“You okay?” Jenny asked. Hal nodded.
“I was there. That’s me. It has to be. The image I just saw in my mind was from his perspective, looking back at the explosion.”
Henry continued to play the video. “And this verifies it’s a stealth suit with some kind of optical camouflage. The suit is damaged and the figure slightly glows again.”
“What’s optical camouflage?” Jenny asked.
“Up until now, it has only been in Science Fiction and video games,” Henry said. “It’s like a cloaking device. There are a handful of theories of how one might be constructed. The most plausible theory is a high-tech fabric with microscopic video sensors and monitors woven in. Nanotechnology. There would have to be thousands of them, but with that many, the resolution would be life-like.”
“How does it work?” She asked.
“The nano-cameras capture live digital video and send it to nano-monitors on the opposite side of the suit. The cameras and monitors are all side by side, woven into the fabric, creating a see-through illusion. For it to work from every angle and on weaponry, it would require complex algorithms and substantial computing power.” Henry sensed he may have gone over her head. “Imagine I’m holding a TV connected to a camera on my back, pointing at the wall behind me. You would be seeing the wall right through my chest. That’s the concept— and with thousands of cameras and monitors, the quality would be better than HDTV, making it close to what the eye sees, rendering the person in the suit invisible.”
Hal watched the infrared battle from a chair. Shaking the dizziness away. A volley of bright bullets zipped back and forth down the street between glowing Special Forces on one end and luminous figures hanging out of windows on the other.
Henry continued the play by play… “Here, a military force, I’m guessing American Special Forces operators provide cover fire while they retrieve— you, the figure. It looks like they placed you inside something to shield you from unfriendly eyes above.”
“What do you mean?” Jenny asked.
“From satellites or other high-flying aircraft. Russian. Chinese. Israeli. Anyone’s. Maybe even US satellites.” Hal looked up at Henry. Henry nodded, continuing, “This is so top secret, leaders of our own government may not know about it.”
Jenny eyed the drone feed on the flat screen. “Where are they taking him?”
“Watch,” Henry said. The glowing Special Forces team raced through the alley to the clearing where their transport awaited. “Notice the odd design of the helicopter?”
Jenny nods. “I’ve never seen one of those.”
“Not many people have,” Henry said. “It’s a stealth Blackhawk.” They watch it take off and arc away from the rooftop fighters, flying over the city. The drone image follows for a few blocks and then cuts out. “That’s all there is,” Henry said.
“Now, what?” Hal asked.
“Well,” Henry replied, “we know the why of them manipulating you. We just have to figure out the who and the how?”
“It would be a lot easier if we had one of those suits,” Hal said.
Henry nodded in agreement. “Then go get one.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
THE RENTERS
“We know the United States is responsible for the explosion at the Railway Bureau Building,” Chinese Foreign Minister Wu Yongkang said in rough English. Wu was in his fifties with silver hair and square wire-frame glasses. He addressed the US Ambassador Kristen Reilly, as he lead her into a private meeting chamber at the Conference Building of the UN headquarters — adjacent to the General Assembly Building in New York City. Reilly was a stern Congresswoman from New York. President Clarke passed her over as his pick for Vice President and awarded her the UN Ambassadorship as a consolation prize.
Reilly hid her alarm at Yongkang’s remark, completely unaware of the incident. The brashness of the accusation along with its grave implications caught her off guard and sent frigid chills up her spine. Both ambassadors had just finished listening to the Israeli Ambassador speak to the General Assembly on pressing for more sanctions against Iran, when Yongkang broke protocol and occupied a vacant seat next to her, assigned to the ambassador of Uruguay. Yongkang formally invited Reilly and her delegation to the private meeting room stating that the matter was extremely urgent. The two ambassadors agreed to meet in the small room while the delegate parties of both countries waited in the lobby area.
Reilly maintained her composure, looking sharp and confident in her trim and formal business skirt. “Please refresh my memory, Ambassador. What is the railway building? I’m not aware of an explosion there.”
Yongkang believed she was bluffing and wanted to expose it, but knew this delicate of a matter required the most diplomatic response. “The explosion on the roof of the Railway Bureau Building in Fuzhou nearly four months ago. A terrorist attack that delayed trains across the entire region. We know with certainty that the United States is responsible for this attack. To verify this knowledge, we can tell you the origin of the attack: Holloman Air Force Base in New Mexico.”
Reilly couldn’t hold her poker face any longer. She tried concealing an expression of astonishment, but Yongkang saw through it.
“I see you do not have the highest level of clearance and have not been appraised of this matter,” Yongkang said. “I will carry out my instructions regardless.” He reached into an attaché case and his big hands removed an official business card. Yongkang gripped it with plump pale fingers, handing it over to her. “Give this to your superior officer. Someone with the proper clearance, and tell them the following message comes directly from the President of the People’s Republic of China… We have obtained evidence of the involvement of the United States in the explosion of the Fuzhou building. This is an act of war. The PLA is not interested in war, but we do require the following reparations: acknowledgement of the attack, a public apology addressed to China at the General Assembly of the United Nations, and financial reparations to the Fuzhou building structure, components within and compensation for those who suffered from the attack — totaling $200M USD.”
The demands befuddled Ambassador Reilly. She wasn’t sure how to respond. Reilly glanced down at the business card printed in Chinese and English, and was about to speak when Yongkang continued. “One more item… Non-negotiable. President Weilen requires the technology of— I don’t know how to say this in English— the kàn bùjiàn de zhìfú. The suit. The stealth uniform.”
The suit? Ambassador Reilly thought to herself, having no fathomable idea what he was talking about. “Thank you, Minister Yongkang. I have to admit this is most troubling. As I am not familiar with these matters, I will convey your message to the Secretary of the State Department. I can assure you, the Secretary will be in contact with you immediately.”
Yongkang nodded. “I imagine you are aware of the President of China’s scheduled address to the UN next month?”
“Yes, I am looking forward to President Weilen’s speech.”
“If the terms are not met by the date of his speech,” Yongkang warned, “President Weilen will have no other option, but to name the United States as a terrorist aggressor and make a formal declaration of war during his address at the UN. A PLA position which already has the backing of the eight nations composing the SCO.”
This information was even more startling to Ambassador Reilly. The SCO (Shanghai Cooperation Organization) or Shanghai Pact, was an economic union of neighboring Asian countries. China was now using the pact as a de facto NATO union, pulling nearly all of Asia to the side of the Chinese in the event of a military conflict with the United States. The ramifications of the pact were devastating as it was a harbinger to a global conflict. Reilly shook the Chinese Foreign Minister’s hand, unable to hide her nervousness which revealed itself in her cold, clammy palms. She assured him the matter would be peacefully resolved and that the Secretary of State would be in contact with him that afternoon. Her words came out smooth and sincere, a stark contrast to the panic and horror of her hidden thoughts—the very real prospect of nuclear war with China and the potential spark of a third world war.