“Admiral Stark, do you agree with General Craig?”
“Yes, Mr. President, I do. His strategic thinking is sound. There is no way to interdict their landlocked supply lines. My greatest concern is that if we go after their sea lines of communication, whether or not we have the Navy to take out the submarine fleet, followed by their surface naval fleet, which is doubtful, we still can’t cut their land routes. The Chinese have surprised us with the quality and number of ships and submarines over the last decade, especially the latter, as I indicated in my briefing two weeks ago. We will give it 100%, if that is your decision. We’ll make them pay a terrible price. Who knows, maybe after the fallout settles, China will break into seven kingdoms again.”
“Marge?”
“Mr. President, if we declare war with an act of Congress, the Chinese will know it within minutes and could launch their missiles at us from their submarines, and who knows, maybe their ICBMs are now fully operational. Still, I would not want to launch my country into a potentially nation-destroying event without the consent of the people through their representatives, the Congress. What happens if we draw the proverbial line in the sand and tell the Chinese where we have drawn it? Doesn’t that put the ball in their court?”
The President thought about it for a moment, looked at the faces of his cabinet. He picked these people because they, at least for the most part, had a fundamental belief in the Constitution as it was written. How does one declare war when such a declaration could result in the annihilation of your country within hours, if not minutes? he thought. Out loud, he said, “I’ll have to ponder that. The rest of you do so as well. I don’t know if we will resolve that at this time.”
“What are the Chinese doing about the larger cities of the nations they have invaded? Ed?”
“Mr. President, it appears that they are completely isolating and bypassing them, laying siege to them in the barest sense of the word. They are using just enough troops to keep the population bottled up but are not invading the cities. Most of the Chinese armies are marching right past them, while selected units keep the gates shut. It appears their strategy is simply to starve them to death, nothing in, nothing out. Since there is nothing to bring in due to their scorched earth policy, it appears to be a deliberate policy of starvation. Cannibalism will soon take hold, if it hasn’t already, in cities like Hanoi. That won’t last long in tropical and subtropical heat, even in the winter months. Bodies don’t keep in any such environment. Any attempts to escape by sea are sunk by their coastal patrol boats and destroyer escorts.”
Robert Wha Lee drove west on Interstate 70 and turned north on U.S. 15 and drove through Harrisburg, PA. Tired, he drove into a Wendy’s and ordered their latest sandwich, with large coffee, Coca-cola and French fries. He ate as he pushed northward, turning west on Interstate 90 towards Buffalo, NY. He stopped at a small motel outside Niagara Falls for the night. After supper at Bonanza, he retired to his room for a hot shower. He turned on the television, turned down the lights, and unpacked his suitcase. Carefully removing the suitcase lining that was held in place with Velcro, he removed a civilian passport, driver’s license, Elk’s Club card, library card, three credit cards from major banks, and a picture of himself with a young lady. He was now Robert Zin Wang, of Washington, DC. He placed his White House and Secret Service credentials very carefully in the sewn in pockets on the backside of the liner and replaced it in the suitcase. He deliberately left his sidearm in his apartment. Canada would not even allow American law officers to enter their country with sidearms. More importantly, it would be difficult to explain if it was discovered in the possession of Robert Zin Wang.
After breakfast, he crossed into Canada at Niagara Falls, drove through Hamilton and Toronto, and turned north on Route 400 towards Sudbury. At the town of Parry Sound, he turned left, toward the Georgian Bay and the Thirty Thousand Islands. He left his car at the resort car park and boarded a boat for the isolated fishing lodge on one of the many islands in the Bay. At the lodge, he was greeted very cordially. He had stayed at the Royal Lodge of the Pines on several previous occasions. He was not a big tipper but left enough for the staff to remember him each time he visited. He arrived in time for a supper of fresh lake trout, white wine, broccoli and mashed potatoes with almond chips. His dessert of ice cream and chocolate syrup was served by a Chinese waiter who greeted him very cordially. Frank Li Yunn was a naturalized Canadian citizen. He arrived nearly twenty years ago from Hong Kong and immediately found employment at the Royal Lodge of the Pines where he had worked ever since. Frank and his wife lived on the island year round. Someone had to care for the resort throughout the winter which could be brutal and damaging to the facilities. It was perfect for the Yunns. They had no children. The island was ten miles out into the Georgian Bay, so it was only natural that the resort had a very substantial short wave radio capability, and Frank was the resident expert with it. He routinely used the radio as a hobby, talking with people around the world several times a week. In his verbal conversations, sent in the clear, he would often mispronounce words, or leave out key words that would make a complete sentence. It comprised a very open, very pragmatic, very innocent, and a very effective code simply to let the powers that be know a message was about to be delivered.
“I hope you are staying all week, Mr. Wang,” he said as he served the ice cream dessert.
“I’m not sure how much time I will have, but I hope the fish are biting. It will certainly influence me to stay as long as I can.” This message was routine, not only between Robert Wha Lee and Frank, but a number of other occasional ethnic Chinese visitors.
Robert Wha Lee did not ordinarily smoke. He was smoking a cigar that evening as he walked along the beach, staying close to the timber after the sun went down. Frank Lee Yunn stepped out between the trees. “I hope the cigar tastes good, Mr. Lee.”
“Yes, it does, but I generally smoke them to keep the mosquitoes and midges away. I don’t like smelling like insect repellent. I believe the fish can pick up the molecules of the repellent on the lures after handling them, Mr. Yunn.”
The two men stepped back into the trees. It got dark early in the northern latitudes in the late fall of the year. The wind was moderate, but the temperature was hovering just above freezing. Both men wore heavy coats and hats. They spoke in low tones and in Chinese.
“What do you have for me?”
“The American President is becoming very nervous. They have, or more precisely, are attempting to coordinate what will be an appropriate response with allies. That’s a loose usage of that word, allies. America doesn’t have any. It only has temporary coalition partners. Naturally, Russia is the one nation which has the greatest concern. Anyway, they have decided to drop small arms to the Central Asian Republics and the Pakhtuns in Afghanistan and western Pakistan. It is the hope of the Americans that these forces can wage successful guerilla warfare against us the way they did against the Russians. They could be a thorn in our side, so to speak. Recall that the Russians were defeated after eight years of struggle in Afghanistan. They were supplied by the Americans with weapons and tactics, of course, but still, the Pakhtun concept of badal was impossible for the Russians to defeat. Also, remember it took the Americans several years to root out the majority of the Taliban elements in Afghanistan. Chances are that the Pakhtuns will forget their petty squabbles and work together against us, at least that is what the Americans are hoping.
“They are drawing the weapons from their reserves in stockpile, some from the reserve units and even some active ground forces while letting contracts for new ones. I am speaking primarily of semi-automatic rifles, of the M-16 variety. It is interesting that they should do so. They don’t even produce their own rifles for their army. They don’t have enough machine guns, grenades, and shoulder fired anti-aircraft missiles as yet to give away. They are essentially disarming themselves for an indefinite period of time, until they can replace them. That might take a year or even several years. On the other hand, they are pushing forward with advanced anti-submarine warfare efforts in co-ordination with the Japanese. That I don’t like. They are talking of deploying anchored mines off the west coast to sink our submarines if we go to war. Jason Thornton took the threatening letter from the Council very seriously.
“They will quite likely draw the line at Iran. I can see it in Jason Thornton’s mind. If we get too close to the border, they will go to Iran’s aid as much as they hate to do so. The generals want to go strategic nuclear against our homeland. The threat to the Gulf oil is too critical not to, in their opinion. Quite possibly, they will employ tactical nuclear weapons against our field forces, although Margaret Talbott suggested they take out our coastal cities as a means of cutting off lines of communication to our field armies. That didn’t fly very well, but I think it is in the back of Jason Thornton’s mind. No one wants to create a nuclear winter that will threaten the entire world. They will most likely utilize submarine launched ballistic missiles out of the Arabian Sea or Indian Ocean. We should concentrate our submarine fleet there, but of course, that is so obvious that General Chang will immediately do so without my having to mention it. Japan has requested the U.S. to build them as many new DDX destroyers as they can as fast as they can. The United States Navy will, of course, want them all for themselves. The Japanese didn’t even ask about the price. They just said build them and we will buy them. The Americans and Japanese will need five years or perhaps more to adequately prepare, even with crash programs. Of course, they don’t have that much time. Our offensive should be over by the middle of next summer.
“Marge Talbott has expressed the opinion that the Americans can’t go to war without a declaration of war by Congress, according to their Constitution. That should give us both plenty of warning and a good laugh if they are that stupid. The military, obviously, prefers a surprise attack, without warning of any kind. If the U.S. Navy suddenly deploys, then that is the key. The Americans won’t commit any land forces to a war halfway around the world. They simply don’t have the army for massed confrontation. They can’t get the Army there in a timely manner anyway, at least nothing other than one or two light divisions without armor or real artillery to support them. They won’t be able to fight our field armies the way they did in the Second Gulf War or Afghanistan. We simply will overwhelm them. In spite of their new doctrine, mass is still a critical element of war.
“It has been an excellent plan to allow the foreign media, especially the Europeans, into the war zone. The nightly news pictures from the various fronts, especially from the nuclear devastated areas, have scared the American public almost out of its mind. At this point, I don’t think the American public will support a war at all. As long as they don’t feel the American homeland is threatened, they will stay out of our way. Of course, if we get too close to Iran, Thornton will probably launch regardless of the American public’s perspective. He might just launch unilaterally, without the support of Europe. McCluskey and Neville would go for that. The European Union and NATO are still essentially paper tigers without any real military force at all. Their economic and military clout was diluted when they expanded to twenty-five nations in 2004. They can’t agree on anything that is practical or field worthy. They haven’t been able to bring the original EU members up to military snuff, let alone the new members. No, the threat will come from Thornton and his crew, with a little help from Japan. The Hollywood crowd and elitist liberals will howl like beaten dogs.”
Unknown to Robert Wha Lee, Frank Li Yunn was wearing a minute recorder just under his coat collar. The microphone was very sensitive, and the recorder put every word Lee said on tape. Early in the morning of the next day, a launch delivering groceries would dock at the lodge. The boatman took a package of mail and other things to the mainland. Among them was a small package that he delivered to a resident of the town. It contained the tape recorded conversation between Yunn and Lee. A small company which manufactured very good but very expensive fishing lures and trout flies would include it in its routine outgoing shipping. Federal Express picked up shipments every afternoon; FEDEX would make sure that it reached an address in Ottawa the following day. Once in Ottawa, it would be immediately delivered to the Chinese embassy by the resident at the address on the package. In the embassy, it would be studied upon arrival, not only for its contents, but interpretation of how Robert Lee said it. The tape and the interpretation would then be placed in the diplomatic pouch and flown to Peking where another independent analysis would be made, and notes compared with the first. Robert Wha Lee’s tapes always had first priority for interpretation and discussion. His predictive accuracy was in the 99th percentile range. Six days later, Robert Wha Lee retraced his steps and procedures to cross back into the United States. He brought several photos of himself with fish he caught.
Yang Chi was just a little bit drunk. He hadn’t had a woman in a year, and he felt the need for feminine comfort. He was thirty years old and felt that his virility was suffering. His libido had suffered enough. He worked out at a commercial gymnasium five nights a week, and his daily practice in the evenings of martial arts was wearing pretty thin. He didn’t work out long at home, only one hour or so most of the evenings. Usually, he just went through the katas to keep in practice. He kept his hands in shape by bare handed punching on the one hundred pound punching bag in the spare bedroom he used as his home gym. He only lifted weights and jogged on the treadmills at the commercial gym. He was under strict orders not to demonstrate his martial arts skills for fear of discovery of his true identity. He was not to attract any undue attention to himself. Leaner than his former partner, Ling Ch’ung, he was still very lithe and muscular.
He had casually observed for some months now the constant stream of men coming and going into the modest neighborhood hotel. He believed there must be a reason, and his assumption was correct. His suspicions aroused, he confirmed his own views after several evenings and weekends of surveillance. Young, quite attractive Caucasian females also came and went. He did not know that they were essentially white slaves provided by the Russia mafia. These were young women who were promised marriage opportunities and jobs in the United States for a price. They were told that ten percent of their earnings and a modest profit of fifteen percent for the company would be collected until the cost of their immigration was recovered. They weren’t told they would be forced into prostitution to earn that money under pain of death or torture.
Yang Chi approached the hotel desk and smiled politely at the clerk, a middle aged man of considerable size. He spoke with an accent when Yang Chi inquired about the price of a room for the evening. Yang Chi nodded and placed fifty dollars on the counter. He signed the registry card without saying a word. He rather stupidly put his current address on the card. When the clerk looked at the card to file it, he noticed the local address. Between Yang’s accent, appearance as an Asian, and address on the card, lack of luggage, he anticipated Yang wanted more than just a room. He just looked at Yang for a moment, waiting for him to speak. Yang just stood there, slightly glaring back. The clerk could smell the bourbon on Yang’s breath. Finally, he asked Yang Chi, “Are there any particular services you had in mind?”
Yang’s eyes narrowed, not quite sure how to reply. This was all new to him. “I noticed there are many young women in this hotel. Is there any possibility of meeting one of them?” he asked.
The clerk smiled, “Of course, there is always that opportunity. There are several in the lobby on the left. You should certainly feel free to introduce yourself to any of them that you find attractive. I believe you will find them all attentive to your needs.”
Yang Chi proceeded cautiously into the indicated lobby. Before him, sitting around in rather provocative dress, were more than half a dozen young, attractive women. The evening was still young, and business didn’t pick up until after 22:00 hours. Blondes predominated, but there were two redheads and two with dark hair. Yang wondered about those with red hair. Were they any different than Chinese girls, he wondered?
He stiffly approached the nearest one and said, “Good evening, my name is Chi, and I am here for a little while on a business trip. Is it possible that we could become acquainted?” The young lady smiled, trying not to giggle, but the other girls all smiled or smirked at the courtesy of his approach. He looked around with a glare at the giggles, which abruptly stopped when they saw the intensity of his gaze.
He turned back to the young lady, who said, “Of course, Chi. My name is Lila. Do you have a room? Would you like a drink?”
“Yes, Lila, on both counts.”
“Good, so would I. Would you mind so much as purchasing a bottle for us, along with a six pack of Coca-cola for me? I like to drink my liquor mixed with soda. You can buy a bottle in the bar in the other lobby, across the foyer. I will accompany you.” She took him by the arm and led him into the bar. “Jack, will you sell my date a fifth of Jack Daniels, black label, please, and a six pack of cold Coke?”, Lila coyly asked of the bartender. Jack smiled and put an unopened fifth on the counter along with a six pack.
“That will be twenty dollars even, Mister.” Yang Chi opened his wallet and laid a twenty dollar bill on the counter and picked up the bottle while Lila took the Coke.
“What room are you in?” Lila asked as she led him to the elevator. “You must tell me about yourself. You said you were new in town, what business are you in?” The girls were instructed to glean as much personal information out of their clients as possible. If their client was deemed sufficiently important, it could result in blackmail. Selected rooms were equipped with video cameras that could film at different angles. A control room behind the front desk monitored the rooms from time to time for possible filming.
Inside the room, Lila poured them each a drink while Yang sat on the bed and watched. She handed Yang a bourbon and soda without asking him what he liked. His was mostly alcohol, hers mostly soda. She enticingly fingered the top button of her blouse. “So, tell me, Yang, what do you do? You must be important.”
“I am a warehouse man for an international shipping company. I direct people where and how to stack things in warehouses.”
“That’s interesting. What company do you work for?”
Chang blurted out, “COSCO, a very large international company.” He began to gulp his drink.
This one shouldn’t last too long, thought Lila as she sipped her own drink. It had just enough whiskey in it to be detected on her breath. “What do you stack in your warehouses?”
