Mansfeld put his hands on the table. This was the moment. “If you will permit me to explain in greater detail, Excellency?”
There was a half-second hesitation before Kleist gave him a nod.
Mansfeld pulled out a memory stick and inserted it into the nearest computer slot. Then he pulled out a keyboard and began to type. A holographic map appeared in the center of the conference table.
“First,” Mansfeld said, “we need to examine the strategic overview. Despite the greatest battlefield victory in their history this winter—greatest in terms of enemy killed and captured—the U.S. is still in a critical situation. Our combined coalitions threaten them with a two-front war and with an even larger number of enemy soldiers than the previous year.”
“You’re badly mistaken if you think Chairman Hong will coordinate with us now,” Kleist said. “We have burned our bridges with him.”
Mansfeld shook his head. “We don’t need Hong’s cooperation, Excellency. China is too deeply engaged in North America to pull out. They need our help. That forces the Chinese into making predictable moves.”
“So you think,” Kleist said.
“No, Excellency, so I know.”
Kleist drummed his fingers on the table. “You are bold because you have nothing to lose.”
“Of course,” Mansfeld said, “but I am still speaking the truth. The fact of the Chinese army in Oklahoma is what counts for us this summer. Their presence is all we need.”
“Proceed,” Kleist said slowly.
Mansfeld manipulated the holo-image as he began to speak about the strategic situation.
He understood that this was the deadliest competition on the planet. Because of worsening worldwide glaciation, the PAA, the SAF and the GD wanted to carve up North American farmland in order to help feed their peoples. If the Chinese were too strong—as they had been originally—they would grab the lion’s share of North America. That was why Kleist had offered the Americans neutrality last year. The Chinese had been poised to grab just about everything, and Kleist couldn’t allow that. The GD needed to get its armies on the continent so it could grab the lion’s share of spoils.
“This is the critical point,” Mansfeld said, finishing his strategic overview. “The Chinese lack of offensive punch this year gives us a limited window of opportunity.”
Kleist laughed as a wolf might if watching a sick deer struggle through a snow bank. There was something shiny about his eyes, something almost lustful. “I’d expected to hear something stunning, General. Instead, you point to what infuriates me the most. Compared to last year, the Chinese are ailing. But they rearm quickly. By 2041, they will be ready again. The trouble is that because of Chinese weakness this year, the Americans can peel off enough forces to hem us in Quebec. They already have peeled off enough troops. We won’t be ready now until 2041. That invalidates our neutrality ploy, giving us nothing extra. You told me four months ago—”
“Excellency,” Mansfeld said. “If you would let me continue to show—”
“Bah,” Kleist said. “I’ve heard enough.”
Mansfeld knew a moment of doubt. Could he have miscalculated Kleist’s intelligence? He would have to speak fast.
“Excellency,” Mansfeld said, “Chinese weakness this summer will keep them from exploiting our coming victories this year.”
“Victories…?” Wessel muttered. “You’re mad to think we can achieve victories this year.”
“Not so,” Mansfeld said. “It isn’t madness but my ability to see what others cannot. That frightens the pedestrians among you.” He pointed to himself. “To those like me who see the possibilities, this is an exciting time.” As he spoke the last words, he stared at Kleist, challenging him with his eyes.
Wheels seemed to turn in the Chancellor’s mind. A crafty look stamped his features. “Tell me more about this limited window of opportunity?”
“Yes Excellency,” Mansfeld said. “Numbers and a strong defensive position have allowed the Chinese and Brazilians to entrench in safety. Meanwhile, new weapon systems make the long journey from mainland Asian factories, across the Pacific, through Northern Mexico and to the waiting soldiers. Given Asian production and shipping, this will bring their armies to offensive capabilities within a year.”
“I understand that,” Kleist said. “This—”
“Forgive me for interrupting you, Excellency,” Mansfeld said. “I will be brief and to the point. Before we speak about Quebec and our expeditionary force, we should first examine the American-Canadian situation.”
With the diamond of his wedding ring, Kleist stroked his chin. “Yes, continue.”
Mansfeld tapped the keyboard, changing the holographic chart. “Here is a quick rundown of American-Canadian military resources at present…” He proceeded to tell them.
“It’s worse than I realized,” Kleist said, after Mansfeld had finished talking. “We have—you have caused us to squander a golden opportunity.”
“On the surface it might appear so,” Mansfeld said. “The reality is quite different.”
“Excellency,” Field Marshal Wessel said. “We have a little over one million soldiers in Quebec.”
Mansfeld spoke for a time about HKs, drones, robotic equipment and GD quality.
“Excellency,” Mansfeld said, summing up. “Counting our forces as they are, not the mere number of flesh and blood soldiers and operators, and adding the Quebecers, we have nearly three million troops versus the 1,600,000 American-Canadian defenders. That being said, we also possess two critical advantages.”
“Those are what?” Kleist asked.
“The first is the German edge in terms of quality,” Mansfeld said, “our planes, drones, tanks, hovercraft, missiles, lasers, space forces, etc. In that sense, we have a preponderant advantage.”
“You spoke of two assets,” Kleist said.
“Yes, Excellency,” Mansfeld said. “Not to put too fine a point on it, our second great advantage is me.”
Chancellor Kleist sat back, and he smiled.
Field Marshal Wessel had been eyeing Kleist. He chuckled in a manner that said he understood how mad and arrogant General Mansfeld was. The other General Staff members dutifully chuckled in response.
They’re misreading the Chancellor, Mansfeld thought. Kleist is smiling because he appreciates the truth of what I’ve said. I believe he’s finally beginning to realize that I’m the only one who can give him what he wants.
“The Americans will have two million or more troops in place by the time you’re ready to move,” Kleist said. “What’s more, the Americans also have an advantage.”
“Of course,” Mansfeld said. “They have many veteran soldiers. I have not discounted that.”
Kleist drummed his fingers on the table. “So you’re a strategic asset, eh?”
“Yes, Excellency,” Mansfeld said.
Wessel slapped a meaty palm on the table. “This is an outrage. You are here to explain—”
Without looking at the old Field Marshal, Kleist raised a hand.
Wessel stopped speaking, and he looked helplessly at the Chancellor.
You are an obedient dog, Mansfeld thought, who heels well. Such as you do not produce world-winning strategies, and the Chancellor knows that.
Kleist ignored his white-haired Field Marshal. He kept his wolfish gaze on Mansfeld. “I presume you have a plan?”
“Yes, Excellency,” Mansfeld said.