War of Eagles

FORTY-NINE

After landing at the airfield fifty kilometers south of the complex, Prime Minister Le Kwan Po had placed a call to the Ministry of National Defense. The minister confirmed that General Tam Li had reported organizing an appropriate “ready response” to the Taiwanese deployment. He had no information about Chou Shin’s report of “overwhelming firepower.”

“When was the last time you communicated with Tam Li?” the prime minister inquired.

“He called to inform me of the explosion,” the minister replied.

“You have had no other reports of activity in the east?”

“None,” the minister said.

Le was not surprised. Those reports would have originated at Zhuhai and been disseminated throughout the national defense system. The PLA was not equipped to spy on itself, and it did not have reciprocal arrangements with other nations. Still, someone was lying, either Chou Shin or Tam Li. The prime minister could not imagine the intelligence director sending an E-mail claiming an attack was being prepared unless he could have supported his claim.

“If there were an unusual deployment, and it were not reported to you, how long would it take to get independent corroboration?” the prime minister asked.

“Do you have reason to suspect that something is wrong?” the minister asked urgently.

“I cannot go into that now,” Le said.

“Mr. Prime Minister, if there is a threat to our national defense—”

“I received an uncorroborated report of a possible PLAAF buildup in Tam Li’s command sector,” Le said quickly. He did not have time to debate with the stubborn minister.

“A report from who?”

“Chou Shin, just before his death,” the prime minister answered impatiently.

“He was a patriot,” the minister said. “Radar at the Nanjiang Military Region is piped to the Coordinated Air Command in Beijing,” the minister went on. “That tells us at once how many aircraft are in the skies. At the moment I see nothing unusual apart from the required patrols.” He added, “I would tell you, Mr. Prime Minister, if it were otherwise.”

“You are not someone I doubt,” Le replied truthfully.

“Nor I, you,” the minister told him. “But this information is not deeply useful to us.”

“Why?”

“It would not take long to put several squadrons from the Nanjiang bases into the air and over the strait,” the minister said.

“Can you override Tam Li’s authority?”

“Not until and unless he actually does something that overreaches established protocol or expressed policy. So far, he has acted in accordance with the rules of preemptive engagement regarding Taiwan and air-lane security for a launch path.”

“What does air-lane security entail?”

“PLAAF jets are scrambled to patrol well beyond the boundaries of the rocket’s course,” the minister said. “That prevents enemy aircraft from moving in and compromising rocket integrity.”

“You mean firing a missile,” Le said.

“Yes. The Russians and Americans have been known to observe our launches from high-altitude fighters.”

“Our jets are already in the air?” Le asked.

“They are. A little premature but not alarmingly so.”

Tam Li was doing everything according to schedule. He was not a fool. There was also a chance that he was not guilty.

Le thanked the minister and asked for updates if and when they became available. He sat back and looked out the tinted windows at the rustic countryside. It was possible that Chou Shin had been trying to frame the general. The intelligence director had been responsible for several explosions over the past few days. Perhaps he had gone to Zhuhai to attack the general’s command post. The prime minister was willing to believe that Tam Li had struck directly at his foe, destroying the aircraft. The same could also be true of Chou Shin. His own explosives may have detonated prematurely.

Whatever the truth, there was nothing Le could do now but wait.

Wait, and hope that Paul Hood came up with something that might not be on the radar.