Invasion: Colorado

-7- Denver

Anna Chen sat at the latest in technologically-enhanced, strategic decision-making. It was a massive computer table and it was in Bunker Number Five, beneath the White House.

This was an emergency session. Earlier this afternoon, David had spoken with the Joint Chiefs and Max Harold of Homeland Security. Every one of them had returned tonight, including the Defense Secretary, Luis Garcia.

Anna had entered the chamber a few minutes ago. She had been with the President when news of the Chinese air assault on I-70 arrived. He’d sent her ahead so it wouldn’t appear they’d been together before this. Those in and around the White House knew he used this time to relax. Few knew about their affair, about their intimacy. The rumors were becoming more pervasive and David wanted to squash them.

The main door to the chamber opened and a Marine guard entered, announcing, “The President of the United States.”

David strode in as chairs scraped back. Everyone stood, honoring him. He no longer seemed embarrassed by it, although he waved them down, but only after he sat and had made himself comfortable.

Anna nodded to herself. The German offer of neutrality and the Canadian acceptance of losing Quebec to gain that neutrality had renewed his confidence. Yet there seemed something more to it. Despite her time with him, she wasn’t sure what it was.

David cleared his throat. “I’m sure you’re aware by now that the Chinese have attempted a massive air assault against I-70 in Colorado. I received word that the enemy broke off the assault before committing their bombers. That’s very curious, especially from Marshal Liang’s people. We know he’s a careful organizer and tactician. Can anyone tell me why Liang did that or allowed it to happen?”

“I have a theory, Mr. President,” General Alan said.

“Good. Let’s hear it.”

“You and I watched it in real-time, sir. Likely, Marshal Liang did as well. The Behemoth tanks shattered a portion of the assault. Goshawk drones appeared to have spearheaded that particular attack. They’re a hardy Chinese drone, almost comparable to our fighter-bombers in weight. That makes them big and we know they’re armored. I think the brutality and completeness of the destruction surprised the Chinese, particularly because the quick-firing rail-guns destroyed the Goshawks in a matter of minutes. Maybe Liang thought we had more surprises like that for him elsewhere.”

The President nodded thoughtfully. “The Chinese called off the attack then? That’s what you’re saying? You don’t believe it was a preplanned maneuver to cause us to draw the wrong conclusions?”

“Yes to the first Mr. President,” Alan said, “and no to the second.”

“You’re suggesting Liang realizes the Behemoths caused the destruction.”

“I would think so, sir.”

David studied the computer table. So did Anna. It showed a map of the Midwestern United States, highlighting Colorado, Kansas, Nebraska, Iowa and Missouri.

“Zoom in on Greater Denver and the beginning mountain pass of I-70,” the President said.

A technician made adjustments so the computer map showed just that.

“Interesting,” the President said, although he didn’t elaborate. “Go back to how it was. Then show me the enemy front.”

From Denver, to Kansas City to the outlying regions of St. Louis—between the Rockies and the Mississippi River—a red line appeared.

“Show me the enemy gains in the past five days.”

A long but very narrow shaded, pinkish area appeared. The enemy had attacked along the width of the Great Plains, pushing northward. Anna checked the scale. In the past five days, the deepest penetrations showed a twenty-mile thrust. Elsewhere, it was only five.

“Their gains are deceptive, Mr. President,” Alan said. “In many areas, they passed through lightly defended Zones of Occupation. We built deceptive trenches and used inflatable artillery guns behind them, parks of dummy guns to fool their reconnaissance flights.”

Anna had only learned about that yesterday. It was a trick on a massive scale. The Zones of Occupation had been meant to absorb the initial enemy strikes: vast artillery barrages and intense air bombardments.

“In most areas, the Chinese are only now hitting our Main Line of Defense,” Alan added.

Anna continued to study the map, as did everyone else in the room. That included her former boss, the Director of the CIA. Beginning reinforcements from the East Coast had begun to arrive at the Great Plains Defensive Lines. In another few days, the first Canadian units would arrive and help stiffen the masses of Militiamen.

David stood as he told the technician to zoom back to the strip of Eastern Colorado. He had an electronic pointer in his hands. He clicked it on with his thumb and aimed it at the table. A green arrow appeared on the map.

“I consider this decisive,” the President said. A green arrow touched Denver. “General Larson and McGraw believe that two Chinese armies are involved in storming the city. They estimate that to be anywhere from three hundred to four hundred thousand soldiers. That means these forces won’t be headed north right away. The Chinese are helping us by hitting the wrong target. My question is this. Why are the Chinese trying to capture Denver instead of pouring everything north?”

Anna noticed several people glance at her surreptitiously before letting their gaze slide elsewhere. After all this time, some still didn’t trust her because of her Chinese ancestry. She blocked the thought and their darting glances, trying to put it in a drawer in her mind. That drawer, she shut.

“This two-Army assault is meant to capture the city,” the President said. “Their desire to close off I-70 proves it beyond a doubt.”

“I would agree, sir,” General Alan said.

“Then you don’t think it’s a vast Chinese deception?” the President asked.

“Why?” Alan asked. “Deception on that scale, with so many losses, doesn’t make sense. For one reason or another, they mean to capture Greater Denver.”

“Where are the Behemoth tanks as of this moment?” the President asked.

The technician adjusted the screen. The Behemoth position appeared in blue along I-70.

“Sir,” General Alan said. “Now that the Chinese know where the tanks are, they’re badly exposed. What if the enemy uses nuclear weapons to shut down the mountain freeway?”

The President looked up sharply.

“If the Chinese mean to cut off Denver’s backdoor supply link,” Alan said, “why not use nuclear weapons as they did with the California passes? If they knock out the right bridge or mountain tunnel, the Behemoths won’t be going anywhere for a long time except into Denver.”

“We must move the Behemoths now,” the President declared.

“Agreed sir,” Alan said.

“Right,” the President said. “Call the Tank Park. Tell Colonel Higgins to move his Behemoths tonight. I want them in Salt Lake City yesterday.”

“Yes, Mr. President,” Alan said.

Sims turned to Max Harold. “I have some questions about the Militia battalions in the Main Defense Lines.”

Director Harold nodded.

“First,” the President said. “I want to know…”

Jake Higgins was in a makeshift Army hospital in an old office building behind the front lines. His arm was in a sling due to a badly bruised left shoulder. He was here to see the commander of the Eleventh CDM Battalion, a captain, as the man was the highest-ranking officer left of the shattered unit. Heck, the captain was almost the only officer left.

Two days ago, Jake had dragged the bleeding and wounded captain out of a burning home in Castle Rock during vicious house-to-house fighting. After the first Chinese wave where he’d killed enemy in a bakery, the Chinese had changed tactics. Maybe that was because they’d changed from using penal soldiers to regular fighters. Instead of human wave assaults, the Chinese had advanced with overhead helos for protection and with combat bulldozers to knock down walls, rubble and houses. The bulldozers had changed the game, all right.

In the grueling battle of Castle Rock, the Eleven CDMB went from the original twelve hundred combatants to two hundred and nineteen survivors. In other words, the meat-grinder of war chewed them from a battalion to a company, which was about right because all they had left was the captain.

“Higgins,” Captain Lewis whispered from his bed.

Jake glanced at the doctor, an older woman. She nodded. He stepped up to the medical bed. Tubes stuck out of the captain’s body. Both his legs had casts and they were elevated. He was pale and his eyes were glassy, no doubt due to heavy meds.

“Give me your hand, soldier,” Lewis said with a slur.

Jake thrust out his hands and felt the captain’s clammy fingers. The man barely had any grip left. But what he did have, he used.

Lewis strained to lift his head. “I owe you my life,” he whispered.

Jake didn’t know what to say.

“I read your record before all this,” Lewis whispered. “You’re a troublemaker. You protested our President. That’s inexcusable. But…that’s over. You listen to me. You make trouble for the Chinese now, you hear?”

“Yes sir,” Jake said.

Lewis released his feeble grip. His hand flopped beside his side. He’d been straining his neck. He now relaxed his head against the pillow and the life seemed to go out of him.

“Higgins.”

“I’m here, sir.”

A pasty smile creased the man’s face. “The Lieutenant is going to lead the Eleventh. I don’t think he likes you.”

“No sir,” Jake said. It was more like the Lieutenant hated him, although Jake didn’t know why. Maybe it was just because.

“I’ll get better for you,” the captain said. “I owe you. I pay my debts, too. I’ll get better and I’ll be in charge. Until then, you stay alive and you give the Chinese hell.”

“Yes sir.”

“As my last act in command, I’m promoting you to corporal. I’d bump you up to sergeant, but the Lieutenant made a phone call. The Detention Center Director vetoed the sergeant idea. He suggested you earn the slot first. Neither man understands you earned it ten times over in Castle Rock. I’m sorry, Corporal.”

“No sweat, sir. I’m used to it.”

Lewis slowly licked his mouth. It was painful to watch. He was looking worse by the second. “I did find out one other thing. As I said, I checked your records.” He smiled faintly. “Your father is Colonel Stan Higgins.”

“Yes sir. That’s true.”

“He’s close by, Corporal.”

“He’s in Greater Denver, sir?”

“Close,” Lewis said. “I’m not sure of his exact location. But I’ve spoken with the doctor. As soon as you leave my room, the doctor is going to patch you through to your father.”

“Sir?” Jake said. “Thank you very much, sir. That’s…that’s kind of you.”

“This blasted war,” the captain said. “You give the Chinese trouble from now on. Love your country, Higgins.”

“I do, sir.”

“Yeah,” the man whispered, his words weakening as he spoke. He was like a balloon giving its last air before becoming limp. His eyes closed with a will of their own. In another moment, he breathed deeply, fast asleep.

“He needs his rest,” the doctor said.

“Will he be okay?” Jake asked.

“Given time,” she said, “a long time. But unless this war lasts several years, he’s no longer going to do any fighting.”

That meant Jake would have to get along with the Lieutenant. That was great news, oh yeah.

“Would you come with me please?” the doctor said.

“Where to?” asked Jake. Now what?

“We have a phone call to make,” she said.

“Tonight?”

The doctor studied him. “I spoke with your captain earlier. He told me—well. Let’s just leave it at this: You may not have another chance to talk to your father.”

“Is my father dying?”

“What? Oh no, that’s not what I meant. Are you coming?”

“Sure,” Jake said. “Let’s make the call.”

The stars blazed overhead as the giant tanks revved with power. One by one, the Behemoths lurched out of their holes, climbing a dirt ramp.

Huge truck-trailers pulled up on the snow-covered asphalt. They were massive vehicles with outrageously huge tires and large cabs: Behemoth carriers.

Colonel Higgins oversaw the activity and acted like a lowly cop directing traffic, waving his arms first one way and then another. He’d been running back and forth between tanks. A bullhorn hung by a strap from his neck. His throat was sore from yelling and from inhaling too much of the cold air.

The Chinese had attacked with massed bombers and heavy drones. They must have failed to close I-70, because the President of the United States had given the order.

We’re on our way to Salt Lake City.

That meant I-70 must still be open, but for how long? Clearly, the President or the Joint Chiefs must believe the Chinese would eventually cut Denver’s backdoor supply route.

“Colonel Higgins!”

Stan turned around. The CP captain ran toward him. The man held a mobile phone.

“There’s a call for you, sir,” the captain panted, handing him the phone.

In the wash of Behemoth and carrier-hauler headlights, Stan raised an eyebrow. “Who is it?”

“Colonel, it’s your son Jake.”

A flood of emotion pulsed through Stan. He ran to the phone, his boots squelching across the snow. He snatched the receiver out of the captain’s hand.

“Jake?” Stan asked. “Is that you, son?”

“Hey, Dad,” Jake said. “How are you doing?”

Stan blinked rapidly, with tears welling in his eyes. “Jake, you’re alive.”

“Yup,” Jake said.

“Where were you? Where are you? How did you find out where I was?”

“I was in Texas,” Jake said. “It went bad and we lost badly. The Chinese cut us to ribbons, surrounded most of us and forced people to surrender. Some of us decided…well, to fight our way out.”

Stan grinned and he wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. This was unbelievable.

“Trouble is,” said Jake, “the Chinese were everywhere. They’re heavily patrolling the Occupied Territories. Out of the survivors…well, I’m the only who made it out.”

“To our lines?” asked Stan.

“Yup. I reached Colorado, returned to the Detention Center—”

“What?”

“They thought I’d deserted.”

“What?”

“It’s a long story, Dad. I had to convince the Detention Center people that I hadn’t deserted our side.”

“They’re crazy!”

“I’m beginning to wonder if I am. Anyway, I asked them to add me to the Eleventh Battalion roster.”

“Where is it?”

“We were in Castle Rock.”

“But…that’s where the Chinese struck,” Stan said.

“Tell me about it. It was almost as bad as Amarillo.”

“You can’t still be in Castle Rock. The Chinese stormed it. They haven’t captured you, have they?”

“No. I’m in Highlands Ranch.”

“Where’s that?”

“It’s a suburb of Denver, west of Centennial.”

The flood of emotion hit Stan all over again. “Jake. You’re alive. My son is alive. It’s so good to hear your voice. You have no idea, no idea.”

“It’s good to hear you, too, sir.”

Stan laughed. Then he sobered up. His boy was in Denver, the city the Chinese wanted bad enough to send two entire armies to capture it. The city was going to fall. That was clear to see.

“Jake, you have to leave there. I want you to—”

“Dad, no one is going to let me leave anywhere. I’m in a DCM Battalion. That’s almost like a Chinese penal battalion.”

“Don’t say that.” Certainly not over an open line.

“Dad, I’m going to die here. I might as well speak if the truth if that’s what’s stranded me here in the first place.”

Stan squeezed the receiver.

“Dad?”

“I’m here,” Stan said. “Maybe I can get you released from the battalion.”

“Sure,” Jake said. “You can call. But they’re sticklers for rules. Look, I have to go. The doctor needs the phone. Boy am I glad I got to talk to you, sir. I…I, ah, miss seeing you, Dad.”

“I love you, Jake. You know that, right?”

“Yeah. I… I, ah, love you too, Dad.”

Stan blinked again, and he wiped his eyes. This was so unfair. This was horrible. His son who he thought was dead, gone or captured by the Chinese, was alive again.

“Listen to me, son.” Stan paused. What should he tell his boy? This might be the last time he ever spoke to him. Should he tell Jake to play it safe? Stan squeezed the receiver harder than ever. For some reason, he remembered Pastor Bill from Alaska. That old soldier, his best friend, someday in heaven he planned to see Bill again. If his son died in Denver, he would see Jake again in heaven, too.

Stan shook his head. How did people make it without God? He had no idea.

“You listen to me, Jake. You’re a soldier of the United States of America. You fight hard. You beat those sons of bitches and survive. It’s so good to hear your voice. Jake, I’m proud of you. I’m proud how you stand up for yourself and stand up for the truth. I love you, and I know—”

Stan couldn’t speak anymore. It was too hard. His voice almost cracked up.

“Thanks, Dad,” Jake said in a rough voice. “That means a lot to me. I’m going to be like you, sir. I’m going to be like Grandfather.”

“You’re a Higgins,” Stan whispered.

“Just like my dad. I have to go now.”

“Bye son,” Stan said.

“Bye, Dad, and thanks for everything.”

Stan didn’t remember handing the phone back to the captain. He didn’t remember wiping tears from his cheeks. He stared up at the stars, barely noticing a dark shape—an owl—winging through the night.

“Help him, Jesus,” Stan whispered. “Save my son. Please, let me see him alive again.”

Stan swallowed. He wiped his nose. Afterward, he squared his shoulders. He had a job to do, and now he was going to do it right.

Guardian Inspector Shun Li woke to the sound of heavy knocking. She was in bed in a hotel in the city. She rolled over and felt the floor for her sidearm. It was dark, with thick curtains covering the window, although the edges of the curtain showed light, meaning it must be morning.

She was naked, with a thin blanket over her body. The room was extra warm, as she disliked smothering blankets over her or the cold.

The knocking continued, and it surprised her that the person didn’t call out. It couldn’t be East Lighting. An operative would have said something intimidating already.

Her fingers touched metal. She slid forward and clutched the gun. She wiped sleep from her eyes with her other hand and she sat up, aiming the gun at the door.

She heard a card slide into the outer locking mechanism, and a big man in body armor opened the door. Shun Li recognized him. He was a Lion Guardsman, one of the Chairman’s personal security operatives. She remembered him from the Ruling Committee meeting.

He noticed her gun, and it had no effect on his features. He didn’t even smile or lift an eyebrow.

She lowered the weapon. “Did your wife throw you out of the house this morning?”

The quip brought nothing, not even a flicker of annoyance. “The Chairman requests your presence, Guardian Inspector. You are to come with me.”

The Lion Guard intrigued her for several reasons, the most important of which was that he was one of the elite men who protected the Chairman. She put the gun on the bed and drew back the covers.

“Do you want me to come as I am?” she asked, as she revealed her nakedness.

The right corner of his mouth twitched. Finally, he gave a reaction. “The Chairman would prefer you in your uniform, Guardian Inspector.”

“What do you prefer?” she asked, as she stared into his eyes.

The Lion Guard said nothing more, just returned her stare.

Something about his eyes unsettled Shun Li. Yes, he had the eyes of a killer, and he seemed…bored. How many people had this Lion Guardsman murdered for the Chairman, perhaps even in his presence? He protected the most powerful man in the world. What did the Guardsman see and hear that gave him this confidence and the boredom?

Chairman Hong had climbed the rungs of power, beating out some of the most dangerous people in existence. There was a reason he had succeeded where others failed. It was more than likely that men like this were part of the reason.

Shun Li slid off the bed and padded to her uniform on the dresser. She swam among sharks. She was a barracuda, a deadly killer in her own right, but dwarfed by their larger size and viciousness. She would need all her craft and skill to maneuver correctly among them.

Why does Chairman Hong wish to see me? Was this an opportunity, or had she already stumbled? Unease touched the base of her neck.

The Lion Guard said nothing more as they left the hotel room several minutes later. Two others waited outside a limousine. Each held a submachine gun, with the strap around his thick neck. One of them opened the car door for her. She thanked him, but the guard said nothing.

She sat alone in back, and the drive took them through the eastern part of Beijing. This was the wrong way if they were taking her to Mao Square.

A moment of panic struck. Was this an assassination team? Were they taking her to a lonely place to kill her and dump the body?

Calm, calm, practice calm, she told herself. Try to enjoy the ride.

The city was huge, the biggest in the world. It had the widest streets and the largest, most expensive cars. Even with the amazing war with America, people still displayed their luxury. Perhaps that was as it should be. Beijing, after all, was the heart of the greatest empire on Earth.

The limousine hissed across wet streets. Snow from last night rested on many windowsills and she saw an elderly man slip on an undoubtedly icy sidewalk.

Soon, they exited the suburbs and drove in the countryside. Here, huge trees dominated the landscape, clustered around three story mansions with vast yards. Party officials must live here. She doubted the Lion Guardsmen would murder her among the mansions.

Why don’t the guards say anything?

Shun Li kept still. She felt a hidden inspection then. Someone watched her. Probably there were video cameras recording everything. She kept still despite the seething unease building in her chest. She was innocent. Therefore, she must act like the innocent.

Where did I make my mistake? Could it be the Behemoth Plant forgery?

The number of trees grew. They drove through a forest of huge conifers and evergreens, several miles of them. She didn’t spy any more homes, and the troubled her. The limousine took a sharp bend in the road and slowed as they approached an elaborate iron gate. There was a guard shack to the side.

“Is this the Chairman’s country estate?” she asked.

None of the Lion Guardsman paid her any attention. They acted as if she didn’t exist. They stopped at the shack and the driver’s window opened. Stern-faced guardsmen looked in, big men with submachine guns. They spoke in low voices to the driver, soon waving them through.

Shun Li allowed a small smile to play on her features. Whoever watched her through hidden cameras, she let them see how composed she was. She was innocent, and if she was riding to her death, she would do so with calm and with grace.

Large buildings appeared. They reminded her of the French Palace of Versailles. Glass predominated as the construction material. There were towers, spires and gargantuan domes.

The driver turned onto a different lane. Shun Li felt the vehicle dip, and she noticed walls outside. The sun disappeared and she realized they sped down an underground ramp and tunnel. It was dark, and the echo of the wheels almost unnerved Shun Li. It reminded her of a bad time in a tunnel as a young girl with her uncle.

In moments, the limousine came to a halt in a vast underground garage. A guard opened her door. It was the man who had seen her naked. He led the way, and the other two followed close behind her. Their footsteps echoed in the empty parking garage. The lead Lion Guard reached a door and drew it open.

Harsh eagle cries, baboon shrieks and lion roars assaulted her hearing. As she moved through, animal odors abounded. She faltered, bewildered at this.

The big Lion Guardsman must have sensed something. He turned, and he grinned down at her. The grin was a nasty thing, full of menace.

She opened her mouth. Maybe she would have asked a question. She wasn’t sure. One of the guardsmen from behind pushed her so she stumbled.

“We cannot keep the Chairman waiting,” the first guard said.

“Of course not,” Shun Li managed to say. So they’re taking me to the Chairman. If it’s a good thing, why are they acting so boorishly?

They passed large cages. In one, an eagle sat on a branch, tracking her as if she was a rabbit. In another, a baboon troop argued on fake-looking rocks. The biggest male with a mane like a lion exposed his fangs, causing the others to grow quiet. In the third, two prime tigers snarled at each other as they ate chunks of bloody meat. In front of the fourth cage, a lone man stood watching what took place in it.

The man was Chairman Hong. He wore a dark suit and tie. His extra-clean hands gripped the rail before the large pen. He peered down…at polar bears. That’s right. She’d heard of his mania concerning them. She could see one slept down there. The white bear curled around something, it seemed.

“Guardian Inspector,” Chairman Hong said. “It is so good of you to arrive on time. The traffic was light then?”

She had no idea if it had been heavy or light, but she nodded.

“Excellent,” he said. He indicated the big bear. “What do you make of it?”

She turned toward the polar bear. With its black nose, the huge creature nudged something small—

“It has a cub,” she said, surprised at this.

“Yes. It is her first. She’s nursing it.”

Shun Li had no idea what to say.

“If it lives,” Hong said, “the cub is yours.”

She blinked with astonishment. “I… I thank you, sir. It is a marvelous gift.”

“I hear the truth of your words in your voice, Guardian Inspector. Yes, I can see you love the bears as I do. They are a symbol of strength and virtuous purity. They are like China, at once savage and gentle, powerful and given to tender kindness. Only a fool antagonizes a polar bear. It is the supreme master of its domain.”

“Where should I raise the cub?” Shun Li asked. “It must have the best facilities possible.”

Hong turned to her. “Would you raise the cub in your home?”

His scrutiny frightened her. What she said next seemed terribly important. “Leader, I lack the proper funds to raise the cub properly. But yes, if I could and can, I will raise the cub in my home.”

He nodded with a gentle serenity. “I sensed this in you: that you are capable of love. This is good. Police Minister Xiao Yang cannot love. It is his greatest gift and his worst failing.”

Frightened by the comment and thoroughly alert, Shun Li said nothing.

“Ah, you are loyal to your chief,” Hong said. “That is admirable in an underling. Yet I am curious. Are you more loyal to him or to China?”

“Leader, I beg to say that I love China above all else. With that said, I cannot conceive that Xiao Yang would do anything to hurt our great land. But China is always my first and abiding love.”

“I am China and China is me,” Hong told her.

“Yes,” Shun Li said, as if that made perfect sense.

Hong’s gaze lingered on her face. Then he turned to the nursing polar bear. “You have earned my gratitude by your loyal service. You ferreted out the existence of the Behemoth Manufacturing Plant. Because of that, we know Denver’s importance. Last night, the tanks made their appearance, inflicting a deadly loss at precisely the correct moment—for the Americans. I have now instructed Marshal Wu to level the entire city if the enemy proves resistant to capture. We must stamp out this hatful tank plant and annihilate each of the dreadful Behemoths.”

Shun Li stood at attention, deciding to treat the Chairman as if he were a god come to Earth. There was something unsettling about him, and it horrified her to think he could sense her unease. He was like a beast, a creature, and she knew dogs could sense or sniff out discomfort. Perhaps in that way the Chairman had become like a dog, a beast.

“Because of your diligent work,” he said, “my field commander at Denver knew the correct action to take last night. It probably saved a goodly portion of the Third Front’s bomber force. But these tanks will not escape me so easily.”

Chairman Hong grinned, and he raised his hand before her. The oh-so-clean fingers closed into a fist, and the fist shook. “I shall crush these Behemoths. This I vow as China-in-the-flesh.”

Shun Li made her eyes shine with expectation as she looked upon him with forced adoration.

Hong let the arm drop to his side. He smiled. It seemed natural and ordinary. “Guardian Inspector, I trust and like you. You have earned the polar bear cub. For now, it will nurse with its mother.”

“May I come to visit it, sir?” she asked.

“Exactly,” he said. “You will come every day. You will learn about polar bears and you will play with the cub. I will watch, delighted with the antics. Afterward, you will tell me everything you know about Xiao Yang.”

“Gladly, sir,” Shun Li said. Her heart beat with fear. This was intrigue against Xiao Yang. Surely, the Police Minister would soon hear of this. He eventually learned of everything involving security.

“The Police Minister is my trusted confident,” Hong said. “Yet I have begun to feel the stirrings of unease concerning him. Something is amiss with his department. You will be my eyes and ears, Guardian Inspector.”

“You honor me, Leader.”

“I do. But I assure you that you will work hard for this honor. Those I favor, work.”

“Yes, Leader,” Shun Li said.

He studied her, and he nodded. “That is all for now. I will send Tang for you tomorrow.”

She began to speak, but Hong had already turned away. So she remained quiet, standing at attention until the Chairman exited through a side door.

Soldier Rank Zhu and First Rank Tian knelt on the roof of a three-story, burnt-out concrete building in the heart of Centennial. The rest of the squad lay behind them, with discarded dinylon armor and jetpacks beside them. The men enjoyed a moment’s respite from the fighting.

Zhu and Tian scanned the destruction. The Americans had fought hard, and they still fought from building to building, from the sewers and from foxholes in what seemed like every front yard.

Centennial was a dirty, bloody mess. Shells screamed overhead and smashed into the ruins. Geysers of dirty snow, mud, wooden splinters and brick chips fountained upward and rained back down again, rearranging the mess.

Chinese artillery boomed continuously. Marauder light tanks clattered amongst the rubble. Gunhawks hovered high over fierce spots of resistance, pouring down chain-gun fire. Squads crawled from street-to-street, with their assault rifles barking. Always, American machine gun nests hammered back.

The glorious Rocky Mountains behind Greater Denver awed Zhu. They were so beautiful and majestic. The vast urban area spread out before him. Denver had skyscrapers just like Los Angeles. High in the atmosphere, fighters, bombers and drones left white contrails. Occasionally, one of the machines dropped like a pile of junk, as if one of the gods had emptied his trash bin.

The summons had come for them a week ago. Zhu had watched the quick build-up, the trucks coming every minute of every hour. It seemed like the entire Chinese Army had come for the main event. Tian had told him otherwise. Tenth and Fifteenth Armies were here, to take the great urban sprawl from these greedy Americans. The rest of Third Front kept going north.

“This one is going to be bloody,” Tian said.

“Another Los Angeles?” asked Zhu.

“No. We’re going to win this one.”

Zhu lowered his binoculars to glance at the thick First Rank. Tian had a wrestler’s bulky neck and sloping shoulders. A thick vein stood out in his neck.

“We beat the Americans in California,” Zhu said.

It was Tian’s turn to lower his binoculars. He motioned to Zhu, and they backed away from the edge of the building. Who knew when an American sniper might take a potshot at one of them? Tian lay back against his jetpack so his eyes peered up at the clouds.

Zhu did likewise against his jetpack.

“We killed a lot of Americans in California,” Tian said in a low voice. “But we did not win the campaign.”

“We took their city from them.”

Tian shook his head. “We were supposed to take the state, not just its biggest city.”

“We’ll take Denver,” Zhu said. “Then we’ll take this state just as we’ve taken New Mexico, Texas, Louisiana, Arkansas and Oklahoma.”

“Very good, Zhu,” Tian said in his mocking voice. “Can you recite all the other states we need to capture to win this campaign?”

“I cannot, no.”

“Listen,” Tian said. “I’ve seen the directive. We’re supposed to capture the most important slice of Colorado, Kansas, Missouri, Iowa, Nebraska, Wyoming, half of Montana, South and North Dakota and Minnesota. That’s ten more states. So far, we’ve taken five, and winter is now upon us.”

“We almost have the slice of Colorado and almost have all of Kansas and Missouri,” Zhu said. “That means we only have to take seven more states.”

“Only,” Tian said. “There’s a nice word: only.”

“The Americans have lost every battle. We’re winning.”

“They didn’t lose California,” Tian said.

Zhu sat up with a puzzled look. “You are sounding defeatist, First Rank. We are White Tigers. We never admit defeat.”

“Don’t preach to me,” Tian said, angrily.

“We are White Tigers.”

“Tired White Tigers,” Tian said.

“Bold White Tigers,” Zhu said. “Our dash, our heroics will win us the war.”

Tian lay back and heaved a sigh. “You’re incurable, Soldier Rank. If our armies were filled with Zhu Pengs, China could conquer the world. Alas, we only have ordinary mortals filling the ranks.”

“Have I ever shirked my duties?” Zhu asked.

Tian turned his head and stared at him. “Sometimes I wonder if you’re the stupidest man in China.”

Zhu blinked rapidly. How had he failed the First Rank?

Tian smiled at him, reaching across and slapping him on the shoulder. “You have to learn how to take a joke. You’re too serious.”

“Yes, First Rank,” Zhu said.

“That wasn’t an order. It was a suggestion.”

Zhu nodded, too embarrassed to know what to say. It was a welcome relief when the second lieutenant of their Eagle Team platoon blew a whistle and shouted at them to gather around.

Zhu, Tian and the rest of the squad hurried to their feet. Each White Tiger donned his armor and shrugged on his jetpack.

Soon, they crowded around the second lieutenant and his aide. The angry-looking second lieutenant knelt on one knee and spread a computer scroll before them. It showed a relief map of the surrounding terrain.

“The Americans aren’t letting go of this high-rise apartment complex,” the second lieutenant said, tapping the scroll. “As long as they control it, they can observe our flame-throwing tanks and armored bulldozers moving up. HQ also believes they’re using it to spot for their heavy mortars.”

“They want the Eagle Teams to take the high-rise?” Tian asked in a sarcastic voice.

The second lieutenant looked up at him.

Zhu was surprised, because the officer peered at Tian with what appeared to be worry. He’d never heard of an officer being afraid of his First Rank before. The idea seemed ludicrous.

“Yes,” the second lieutenant said. “HQ wants our Eagle platoon to storm the top of the complex. We’re to secure a landing for helo-ferried troops.”

“A direct assault is costly in Eagle Team lives,” Tian said. “We learned that in Los Angeles.”

The second lieutenant blinked several times. “The general has given us orders,” he finally said. “This will be an all-arms coordinated assault.”

“We should fly high and then drop straight down on them,” Zhu said.

The second lieutenant and First Rank turned to stare at him.

“The battle-taxis—” Zhu said.

“We aren’t going to use helos to make the attack,” the second lieutenant said. “We’ll jetpack over to the complex.”

Tian grinned at the second lieutenant. “The Soldier Rank has a valid point. We don’t have battle-taxis, but we have Gunhawk support, I assume.”

“Yes,” the second lieutenant said.

“Then we hitch a ride with them,” Tian said. “They lift us high, three or four thousand meters. We jump out and drop onto the complex.”

“If the Gunhawks do that,” the second lieutenant said, “they’ll be out of position to support you during the initial landing.”

Tian stared at the second lieutenant. The officer had only joined them a day ago when the lieutenant had died. This officer was younger than Zhu and must have been fresh out of Officer Cadet School.

“If we fly at the prepared Americans this way,” Tian said, moving his hand toward the second lieutenant. “They will get a bead on us and shoot us down. This country is a nation of duck hunters. We know this from experience. If, however, we come at the Americans like this”—Tian lifted his hand and let it drop straight down. “Then it will be much harder for the Americans to shoot us.”

“We’re not supposed to make such long drops,” the second lieutenant said. “It is dangerous and troops can lose control of their jetpacks that way.”

“We’re veterans,” Tian said. “We won’t lose control.”

Now that he thought about it, Zhu wasn’t so sure. A long combat drop in the suits was dangerous. He’d seen many Eagle flyers tumble out of control. It was tricky falling straight down. That was the best way to do it: letting yourself drop and catching yourself with jetpack-power at the very last second. Of course, he much preferred that than flying horizontally at a machine gun nest.

In the end, the second lieutenant agreed to Tian’s adjustment.

“We’d better hurry, though,” the second lieutenant said. “The general wants us to assault the high rise in five minutes.”

“Tell him it will take fifteen to get into position,” Tian said.

The second lieutenant scowled at the First Rank.

Tian straightened and bowed his head. “This is my suggestion, sir,” he added.

The second lieutenant appeared to think about it. Soon, he nodded and motioned to his aide. The two of them walked off as the second lieutenant spoke on the radio.

Zhu turned to Tian. “You can’t talk to an officer like that.”

“I’m surprised at you, Soldier Rank. You just saw me do it. How then can you say I cannot do such a thing?”

“You should not,” amended Zhu.

“Ah. Now you’re saying something else. But tell me. Are you so eager to see Yan Luo that you want to fly into an American machine gun nest?”

“No.”

“Is my idea not better?” Tian asked.

Zhu admitted it was.

“Then why are you complaining?”

Zhu opened his mouth, but he didn’t know what to say.

“You are brave, Soldier Rank. But you need to temper your courage with foresight. We,” Tian indicated the squad, “should try to live as long as we can so we can fight for China. If you die stupidly, how does that help our nation?”

“I don’t know,” Zhu said.

“Neither do I. Now get ready. It looks like our rides on their way.”

Zhu looked up and saw two Gunhawks zooming toward the roof. They were bulky helos with heavy machine guns pointing downward near the nosecone and on each side by the bay doors.

Soon, Zhu climbed aboard through a bay door. So did the rest of the squad. The helo lurched up and up they climbed.

“Let yourself drop the first half,” Tian radioed the others. “But don’t wait too long to brake. Better to hang in the air for a short time than to splatter on the roof. Is everyone ready?”

There were choruses of yeses.

Several minutes later, the Gunhawk hovered high above the targeted complex. “Let’s go!” Tian shouted. “Jump!”

The Eagle flyers ahead of Zhu leaped out of the bay door and dropped from view. Then it was his turn. He jumped, and he made sure to aim his feet down. He had done this many times before, but it was still exhilarating.

Centennial spread out before him. For this second, it looked serene. Zhu concentrated on the high-rise apartment directly below. The landing zone was small: the roof of the complex. It looked like a postage stamp at this moment. He plummeted as he watched. Others plummeted with him. The attack suddenly struck him as suicidal. Look at the number of Americans on the roof. More boiled out of the stairwell. They raised their personal weapons skyward and fired.

A different Gunhawk poured chain-gun fire at the Americans. Dust rose on the roof. Some enemy soldiers tumbled. A few ran away. The rest continued to fire.

Beside Zhu, commandos ignited their jetpacks. They pulled up sharply from him. They would float down now. That presented a much easier target for the Americans. Zhu continued to drop. He wanted to get down on the roof fast, lie on his belly and shoot Americans. That was the only way to clear a roof. It was madness to attempt it while in the air. The flying soldier had two things to think about. The man with his feet on the ground or on a surface only had to think about one thing. It gave him the advantage.

Zhu plummeted and two other Eagle flyers plummeted with him. One of them must have radioed him. Zhu heard the noise in his helmet, but he ignored the message. Nothing mattered now but perfect concentration. Terror blossomed in his stomach. He ignored that, too. The grenade launcher—the man to his right triggered his. The roof rushed near and the enemy soldiers had grown into frightful menaces.

Now!

Zhu flicked on his Qui 1000s and let them roar with power. Straps cut into his legs. It felt as if the jetpack would rip him in half. The straps and belts held, and he slowed fast. The roof rushed up. Americans fired, and the White Tiger who had used the grenade launcher must not have turned on his jetpack in time. Like a meteor, he slammed against the roof and bounced. Americans turned toward him in shock. The dead White Tiger bowled over an American. The two went tumbling and they knocked over another enemy. At least the White Tiger had performed a useful combat service to his country by failing to brake.

Zhu clicked the grenade launcher. It spewed grenades, but he didn’t aim therefore some sailed off the roof. His feet crashed down. Zhu let his knees buckle and his armored body fell sideways. An American fired at him. It felt as if a giant smashed Zhu in the side. Fortunately, his dinylon armor staved off death by deflecting the bullet. He took another round, grunting in pain. Then Zhu found his assault rifle in his hands. He had no idea how it had gotten there. Methodically, from on his belly, he began firing bursts. More Eagle flyers landed. Gunhawks chain-gun fired sections of roof. It was chaos, madness—war!

The next few seconds were impossible for Zhu to understand. His face was screwed up with fear and faith, with horror and elation. He found himself on his feet, roaring words that didn’t make sense. He jammed the rifle against an armored American’s side and shot his way into flesh.

Then, as suddenly as the mayhem boiled over, it ended. The White Tigers had captured the roof.

“The stairwell!” Tian shouted. “Zhu, cover the door and shoot anyone coming out.”

Once more, Zhu dropped onto his belly. Enemies opened the door and American grenades sailed through at them. He fired, heard thuds, and the grenades went off on the roof. Speckles of shrapnel rattled off his dinylon armor, but he was okay.

From high above, two Gunhawks poured concentrated fire at the stairwell entrance. Zhu had a front row seat to annihilating destruction.

“Reinforcements are on their way!” Tian shouted. “We have to keep the Americans from getting up here.”

In the end, cargo helos disgorged Chinese infantry. They battled their way down the stairwell to begin taking this all-important apartment complex. Meanwhile, below, Marauder flame-spewing tanks and IFVs charged the building. If they could take the bottom floors, they would trap the American soldiers.

The cost in Eagle flyers proved high. The second lieutenant was killed. So was half of the platoon, although most of Tian’s squad had survived.

“This is just like Los Angeles,” Tian said, as he crouched beside Zhu. “It’s an inferno.”

Zhu was too tired to comment. He simply knelt, his mind a blank, glad that he had proved himself once again and had kept from acting like a coward.

The helicopter’s blades began to turn as it sat on the tarmac. Inside the helo, Paul felt Romo tap him on the shoulder. He turned to his blood bother. The man was finally out of the hospital and ready to return to the field.

Romo pointed outside.

Paul saw a jeep careen toward the helo. It screeched to a halt and Captain Anderson of SOCOM jumped out. He motioned to Paul.

“I’ll be right back,” Paul told Romo. He slid open the door and jumped onto the tarmac. The chopper’s blades blew his hair. He ran to the jeep.

“Sir,” Paul said, holding out his hand.

“I wanted to say good-bye,” Anderson said.

They shook hands.

“Is General Ochoa still angry about the Mexican assassin?” Paul asked.

“He wished you could have disarmed him instead of giving him a metal beard,” Anderson said.

“Yeah, sure,” Paul said. “It would’ve been so easy to do, too.”

“I want you to be careful, Master Sergeant. Valdez is mental, and he’s not finished with you or your friend.”

“This war,” Paul said, “it’s making us all a little mental.”

Anderson shook his head. “I’m not crazy, though I don’t know about anyone else. Hey, I have a favor to ask you.”

Paul glanced at the jeep. He seemed to recognize the man sitting in the passenger side. The man had a hunter’s cap low over his eyes, making it hard to tell exactly whom it was. “Who is that?”

“Have you forgotten already?” Anderson asked.

“I’ve been busy.”

“That’s Mr. Knowles. You plucked him from Mr. Smith’s farmhouse, from a partisan meeting.”

“Oh, right. Is Knowles the favor?”

“Yes. I’m not too sanguine about Denver’s chances. It isn’t fair to Knowles for him to stay here.”

Paul wanted to ask if it was fair to Anderson. Maybe Colonel Valdez had done Romo and him a favor with the little hospital stunt. The Chinese wanted Denver. How long could the Army hold out here?

“Sure, I’ll take him,” Paul said. “But we’re not going south. We’re headed north to the Main Line of Defense.”

“Good luck, Marine. I hope I see you again.”

“You, too, sir,” Paul said.

They shook hands one more time. Then the captain motioned to Knowles. The older man climbed out of the jeep. He wore sunglasses, and he kept them aimed at Paul.

“You’re leaving here!” Anderson shouted. “I’ve managed to find you a ride out.”

“You want me to go with him?” Knowles asked, pointing at Kavanagh.

“It’s the only ride out for you,” Anderson said.

Knowles stared at Paul. Finally, he shook his head. “No. I’m not going anywhere with him. He’s…” Knowles didn’t finish the sentence.

Anderson licked his lips. “Don’t you understand? Denver isn’t going to—”

As Anderson talked, Knowles looked as if he wanted to give Paul the finger. He turned abruptly and headed back for the jeep, likely the reason Anderson had stopped talking.

“Guess he doesn’t like me much,” Paul said. “Can’t say that I blame him.”

“The fool,” Anderson said. “This is his chance to live.”

The words were like a knife in Paul. Was Anderson right about that? Was Denver doomed?

“I could knock him out again and drag him aboard,” Paul said.

Anderson gave him a sharp look. It seemed he would speak. Instead, he straightened. “Good-luck, Marine. Give the enemy hell.”

“Yes, sir,” Paul said. “You, too.”

“Semper Fi,” Anderson said. Then he headed for the jeep.

Paul looked around a final time. Speaking of Hell…this place was about to go through it. He turned and ran back to the helo.

A few minutes later, the helicopter lifted, heading west toward the Rockies, taking Paul and Romo to their next assignment.