“We do have a connection indeed, Hart,” the president said. “And now it’s our turn at the bat.”
Brad Austin stepped out of the rear of the sedan in front of 601 New Hampshire Avenue, in the heart of Foggy Bottom.
Massive and opulent, the seven-story building occupied almost an entire city block in one of the most expensive real-estate enclaves in the nation. Designed to project the wealth and power of the oil-rich nation, its lobby was nothing short of stunning, with massive crystal chandeliers casting a soft glow on shiny marble floors, exquisite wood paneling, and expensive furnishings.
Austin walked straight to the aide waiting for him, next to the private elevator flanked by security guards in white uniforms, each holding an MP-5 submachine gun. They went up to the top floor, where he was received by Ambassador Adel al-Faisal, dressed in a traditional white cotton thawb. He complemented the ankle-length Arab tunic with a matching ghutrah headdress secured with a black goat’s-hair agal. The plump man, who had almost walked out of the United Nations assembly a few days before during Austin’s speech, did not smile as he extended a hand toward a pair of chairs across from his desk.
“Don’t need to sit down, Mr. Ambassador,” Austin said. “But you might need to.”
Al-Faisal blinked at that before asking, “What is the purpose of your visit? Your office said it was urgent.”
“It’s about your missing prince.”
Al-Faisal ran a finger over his thin mustache, his stare narrowing. “Prince Omar?”
Austin nodded.
The ambassador became visibly agitated. “Do you know who took him?”
Another nod.
“Was it the Mossad? The Shiites? Is there a ransom? I demand to know!”
“Actually, there is a ransom, but quite steep,” he said before producing his phone.
“What are you talking about? Prince Omar is eleventh in line for the throne. His well-being is a matter of national security. My government will do anything to get him back safely.”
“Then take a look at this.… Though again, I suggest you sit down first.”
The ambassador stared at him a moment before slowly sitting in one of the chairs.
Austin pulled up the video he had received from Prost just hours before and pressed play before passing it to the Saudi, who spent the next two minutes spellbound, listening to Al Saud’s confession.
“You see, Mr. Ambassador, since Prince Omar is, as you indicated, in line for the throne, that makes your government directly responsible for a nuclear attack against the United States, not to mention the deaths of over six thousand citizens, and thousands more wounded. And there’s the damage to three aircraft carriers, the destruction of one of our new subs, and the nightmare in Newport News.”
“This… this is…”
“My president sent me here today to ask what is your government prepared to do to make amends?”
“Amends?”
“You don’t expect us to just forget this.”
The Saudi stared back. “Is this… a threat?”
“You have twenty-four hours to respond. If we are not satisfied with your answer, we will be forced to… respond… in kind.”
The ambassador tried to stand his ground. “The world will never stand for that. Saudi Arabia will not be—”
“Mr. Ambassador, nobody likes Saudi Arabia except for Saudi Arabia. Right now, the world is in shock that a nuclear weapon was used against the United States. Once it becomes public that your government was responsible, no one will get in our way. But don’t worry… we’ll be sure to spare the oil fields and the refineries, for our own use.”
Al-Faisal’s face turned red with anger.
“Twenty-four hours, Mr. Ambassador,” Austin said. As he turned to leave, he tapped his watch and said, “Tick tock.”
— 29 —
The hastily called evening meeting of the Chinese Communist Party leadership caught some of the members off guard. The message behind the destruction of the Guangdong missile site had not been lost on President Xi Jiechi and the senior leadership of the party.
And the day before, the navy’s new Type 096 ballistic missile submarine, operating in the Luzon Strait, had failed to report. A search had been launched and enough floating debris spotted that it has almost certainly sunk. An accident, perhaps, or an intentional act by the United States?
Now the nuclear attack on Newport News had raised the stakes dramatically. One simple miscalculation on either side could prove disastrous.
It had been decades since the Chinese leadership had been so divided and debate so acrimonious. The majority of senior military officers, led by General Deng Xiangsui, argued that now was the perfect time to take advantage of the US Navy’s loss of multiple aircraft carriers. The officers wanted to exploit the American navy’s weakened forward-deployed forces in the Pacific Fleet, including the reports that Vinson had been damaged — as well as USS Bush at Naval Station Norfolk — and finally reunite Taiwan with the mainland.
President Jiechi insisted on looking at history, primarily the aftermath of Japan’s sneak attack on Pearl Harbor. In an all-out war with China, he argued, the Americans might suffer tremendous losses. However, the Chinese survivors would be left a country in smoking ruin.
The harsh arguments continued, with both sides refusing to alter course. The military argued that now was the time to strike, while the US forces were weak and the American people in shock.
“Besides, Mr. President,” Admiral Deng Xiangsui vehemently pointed out, “the American people aren’t like the Americans from the World War Two generation. They aren’t going to band together to join the ranks of the military, buy war bonds, or suffer any kind of rationing.”
Frowning, Deng looked directly at his mild-mannered protégé and paused for a moment. “The risk-averse politicians in Washington, and the vast majority of the self-indulgent American citizens, don’t have the backbone to even consider a military confrontation of such proportions. Now is the time for us to strike a crippling blow to their forces and fully reunify China! Let us finally end our pretense regarding Hong Kong and Taiwan and use our strength to pull them back fully under our control.”
Deng stared at the president and the most powerful civilian leaders in the group. “Now is the time to test the American leadership. This unexpected gift, this incredible window of opportunity, will not stay open indefinitely.”
Glancing at President Jiechi, Deng raised his voice. “One thing is certain, absolutely certain,” he thundered. “Those who are indecisive and vacillate will be looked upon as squanderers of China’s future as the world’s most powerful country!”
After a few moments of silence, President Jiechi slowly rose to speak.
“General, your passion is appreciated and your bravery without dispute. I have no doubt you would gladly lead our forces into battle with the Americans and emerge victorious. But at what cost? You say the American people are weak and cowardly. And this may be true. But they are also wealthy, and China has benefited greatly from that wealth.
“However, the average American has no love of China. In fact, there is much hatred of China. Crowds chant and riot about jobs that have left America and reappeared in factories here. I have no doubt that many Americans would be pleased at the thought of missiles destroying large swaths of China’s industrial capacity, as well as welcome the inevitable buildup of US manufacturing capacity in response.