War of Eagles

SIXTY

With regret but also with resolve, General Tam Li sent the stand down code to his forces. All it took was a password entered into his computer and a typed command sent to both air and sea command at the base. The officers in charge relayed the message to their assets in the field and to the other bases from which planes and ships had departed.

Tam Li had learned of the failure of the bomb from his airborne group commander. The general had not anticipated much of a risk if the security team were captured when they left the space center. He thought it would be too late to get to the bomb. He was mistaken. Before leaving the complex, the airborne team leader said that the rocket boosters had been ignited prematurely and apparently melted through to the bomb, preventing it from exploding.

It was a very clever maneuver, desperate but effective.

The general shut down his computer and rose. He looked out the window at the sea. This was supposed to have been his moment of ascension. Instead of rising to the sun like the planes he had recalled, he had fallen to earth. It was not in the best interest of the nation to proceed with the attack on the Taiwanese military. Not now. Without the sabotage of the rocket, he would not convince Beijing that Taiwan had been seeking to take advantage of Chou Shin’s treasonous act.

If any of his security team confessed, he would not convince Beijing that Chou Shin had been responsible for this attack. That was the reason for using Chou’s bomb-maker instead of their own. Tam Li did not just want to defeat his foe — he wanted to blame him. Everything had depended upon the events happening one after the other, until Beijing was in so deep militarily that there was just one way out: to crush Taiwan. With that little financial engine out of the way, and Tam Li in a new position of authority, he would have been able to turn China into the strongest, most fertile financial power in the region. Even Japan, with its deepening debt, would not have been able to compete. Some of those profits would have gone to modernizing and expanding the military. Some would have gone to Tam Li and his associates. With its vast workforce and resources, China would have become the world’s greatest superpower in Tam Li’s lifetime. Unlike the plans of other conquerors, there would have been a minimal amount of strife and bloodshed.

The vision had been so clear, the end so clearly attainable. The plan itself had been clean and perfect.

Now it was dead.

Tam Li found that fact difficult to process. It had been in the works for over a year. It had occupied his thoughts constantly as he maneuvered the strife with Chou Shin, planted his personnel at the space center, felt success come nearer and nearer. His peripheral vision caught sight of the firearms in a display case. These were the guns he had carried throughout his career. He thought of using one now to avoid the inquiries and eventual trial. He decided against it, not from cowardice but for principle. He still believed that China was destined to dominate the globe. His people had been using explosives when the rest of the world was still fighting each other with spears and boiling oil. China would seize that advantage again.

But not today. And not with General Tam Li leading the assault.

He did not turn from the window but continued to look outward. Toward the future. He stood there even when there was a harsh knock at the door. The door was unlocked. After a minute the men entered. They stepped behind the general and asked him to come with them.

Tam Li turned. One of the three men standing in the sharp sunlight was a vice admiral, his own handpicked chief of base security. A half hour before, this small, gray-haired man had been an ally.

“The prime minister has asked to see you,” the vice admiral said.

“Only me?”

“Yes,” the vice admiral replied.

The naval officer’s expression was stern save for his sad, guarded eyes. The vice admiral knew it was within Tam Li’s power to stop the investigation by taking the blame for all the misdeeds. He could also boot the responsibility back down the chain of command and take others with him.

Tam Li smiled. “There is no reason for him to see anyone else, is there?” the general asked.

“I would not know,” the vice admiral replied.

“Who will be running operations here?” Tam Li asked.

“Officially, that is no longer your concern. You have been relieved.”

“Unofficially?” Tam Li pressed. He did not move.

The vice admiral’s unhappy expression showed that he understood the choice. He could be stubborn and risk being named by the general. Or he could bend the rules of detention and tell the general what he wanted to know. In so doing, he would lose face in the eyes of the two security officers.

“Come with us, General,” the vice admiral replied.

Tam Li was pleased. The vice admiral still had a backbone. He was willing to risk his future to preserve his credibility as a commander. Perhaps he knew that the general would not seek to bring him down. Through the vice admiral at least the idea of Chinese supremacy would remain alive. If he would not undertake another operation like this one, he might inspire someone under him to try.

Tam Li left between the two security officers, the vice admiral leading the way through hallways the general once commanded. The general stood with his shoulders back, beaten but undefeated. No one saluted as he was walked through the compound to a waiting helicopter. Most of them probably had no idea what had happened. Perhaps they thought this was about Chou Shin’s airplane or some other high-level machination. Whatever they thought, the staff was doing what most people do in a time of crisis. They stayed clear of the event.

Mao had learned that successful revolutionaries have unyielding allies. Defeated revolutionaries have unyielding quarantine. This was not the kind of fallout Tam Li had expected, but he would take the heat. He would stand trial and describe what he had done and why. In a land of over a billion souls, someone would hear.

Someone would continue what he had begun.

Or rather what someone else had begun, he thought, smiling with pride. Those bold and curious ancients who, like him, had used explosives to announce a Chinese presence on the world stage.