Drone Command

TWENTY-SEVEN

Myers stood at the window, arms crossed. Watched the traffic six stories below.

Pang Bo, the Chinese ambassador, stood behind her a respectful distance away. Hong Kong — tailored suit, Rolex watch, frameless glasses. His security people remained outside the door, over their protest. Pearce stood in the corner, glaring at the tall, well-groomed ambassador.

“My government is extremely grateful that you suffered no permanent injuries, Madame President.”

“That hardly seems possible, since your government obviously tried to kill me.”

“We were unaware of your presence on the plane, I assure you. A plane, I might add, that violated Chinese sovereign airspace—”

Myers laughed. “Are you kidding me? Mao Island? It’s a false claim under false pretenses.”

“It’s a perfectly legitimate claim that has been fully documented and presented to the appropriate international authorities for verification.”

“International authorities you bully or bribe into your sphere of influence.”

“China enjoys the same right as other nations to protect its borders, territories, and economic zones. We’re confident that the international community will eventually see things our way.”

Myers turned and faced Pang. A smug grin was plastered on his face.

“Because of the heightened state of tension between our two nations, I’m willing to keep this matter as private as possible, Mr. Pang. But I demand a full, official apology from your government for that reckless, senseless attack on our airplane.”

“Forgive me, Madame President, but it’s impossible to apologize for an act that wasn’t committed. We made no attack on your person, and had we known you were on board the aircraft, we would have taken extra precaution. But your aircraft was specifically warned to remain on its scheduled flight plan and that leaving the designated flight corridor could result in a shoot down.” The ambassador’s grin widened. “But as you witnessed, the Chinese people showed great restraint, and our pilot didn’t fire any weapons.”

“Good thing I wasn’t flying over Tiananmen Square.”

Pang’s grin fled.

“My government hoped that my appearance here at your hotel room would sufficiently convey our deepest concern for your well-being.”

“Your government is going to get us into a shooting war.”

“The Chinese people have no wish for war.”

“Then why are you trying to steal the oil reserves in the East China Sea?”

“One cannot steal from one’s self.”

“Tell me, Pang, who’s the idiot behind this Mao Island business? I know President Sun. He’s far too smart to do something this radically stupid.”

The ambassador’s jaw clenched. He opened his mouth to speak but decided against it.

Now it was Myers’s turn to grin. “Did I hit a nerve?”

“I believe President Sun is in complete agreement with the current policy.”

“How uninformed do you think I am? He’s not the one behind all of this. It’s Feng, isn’t it?”

The ambassador frowned briefly, surprised at her insider knowledge.

“Vice Chairman Feng speaks for many in our government. The East China Sea belongs to China. That is a historical fact and a current reality.”

“My advice to you is to tell President Sun to call off his dog Feng before the Sixth Fleet steams into Shanghai harbor with all guns blazing.”

“Highly unlikely, Madame President.”

Myers laughed. “Why? Because of the Wu-14? It’s a joke, and we both know it.”

“I am not a military man, but I have been assured of its capabilities.”

“My government knows for a fact that it’s a fraud. We can’t even produce one. And since all of your country’s military advancements only come from stealing ours, I’m completely confident the Wu-14 is nothing more than a two-bit bottle rocket.”

“Spoken like the former president of a failing superpower.”

“You’re an arrogant man representing an arrogant country. Someone needs to teach you both some manners.”

Pang’s pallid face flushed crimson. Myers had scored a direct hit.

“Perhaps I have upset the president. Please forgive my intrusion today. I will take my leave.”

“If I don’t get an apology from Feng personally within twenty-four hours, I’m contacting President Lane.”

“I will convey your message.” Pang turned to leave. He fumbled with the door, unnerved by Pearce’s glowering eyes. He finally got it open and slammed it shut after him, fuming.

Pearce approached Myers. “A little rough on him, weren’t you?”

“That’s the point. It’s not enough to find a Buick. You’ve got to crash it into your man, remember?”