The corpsman gave him dry khakis and new boots to replace his dripping flight gear. Then he was back in the passageway, following the same man who greeted him in the helicopter. His name was Walsh, Bass learned, and he wore the eagles of a Navy captain. On the back of his vest was his title — BIG XO. They were accompanied by two unsmiling marines in battle dress uniforms.
Bass had not barfed for over five minutes. He was feeling good enough to resume worrying. Why the hell am I being escorted by an O-6? Why the marine guard?
After more turns and one ascent of a steel ladder, they came to a door marked FLAG INTEL; AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY.
Walsh didn’t bother knocking. He opened the door, ushered Bass into the room, then departed.
Bass blinked, taking in the scene. The glare of the harsh artificial light stung his eyes.
There were five of them, peering at him like owls. One was a civilian, wearing chinos, a polo shirt, and tortoise-shell glasses. Three were dressed in khakis and flight jackets — the faded-leather things with patches and rat fur-collars that the Navy favored. One more reason to choose the Air Force.
An older man with grey hair stood at the head of a steel conference table. He wore a black pullover sweater over his khakis with—oh shit—two stars on the epaulets.
“I want a lawyer,” said Bass.
“What the hell for?” said a Navy captain with wispy red hair. “You wanna sue somebody?”
“I, uh, might be in a little trouble.”
“Really? How come?”
“I really wasn’t supposed to be doing—”
“We’ve already figured out what you were doing. I just got off the sat-phone with a General Buckner at Yokota. I believe you know him?”
Bass felt like barfing again. “Uh, may I ask what he had to say?”
The captain, whose leather name tag identified him as “Red Boyce,” exchanged glances with the admiral. The admiral nodded.
“He said to tell you that you might as well get a job with the Navy or Marines or the Girl Scouts — he didn’t give a damn — because he’d see to it you weren’t allowed to shovel shit in the United States Air Force.”
“The general has a temper.”
“So I gather. He’ll get over it when he hears about the two F-7s you shot down.”
“It was two for two. I lost my wingman and my own jet in the fight.”
“Yes, we know. That’s what we want to talk to you about.”
Be strong, Charlotte Soong told herself. Do not allow them to intimidate you.
She forced herself to take long, deliberate strides as she entered the cabinet room. She wore a traditional flowered, high-collared Chinese silk dress. Make them respect you.
Not so many years ago, she had been regarded as a great beauty in Taipei society. Now that she had reached nearly fifty, Charlotte knew that her ample figure and stately carriage could still draw an appreciative gaze. Over her arm she carried the flowered umbrella, a talisman from the days of her marriage. The umbrella had become such a fixture that Taiwan’s political satirists invariably depicted her with it in their cartoons.
The ministers rose to their feet. She stood for a moment at the head of the long rosewood table. She gave them a peremptory look and said, “Seats, gentlemen.”
She spread her papers on the table before her. The first order of business was to receive reports about the effects of the war on the country.
“Madame President,” said Ma Wang, the Foreign Minister. “Our citizens remain in good spirits, but it is not clear how long that will continue. As the missile attacks from the mainland destroy more public buildings, it will erode their morale.”
She nodded. The Taiwanese were hardy people. For decades they had been braced for such a war with China. Now that it was here, and going reasonably well, they were proud and defiant. But she wondered how long they would support her while the Chinese missiles continued to rain down on them.
Premier Franklin Huang spoke up from the end of the long table. His voice was accusatory, as usual. “Why are the wonderful Patriot missiles we received from our so-called American friends not stopping the Chinese weapons? Were we not led to believe that the Patriots would protect us?”
Charlotte expected this. Instead of answering, she nodded to General Wu Hsin-chieh.
“The Patriot air defense batteries are performing well,” said the general. “They are countering over half the incoming missiles from the mainland. That is a far better statistic than Israel experienced with Iraqi Scuds during the Gulf War.”
“This is not Israel,” said Huang. “And China can deliver more destruction than Iraq ever dreamed of. Why are we engaged in this senseless war?”
“We are engaged in a war of survival,” said Charlotte. “We have no choice except to win. Unless you believe that we should allow ourselves to be invaded by the PLA and made a vassal province of China. Is that your choice, Premier Huang?”
It was best to get it over, she decided. If Huang swayed the other ministers to follow him, they would find a way to depose her. She had to deal with Huang.
“We do not have to fight,” he said. “China has no interest in invading us. They want a peaceful relationship with Taiwan.”
“Is it a peaceful relationship to murder our President? To mount an 80,000 man invasion force?”
“We have no evidence that they were responsible for the President’s death. The invasion force was merely a contingency. It was not their intention to go to war.”
“How is it you have such an understanding of China’s intentions, Franklin?”
For the first time, Huang blinked. “I am a statesman. It is my responsibility to know such things.”
“Do you communicate directly with Beijing, Premier Huang?”
Huang blinked again, no longer sure of himself. “In my official capacity as Premier, I have occasion to—”
“To talk with the enemy.” She leaned forward over the table, pressing the attack. “Is that what you do, Premier Huang? What do you reveal to them about us?”
It was working. The other ministers were spellbound, watching the confrontation. “Of course I have official exchanges with the People’s Republic,” he said. “Nothing of a sensitive nature is discussed. It is all a matter of record. You may read the transcriptions for yourself.”
She nodded. Actually, it was no surprise that Huang or any other official communicated with China. It was not illegal. Modern wireless communication made it possible for any citizen of Taiwan to speak with anyone on the mainland. But it served the purpose of putting Huang on the defensive.
The crisis had passed, at least for the moment. Charlotte moved the discussions to the military situation. General Wu delivered an assessment, including attrition of aircraft and warships. Although air superiority had been achieved early in the conflict, the loss of F-16s was becoming a worrisome matter.
Ma Wang spoke up. “I don’t understand. Why are we losing so many fighters over the strait now? Are the PLA pilots gaining some advantage over us?”
Wu hesitated and glanced at Charlotte Soong. He waited for a signal. She gave him an imperceptible head shake. Don’t tell them.
Ma had come close to the truth. The PLA did possess an advantage over Taiwan’s air force. An unexpected advantage. An invisible weapon — some kind of stealth craft — was decimating their fighter forces. It had been her intention to inform the cabinet about the terrifying airplane. If it weren’t destroyed, Taiwan would lose the war.
But Charlotte Soong was a woman who trusted her intuition. Something was telling her to keep her silence. Technically, she was in violation of the constitution. Such information was supposed to be shared with her cabinet. But there was something about Huang. A feeling that still dwelled in her stomach after her clash with him.