“All the more reason that we need rearmament.”
“Consul Poynter tells me that a resupply of the Patriot missile batteries has been authorized.” Wu was watching the cloud of debris descend over Taipei. The sound of the explosion had not yet reached him. “To our request for more offensive weapons — land-attack missiles and more F-16s — he says Washington declines. There will be no rearmament of offensive equipment.”
“I have a conference scheduled in two hours with the U.S. President,” said Madame Soong. “I will remind him that America is involved with Taiwan in this war. That we share a common interest in the outcome.”
Wu knew she was being circumspect. Even though the telephone transmissions were scrambled, they had to assume that others would monitor the conversation. It was a fact of life that Taiwan — including the military and the executive branches of government — was riddled with PRC spies. Just as the PRC was well-infested with Taiwanese operatives.
He knew exactly what she meant. She was referring to an operation against a base on the mainland called Chouzhou. And a stealth jet called Black Star. It would commence in eight hours, and yes, the Americans were definitely involved.
Smartass broad, thought Bass.
It was the third time in a single conversation that she had corrected his imperfect Chinese. As if someone had appointed this Mai-ling chick to be his cultural supervisor. His nanny.
“Where did you say you went to undergrad school?”
“University of California,” she said. “You may have heard of it.”
“Which campus?”
“San Diego. Where’d you go?”
“UCLA. You probably never heard of it.
“I made it a point never to go there.”
“I guess you learned all that California flake talk in San Diego?”
“Actually, I learned it from some Air Force ROTC guys. They weren’t very bright.”
Bass just shook his head. They had gone back and forth like this for most of the time he had known her. She had a comeback for everything.
“How does a student from China get into a university in the U.S.? Some kind of foreign assistance program?”
“By merit, mostly. China sends a thousand or so of the best and brightest students every year for studies in the U.S. Many go on to obtain advanced degrees. I was one of them.”
“Are they all as modest and self-effacing as you?”
“Yes. They don’t wish to embarrass their American male counterparts who are not as gifted.”
“Then they go back to China to work on weapons to use against us.”
“Of course. America educates its enemies and sells them its secrets. It’s an old tradition.”
Bass just nodded. He suspected that she was right. It didn’t make sense, but a lot of things lately weren’t making sense. His own situation, for example. He still hadn’t figured out how he got into this mess.
“What will you do when this is over?” he asked. “Go to the United States?”
“I don’t know.” She seemed to drop some of the smartass posture, at least for the moment. “Maybe. Maybe not. It depends on what happens in the next few days.”
Bass supposed that she meant the operation in Chouzhou. If it turned out badly, none of them had a future. Not him, not her, not Maxwell. China would win, and everyone else lost.
She was making no secret of her crush on Maxwell. He wondered if they were already sleeping together. Well, why the hell not? Life was short. For them, possibly very short.
He heard the sound of boots on the wooden floor. He glanced up to see Colonel Chiu striding into the room. As usual, he wore sharply creased battle dress fatigues with black, spit-shined boots.
Chiu glanced around, a look of disapproval on his face. He said to Mai-ling, “So? You have nothing better to do than spend your time talking with gwai-los?” Gwai-lo meant “foreign devil,” but was loosely applied to include all outsiders.
“I was helping him with his Mandarin.”
“Why? So he can answer questions in Chinese when the PLA interrogates him?” Chiu’s face creased into a humorless smile.
Prick, thought Bass. He noticed that Mai-ling wasn’t giving Chiu any of the smartass treatment. Was she afraid of him?
Chiu glanced at his watch. “We have a briefing scheduled in ten minutes. I suggest you keep your thoughts directed on the mission.”
“Yes, Colonel,” said Mai-ling.
Bass just nodded.
Something was happening.
Huang could sense it, like a change in the weather. In the executive bunker he had spotted General Wu skulking in and out of the President’s private office. Staff officers — colonels and commanders — scurried back and forth clutching documents to their chests. Plainclothes agents walked the passageway of the bunker, mumbling hushed instructions in their pocket radios.
Outside the executive office he encountered Peter Weng, the President’s administrative aide. He remembered Weng from the cabinet meetings. He was a prissy office type who followed Soong around like a pet poodle.
“Where is the President?” Huang demanded. “I need to speak to her.”
“She’s not in the office.”
“I can see that, you idiot. Where is she?”
Weng looked like he’d been slapped. “I’m not authorized to divulge the President’s whereabouts.”
“Authorized? Do you know who you’re speaking to? I’m the second-in-command of this government, and you are refusing to tell me the whereabouts of my only superior?”
“I–I’m not refusing, Premier. It’s just — well, the President made it clear that—”
“This country is at war, you insignificant pest. You are interfering with the conduct of my official duties. Mr. Weng, I may have you arrested for obstructing the war effort and abetting the enemy. Do you know the penalty for such conduct?”
Weng knew. His face went white. He glanced up and down the hallway for help from someone. Anyone.
Huang knew he had overplayed his hand, but it was producing the desired effect. “Speak up, damn you. Or shall I call the chief of security and have you put in shackles?”
“If you give me a few minutes, I’ll call her and have her get in touch with you.”
“I’m the Premier, you pimple-headed moron. I don’t require your permission to speak with the President. Where is she?”
Weng caved in. “She went to Chingchuankang.”
Huang made a deliberate effort not to register his surprise. Chingchuankang? That was a secret facility where they staged commando operations. Why is she there at this hour? It was nearly nine o’clock in the evening. Something was definitely going on. Something she had kept from him.
“Of course, I know she went to Chingchuankang. I mean, where is she at this very moment? Has she left the base yet?”
“I’m not sure, Premier. I will find out.”
“Do that. Be quick about it.”
A look of relief covered the young man’s face and he fled the area. Huang waited till he was gone, then he wheeled and went to the cubicle that served as his office in the underground bunker.
The rest was easy. Using his secure phone, he called the base commander at Chingchuankang. The commander, a colonel, was flattered by so much attention. First a visit by the President, then a personal call from the Premier. Yes, the President and her entourage were due to arrive in a pair of helicopters in not more than ten minutes.
Huang took a shot in the dark. “Of course, she expects to see the preparations for the commando raid?”
A pause, and Huang worried that the question may aroused suspicion.