Island Warriors

FIVE

Ambassador Sarah Wexler, the American ambassador to the United Nations, had just finished wading through a thick stack of briefing papers on her desk when Brad knocked on the door. He rapped lightly, opened it at once and stepped in. “You’ve got a visitor — Department of Defense. JCS.”

Wexler leaned back and stretched her tight back muscles. Any diversion would be welcome at this point. There was no way she could avoid reading all of the briefing papers and position summaries her staff drafted for her every day. Indeed, she depended on those to remain aware of the more subtle nuances in the world. But sometimes the paperwork threatened to overwhelm her, and she wondered if it was all that necessary. Over the centuries of the history of diplomacy, much rested on the personal relationships between men and women in power. Harsh reality had little to do sometimes with the alliances that were formed, the decisions that were made, and a general conduct of the business of nations.

“Any idea of what he wants?” she asked.

Brad shook his head. “Says it’s for your eyes only.”

Now that was alarming. It wasn’t the first time that it had happened, but every time it did, it presaged a major challenge for the United States. At least she would have advance warning of it, whatever it was.

And that, she suspected, was due to Brad. As soon as she had given him his head in allowing a closer relationship between the CIA and her office, it seemed that the information flow had… well, not exactly increased, but taken on a new accuracy and timeliness that she found exceptionally helpful. Along the way, she’d acquired a new working relationship with the Department of Defense as well. Also a good thing, in her opinion. It meant that the first notice she had of major problems came from somewhere besides ACN, the premier news network in the world. Her only concern was that her new acquaintances might decide that they were entitled to a degree of reciprocity she was not yet willing to grant. However useful it was to share information, have advance notice of potential problems, and otherwise coordinate the entire American national security plan, she was still convinced that it was critical to maintain a clear distinction between diplomacy and the military means of enforcing it.

How could the other ambassadors trust her to keep their confidences if they saw CIA agents in her office every day? And what would they think of international military objectives she supported if Department of Defense officials looked like they were holding morning quarters outside her office? That the president had approved her decision to develop a closer working relationship with the CIA, and had not even attempted to deny it when she asked him if he’d known all along that her aide, Brad, was a former CIA employee, had troubled her. But in the end, they all worked for him, so she did her best to adhere to his wishes.

Brad showed the JCS representative in. She was a female Navy captain, and young for the slot by the looks of her. She came to attention in front of Ambassador Wexler’s desk and said, “Ma’am, I’m Captain Jane Hemingway, from JCS, Department of Contingency Evaluation. We came across some disturbing information and thought it might be wise to share it with you. If I may?”

“Please, sit down.” Wexler had not met Hemingway before, but immediately liked the looks of her.

“Thank you.” Hemingway took a chair at the corner of the desk and opened the attaché case she carried. She extracted a file, and slid it across the desk to the ambassador. “If you like, I can give you a brief overview.”

“Yes, do that,” Wexler said, not touching the file yet. She’d listen to the overview, see if she wanted to know the details.

“China,” Hemingway said immediately. “China and Taiwan. Yesterday, without warning, China launched a ballistic missile test. Acting on orders from the National Command Authority via JCS, The USS Lake Champlain shot it down.”

“And the reason for that?” Wexler asked. “There’ve been missile tests before.”

“We’ve got information that it wasn’t exactly a test. We think it’s at least possible that this is the beginning of a major initiative to reunite Taiwan with the mainland.”

“Well, that wouldn’t be any surprise. What do you have to support that view?” Wexler opened the folder and leafed through it.

There wasn’t much, not in the way of original source material. A report from an intelligence specialist debriefing a defector, two satellite shots with attached photo intelligence interpretations. The longest item was a three-page analysis by — she glanced at the end page — yes, Captain Hemingway herself. She skipped through it, going straight to the last page: recommendations. She read through quickly, and then laid the folder on a corner of her desk. “Not much to go on, is there?”

Hemingway shook her head. “No, ma’am. There’s not. But I’ve been following this region for a significant period of time, and you develop instincts. Everything I know about this area of the world screams at me that this time it’s real. The timing, for one thing — you don’t know how stretched thin we are, particularly in that region. And this defector — I interviewed him myself.” She spread her hand in a supplicating gesture. “Obviously, I can’t go into some details. But I found myself personally persuaded by his story. And when I add his data up with the rest of the things I see, it only spells trouble.”

Wexler frowned. “When?”

“Next month, I think. They have a couple of major surface combatants still in outfitting, as well as a major upgrade on some fighter avionics. They’ll finish that before they make a move.”

“Not much time, then.”

Hemingway smiled. “More advance notice than we’ve had a lot of times, though. The question is what we’re going to do about it.”

“I suspect this is primarily a State Department and DOD issue,” Wexler said.

“Yes, of course. But if things go down the way I think they will, it’s going to be happening fast. If I give you a background briefing now, I believe you’ll be better prepared to deal with what comes up over here.”

Wexler waited for a moment, then asked, “That’s it? That’s all you want to do, give me a heads-up?”

Hemingway looked faintly amused. “Astounding, isn’t it? But yes, that’s all. No favors to ask, no politicking, no trying to enlist you to confirm or deny our intelligence. It’s just a briefing, ma’am. One that I hope will be the first of many.” Hemingway picked up her file from the ambassador’s desk, stowed it in her attaché case and locked the case. “With your permission?” she asked.

“Wait,” Wexler said. “Do you like tea? Not the grocery store stuff — I mean really, really good tea.”

A speculative look crossed Hemingway’s face. “Why yes, as a matter of fact, I do.”

Wexler smiled. “I thought so. Unless you’ve got some pressing business, Captain, why not sit down and have a cup with me. I need a break from my paperwork and you can tell your boss I’m a slow learner.”

Thirty minutes later, the two had established that they had a good deal in common. After they’d talked, Hemingway finally asked, “Who handles your electronic security around here?”

“Brad, my aide. You met him when you came in.”

“But who actually handles it?”

Wexler frowned. “I don’t know. That’s always been his department. Why? Do you have some reason that I ought to be concerned?”

“Yes, I do.” Seeing Wexler’s look of consternation, she added, “And I can’t tell you why. But if you want, I’ll bring a team over here tomorrow and double-check your aide’s work. I’m not trying to imply anything about him, of course… but… well… what could it hurt?”

“His feelings.”

“And that matters?” Hemingway asked.

“No. Not if it’s a question of security.” Wexler drained the last of her tea, suddenly weary. “All right. Bring your people over tomorrow. Around one p.m.?”

Hemingway stood. “At one, then. And I hope I’m wrong about what I suspect.”