Razing Beijing: A Thriller (87 page)

“ ‘Protesting,’ tight as a drum. I guess that’s their stunt
to choke off our local intelligence.”

The President’s eyes widened in astonishment, and for an
instant it appeared as if he might actually explode. He lowered his gaze to the
overhead images. “How much of the Seventh Fleet is still in Japan? I’ve lost
track of how many ships we’ve dispatched to the Middle East.”

“About a battle group,” Herman replied, “I think.”

“How many is that in English?’

“I’ll have to confirm the number with Marcia Fuller. I think
the latest redeployment is still steaming west. I sure hope they had already
cleared the Strait of Malacca by the time these attacks took place this
morning.” Herman eagerly relayed the gist of his reason for showing up, which
included telephone discussions with his Australian and Filipino counterparts
who, besides expressing sentiment that they had been left in the lurch, warned
that critical shipping lanes through the South China Sea were in peril, as the
plunging Asian markets had already broadcast. Elsewhere, the EU leadership was
convening in Brussels to decide if they would urge the Security Council to
issue a resolution condemning the action.

“That’s got to be the brashest move by China in sixty
years.” Howard Denis leaned heavily against the desk, his eyes searching the
photographs, deep lines of worry creasing his forehead. “They must be pretty
cock-sure of themselves. What are they up to?”

Herman had a different take. “I feel this is a calculated
move on their part to distract us from our action in the Arabian Sea, perhaps
to throw us off guard and defuse the situation.”

The President watched him closely.

“Iran’s become an ally of sorts for them. At the very
least, we represent a threat to a significant trading partner. What I would—”

“Taiwan?”

Herman realized he was at risk of being viewed as casting
about without any facts. “That might be one objective.” He pointed his finger
at the photos littering the President’s desk. “What I would suggest to cut
through the noise is just give Vice Chairman Rong a call. Ask him directly
what’s going on. There may be an explanation that we’d be comfortable with.”

His face purple with anger and veins protruding from his
temples, the President collected the satellite images into a neat stack. He
then tore them in half once, twice, then three times before handing them back
to his breathless chief of staff. “Tell me
why
we have the CIA, NRO,
NSA, DIA, FBI, State Department, Army, Air Force, Navy, Marines, the NSC—
you,
Thomas—to pull all of it together, and I have to hear about a
fucking
naval
invasion
from corporate FUCKING America?”

Herman just looked at him. Davi held his stare on the
shards of photos in his hand.

“And then you have the
balls
to suggest that I make
a telephone call—and ask about it myself?”

Herman opened his mouth to respond.

Denis told Davi, “Prime Minister Funatagawa must be
climbing the walls. Advise Ambassador Harikawa that I’d like him to stop by. Where’s
Walter Laynas?”

“He’s on his way over.”

“All right. Summon the Chinese ambassador to my office
immediately.”

Davi hesitated. “Right away, sir.”

“On second thought, before you summon that prick, I need to
speak to our China expert...oh, what’s his name?”

“On Walter’s staff?”

“No, the CIA.”

“You mean Sam McBurney?”

“Get McBurney in here.”

Herman stirred. “Are you sure he’s the right guy? I don’t
think he’s back from Japan. Some of the international flights—”

“Just
get him in here
, would you?” The President
fell into his chair as his two advisors headed away to leave him in privacy. “Tom!”

Herman turned at the door and froze.

“I always seem to be reacting to news coming from China.”

Herman nodded.

“Figure out why.”

“I’ll do that.”

“Fix it.”

Herman disappeared.

Turning once more to the items on his desk, the President
took a long, deep breath. He could no longer delay his preparation for that
evening’s operational briefing by the Joint Chiefs of Staff. He forced himself
finally to open the binder, as he had so desperately tried to put off. Shaking
his head, his eyes skimming over the tedious military doctrine and clinical
death toll projections, Denis wondered why in the world he ever decided to hang
up his stethoscope.

EMILY PAUSED OVER HER
KEYBOARD
and flexed the muscles in her hands, which she noticed were
trembling. Periodically swapping the sofa for naps, neither she nor Thackeray
had gotten much in the way of sleep. Reports of the Golden Gate attack had
driven them to pretty much forsake it altogether. On a more personal level, Emily
could imagine no better way to strike at those responsible for mistreating her
parents than by seizing control of their weapon. She clasped her hands in front
of her mouth, closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
Justice
, quoting
the words of her Maoist grandmother,
is a pearl in the hand when plucked
from the eye of your enemy
.

The only thing positive to be said of the latest attack was
that it occurred early on a Saturday morning instead of during rush hour. Even
so, another two hundred ninety people were either dead or presumed to be. The
news had impressed upon her, and now even Thack, a realization of the
consequences should their plan fall apart. So they tried to ignore the
confusing amalgam of FBI arrests, presidential speeches calling for war, and
rumors of nuclear retaliation from the Middle East, all of which gave rise to
the question of whether their tampering with a dangerous weapon might be better
left to government experts whose role was defending the country.

“Yo, Emily,” Thackeray hailed from in front of his own
monitor. “Stop fretting over whatever you’re fretting over and come take a look
at this handshake routine.”

Emily stepped around boxes and over wires in order to stoop
behind Thackeray’s shoulder. Circumventing the interrogation protocols of the
satellite was important if they had any hope of hacking their way into the
machine code that controlled its various systems. From what she saw, Thack
seemed to be following her coding suggestions...

Emily straightened and placed her hands on her hips. “This
is all a waste anyway if we point the dish into an empty sky. Are we going to
be able to track this thing?”

“Thought you’d never ask.” Thackeray brought a spreadsheet
up onto the screen. He swirled a computer mouse on its pad to focus her
attention with the cursor to the lower left corner of the screen. A series of
numbers were actively tracking days, hours, minutes, and seconds, the latter advancing
rapidly in tenths. A dozen other cells displayed unspecified, rapidly changing
digits. He explained that the calculations were derived using the satellite
transmissions intercepted during the GW Bridge and Jersey refinery events. “What
I did was go back and see if there was a single orbital mechanics solution
which satisfied the times and locations. Turns out there is. My Virginia Tech
buddy helped me with that, poor gullible soul that he is.”

Emily recalled from her college physics that mass somehow
canceled out of the equations. “Better hope they don’t decide to change the
satellite’s orbit.”

“Yeah, that’s no shit. Stu told me he thinks they have
stealth to mask orbital maneuvers. First you see it, then you don’t know where
to look for it.” Thack rolled his head around while massaging his neck. “Maybe
their maneuvering fuel is limited.”

“Thack—oh my God! It just occurred to me. What if there’s
more than one, like maybe two or three satellites?”

Thackeray turned from the screen, a dawning look of fear in
his eyes. “Oh my God...Stu told me there’s only one satellite.” He smiled
broadly.

Emily rolled her eyes. “Have you figured in the Golden Gate
Bridge attack?”

Thack reminded her that they could not access CLI’s
satellite terminal from outside the facility. “But I did check the time and
location against the orbit for the other attacks, and—” Thackeray reached over
to his second terminal and typed a few keystrokes. “Presto.” Overlaid on a
graphical display of North America was a wavy line, delineating the sinusoidal
track that was characteristic of an orbiting satellite. The northernmost lobe
of the path passed over northern California, dipped south, and then looped back
up over the northeastern United States.

Besides recognizing the pretty good match, something in the
advancing numbers on Thackeray’s screen caught Emily’s eye. Thackeray, she
realized, really did have the tracking down accurately. “These attacks are
coming off, well, like clock-work. I didn’t realize that.”

“Sure you did.” Thack swiveled his chair to look up at her.
“Stu told us twenty-five orbits.”

“But you’ve pinned down the precise
fraction
of
orbit. Don’t you see the problem?”

AN HOUR LATER,
the
sixth ring prompted Emily to quit waiting for Thackeray and answer the
telephone herself. She crossed the room and snatched up the handset. It was
Stuart.

“Where are you?” Emily asked. “We’re running out of time.”

“We’re on our way to Toronto.” A buzz in the background
made her think the connection was broken. “...why I’m calling. How are you coming
with the software?”

“We’re about ready to begin running simulations, but it’s
going to be difficult to say without conducting an actual test.”

“Uh huh. Do you still think the refinery explosion was
brought about by the satellite?” Stuart’s voice sounded tired.

“Except for the arrests we keep hearing about. Thack
appears to be tracking its position now. We also think it might be responsible
for attacking the Golden Gate Bridge.”

“Agreed. The timing and everything don’t leave much room
for coincidence.”

“Then you already know we can expect another attack
tomorrow morning. You have to
hurry
.”

“Tell me about it. I’m not sure when we’ll be allowed to
fly back into the country.”

“Stu—we have to have the encryption! Even that will only
get us to square one.”

“We should already
have
the encryption, along with
everything else you asked for. Have you checked your e-mail account?”

“My e-mail? At work?”

Stu lowered his voice. “I gave him your work address, you
know...”

“But I can’t access my e-mail account.”

Silence. “I thought you and Thack were working over a
remote link from his place.”

“Only for the supercomputer. We cannot access the satellite
terminal by remote, and e-mail accounts are on another system yet. Plant Security
prevents off-site Internet access and that includes downloading our e-mail.”

“Dammit, Emily. Can’t you just hack into it or something?”

“Fine! I’ll stop work on hacking into the satellite, and
start hacking into my e-mail!”

“Shit...”

“Something else came up. It looks as if the satellite
won’t be fully charged by the time we take control of it.”

MCBURNEY SAT DOWN
and looked hard at Stuart.

Stuart got the message. “I’ll have to call you back, Emily.”
He ended the call and handed McBurney his satellite phone. “What is it?”

McBurney showed him a cable that had just come over the
communications console in the cockpit.

:1510Z

IMMEDATTN:DDO:E ASIA

PRC AIR & NAVAL ASSAULT CAPTURES SPRATLY ISLANDS
APPROX 2230Z SATURDAY. US EMBASSY/BEIJING REMAINS CORDONED OFF. SLOC/REGIONAL
PANIC ASIAN MARKETS OPEN MONDAY STEEP DECLINE. RETURN LANGLEY HIGHEST PRIORITY.
STOP MSG.

Stuart finished reading it. “Maybe now we’re beginning to
see.”

McBurney found Stuart’s reaction peculiar. “If you mean the
first of a series of assaults leading to the forced reunification of Taiwan,
and the outbreak of the next world war, you could very well be right.” He leaned
forward and asked, “Just what is it that you and your chums are scheming to
do?”

“I thought you don’t trust anything I say.”

“Answer the question.”

Stuart seemed to be mulling it over. “If Uncle Sam can’t or
won’t stop that thing from ripping up my back yard, maybe the people who
designed it can.”

“You’re off your nut. You’re trying to hack your way into
it.”

“If we succeed, we should be able to neutralize it.”

“It belongs to the People’s Republic of China. Aside from
committing a felony and going to prison, you and your happy geeks will have
committed an act of war. Maybe even unilaterally gotten us into one. Why do you
insist on doing this?”

Stuart laughed. “I guess you’re entitled to know. The final
straw dawned on me sometime during our White House chat. I saw a bunch of
decent folks, probably well-intentioned, who nonetheless seemed to me a little
lost in the bureaucratic bog, or maybe preoccupied with their own political
skins. I can honestly say I don’t know what it was I observed in there.”

McBurney felt his temper flaring. “Who do you think you
are?”

“You’re really going to sit there and tell me I’m wrong?”

McBurney struggled to think of anything lately
not
wrong about this guy. “Forgive my prying, but something you said on the phone
sounded suspiciously like, ‘We already have the encryption.’ ”

Stuart met his question with an expressionless stare.

“Deng actually gave you the encryption keys?”

“He’s going to e-mail them, along with the whole
cryptographic algorithm and the communication frequencies.”