“Yes,” Chao Pin said, “they used nuclear weapons in the ocean, leaving no holes in the water. We have done likewise with nuclear depth charges. What you’re suggesting… it will change the nature of the war. Tactical nuclear usage will quickly turn into strategic exchanges, which is mutual suicide. We must find a different solution or face possible human extinction.”
“What solution do you suggest?”
“I do not know yet,” Chao Pin admitted.
Chairman Hong faced the other ministers and his forehead gleamed. “We have come to a crossroads. We cannot follow Chao Pin in accepting this bitter defeat. I believe that will begin a chain reaction all along the line against us. The entire North American war effort might collapse in a mass rout. If that happens, the nine of us in this room will not survive in power. I guarantee you that. In fact, some in China might well put us before firing squads. I do not think we nine have a choice. We must see this through to the end even if that involves a nuclear war.
“Agricultural Minister,” Hong said. “You have heard rice rioters asking for your head on a pike. The clamor for that will broaden once word of this defeat grows. The people will realize that no more wheat or beef will arrive from Texas. Many more than before will go hungry in China.”
The Agricultural Minister rubbed his throat as if he could feel a rope tightening there. “Use the cruise missiles,” he said.
Hong nodded. “Yes. You understand. Now the rest of you must decide. Fail to act and die. It is your choice.”
“No, no,” Chao Pin said. “We have a moral obligation. We cannot just—”
Hong laughed scornfully. “Does that obligate our soldiers to die because of your shameful handling of them? I say no. I can save them, well, some of them. Fortunately, for China, I have foreseen this disaster. If you had listened to me last year, none of this would have happened. If you do not listen to me today…”
“Use the missiles,” the Manufacturing Minister said.
“Finance, Transport,” Hong said, “How do you advise?”
“Use the missiles,” the Finance Minister whispered.
“It is a hard choice,” the Transport Minister said, as sweat made her skin glisten.
“Do you wish to die horribly?” Hong asked her.
“No.”
“Then support me,” he said in what sounded like a reasonable tone.
The Transport Minister looked down at the table. A moment later, she nodded, although without looking up.
Hong’s eyes gleamed and he pointed at old Chao Pin. “The man is a traitor to China, in the pay of the CIA. Shun Li, shoot him.”
“You’re mad,” Chao Pin said, and he reached for his revolver.
In a daze, Shun Li raised her nine millimeter and pulled the trigger three times. The gun barked with awful sounds as she fired into his face. The old man blew backward as pieces of his skull rained against the wall. Blood smeared the Navy Minister’s shoulder and neck. He cringed away from Chao Pin beside him.
Shun Li stood frozen as smoke drifted from her barrel. “What about the Navy Minister?” she heard herself ask Hong.
The minister’s eyes widened with terror.
“How do you vote?” Hong asked the Navy Minister.
“F-Fire the cruise missiles,” the man stammered.
“Excellent,” Hong said. “I am going to need your aid for this. Many of the fighters and drones belong to the Navy. They will follow your direct orders. Will you help China in this grim hour?”
“Freely and gladly, Leader,” the Navy Minister said.
Leader? Shun Li thought. We are returning to the old ways. She holstered her pistol and headed for the door. It was time to unleash her own murder squads against former Chao Pin’s closest supporters in and around Beijing.
It was happening. They were doing it.
First Rank Fu Tao of East Lightning was smoking a cigarette when the order to launch came through. He stood beside the Army major of the five missile platforms.
The Mexican mountains were cold, with snow on the ground. Stunted trees grew nearby, and an icy wind made Tao shiver. Far in the distance, he spied the ribbon of the Rio Grande River. Beyond was Texas, the newest province of Greater Mexico.
Tao was young, a mere twenty-three years old. He had a round face and a wisp of a black mustache. Small for his age—four foot eleven in English measurements—he smoked three packs of cigarettes a day. Despite his slight frame, he had lightning reflexes. More importantly, he killed without remorse.
Tao had gone hungry the first sixteen years of his life. He came from the border region near Tibet, growing up in various orphanages. The sexual abuse and beatings had scarred him physically, mentally and spiritually. He ate well these days, but preferred his smokes.
Killing in cold blood was easy for Tao. He simply imagined his target was one of several rapists he’d known. After joining the secret police, he’d had the privilege of returning to the border region. There, he hunted his old tormenters. The talks with the men had proven long, exhausting and strangely unfulfilling. Finally, he realized the problem. The pain of their shot-out kneecaps prevented them from savoring the terror of their deaths.
The last man, Mr. Yuen—
As the order to launch came through from the Ruling Committee in Beijing, First Rank Fu Tao grinned around the dangling cigarette between his lips. He remembered Mr. Yuen, the shivering, the pleading and finally the hopelessness in the man’s eyes. Yes. That session had been rewarding.
Afterward, Tao had used a knife, and the amount of blood in ancient Mr. Yuen amazed Tao. He would never have suspected the old rapist would have so much gore inside his sickly body.
The Army major, a man in his forties, blinked at the screen. “Is this accurate?” he asked the person in Beijing.
“Fire your missiles at the designated coordinates,” the woman in the screen said.
“Do you realize our missiles carry nuclear warheads?” the Army major asked.
“Is there an East Lightning operative nearby?” the woman asked in an exasperated tone. She had shortcut hair and dark eyes of a compelling nature.
Of course, Tao recognized her. He threw his cigarette into a snowy patch. The cigarette hissed, guttering out. “First Rank Tao speaking, Police Minister,” he said.
“Instruct the major that he must obey at once,” she said.
Tao hated looking up at anyone—the major was five nine. Still, orders were orders. Tao drew his gun, and he gave the major a flat-eyed stare. “You must obey.”
“I realize that,” the major said. “Yet I’m not sure—”
First Rank Tao had a callus on his trigger finger. It pressed against the metal, and he heard a click as he shot the man in the stomach. He delighted in the look of shock. Oh, this was good. The major might have fallen backward. Instead, he thudded onto his knees, and he cradled his stomach as blood began to drip between his fingers.
Now you’re shorter than me. Controlling his urge to laugh, Tao stepped up to the man. He shoved the barrel of his gun into the major’s mouth. Suck on that, you whore.
He pulled the trigger three times. The corpse toppled into the snow as it began to twist and jerk.
Every Army officer and specialist of the missile unit turned to stare. The rest of the East Lightning operatives drew their weapons, training them on the nearest individual.
“Was that truly necessary?”
Tao spun around in surprise. “Yes, Police Minister. He disobeyed your direct order. My instructions were clear. Kill without hesitation any who fail to obey.”