Yang spoke. “Begin production immediately. You will formulate two plans, one based on our current resources and one based on having what is needed for high production. The hundred or so you mentioned.”
“But we have no resources for so many,” Deng protested.
“That is not your concern. Prepare the plan anyway. Or you may find yourself working on a different kind of project. Understood?”
Yang’s eyes were hooded and bulging under the red star on his green, high-peaked military hat. Deng looked at Yang’s, coarse, toad-like face. The General was not a man to be denied.
This new nuclear demon was smaller, lighter, more destructive. The expression on the faces of Yang and Lu said they wanted more of these things, many more. There was only one reason for that. Only aggression required high numbers of missiles.
Deng thought about his days of freedom as a student in America, before this insanity of nuclear weapons had trapped him. In China careers were dictated for men like him. Deng had rationalized his feelings about building weapons meant to kill millions by telling himself that China’s nuclear forces were defensive in nature.
Looking at Yang and Lu, he had a chilling intimation of the future. Deng’s face gave nothing away of his thoughts, but he suspected more about Yang’s plans than the General imagined. Deng was not without his sources of information. It was necessary for personal survival in a position as sensitive as his.
“UNDERSTOOD?”
Yang shouted in his face, sending flecks of spittle onto Deng’s glasses. Deng was shocked. He kowtowed, twice, nervously.
“Yes, of course, General, two plans, as you suggest.”
Yang grunted. “Keep me informed.” He turned to Lu. “I have to get back to Beijing. Ride with me.”
Lu nodded and the generals rudely turned their backs and walked outside without a further glance at Deng. He stared after them and felt a hot flush of shame. Everyone in the room was suddenly absorbed in their instruments and charts. No one was looking at him but they had all witnessed his humiliation. He had lost face.
Yang acts like he thinks he can find resources to up production, Deng thought. Then what? More orders, more bombs, more threats. They have no respect. They have no honor. I might as well be dog shit under their boots.
He marched into his private office and shut the door, his rage building. Enough was enough. He sat down at his computer, furious. He opened his email and sent a brief, innocuous, message to an address he’d never thought he would use.
On the road leading away from the facility, Yang and Lu sat in the back seat of their vehicle. The salt flats of the old lake bed of Lop Nur slipped by in a blur, billows of brown dust trailing far behind the speeding car.
Lu drummed his fingers on the armrest. “We must have more warheads.”
“We will,” Yang said. “Once I give the order, we will have the centrifuges in six months. All that remains is to locate the ore.”
“You are sure the deposit exists?”
“Reasonably sure, yes. The location is being sought as we speak. We’ll have it soon. Meanwhile our plans go forward.”
“I worry about Chen. We need the railroads.”
“Let me worry about Chen. So far, he has done all that we asked. Of course, he may not get what he wants afterwards.”
“What does he want?”
“To be President.”
Lu laughed. There was no mirth in the sound.
“President! He deludes himself, as usual.” Lu paused, sneezed from the dust. “What do you think about Deng?”
“He bears watching, but I already have full surveillance on him. Meanwhile, he continues to produce. For such a small man he builds big bombs, and they are getting better.”
“Yes. One day we may see how well they work.”
“The West is weak, they have no political will. When we have control, they will be afraid to do anything. Just the threat will be sufficient. Then China will step into her rightful place.”
Lu nodded agreement. The two men sat lost in their thoughts as the car barreled along the gravel road, each in his own way contemplating a new China, dominant over the world.
Chapter Eight
The security guard stared as Nick came through the door.
"You okay, Mister Carter?"
"I'm fine, Bob. Just an accident."
Nick walked ten flights up to his floor. He didn't like elevators much, not since Kabul. He went into his apartment and into the bathroom and looked in the mirror. The bullet had taken away the left earlobe. It wouldn't do much for his looks when the bandage came off. A woman had told him once that he had rugged good looks. He got the rugged part, but he wasn't too sure about the rest. He didn't much care.
He poured a whiskey, tossed his jacket on the couch and took off the shoulder rig. He needed to call Jordan. He thought about the FBI and the way the Bureau kept things close. He probably wasn't going to get much help there, but Jordan was a pretty good guy.
"Jordan."
"Zeke, it's Nick Carter."
"Nick. I saw you on the evening news. What happened out there?"
Jordan's voice was deep and vibrant. A big man, stone coal black, he was an anomaly for an agent, unafraid to speak his mind. Nick wondered how he'd lasted as long as he had in the rigid culture of the FBI. He'd made it all the way to the WFO in Washington in spite of everything.
"I was catching a ride with William Connor's niece. Two vehicles full of Chinese goons tried to grab her."
"You must have been a big surprise." There was a pause. "What can I do for you?"
"You're the liaison for the Bureau on Conner's murder. Did you turn up anything we haven't heard about yet?"
"Funny, I was going to ask you the same thing."
"You know it was Wu who set up Connor?"
"Yes."
"We have a computer belonging to Connor. We hoped it would give us leads. All we got were business reports, financial info and a draft proposal for work in China."
"What kind of work in China?"
"An archeological dig. Connor wanted to fund it and get permission to dig in return."
"Can you get that financial info to me?"
"First thing tomorrow. I wanted to ask if you found anything in Connor's office."
"Not much. Just the kind of things you'd expect. Lots of financial records."
"Any keys? Safe deposit keys?"
"We did find some keys."
"And?"
"We got warrants to open the boxes, but there wasn't anything helpful. Some antique jewelry, diamonds, sapphires, gold coins, bearer bonds, that sort of thing. Just your average billionaire's little treasures."
"Do I detect a note of judgmental envy?"
"Nah, everyone should have something set aside for a rainy day."
Nick said, "Zeke. If there's something going on we don't know about it might help if you guys came clean. About Wu."
Silence. Then, "Off the record?"
"Yes."
"When Harker asked about Wu it dovetailed with an ongoing investigation. You know about the Chinese criminal underworld here in the States? The Triads? Also known as the Black Societies?"
"I know the Mafia are newcomers compared to them."
"Yeah. The Triad oaths make the Mafia Code of Silence look like a radio talk show. They're planning something and Wu is mixed up in it.
"Wu met with them at least three times. He's up to his eyeballs in the murder of Connor and you say Chinese thugs tried to grab his niece. Seems like more than a coincidence."
"We didn't know about the Triads." Carter paused. "We might have a lead. I'm going to follow up on it."
"There's always a lead, sooner or later. Can you let me know what you find out?"
"Subject to Harker's wishes, yes. Maybe off the record."