Power and Empire

Arnie van Damm sat back on the sofa in the Oval Office after the interpreter had gone. “I can’t believe he agreed to hold off.” He breathed an audible sigh of relief. The phone call with the president of the People’s Republic of China was straight from the Jack Ryan shoot-from-the-gut playbook. Unfortunately, that kind of shooting worked both ways, and brought with it the strong possibility of gut-shooting yourself in the process.

True to form, President Zhao had begun the call with an insistence that the United States affirm a one-China policy that denied the existence of Taiwan as an independent nation. It was a scripted verbal ballet, and once the two world leaders got past their respective parts, the call had progressed quickly. Ryan was his usual direct self, making statements that from the mouths of other men would have sounded like ultimatums but from him were just statements of cold, dispassionate fact.

It was apparent that Zhao already knew about the Meriwether’s predicament and geographic position. He had bristled at the incursion of yet another American vessel into Chinese waters at first. But in the end, he agreed to forgo intercepting Meriwether while she was in waters claimed by both China and Japan, adding, however, that his humanity necessitated that he “rescue” the hapless research vessel the moment it entered waters not also claimed by the Japanese.

“I know exactly why he agreed,” Mary Pat Foley said.

Ryan nodded. “The PLA Navy has already moved all their ships out of the path of the typhoon. He couldn’t board the Meriwether if he wanted to.”

Burgess looked at his watch. “That gives us roughly five hours,” he said. “You can bet the ChiCom Navy is steaming out now. An American spy ship would be a grand coup for them in the media, not to mention the technology they’ll glean if Captain Holloway doesn’t have the sense to destroy it. We could be looking at another Pueblo.”

The USS Pueblo was the only commissioned U.S. Navy ship to remain the captive of an enemy state. Many in the IC believed that the seizure of communications gear when the Pueblo was captured in 1968 had allowed the DPRK and the Soviet Union to monitor U.S. Naval communications late into the 1980s. The Pueblo remained moored in Pyongyang at the Victorious War Museum.

Ryan looked again at the massive white vortex that was Typhoon Catelyn on Forrestal’s computer screen.

“Five hours,” he said. “That’s assuming the sea doesn’t take her first.”

• • •

The paramount leader of the People’s Republic of China, Zhao Chengzhi, ended the call with Jack Ryan and leaned back in his chair. The talk had left him exhausted, but he believed he was hiding it well from the two female interpreters and the dozen other staff members who surrounded his desk.

Colonel Huang stood in his customary spot beside the door, eyes glinting in the muted light, flicking hawklike glances around the room as everyone filed out the door. Admiral Qian, commander of the PLA Navy, was the last to leave. He was displeased with what he saw as the conciliatory tone of the phone call, but he had his orders, and would obey them.

“I plan to work a few more hours,” Zhao said to Huang when they were alone in the office.

“Very well, Zhao Zhuxi,” the CSB man said. “Major Ts’ai will remain outside while I will see to the transition of the evening shift. I will return shortly to check in before I make the final security checks prior to our departure for Tokyo.”

Zhao removed his glasses and set them on his desk. “I cannot help but feel that you would sleep here if I allowed it,” he said. “Perhaps your wife would be my greatest threat since I take you away from her so often.”

Huang blanched at the sudden familiarity. “My wife…”

“Forgive my candor, Huang Ju.” Zhao smiled. “I am only joking. Perhaps my discussion with the American has made me overly emotional.”

The colonel gave a curt bow, suppressing a smile himself. “If there is nothing else, Zhao Zhuxi.”

• • •

Colonel Huang knew each of the sixteen CSB protective agents on the oncoming shift by name as well as reputation. Fourteen good men and two equally stalwart women whom Huang had handpicked for the job from among hundreds of applicants. Each member of the detail had been working in their present capacity for over a year and the lack of new faces added a modicum of comfort to Huang’s attitude. The evening briefing was held in the cramped basement Central Security Bureau squad room two floors below the paramount leader’s office suite. Except for Huang, the rest of the day shift remained on station above until they were relieved. Huang relayed important logistical information about the early departure for the G20 and a number of protests that were expected in Japan regarding the Falun Gong and Tibet. Rules of engagement were reviewed, assignments discussed, along with a reminder that there would be cameras everywhere — and little ability to control the media.