it was unlikely. Standard FSB procedure was to disable listening devices in any rooms where planning for a declared mission was in progress. Vasilyev had reminded Neda before they left that she had no such protection since the FSB had given the Embassy in Washington no details about their mission.
Instead, the Embassy had only been told Neda and Kharlov would carry out their mission, if ordered, well away from Washington and without their involvement.
"Sorry," Vasilyev said shortly. "I was thinking about Neda again."
Grishkov nodded. "Of course you were. But being separated from her isn't the only reason you've been distracted."
"No, you're right. I don't like anything about this mission. That we're doing this at the bidding of the Chinese. That it's our weakness that lets the Chinese make such demands," Vasilyev said bitterly.
"Or that we're being forced to kill a man whose only crime is making it easier for the Chinese to learn facts their government would rather keep hidden," Grishkov added.
"Yes. Understand me. I will carry out my orders and know you'll do the same. If Smyslov says we risk returning to the Yeltsin period or worse if the Chinese don't buy our oil and gas, I believe him. To avoid that outcome, sacrificing one agent's conscience is a small price to pay," Vasilyev said.
"Well, you can make that two agents," Grishkov said. "I don't like doing this either. But I disagree with you on one point. There's just one thing about our orders I do like."
Vasilyev raised one eyebrow inquiringly but said nothing.
Grishkov laughed. "Remember that the Chinese are going to try to pay Wade off and might succeed. If that doesn't work, maybe when Neda and Kharlov blow up Wade's Spaceship, he'll reconsider the wisdom of going up against over a billion Chinese. If either of those things happens, then we can just fly home to Moscow."
Vasilyev shook his head. "You've read everything we have on Wade, including the assessment of the FSB's psychologists. Do you think either outcome is likely?"
"No," Grishkov replied promptly. "But I've lived longer than you. That means I've had more chances to be proved wrong. I'm hoping this is one of those times."
Chapter Thirteen
Three Gorges Dam
Hubei Province, Central China
Hydropower Director Peng looked down from the top of the dam to the vista below. It was truly spectacular. Water flowing through the spillway created a constant thunder that reminded Peng of the raw power under his control.
It was power on a scale difficult to fully grasp. The dam had the world's largest installed power capacity, at over twenty-two thousand megawatts. In 2020, they had set the world record in annual power production at over one hundred four terawatt-hours.
They had also set several less fortunate records.
Flooding upstream in the Yangtze River in 2020 had sent an unprecedented seventy-five million liters of water a second to the dam. The only way to cope with that volume had been to discharge well over half as soon as it was received, at a rate of nearly fifty million liters of water a second.
Despite the record water release, the dam's reservoir approached its rated limit of one hundred seventy-five meters for the first time. It ended up topping one hundred seventy meters.
Three hundred thousand residents bordering the river were evacuated. Multistory buildings were submerged.
Peng had subsequently been put in charge of the Three Gorges Dam and all of the many other dams on the Yangtze River's numerous tributaries. The critical problem identified after the near-disaster in 2020 had been refusal among other dam managers to coordinate water release, with each most concerned about possible damage to their facility. Plus, maintaining their power production quotas.
Peng had to admit that those dams were important. Though none were as large as the Three Gorges Dam, together, the top four subsidiary dams produced twice as much power. The largest, Xiluodu, was the world's third-largest power producer.
Unfortunately, Peng still needed Beijing's clearance to take any action that might affect power production. Still, Peng was confident that in a crisis, the government would back him.
Peng would risk damage to Xiluodu or any other dams if he had to because the Three Gorges Dam had to remain intact.
If the Three Gorges Dam collapsed, the flooding it would unleash would kill millions. It would be a disaster unprecedented in scale and scope, not just in China but worldwide.
Peng was determined to prevent that. At any cost.
Dam Manager Shen wasted no time scurrying through the biting wind to Peng's side. As though to encourage Shen, a sudden shift in wind direction sent spray from the spillway over the dam's side.
Drenched from head to toe and teeth chattering, Shen pulled his supposedly waterproof jacket tighter together. Peng, who had narrowly missed being soaked himself, tried to sound sympathetic.
"Sorry to drag you up here, Shen. But it's not just for the view," Peng growled.
Shen peered over the side, his miserable expression quickly replaced with one of pride. "It's always worth it," he said.
Peng nodded. Shen had many faults. But he made up for them with what Peng considered the most important virtue.
Total dedication to his job.
"Look down towards the base," Peng said quietly.
Shen did as Peng had ordered, and his look of pride disappeared. Peng had thought Shen looked miserable before, but now a better word might be despairing.
"So, do we have a tiger after all?" Peng asked even more quietly.
Shen didn't answer at first, his attention still focused on the view below. Then shaking himself like a man waking from a nightmare, he turned to Peng.
"I remember my senior engineer's words," Shen said evenly. "Don't describe a kitten as a tiger, he said. I thought his statement an invitation to bad luck at the time and told him so."
Shen looked down to the dam's base again and sighed.
"It looks like bad luck has accepted our invitation. The deformation at the base is visibly worse, just as our latest engineering survey suggested. You know as well as I do that with the men and equipment here, we can only manage the problem, not solve it," Shen said angrily.
Peng nodded. Shen was only speaking the truth.
"Very well. Tell me about your management efforts," Peng said.
"The leading cause of deaths from the dam has been landslides in areas it has affected. We've spent over a billion American dollar
s on engineering projects to identify and mitigate that risk, with considerable success. I believe we have that problem under control," Shen said.
Peng softly clapped his hands, making Shen start with surprise, and then his eyes narrow. Was Peng mocking him?
No. Peng said, "I've read your comprehensive reports. I agree with your assessment. At a minimum, you've bought us some time."
Shen inclined his head slightly, acknowledging the praise. "Water release management is the main tool we have to keep further deformation in check. Power production must continue, of course. However, maintaining the dam's structural integrity is now the absolute top priority."
Peng nodded but said nothing. He had discovered that Shen's predecessor had engaged in an unofficial competition with the Itaipu Dam, on the border between Brazil and Paraguay, for the title of world's greatest power producer. Ironically, there was no evidence that Itaipu's managers were even aware of this competition.
It had, though, played an essential role in the trial of Shen's predecessor for gross abuse of government resources and the endangerment of thousands of Chinese citizens.
Shen would never see his predecessor again.
China officially acknowledged executing about a thousand people a year for a variety of offenses. Amnesty International and many other human rights organizations said they had evidence the number was far higher.
Peng and Shen knew nothing about that discussion. But they were both aware that execution of your predecessor was one way a vacancy might open up. One that might help your career.
It also had its intended effect. Anyone whose career advanced as a result would do whatever they could to avoid the same fate.
"How can I help?" Peng asked.
Shen looked at Peng sharply, and Peng had to fight back a smile. He knew exactly what was passing through Shen's mind. China's bureaucrats were no better known for a burning desire to help their subordinates than those of other countries.
Visibly making up his mind, Shen said, "Please continue to press the dam managers upstream to give our water management requests top priority. None of them face our challenges. All they risk is, at worst, failing to meet their power production targets."
