Pappas noted the look of impatience on the president’s face, sipped at his water, and cleared his throat. “Thank you, Margaret. Of more immediate interest to us this morning, the assigning of AAU as the retrieval force is noteworthy because, unlike our American special operations units, the Chinese have never fully integrated their air and ground special operations forces. The AAU’s operations are highly centralized. They are headquartered in the Beijing Military District. Every one of the unit’s assets lie within sixty miles of the Chinese capital. And not one AAU aircraft has the capability of reaching the Xinjiang Autonomous Region without multiple refueling stops.”
Rockman interrupted: “Can’t they refuel in the air?”
Margaret Nylos said, “No, sir. The Chinese lag far behind the West in helicopter technology. In fact, most of the current operational Chinese helicopter designs have been adapted from Soviet or French models. As you will also recall, the United States sold China a squadron of MH-60 Black Hawk helicopters in 1991, in return for Beijing’s allowing NSA to establish six Russian listening posts in the Tian mountain range. But those helicopters lack spare parts, and our statistical models indicate that today, the majority of them are inoperable. I also think—”
“Nick.” Rockman cupped his chin in his hand. “Refueling a squadron of aircraft can be accomplished in a matter of minutes. It seems to me we’re not going to gain but a few hours.”
The DCI’s head wagged negatively. He tapped the NSA intercepts with his middle finger. “Mr. Secretary, what we have here proves otherwise. The commanding officer of the Army Aviation Unit is China’s youngest major general. His name is Zhou Yi. Zhou just turned forty — a real up-and-comer. He has been pressing the political leadership to allocate more resources to such areas as Special Operations, information warfare, and other unconventional methods and tactics. He has many supporters within the CCP, and it’s expected that within the next six to eight months he will be put forward as the next chairman of the PLA’s Central Military Command.”
The DCI sipped his water. Margaret Nylos picked up the narrative. “Zhou’s strongest rival for that post is the commanding general of the Beijing Military District, an army four-star named Yin Zhong Liang. Yin is sixty-eight, married for forty-one years. He’s very old guard and tied closely to President Wu Min. Now, General Yin stumbled a few years ago when he lied to the political cadre about who was responsible after that Chinese F-8 fighter hit our EP-3 reconnaissance plane, and Beijing held twenty-three of our Navy personnel for eleven days. But since then, his position has been strengthened because he’s kept dissent in the capital under control, and he’s mended his fences with the leadership. In fact, Yin has single-handedly built such a cult of personality around the president that I can now state we believe Wu will remain in power for the foreseeable future — more significantly, he will not, as previously thought, relinquish his chairmanship of the committee that oversees the military. Equally significant, Yin has made strong political alliances with the generals in charge of the Nanjing, Jinan, Guangzhou, Shenyang, and Lanzhou military districts. All these commands stand to lose massive funding if the budget reallocations young Major General Zhou Yi is advocating go through.”
“Miss Nylos, stop right there,” the president interrupted. “I think I already heard a lot of what you’re saying on CNN last week.” The president glared at the DCI. “Nick — can you people please get to the point.”
“Of course, Mr. President.” The DCI’s voice took on a pedantic tone, and he tapped the tabletop with his pen for emphasis. “Point: General Yin believes he is vulnerable to a challenge from Zhou. Point: Yin’s political allies control every military installation and every liter of aviation fuel between Beijing and Xinjiang. Point: There is no way they will make things easy for the young upstart Zhou.”
Rockman’s eyes went wide. “Even though there’s a loose nuke, Nick?”
“Yes,” the DCI said confidently. “Even so.”
Pete Forrest rapped his knuckles on the table edge. “Enough political theory. There are lives on the line. How much time do we have? How much time?”
Margaret Nylos said: “A minimum of four days, Mr. President, from the sample of message traffic we managed to skim this morning. Possibly as many as five days. I’ll know more after the intercepts are translated.”
The president’s jaw dropped. “Miss Nylos, aren’t you the national intelligence officer for China?”
“Yes, sir, I am.”
“And yet you can’t read Chinese.”
“Mr. President,” Nick Pappas interjected, “I promoted Margaret for her analytical skills, not her language capability.”
Rockman raised his hand. “Nick,” he said.
“Yes?” The DCI shifted his gaze.