Power and Empire

“Hey, guys… We got a problem.”

61

Jack looked up at the twenty-three-story hotel. His father was somewhere up there right now. He fought the urge to pace back and forth. “Everyone going in has to be credentialed, right?”

“Correct,” Yuki said. “We can check the photo database.”

She took out her cell phone but a barked command from one of the policemen sent her and Jack to the end of the block.

Ryan held her umbrella while she worked.

“Are you sure they were Li’s guys?” Midas asked over the radio.

“Pretty sure,” Ryan said. “At least two of them were with him at the restaurant bombing in Argentina.”

Chavez weighed in. “All the ChiCom bigwigs get protection from the CSB. It’s like our Secret Service and Diplomatic Security Service combined.”

“True,” Ryan said. “But the change at this point is too big a coincidence. Chen’s getting paid to whack people, maybe even by Li, and then Li’s protective detail moves over to Zhao — on the same day he’s meeting with my dad. Yuki’s right. This place is completely buttoned up — from everyone except the close-protection agents. It’s impossible to guard against the guards.”

“You’re right,” Chavez said. “We need to alert the Secret Service.”

“Wait!” Ryan said. “Let’s think this through a second. Yuki might be able to get us upstairs.”

She shook her head. “I am not credentialed to go in. I could get approval, but it would take time.”

“That’s a no-go, then,” Ryan said. “But if it is an assassination plot, these guys smell an alarm and they’ll just open fire. The Secret Service won’t know what’s going on. No matter who the target is, everybody in the room will be sitting ducks.”

Yuki held up her phone. “You are correct,” she said. “Three new officers from the Central Security Bureau were credentialed for President Zhao’s protective detail, including a man named Long Yun, the former agent in charge of Foreign Minister Li’s security team.”

“Bear with me here, guys.” Jack passed the umbrella to Yuki and began thumb-typing feverishly into his cell phone. He copied the text, then hit send. Pasted the text, hit send again. Pasted the text once more, then sent it a third time. “Okay,” he said, heaving a tense sigh once he’d sent the last text. “When I was a kid, my dad missed one of my baseball games because he had to work. It really tore him up. He made this deal with all of us that if he was physically able, it wouldn’t matter if he was with the Queen of England herself, he’d answer a call after three hang-ups in quick succession.” He blew out a heavy breath, nerves wound tight. “Trust the guy on the ground, right, Midas?”

“Roger that,” Midas said.

“Well,” Jack said, “Dad’s the guy on the ground.”

“What did you send him?” Adara asked.

“‘Three bad guys new to Zhao’s detail. Violence likely.’ He’ll know what to do… I hope.”

• • •

The two presidents had elected to conduct the short bilateral meeting alone, but for a single Security man each. Gary Montgomery had forty pounds and five inches on Zhao’s man, but the Chinese Security agent appeared to vibrate with intensity. Neither were about to let anything — even a slight — happen to their respective charges.

The two other members of each protection detail waited in the slightly larger anteroom beyond a set of double doors. Ryan was seated in one of two chairs to the right of the Chinese leader. They were close, less than three feet apart, quartering away from a floor-to-ceiling window. A washroom was to Ryan’s immediate right in the corner of the small, ten-by-ten-foot room.

Interpreters and other staff would assist them later, but for now, each saw the necessity of sitting down face-to-face and speaking candidly. Advance staff from both delegations had agreed to a small room off the back of one of the larger ballrooms. Politicians from around the world met in this hotel often, and there were several such private spaces, small enough for quiet conversation, and with a slightly larger, private antechamber beyond double doors that could be opened to form a room large enough for interpreters, additional staff, and photographers requisite for such a meeting.

Zhao had spent a year at Dartmouth and spoke excellent English. Ryan found him to be quiet, with the almost impenetrable façade common to people who must always guard their words. The best way to break through something like that was a direct approach — something Ryan had always preferred to pussyfooting around.

“Your assistance with our research vessel was appreciated, Mr. President,” Ryan said.

Zhao gave a polite smile and started to say something, but Ryan kept talking. “I was, however, extremely concerned with Admiral Qian’s disregard for your orders.”

Zhao took a deep breath through his nose. There was no easy reply. “Admiral Qian is in custody,” Zhao said. “Surely even the United States has endured rogue commanders from time to time. There is no house of cards in China. The party is in complete control.”