He risked a glance to his left.
That asshole Zhang was walking across the street with the shotgun in his hands.
Pulling with superhuman strength, Choy got Sally into the rear seat and shoved her headfirst through the right rear window opening. She was coming out of her daze and wriggling, trying to help, maybe.
Choy was pushing her legs through the opening when Zhang shot him in the back from a distance of eight feet.
Choy Lee collapsed.
He didn’t hear the siren or see the navy pickup with flashing lights mounted on the cab screech to a halt in the street. The driver bailed out and used the truck-bed wall for a rest. Both arms on it, with pistol in hand.
“Drop the damn gun,” the sailor shouted as he tried to align the pistol’s sights.
He was aiming it when Zhang got off the first shot. The birdshot struck the sailor in the upper half of his face, putting out both eyes. The man fell backward to the pavement.
Zhang glanced again at Choy, who lay with his face against the right rear door of the Toyota. The shot charge had hit him between the shoulder blades.
Zhang walked, not ran, across the street to the stolen SUV. Reached in and grabbed the iPad.
The shotgun was in his right hand pointing as he approached the pickup, which was still running, with lights flashing and siren moaning. The wounded sailor writhed on the street with his hands on his face. Lots of blood. Near him lay his pistol. Zhang picked it up and stuffed it into his waistband.
Zhang Ping got behind the wheel of the navy truck, tossed the iPad on the passenger seat and put the vehicle in gear. In fifteen seconds he was out the gate and heading west on the empty highway. Only then did he fiddle with the switches on the dash and kill the siren and flashing lights.
It was two in the morning in Norfolk when the Paramount Leader and his lieutenants met with Admiral Wu and the other members of the Central Military Commission at the August 1st Building in Beijing. It was two in the afternoon there. Lots of military brass were also in attendance.
When Admiral Wu got a look at the faces, his misgivings grew exponentially. The Internet storm in America cast a serious cloud. Millions of American fingers were already being pointed at China. In the cold light of day the planned propaganda offensive that would cast the blame for a nuclear explosion at the Norfolk naval base on the American navy looked less and less likely to deflect the inevitable flood of outrage after the blast. “We are going to light a candle in a hurricane,” the Paramount Leader remarked, which set the tone for the meeting.
Someone else remarked that the Internet poison from America was already seeping into China, despite the censors’ best efforts. American outrage was one thing, but Chinese outrage threatened the party’s control here. Control of the people of China was the one thing on this earth the people in this room could not afford to lose.
Admiral Wu argued that America would not, could not, go to war with China. Wu understood politics within the military and in Beijing, and he well knew he was betting his career right here, in this meeting. Yet, as he explained, this was China’s best chance to change the balance of power in the western Pacific, tilt it in favor of China and her future. The American administration was arguing that the Internet rumors were just that, rumors without substance.
“If the American navy believed there was a threat, they would order their ships to go elsewhere, but they have not,” he said. “Two carriers are there, and three carriers more are still planning on tying up in Norfolk, one in about ten hours, and two in a few days.”
“But after the bomb explodes and the base and ships are destroyed, the American administration will face a tsunami of public opprobrium,” one of the PLA’s senior generals argued. “Caution and realpolitik considerations will be washed away in the demand to do something!”
“The Americans will not declare war,” Admiral Wu stated flatly.
“They don’t have to go that far,” was the riposte. “An embargo of all imports from or exports to China will damage our economy severely. If the Americans can get Japan, Australia and the European Union to go along, several hundred million people will immediately be out of work. Can our economy withstand such a blow?”
“If we don’t explode the weapon, they will eventually find it. That is inevitable.”
“We can deny it is ours,” someone shot back. “Since no damage was done, they can swallow the denial whole. And probably will.”
The Paramount Leader made the decision. He didn’t announce it; he merely looked at Admiral Wu and said, “Contact our agent and tell him not to explode the weapon. Tell him to leave the country as quickly as he can.”
Blood drained from Wu’s face. He said, “Sir, we have a problem. We have been trying to contact the agent for almost eighteen hours, and cannot. The cell phone network in the Norfolk/Virginia Beach area is off the air. Neither telephone calls nor e-mails can be delivered wirelessly. He called his contact via landline several hours ago, but the contact had no instructions for him. Unless and until he calls again, he is not under our control.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
When they get in trouble they send for the sons of bitches.
Before he went to the marina, Zhang Ping stopped by his apartment and packed a backpack with food, water and a couple of packs of cigarettes. Then he turned off the lights for what he knew would probably be the last time and made sure the door was locked behind him.
Waiting for the carrier due to arrive later today would be about all the risk that could be justified, he thought, given that Sally Chan would probably tell everything she knew. He should have shot her, too. Another mistake. The carrier due on the twentieth, the day after tomorrow, and the one coming in on the twenty-second, two days later, were out of the question.
Yet, he mused, what did Sally Chan know? Whatever Choy told her, but what was that? Choy knew nothing of the bomb, nothing of the ships’ schedules, nothing of the triggering device. True, he had seen the iPad hooked up to the boat’s radar, but he hadn’t said a word about it to Zhang. Could he have figured out what he was seeing?
Zhang didn’t think so. The truth was, he didn’t want to think so. This mission was going to cost him his life, and he wanted it to be worth his sacrifice. Three of those humongous aircraft carriers, ninety-five thousand tons each, their air wings, their escorts—three complete battle groups … That would be a triumph indeed! Not a victory on the magnitude of five battle groups, but he never expected to get all five. That was just a goal. Like every other goal, merely a target to aim at. It might be achievable in a perfect world, if the stars aligned and the enemy behaved just as he wished and nothing went wrong. However, perfection was rare in human affairs, Zhang knew; he had never expected to sail through without problems. Bagging three battle groups was a more realistic goal, one that would be a severe blow to America. He would be happy with that.
The navy corpsmen who took Sally Chan to the emergency room at the Little Creek dispensary tried to question her, but she had a concussion. The collision with the tree had bounced her head off the passenger’s window.
As she lay in the hospital, her memories were jumbled. The brick through the window, Choy Lee, what he had said about Zhang, about watching navy ships, the shots, the chase, the crash … it was all jumbled up. She babbled to the nurses, the doctor and the lieutenant commander in charge of base security gathered around her bed.