Invasion: Colorado

-5- Reports

Guardian Inspector Shun Li stood at attention before Xiao Yang of the Ruling Committee.

The Police Minister was lean and wore a black uniform. He had extra-thick lenses in his glasses and had strangely protruding eyes. Those orbs measured her as he sat behind his desk. He didn’t smile or blink, but watched, perhaps weighing her worth and trustworthiness, with her life in the balance.

Shun Li tried to appear confident and ooze sincerity. It was difficult to do. She had her elbows locked, arms straight and in parallel alignment with her legs. She also had her chin up and stared at a distant, unseen point.

The Police Minister’s inner chamber was vast. It contained expensive furniture and had huge pictures of Xiao with the Chairman or a smiling Xiao as he held a polar bear cub, no doubt given him by the Leader of Greater China. In another enlarged photo, Xiao watched a parade of East Lightning personnel marching through Tiananmen Square.

The Police Minister could break her with a word, sentencing her to death. He was the Chairman’s closest ally and hated by many. The people and most in the military blamed him for the wrongful death of Foreign Minister Deng and Marshal Kao of the Ruling Committee. Since the passing of those two Ruling Committee members, Xiao Yang’s power and influence had increased tremendously. He had become the single most potent force behind the throne. The gigantic police apparatus obeyed Xian Yang’s will, and they backed Chairman Hong with greater enthusiasm than ever.

“Tell me, Guardian Inspector. Do you stand behind this report?” Xiao tapped a single paper on his otherwise empty desk. There were no portraits or mementos on it, no pens or computer styluses ready or cell phones or even trays. The Police Minister’s scrupulously clean hands rested on either side of the paper, which was aligned precisely with the edges of the desk.

“I do, sir,” Shun Li said.

“Hmm, interesting,” he said. He didn’t glance at the report, but continued to study her.

Shun Li didn’t smile or nod. She stared at the distant, unseen point. She was petrified and berated herself for taking things too far.

Several days had passed since she’d shot the East Lightning operative in El Paso, the one who had given her the Behemoth Tank Plant report. Shun Li had studied the report in detail. Several aspects of it had bothered her. First, she couldn’t believe the Americans made these war-winning tanks one at a time. It sounded preposterous. Yes, she knew none had appeared so far in the summer and autumn battles. It was something that deeply concerned Chinese High Command. Still, one tank each month—no, that wouldn’t matter to anyone. It wouldn’t frighten those in power enough. The danger must be greater if she was going to use the data as a steppingstone out of North America and away from the task of eliminating unhinged killers for the State.

Therefore, Shun Li had carefully doctored the report. She was an expert at such things. She’d become so by ferreting out forgeries and altered accounts from her underlings. Later, she had practiced deceit herself, knowing what to look for and knowing how to make a report seem genuine.

In her opinion—at least until now—the new Behemoth Plant information was a perfect piece of forgery. It was more logical and sounded more terrifying. Her discovery of this data therefore should go far toward attaining her new ambition.

Now, however, with Police Minister Xiao Yang staring at her with his crocodile gaze, with his stillness adding to his grim reputation—Shun Li wondered if she had gone too far. She should have adjusted the information, not turned the single plant into a full-fledged production facility able to mass-produce the giant tanks.

The question would surely arise. Why hadn’t any one else discovered what she had? Originally, she’d seen that as the report’s greatest flaw. Because of that, she had invented a host of American deception ploys, which until now had worked wonderfully to trick Chinese intelligence, and had only been discovered because of her keen insights.

Xiao Yang cleared his throat, and he touched the paper. “This is incredible,” he repeated.

Shun Li suppressed a shudder. The man spoke without inflection, without emotion. It confirmed her worst fear. He was a monster, the ultimate butcher sitting in his gigantic web. If she could have her way now, she would kill him with a shot to the heart. She had dealt with many blood-maddened individuals. The Police Minister struck her as the worst of the lot, a feral beast hidden behind his soulless inhumanity, a bloated alligator with a gargantuan appetite.

What made her sick at heart was that she had knowingly given herself into his hands. It would have better to live her life in North America. There, she had been the queen of her fate. Here, she was a pawn among ruthless, all-powerful creatures.

I have cursed myself.

“Do I have your attention, Guardian Inspector?”

“Yes, Police Minister.”

“You seem preoccupied.”

“I leave myself a blank slate in your presence, Police Minister.”

“Stop that,” he said. “You are a Guardian Inspector. You were chosen for your intelligence and your ability to act swiftly and decisively. I have studied your profile. You are a capable eliminator of waste and inefficiency. I approve of that.”

“Thank you, Police Minister.”

“This paper you have personally brought to my attention…It is incredible.”

Shun Li nearly groaned. She couldn’t tell anything from his voice or anything from his face. The man was a zombie, a mass murderer-in-chief. He was possibly the most dangerous man in Greater China, making him the most dangerous man in the world.

Why did I come here? I wish I were back in America.

Xiao Yang closed his eyes, then opened them again. To Shun Li, it seemed as if an obscene frog had blinked. She’d seen a YouTube video once of a bullfrog devouring a bird. That had been obscene. Maybe the Police Minister was such a creature that a princess had magically transformed into China’s killer expert.

“I am about to attend a strategy meeting,” the Police Minister said. “The Ruling Committee members will be in attendance. You will join me.”

Shun Li almost moved; she almost let her eyeballs twitch down to look directly at him. She almost asked, “Sir?” But she did none of these things. She waited as befitted a servant of the Police Minister.

“Hmm,” Xiao Yang said. “You have great poise, Guardian Inspector. It speaks of an honest heart.” The barest of smiled appeared. It seemed strange on the Police Minister’s face. “I am an excellent judge of character. My nose sniffs out traitors and liars, who I eliminate as I would a fly. Watching you, Guardian Inspector, gives me confidence in our police apparatus. The best has risen to the top, as it should. Your record also speaks for itself. Your purity of motive is unequaled and your rigorous work schedule demands a reward. Yes, I will reward you.”

“I labor for my love of China,” Shun Li said.

“As do we all,” he said. “You will accompany me to the Ruling Committee meeting. I will have you give a verbal report of this unique find.”

Shun Li’s neck twitched as one of her muscles there spasmed. She gazed into the Police Minister’s face.

He stared at her with his expressionless features. Something didn’t seem right to her. She blinked and snapped her head back up, looking again at the distant point.

Her heart thudded. Why would he have her give the report? The single glance into his eyes had shown her something awful. Xiao Yang wasn’t human. He was a demon in human guise. The soullessness of his stare had almost caused her to shriek.

“Are you well, Guardian Inspector?”

“Yes,” she said, in as normal a voice as she could manage.

“Good. We leave in nine minutes. Go outside, refresh yourself and then wait for me in the car. We will ride together.”

Guardian Inspector Shun Li turned smartly and marched for the door.

What part will my doctored report have in the meeting? The idea left Shun Li faint. This was far more than she’d bargained for, far more. In the next hour, maybe longer, she would no doubt be playing for the highest stakes of her life.

The Ruling Committee met underground in Mao Square in the center of the city. The security procedures were amazing, like nothing that Shun Li had been through before.

Hulking Lion Guardsmen frisked her several times, each a thorough and embarrassing probe. They searched the Police Minister, too, which surprised her even more. Did Chairman Hong distrust his closest ally? That did not speak well of the Leader’s confidence.

Soon she stood in the opulent underground chamber. Its golden conference table was massive and must have weighed tons. Each seat had its own embedded computer. Giant screens adorned the walls. A map of the Midwestern United States showed on one screen. On others displayed details of various American states or cities. Vast chandeliers lit the chamber. They were unmilitary, but impressive, and poured illumination everywhere. Lion Guardsmen were present, eleven security personnel wearing body armor and cradling submachine guns.

There are so many people here. She hadn’t expected that.

Eleven guardsmen, three waiters ready to serve food, drink, and seventeen other aides, a few for the various Ruling Committee members. Like the others, Shun Li stood against a wall. She was directly behind Xiao Yang’s seat.

There was a Navy Minister, an Army Minister, an Agricultural Minister and a Foreign Affairs Minister and lastly a Minister for the Pan-Asian Alliance. Only three Ruling Committee members had served here for over a year: the Chairman, Xiao Yang and the Agricultural Minister. Everyone else had been elevated only a month before the Texas-New Mexico invasion.

A side door opened and Chairman Jian Hong entered briskly. The Lion Guardsmen froze in their positions, and others along the walls did likewise, seemingly becoming statues.

The Leader’s eyes darted about the room, and in seconds, they focused on Shun Li. The medium-sized man in the black suit stopped abruptly. He had dark hair and pale skin, as if he never stepped outside.

“May I speak, Leader?” the Police Minister asked.

“She belongs to you?” Hong asked.

“Yes, Leader,” Xiao replied.

“Tell her to cease twitching. I find it annoying.”

The Police Minister’s chair scraped back. He stood and approached Shun Li. Without any preamble, Xiao Yang slapped her across the face. It was a stinging blow, twisting her head to the side.

“In the Leader’s presence, you will remain still and respectful or I will have you shot,” Xiao Yang said.

Shun Li froze now as the Lion Guardsmen had done earlier, as all the aides in the room had. A primordial fear spread outward from her belly. The Leader—Chairman Hong—had become the undeclared Emperor of Greater China. Power flowed into and from his hands. He decided who lived or died on a vast scale.

She had dealt with petty killers until now, but these men…

Shun Li kept silent and motionless. Xiao Yang could have warned her about this. Why hadn’t he? Likely, so he could do what he just had before the Chairman.

I have no idea what hidden motives swirl around me. I must remain alert and practice the greatest caution.

“Your promptness disciplining one of your own does you credit, old friend,” Hong said.

Shun Li heard a note a true admiration in the Chairman’s voice.

“The police are here to serve you, Leader,” Xiao Yang said. “If one of them cannot do that, they are useless to you and useless to China. I will have perfection in the furtherance of service to our noble land or I will retire in disgrace.”

Shun Li almost raised her eyebrows at the speech. She heard an excess of passion there. It is false. He pretends.

“Well spoken,” Hong said. The man moved to his spot at the table.

Quietly, a large Lion Guardsman strode to the Leader’s chair, drawing it out for him.

Chairman Hong sat down, and the guardsman pushed the chair in for him.

“We are all assembled, I see,” Hong said. “Good. Do any of you desire refreshments?”

Several of the ministers raised their hands.

“Ah, excellent,” Hong said. He clapped his hands.

The waiters hurried to each Ruling Committee member. Soon, they wheeled trays near, putting coffee, sandwiches or bowls of steaming rice before the various ministers. Each of the ministers sipped and ate what the waiters placed before them.

The Chairman watched in obvious approval. “Good, good, it is good we can eat together in each other’s company,” Hong said. “It shows we trust each other and know that none shall poison his friend. In this evil and wicked generation, I find such trust refreshing.”

Shun Li noticed that the Leader did not eat or drink. She wondered what this spectacle and speech signified. She was certain the American strategy sessions were not like this.

In a few minutes, the waiters cleared the plates and the majority of the cups. They wheeled their trays out of the chamber and did not reappear.

Only then did the Leader sit forward in anticipation.

“There is much to discuss today,” he said. “My forecasters tell me the miserable American Midwestern rains will soon cease. An Alaskan cold front will descend upon the American plains, turning it into a tundra of ice and snow. With the cold, our armies can lunge forward and complete the task we have set for them.

“First,” Chairman Hong said, “I would like to know when the German military will make its coastal assault. Their delay has cost us dearly, and I find myself wearying of Chancellor Kleist’s excuses. Foreign Minister, what can you report along those lines?”

The Foreign Minister had open features and the roundest face Shun Li had ever seen. He appeared nervous, though, wetting his lips far too much.

“Leader,” the Foreign Minister said, twisting his wedding ring as he spoke. “I have reason to suspect the Chancellor has secretly met with American delegates. I believe he is in the process of making a clandestine treaty with them.”

Chairman Hong turned in wonder to Xiao Yang. “Can this be true? Has the Chancellor practiced treachery against us without our knowing it?”

“There are rumors, Leader,” Xiao Yang said. “The Germans...they are deceitful and clever. Their security operatives consider no devious trick as too low to practice. It isn’t intelligence, as a cultured Han would possess, but a low animal cunning they exhibit. Because of Chancellor’s Kleist security mania, my agents have been unable to discern the truth of these rumors.”

“This is failure, Xiao,” the Leader said. “I demand knowledge, even from these low animals. How are we to proceed with our plans if I’m given faulty or misleading information?”

“As I was about to say, Leader,” Xiao Yang said, “I have discovered that an American team went to Iceland. As amazing as it sounds, the beleaguered Americans are not as security-conscious as Chancellor Kleist’s people are. We believe one of the Chancellor’s representatives might have met with these Americans to hear their begging.”

Chairman Hong’s eyes narrowed, giving him a suspicious squint. “Americans begging, yes; they must be thrashing about, looking for help wherever they can. Their armies crumble before Chinese might and they think now to crawl on their knees to the Germans for help. Did these representatives lick German jackboots? The Americans are proud boasters and now crawl on their bellies, seeking aid against us. I knew they were nothing but a jackal, mongrel people with no true spirit.”

The Chairman banged a fist on the golden table. “All that aside, I want to know why the Germans see fit to remain in Cuba. My spies, it appears, cannot crack the German plans. That is intolerable. Police Minister, you must change that.”

“It will be done, Leader,” Xiao Yang said as he bowed his head. “After the meeting I will dispose of the failure running the German infiltration division.”

“Make an example of him,” Hong muttered.

“An excellent idea, Leader,” Xiao Yang said. “His passing with be a painful and instructive one. The rest of the case officers will take note and redouble their efforts.”

“I want results soon, Xiao.”

“I will light a fire under them,” the Police Minister said. “Of that you can be sure.”

“That doesn’t help us today,” Hong said in a petulant tone. “This is a strategy session and we are clueless concerning the Germans. You, Foreign Minister, what about your endless stables of mandarins; cannot they decipher the German signals? Surely, they can outthink these pork-eating Europeans.”

“Leader,” the Foreign Minister said. A light sheen of sweat had appeared on his round face. “I do have a theory regarding the situation.”

“Speak! Tell us,” Hong said. “What do these secretive Germans plan to do?”

“The Germans are greedy, Leader,” the Foreign Minister said. “They wish to reap where they have not sown. Chinese arms has smashed the Americans and driven like a steamroller over their country. Once the Americans surrender, we have a right to take the vast share of land, as Chinese blood and Chinese courage and strategy produced the glorious victory. It is my belief the Germans envy us because of this. They are a vainglorious race, believing they are super soldiers. I suspect Chancellor Kleist of duplicity in an effort to acquire a greater share of the coming spoils.”

“What do you say to this?” Hong asked the Police Minister.

“Leader…” Xiao Yang said slowly. “I ferret out secrets for China. It is not my prerogative to decipher their meaning. I leave that to your experts such as the Foreign Minister. It is enough for me—”

Hong frowned, and it caused Xiao Yang to falter.

“The Foreign Minister makes an excellent point, Leader,” Xiao Yang said. “The Germans are greedy, and I’m beginning to think, cowardly. Why else did they renege on their treaty obligations this summer? The military fiasco in New Orleans bears witness to their perfidy. The South Americans took brutal losses storming ashore. I think—”

“The South Americans,” Hong said with a sneer. “The less we speak about them, the better. They are useful garrison troops. For fighting, we must rely on the valor of Chinese arms.”

The Army Minister cleared his throat. He was stooped-shouldered with many wrinkles on his face, and his chest blazed with medals and ribbons. His name was Marshal Wu, the spokesman for the fighting military.

“Are you becoming impatient?” Hong asked the Marshal.

The wrinkled old man showed his teeth in a grin. “You need a younger, stronger man for my post, Leader. If I remain here too long at this meeting, I’m afraid I shall nod off. I have sipped your excellent coffee, a most powerful brew. While the caffeine boils in my blood is the best time for us to discuss the coming strategy for winter.”

Chairman Hong stared at Marshal Wu.

The entire chamber seemed to hold its breath. Shun Li wondered if she was about to witness one of the legendry executions. Rumors abounded concerning Hong’s increasingly bad temper. He feared assassination, and he’d had individuals shot in his presence. One operative had whispered to her a month ago that Hong believed he could literally sniff out traitors.

Holding herself motionless against the wall, Shun Li watched, although she was careful not to gaze directly at Chairman Hong. She used her peripheral vision to study him, waiting to see him sniff like a hound.

It did not occur. Instead, Chairman Hong nodded. “I appreciate your wisdom, Marshal Wu. As befits a military man, you have courage. I have come to realize how rare that is among my ministers. It is perhaps a gift of age. Knowing you are about to pass on to the next life, your fear of death has dwindled.”

“An excellent point, Leader,” Wu said.

“I take it you have certain refinements to make regarding the overarching plan we decided upon this summer?”

“That is an excellent way of saying it, Leader,” Wu said. “As a preamble to the Army’s…refinements, I would like to make a comment.”

“This is a strategy session,” Hong said. He smiled and glanced around at the other ministers.

Each of them chuckled politely, although Shun Li noticed that none of the aides standing against the wall uttered a sound.

Marshal Wu sipped from the coffee cup at his elbow. “We did not anticipate the intensity of the rains, Leader. It has allowed the Americans time to strengthen their lines and it has slowed our relentless advance. Before his premature death in California this summer, Marshal Nung taught us much about around-the-clock offenses. Because of your wisdom, Leader, in pointing this out to Army High Command, we have instituted a similar approach. Such an offensive takes a prodigious amount of supplies, particularly artillery munitions. The rains have bogged down our supply rate. Lately, a greater American submarine presence has also begun to have an adverse effect.”

“Why is this happening now?” Hong asked the Navy Minister.

“New tactics, Leader,” the Navy Minister said.

“New?” Hong asked. “What new tactics can the beleaguered Americans—”

Marshal Wu cleared his throat once more, causing Chairman Hong to stop speaking and stare at the old soldier.

“Are you daring to interrupt me again?” Hong asked in a low and dangerous tone.

“Please, Leader, I ask you to forgive an old man. It was my scratchy throat. I do not have the strength of you young men or the same forbearance against discomfort.”

“Ah,” Hong said.

“I would never dream of interrupting you, Leader.”

Hong nodded.

“Since we’re on the topic of interrupted supplies,” Wu said, “I would like to point out an increase in partisan attacks. These attacks are particularly fierce in Texas and Oklahoma.”

Chairman Hong blinked at Wu. “We were discussing the naval situation.”

“Ah, forgive me, Leader. I thought the topic was the interrupted supply situation. I do not have your ability to switch from idea to idea with such lightning speed.”

Hong gestured irritably, waving his hand as if he were an orchestra conductor. “Yes, I do possess swiftness of thought that is painfully lacking in others. It is a burden, I assure you. Very well, I will stoop down to your level, Marshal. Continue with your comment. We will discuss the naval situation afterward when you take your nap.”

Marshal Wu smiled, showing his teeth. They were bright white, no doubt dentures.

Shun Li saw the Marshal’s smile for what it was. In her practiced opinion, the old man hated Hong. The Marshal disguised the hatred well, however. He superbly acted a part.

Yes, he plays the old man in order to lull the Chairman.

“Together—the naval losses and partisan assaults—have slowed the rate of our supplies reaching the front. The very length to the front also adds wastage,” Marshal Wu said. “The rains make everything worse because they slow the swiftness of the campaign and bog down the resupply efforts. We need a total concentration attack for winter. A brutal, intense and an around-the-clock assault to the Canadian border will do several things at once. It will smash the Americans where they stand. That will allow the pursuit divisions to reach the border in record time. That will spit the United States in two, forever dividing the East from West. That will also give us their most important oil fields, tremendously weakening their Army. Such a swift campaign will save our military from prolonged exposure and wear, leaving it in that much better condition for the next grand assault.”

“We have spoken about these things before,” Hong said. “You’ve added nothing new.”

“The rains have slowed the assault,” Wu said. “That slowing has given the Americans time, which they’ve used to thicken their defenses. Even worse, newly manufactured drones and fighters have reached the front, replenishing their losses. I would like permission to move the MC ABMs deeper into the Midwest.”

Chairman Hong blinked several times at the Marshal.

“The Mobile Canopy Anti-Ballistic Missile vehicles,” Marshal Wu said. “They are massive, over six hundred tons in weight. As we spread out across the American Plains, we need greater air protection against American drones and missile assaults. Our tac-lasers wear out or go up in flames from successful American strikes. The remaining tac-lasers are stretched everywhere. Our anti-air umbrella has become porous.”

“I’ve been repeatedly told that our Air Force is superior to the American fighters and drones,” Hong said.

“Our Air Force is better than theirs, Leader,” Wu said. “Unfortunately, the Great Plains is a vast region. At times, the Americans gain local air superiority and inflict unprecedented damage to our soldiers. Our tac-lasers and mobile SAMs are priority targets for the enemy. We have fewer than needed. With the northern movement of our MC ABMs we could create tighter air-defense umbrellas.”

“Why haven’t you already moved them then?” Hong asked querulously.

Marshal Wu appeared surprised, but recovered quickly, bowing his head. “The Army has followed your directive, Leader: Number 17. We have heavily defended our rear areas where the excess munitions and fuel await shipment to the front. I believe the time may have arrived to move our air-defense net closer to the front. Because of the directive, I need your personal permission to move them.”

Chairman Hong snapped his fingers. “These… ABMs protect the supply bases from nuclear assault?”

“That is correct, Leader,” Wu said.

“I know it is correct. I just said so. Do not presume on your advanced age, Marshal.”

Once again, Wu bowed his head.

“Hmm,” Hong said, staring at the Marshal, “we should move a portion of the air-shield north. Very well, you may move twenty percent of the mobile ABMs north.”

Marshal Wu hesitated.

“You are beginning to annoy me, Army Minister. Do you think that an insufficient number?”

“By no means, Leader,” Wu said. “Twenty percent is an ideal amount. My surprise shows my ignorance. I wondered how you had arrived at the perfect percentage without examining any notes. I’d forgotten for a moment who I dealt with. You are, after all, Leader, the man who taught Marshal Nung his trade during the Arctic campaign. When it comes to military strategy, you have no peer.”

“My predecessor was also a military genius,” Hong said, sounding mollified. “I’ve begun to think it is a prerequisite for the exalted post.”

“Twenty percent of the MC ABMs,” Marshal Wu muttered. He wrote on a notepad.

“Leader,” Xiao Yang said. “One of my Guardian Inspectors has uncovered what may be the Americans’ most devious military surprise to date.”

“Indeed,” Hong said. “This sounds interesting. Tell us.”

“I wonder if perhaps you would prefer to hear it from the inspector herself.”

Hong look up at Shun Li. “Do you mean your twitcher?”

“What she lacks in decorum she makes up for in her agile mind,” Xiao Yang said.

Hong frowned at Shun Li. “I find this difficult to believe. She has a broad face like a peasant and lacks manners. Still…Sometimes a peasant proves to be cunning. Very well, old friend, let your twitching Guardian Inspector make her report.”

The Police Minister beckoned Shun Li to approach the golden conference table.

Fear curdled in her stomach. The Chairman was already predisposed against her. Worse, she’d heavily altered the report. She could only imagine what would happen if Chairman Hong learned the truth. She would die, likely in a hideous manner. If she could have repented of the report, she would have. Yet she could also imagine that admitting to forgery would end in heinous death. She had no alternative but to stick to her story and hope for the best.

“We don’t have all day,” Hong said. “If you take too long, Marshal Wu will fall asleep.”

There were polite chuckles from the ministers, including the old Marshal.

Shun Li wished she’d seen other aides give reports. She had no idea how to stand, speak—anything.

She reached the edge of the table, bowed her head to Chairman Hong and then stood at the same ramrod attention as she’d practiced in the Police Minister’s chamber.

“Illustrious Chairman Hong,” she began, staring into an unseen point in space, “I have read various reports indicating the Americans hid a secret in Denver, Colorado.”

“The mountain city?” Hong asked.

“Yes, Chairman Hong,” Shun Li said. “The Americans refer to it as the Mile High City. I read reports that made me suspicious, and I began to hunt down this secret, working from the slenderest of threads.”

“Do not puff yourself up in my presence,” Hong said.

Shun Li’s knees almost gave way so the fabric of her pants moved, but she didn’t sway. She found it difficult to speak.

“Continue,” Hong said. “Quit wasting our time.”

“Yes, Chairman Hong. I’m sorry.”

“Enough!” Hong complained to Xiao Yang. “Why doesn’t she get to the point?”

“Guardian Inspector,” Xiao Yang said in a stern voice. “You are embarrassing East Lightning by this crude performance and you waste the Leader’s valuable time. That is not permitted.”

Shun Li held herself rigid. It felt as if she was floating, a specimen before these dangerous old men. She needed to speak so she could leave this awful room and the hateful Ruling Committee.

“The Americans have built a massive Behemoth tank construction site in Denver, Colorado,” she said briskly. “With it, they churn out ten or more Behemoths a month. The American command is building several regiments to unleash upon us in mass and during the depth of winter.”

Shun Li could hardly breathe after blurting out the news, and she wished she could close her eyes. Slowly, it dawned on her that the chamber was silent. Without turning her head, she realized those in her line of sight stared at her in…shock.

“This is true?” Hong whispered.

Shun Li almost didn’t answer. She almost nodded. Instead, in a firm voice and while staring at the unseen point, she said, “It is true, Chairman Hong. I have the verification information.”

“Produce it at once,” Hong said.

Shun Li reached into a pocket and removed the memory-stick with the information.

“Well, begin,” Chairman Hong said in irritation.

Covertly, Xiao Yang tapped a slot at his spot on the table.

Shun Li slid the stick into the slot and wondered what to do next.

Xiao Yang indicated his screen.

While standing, Shun Li tapped the screen and began to show her forged information. Everyone in the chamber watched in silence. The data appeared on the large wall screens. Finally, she quit talking and once again stood at attention.

Slowly, Hong shook his head as if shaking off sleep. “Give me the data chip,” he said.

The Police Minister popped out the memory-stick and slid across the table.

Hong picked it up, staring at the stick as if it was a plague item. He pocketed it and glared at Shun Li, as if she was personally responsible for building the hated super tanks.

She felt worse than ever. Can’t I win in this chamber? Was she fated to leave it feet-first?

“You have performed well, Guardian Inspector,” Hong said.

The words amazed her. She felt giddy with relief. Maybe she would survive this nightmare.

“Even more,” Hong said, “you willingly brought this to my attention. You cannot conceive how much I hate these grotesque tanks. I wonder if we should use nuclear weapons and wipe this city from the face of the Earth.

“What do you say, Marshal Wu?” Hong asked.

“I think it is too dangerous to use nuclear weapons on inland American cities, Leader. Let us send in bombers and obliterate it the conventional way.”

“No,” Hong said. “This is too important. The Behemoth tanks are a critical American weapon system. I want this giant factory destroyed. No! Wait. Doesn’t Liang’s Third Front press against Denver?”

“Elements of the Third Front are near the city, yes,” Wu said.

“Then we must capture this plant and use the Behemoth tanks for ourselves,” Hong said. “If we can storm this city in a day or two, completed tanks might actually fall into our hands. Then, when the Americans use these vile tanks against us, we shall send our own Behemoths against them.”

“A noble plan, Leader,” Wu said.

Chairman Hong slapped the table. “Tell Liang he is to cease all forward movement. He must concentrate everything toward taking Denver.”

The Marshal looked stricken. “But Leader…” Wu cleared his throat and spoke in a level voice. “May I point out a salient feature of that order?”

Hong stared at the old man. “If you must,” he said at last.

“Denver is too small a front,” Wu said. “Perhaps if we use rear echelon troops to take it—”

“We must storm Denver now,” Hong said, slapping the table a second time. “I want those tanks!”

“But the entire Front…?” Wu asked. “The key to the campaign is a swift assault all the way to the northern border with Canada. We must split the United States in two.”

“Storming Denver should only take a day or so, maybe three or four,” Hong said. “That will not upset our northern assault.”

“Denver is a fortress city,” Wu said. “Liang and I have spoken about it on several occasions. He desires to mask the city with troops as it’s too heavily defended to assault with any hope of quick success.”

“Yes, now we know why the Americans have turned it into a fortress,” Hong said. “They defend this huge Behemoth plant. We must take it from them and turn it to our own advantage.”

Old Marshal Wu rubbed his hands, and he appeared nervous.

“What now?” Hong asked. “You seem displeased with my idea.”

“Leader, I know you are correct about the importance of the Behemoth plant. Yet the Americans are desperate to halt our swift advance north. They have been going to great lengths to blunt us.”

“Describe what ‘great lengths’ means,” Hong said. “Or are these just words to try to get me to change my mind?”

Wu beckoned to his aide, a major. The major marched to the table and stood stiffly at it as Shun Li had done.

“Chairman Hong,” the major said, “the Americans have begun a desperation assassination campaign against our best commanders. Due to their inability to face us head-to-head on the battlefield, the Americans have sent many assassination teams behind our lines. They hunt for our most aggressive commanders.”

“What proof do you have of this?” Hong asked.

The major inserted a memory-stick into the Marshal’s slot. He brought up a picture of a Chinese general. “This is General Cho Deng,” the major said. “Marshal Liang considers him the best pursuit commander in his Front. While inspecting his troops, an American-Mexican assassination team murdered him. It was their best team, Leader, Colonel Valdez’s most successful hit man together with an American legend from the Alaskan and Hawaiian campaigns.”

“We send commandos behind American lines,” Hong told Wu. “Why is this any different?”

“Yes, Leader, but this is much more serious,” Wu said. “The Americans must have spent weeks preparing for this hit. Worse, they have infiltrated our ranks with spies, just as we have done with theirs. The successful strike against Cho Deng proves it.”

“Bah,” Hong said.

“Leader,” Wu said. “I believe the importance lies in the American desperation. Because they chose Cho Deng, it shows they fear the deep drives more than any other maneuver. It seems as if the Americans are actually telling us what works best against them. In this case, we must spare no effort to continue a swift, brutal and intense drive to the north.”

“You will do just that,” Hong said, “after taking Denver.”

“I fear the fight against Denver might be long and protracted. As much as you want those Behemoths, surely the Americans will defend them just as hard.”

Chairman Hong looked away. He appeared thoughtful. Finally, he nodded. “There is wisdom in your words, Marshal. It likely will be a hard slog into Denver. And this sniper attack against Cho Deng…yes, there is wisdom in your words. Therefore, as of this moment, instruct Marshal Liang that he has a dual assignment. He must invest and take Denver and he must continue to drive north to the Canadian border. We will do both at once.”

Marshal Wu licked his lips.

To Shun Li it was an obscene performance, as the tip of his tongue appeared whitish and diseased. It seemed to her as if the old man wished to debate the Leader’s decision.

Chairman Hong scowled, and there seemed something different about it this time. “What is it now, Marshal?”

Maybe Marshal Wu noted the difference. His own mannerisms changed instantly as he nodded enthusiastically. “It is a brilliant idea, Leader. I would have simply driven north and expected Denver to fall to us because the Americans would retreat west from it. No, your idea is better than mine. I was taught the old tried and true strategies that will bring inevitable victory. Your way will—”

“Enough praise, Marshal Wu,” Hong said. “I am not a tyrant who demands my Ruling Committee colleagues to bow down and scrape to me. We have now decided what to do with Marshal Liang’s Third Front.” He rubbed his stomach. “I’m getting hungry and this meeting is taking too long. Therefore, let us move on to other matters, other Fronts.”

“Yes, Leader,” Wu said.

“To the east of Liang’s Front are the South Americans,” Hong said. “Firstly, let us agree…”

Paul slept in the dark on a small sofa in Romo’s hospital room. The fever had finally broken and the man’s wounds were healing properly now. The doctor said he could leave tomorrow.

Romo snored softly. That’s how Paul knew his blood brother wasn’t quite one hundred percent. He had never snored in the field.

Paul tried to get comfortable. The cushions were okay; it was the sofa’s size that caused the problem, being too small for him. He had to curl his legs to lay on it. He liked to stretch his legs. Paul was almost ready to do that, letting them hang over the end, when the door to the room opened slowly.

Paul was groggy, but something about the person’s entrance alerted him. He opened his eyes wide, waiting for the lights to come on. They didn’t. Instead, the person moved in the darkness toward the softly snoring Romo.

Is this a hit? Is Colonel Valdez really that crazy and vengeful?

The person’s shoes creaked. Whoever it was stopped, waiting. Then, maybe even slower than before, the person stepped toward Romo. Paul heard the person’s clothes swish. They must be wearing hospital scrubs.

Paul decided being quiet was stupid. If this were Valdez’s assassin, the man would be ready and tense. Would he have a knife, a gun, a rope—Paul had no idea.

From on the sofa, Paul Kavanagh shouted. Then he rolled and hit the floor.

The distinctive sound of a suppressed bullet preceded that of a slug tearing into cushions. Paul didn’t hesitate, even though he flinched. He crawled on his hands and knees, rushing the assassin.

Two more suppressed shots sounded. One hit the sofa, while another struck the tiled floor beside Paul. Bits of debris stung him.

Paul lunged, straining to reach the assassin before he turned the gun on Romo. His shoulder crashed against metal.

Romo stopped snoring. The assassin cursed softly in Spanish.

Then Paul Kavanagh reached the assassin’s legs. Paul wrapped his arms around the man’s ankles and surged forward. Now the assassin shouted, while two more suppressed shots sounded. One bullet grazed Kavanagh’s back, then the assassin struck the floor. Paul crawled up, reaching forward with a hand. His left touched metal. He wrapped his fingers around a gun barrel and twisted it to the side. Three suppressed shots phutted, two of them ricocheting.

“Paul?” Romo asked from above him.

One of the assassin’s knees slammed upward—the man lay on his back, with Paul crawling over him. The knee caught Paul in the gut. Kavanagh’s responses became instinctive then—this was a fight to the death. He was hardly aware of the knife in his hand, that he’d pulled it out of its belt sheath. He twisted the muzzle away from him and thrust the blade forward. The tip hit resistance.

Paul shouted, driving the blade deeper. He felt the edge grind against bone. Twisting savagely, he heard a gurgle in the darkness. The man he struggled with began to thrash wildly as blood jetted onto Kavanagh.

The door opened again. Someone must have heard the commotion. The lights came on and a nurse screamed. She kept on screaming as Paul scrambled off the dying assassin.

His blade was sheathed in flesh. It had sunk under the man’s jaw and gone straight up, likely hitting the brainpan from underneath. It was a gruesome sight. So was Paul with the assassin’s blood dripping from him.

“Santiago?” Romo said. He peered down at the floor from his hospital bed.

“You know him?” Paul asked.

Romo switched his gaze, looking up at Paul. “Si, it is my friend, Santiago. He is the one who called to warn me. We used to…”

“He’s one of Valdez’s assassins?”

Romo nodded.

Two other nurses had entered. They each held the screamer, trying to calm her. With wide eyes, they looked at Paul.

“We’re moving the patient,” Paul told them. “That man tried to murder him and I just saved his life.” Paul pointed his thumb at Romo.

“It is true,” Romo said.

The way the nurses looked at them, none seemed to believe either man, but it didn’t seem as if they wanted to argue either.

Anna knew she was the wrong person for this. She couldn’t cow foreign dignitaries and certainly not their only ally, Prime Minister Roland of Canada. Nor did she feel herself as overly persuasive. So why had David insisted she be the one to go?

Prime Minster Roland of Canada massaged his forehead, with his elbows on his maple-wood desk. His hair receded, the dome of skull shiny up there, and he wore a black suit with a plaid bowtie. The man had worried eyes like the harried bureaucrat he was. His Liberal Party barely had enough seats in Parliament to give him his office. Maybe he felt this request would destroy his party’s hold on power.

It was snowing outside with thick, heavy flakes. In here, the heaters blew hot air. The chamber was rather small, made even cozier by the dark wood paneling and the rows upon rows of old books. The place had a musty odor, like Harvard’s oldest library used to have. Anna recalled the smell fondly, as she’d done much of her research there for her national bestseller, Socialist-Nationalist China. She’d learned that the Prime Minister was once a university professor. Maybe that’s why David had chosen her for the task, but she doubted that was the main reason.

“Ms. Chen,” PM Roland said, looking up as he continued to massage his forehead with his long fingers. He wore a fraternity skull and crossed bones ring, although he lacked a wedding band. The man had never been married. “I-I simply don’t know what to make of this request. Is the President serious?”

“He is, sir,” Anna said.

“But—give the Germans Quebec?” he asked. “It is national suicide for us and the strategic death of the United States. I cannot conceive how your President thinks this is a good idea.”

Anna didn’t have to attempt being earnest. She was. “Prime Minister,” she said, leaning forward. “We’ve been watching the death of the United States for months now, one lost battle at a time.”

“No. I don’t accept that. My generals have kept me informed. Yes, the Chinese and their Brazilian allies have taken much of the Southern Midwest, but you’ve inflicted heavy casualties on them. If you continue on that tack, victory is assured you.”

“I wish that were true,” Anna said. “They have far too many soldiers compared to us. They can afford these staggering losses. The United States cannot.”

“We are about to drive south with half the Canadian Army to aid you in the monumental struggle.”

“Do you have an actual timetable for that, sir?”

“We’re going to go soon,” Roland said, his eyes sliding away from hers.

“Prime Minister, the Germans are poised in Cuba. We need the soldiers on the East Coast, on the Gulf Coast. We need them as reinforcements in the Midwest. This offer gives us an opportunity to concentrate our military on one enemy at a time. Well, in this instance, on two out of the three alliances combined against us.”

“No, no, this offer is national suicide for us. I will not be able to agree to it. Canada cannot willingly give up its national territory.”

“Sir, I know the President has spoken to you on the phone concerning this. As he told you, this is a temporary situation only. We’re not suggesting you cede Quebec forever, just for the moment.”

“Do you Americans think we’re naïve?” Roland asked. “Once the Germans fortify Quebec, no one will oust them from the province. Certainly, the United States isn’t going to have the strength to do so. And Canada lacks the military power to take on the German Dominion.”

“Once we finish with the Chinese—”

Prime Minister Roland massaged his forehead, staring down at the desk. “I cannot believe this. You’re abandoning us to the wolves. After all that we have done for you—do you realize the Chinese have offered us neutrality?”

Anna went cold inside and her sternum seemed to press against her. So the rumors were true about that. “Sir,” she said, “the Chinese are attempting to do just what we are: concentrate on one enemy at a time. Don’t let the enemy lull you with empty promises.”

“My Cabinet members are split,” Roland said. “The majority wishes to accept the Chinese offer and declare neutrality, sitting out the war. If the Germans invade Quebec…” He looked up at her. “We will drive the Germans out of our country, possibly gaining Chinese help in order to do it.”

“Do you think the Chinese will engage the German Dominion for Canada?”

Roland’s features hardened.

Anna realized that was the wrong tack to take. “Sir,” she said, “if you summoned Chinese aid, you would be handing Canada to them.”

“That would be better than letting the Germans in.”

“I’m not sure you’ve considered what you’re saying. Mexico shows us that once the Chinese gain admittance into a country, they stay and take over. Our way, you would not be giving the Germans Canada, but its most troublesome province. You would rid yourself of your worst headache.”

“Without Quebec there is no Canada,” Roland said. “We would lose the Maritime Provinces along with the French.”

“Sir, respectfully, you’ve already lost Quebec. The people are poised to rise up in rebellion. Can you afford to halt the Germans while the people of Quebec aid the enemy and harass your formations through guerilla operations?”

He stared at her, his mouth moving but no sounds issuing. Finally, he said, “America is abandoning us, Ms. Chen. You’re selling us down the river.”

“Mr. Prime Minister,” Anna said, clutching the front edge of the desk. “We’re on the brink of ruin, both our countries. This gives us a chance to defeat the Chinese in detail before we turn around and deal with the Germans.”

Roland shook his head. “I will not send the Canadian Army south into America if the Germans are massing in Quebec. It would be madness for us, national suicide.”

“No. You don’t understand. We must grasp this lone opportunity and wrest victory from potential defeat.”

“Words,” he said. “Those are empty words. Your President doesn’t fool me, nor will he fool Canada. We would have stood with you to the end. Now, now you have abandoned us, and still, you expect us to fight for you and die.”

Anna sat back in defeat. Her stomach knotted. This was terrible. She knew a hard moment of bitterness and words spilled out of her. “You waited too long to join the fight, Mr. Prime Minister. Canada waited when it should have joined us from the beginning so it would have never come to this.”

He looked at her wide-eyed. “On top of everything else, you will berate me?”

“Yes,” she heard herself say.

His mouth opened, and he blinked at her with astonishment.

“Act now,” she said. “Take a risk with us and we will rejoice together in another year or two.”

“In another two years, there will be no more Canada nor will there be a United States. We will all be thralls of the Germans and the Chinese.”

“Then take a risk,” she said.

Prime Minister Roland bit his lower lip. “We’re not able to stop the Germans, not if you don’t help. I will have to mass the Canadian Army on the Ontario-Quebec border. Then I will have to travel to Beijing and see if the Chinese will still accept our neutrality.”

“I wish you would have faith in us, Prime Minister. As long as you’re giving the Germans Quebec—”

“I will have to ask you to leave,” the Prime Minister said. “This…capitulation to blackmail, it makes me sick. Tell the President we will stand with America if you stand with us. But if you agree to the Germans taking Quebec, we will realize that you have abandoned us. In that case, Canada will have to seek out its own future.”

Anna blinked back tears. Was this it? Had Chancellor Kleist shattered America’s last alliance through diabolical trickery? No, she couldn’t leave it like this.

She stood, and she came around the Prime Minister’s desk. She wore a black dress. It showed her legs to good effect. She reached out, and she could see his surprise.

“This is highly unusual,” Roland said. “I will summon my security officers.”

“Prime Minster,” Anna said, taking one of his long-fingered hands in hers. She clutched his fingers, and she knelt on her stocking knees. She noticed his gaze flicker to her cleavage.

“This is the moment of gravity for each of our nations,” she said. “Canada and the United States have long been the firmest friends. We have the longest demilitarized border in the world. We are each other’s best trading partner. Many of our best scientists are Canadians. We defeated the Chinese together in Alaska. We can do the same here. What I’m asking you, sir, is to trust us. The President’s back is against the wall. We are on the verge of defeat. But I want to assure you, Prime Minster, that we mean to defeat the Chinese utterly. We will hand them such a staggering loss that it will restore the US power in North America. We need Canada. We need those hard-fighting troops of yours to stand with ours. Only then can we hope to achieve a reversal that gives us both our precious freedom. I beg you, Prime Minister, stand with us. If ever there was a moment in American history where we needed Canada’s help, this is it.”

Prime Minister Roland swallowed audibly. He stared into Anna’s eyes. “You…you are very compelling, my dear.”

“I believe in my President, sir, and I love my country.”

“Please,” he said. “Sit down. This is—this is unbecoming for the two of us.”

Anna climbed to her feet, looking down at him. She squeezed his hand before letting go. Then she returned to her chair, demurely sitting.

The Prime Minister took out the white handkerchief in his breast pocket and mopped his shiny forehead. “I-I don’t know how to respond to such a…” He waved his hand.

“Sir, trust us. Trust David Sims. He knows how to defeat the Chinese. He did it in Alaska and he did it again in California. This is a bigger war, so he needs more time. But he will do it in the end.”

“I have witnessed his successes. But can your President also defeat the Germans in Quebec?”

That was a good question. But instead of telling the Prime Minister that, Anna said with a demure smile, “Let us deal with one enemy at a time, sir, one enemy at a time.”

“Hmm, maybe you—or your President—has the right idea in that.”

“I know he does.”

“Hmm,” Roland said, knotting his handkerchief with his spidery fingers.

“You know, sir. I just thought of something.”

“Yes?” Roland asked.

“Perhaps you should go to Beijing. I don’t know if you realize it, but I happen to be an authority on the ruling Chinese party.”

“Oh.”

“If the Chinese thought Canada was negotiating for neutrality, that might give our two countries a chance to surprise them.”

“You are suggesting I lie?”

“No sir, not lie, but you might go and ask the Chinese about neutrality. That in itself might send them the signal, and they will believe what they wish to.”

“What are you thinking, Ms. Chen?”

Anna was still flushed from her experience of begging on her knees and possibly having persuaded the Prime Minister. This new idea…it was worth exploring. Still, maybe she needed to hammer down the Prime Minister’s stand with the United States first.

“I would need to speak to the President about this,” Anna said. “I am his personal envoy, not one of his strategists.”

The Prime Minister allowed himself a wry smile. “The President knows how to pick his envoys.” Then Roland glanced away as if self-conscious. Two red spots appeared on his cheeks.

He’s embarrassed. How did a man like him ever get to be Prime Minster? Anna didn’t know, but she wondered if that should be the theme of her next research paper.