Qin Cho was homosexual, too.
The realization went through Jia like clean sky breaking through the ash. He knows my secret, Jia thought. He shares it! Then, even more startlingly, He could have me if he wanted. He owns me. And I him.
Jia’s pulse quickened. Qin was not unattractive. His authority more than compensated for his stout, older body, as did the experience in his eyes. The danger was its own forbidden thrill. Jia could barely imagine a time or a place to share the other man’s bed, but the prospect was unforgettable.
He’d long worried that his superiors knew of his sexuality and were ready to use it against him. What if their plan was even more layered than he’d guessed? If his attacks failed, they could use his deviancy to condemn him — but if he succeeded, they would be certain that the lead officer was one of their own.
There are more of us in hiding! Jia thought. At least, he wanted to believe Qin wasn’t the only one like him, because he could barely contain his excitement.
Did their curse supersede their other loyalties? Probably not. But it might create a phantom power bloc within the Ministry of State Security. The most hawkish elements of the MSS had risen to leadership. A few men in key positions could affect the fate of a nation, and homosexuals would be driven by the deepest motivation to succeed as well as the greater goals of China. They were also less likely to be constrained by concern for any wives or children.
What if their shame and their pride were ultimately responsible for the aggression that led to the war? Or the development of the mind plague itself? Could they hope to use nanotech to rewire themselves and become normal hetero males someday? Was that even possible?
If Jia had been reported when he was young, that information must have been intercepted and suppressed by someone who was always looking for more recruits. Then they’d watched him. Jia couldn’t evaluate how high their control might be felt. Qin had been a senior general even before the missiles fell, and he wouldn’t have come into the quarantine zone himself if he were the topmost surviving member of their brotherhood.
Jia yearned for more power for himself. Recognition. Acceptance. Even if it was in secret, to be welcomed by people who shared his stigma was irresistible.
This is how he seduces me, Jia thought. They would be like lovers. Whether they literally pleasured each other or not was almost beside the point. It was the hateful truth that committed them.
“I am honored, sir,” Jia said. “Thank you, sir.”
“Then you understand?”
“I believe I do, sir. Yes, sir.”
Qin had studied Jia’s face as he worked through his real izations in a flurry, watching every perceivable shock and emotion. He must have felt the same when they approached him, Jia thought. How long had the cabal existed? Years? The notion made his head swim. He felt as if he’d found himself on a ladder above a vast pit. One misstep would kill him — but there was also an exhilarating sense of attachment. Some day perhaps he would be looking down at another man, helping him up, too.
Jia grinned, but the older man’s face darkened as if rejecting him. Did he think the grin was flirtatious? A ploy?
Did I mean it that way? Jia wondered.
“You know there was an American flight into California four hours ago,” Qin said.
“Yes, sir. We shot it down, sir.”
“They were using Second Department codes. The timing seems suspicious. The detachment guarding the labs is not unsubstantial. A full platoon of Black Tigers resided with the science teams. They were also equipped with two helicopters of their own. If their radios failed, why haven’t either of those helicopters come for help?”
“The American plane was destroyed, sir.”
“What if there were more? Could the Americans have slipped another aircraft through your lines?”
“Yes, sir.” Jia was formal now. He’d seen his mistake. His relationship with Bu Xiaowen had suffered from the same quandary, which was precisely why homosexuality was outlawed by the PLA. Favoritism was a weakness. So was forced submission and the resentment that might come with rape. If the cabal was as well entrenched as Jia hoped, they must be even stricter in demanding a hands-off policy among themselves. It was a schizophrenic but vital law, denying their very nature. Were there exceptions? Covert liaisons? There must be. But at what penalty?
“I realize you were half-blind,” Qin said.
Jia nodded. Their radar net was still only at 40 percent, and, in too many places, orbital surveillance was blocked by fallout.
“We don’t expect the impossible,” Qin said.
“No, sir. Thank you, sir.”
“But all of us will suffer if there are American Special Forces at those labs.” Qin emphasized one word again. Us. The signal was unmistakable.
If the cabal had started the war, their destinies would be tied to the nanotech. They would live or die with it. The momentum they’d gained from the mind plague and its spin-off technologies would either further their rise to prominence, or, if the research was lost, the sudden lack of potential could leave them susceptible to new bids for power from more conventional elements in the military.
“Don’t fail us,” Qin said, quieting his voice. Then his fingertips brushed Jia’s forearm again as he appraised the younger man.
It was an invitation. Qin could protect Jia from the leaders outside their cabal if he succeeded. Bringing back the scientists and the nanotech would help offset the failures they perceived in Jia’s conduct… if he really knew what he was getting into.
Jia began to have second thoughts. What if Qin was playing him? There might not be a cabal after all, only Qin. The general could be running an unsanctioned operation and using Jia for his own purposes. Jia hoped not. If an uncontrolled nano weapon had silenced the labs, he might die as soon as his helicopters flew into the area… but if a cabal existed, even his death would serve them by warning them to contain the nanotech by any means necessary, even nuclear, thus limiting the damage to their political strength. He would be a part of their legacy. And if there were enemy soldiers inside California, Jia would welcome a chance to punish the Americans with his own hands.
Either way, Qin owns me, he thought, stiffening into a salute. “I’ll have my strike team assembled in five minutes, sir.”
Cam tucked the penlight against his uniform when he heard helicopters, smothering its white beam before lifting his head from beneath a Ford pickup truck. “Choppers,” he said. “Two, maybe three.”
Alekseev didn’t climb out from under the vehicle. “I am hearing them,” he said. “Let me finish.”
“We don’t want to get caught in the open.”
“They will go to your Saint Bernadine first. Give me the light.”
Cam shut his mouth. There was no sense in agitating someone with his fingers in a block of C-4. Alekseev had wedged a fistful of plastic explosive against the Ford’s driver-side rear wheel, where it would blow upward through the axle and truckbed. Cam aimed the light below the truck again, keeping his head turned the other way. Unfortunately, his night-vision was awful after watching Alekseev work.
They weren’t concerned about anyone sneaking out of the rubble. The Chinese might have garrisoned other troops nearby, or maybe a few men had survived Kendra’s attacks, but moving silently through the debris was impossible.
Cam was able to discern most of the ruins immediately surrounding him in the weak halo of the penlight. Within five yards, the ash-colored wreckage faded into the ash-colored gloom. It was silent, too, except for the falling whisper of the dust, which reminded Cam of snowstorms and skiing and better days. He even enjoyed his melancholy, because he knew this small peace couldn’t last.