White Jade

Chapter Seven

General Yang Siyu peered out at the barren wasteland of China's Lop Nur nuclear testing range. The desert rippled under the furnace glare of the Mongolian sun. Yang stood with his feet planted apart, hands clasped behind his back. The hardened concrete building smelled of stale stress and the dry odor of electricity. Racks of instruments lined the long room. Rows of fluorescent lights reflected from banks of electronic equipment, cold counterpoint to the searing sunlight outside.

A thin, dry, angry looking man stood next to Yang’s squat form. The creases on his immaculate uniform were as sharp as the harsh contours of his face. Lieutenant General Lu Cheng commanded the missile base at Luoyang, where China’s long range ICBMs were targeted on the West. Lu looked at the clock on the wall.

“Two minutes. This warhead will increase our strike range and destructive yield at the same time. We must have these.”

“If the test goes well.” Yang’s voice was wet, throaty.

“Deng has assured me it will go well.”

Deng Bingwen was chief research scientist in China’s nuclear weapons program. A graduate of America’s MIT, he was considered a treasure among the scientific elite of the People’s Republic, if always suspect because of his American education.

The treasure himself came over to the two generals. Deng was a mouse of a man, small, his sparse hair slicked back from his domed forehead. Large glasses with thick plastic frames set crookedly over his nose. He wore a white laboratory coat two sizes too large on his stooped frame, making him seem even smaller. He nodded his head nervously at Yang, almost a bow, smiling to hide his feelings of unease.

He looks like one of those little dogs, Yang thought, a Pekinese under a white tent.

“Thirty seconds, General. I think you will be pleased with the result.”

The men watched as the countdown reached zero. In the distance three columns of white smoke rose skyward, marking the underground shaft where the warhead would detonate. A deep rumble under the ground vibrated through the thick concrete beneath their feet. The earth erupted in a black, towering geyser rising hundreds of feet into the air. The blast expanded outward in a wide ring, a boiling cloud of churning sand and dust racing across the desert floor.

Lu Cheng smiled.

Deng glanced at the instruments recording every detail of the blast.

“Even better than we hoped. Eight point two megatons. Over fifty percent increase in output.”

Deng looked again at the readings.

“A bit dirty. We’ll hear from the IAEA about this.”

“Let them wag their fingers and cluck like chickens,” Lu said. “There’s nothing they can do about it. How soon can we go into production?”

“There is the question of resources," Deng said. "If we had a high grade source of ore and more centrifuges we could produce fifty of these warheads a year, even a hundred. As it is, perhaps eight or ten.”

China’s entire strategic arsenal consisted of only three hundred missiles of varying capabilities, and none carried a payload bigger than five megatons. Lu’s smile widened at the thought of a hundred powerful new missiles each year.

Yang spoke. “Begin production immediately. You will formulate two plans, one based on our current resources and one based on having what is needed for high production. The hundred or so you mentioned.”

“But we have no resources for so many,” Deng protested.

“That is not your concern. Prepare the plan anyway. Or you may find yourself working on a different kind of project. Understood?”

Yang’s eyes were hooded and bulging under the red star on his green, high-peaked military hat. Deng looked at Yang’s, coarse, toad-like face. The General was not a man to be denied.

This new nuclear demon was smaller, lighter, more destructive. The expression on the faces of Yang and Lu said they wanted more of these things, many more. There was only one reason for that. Only aggression required high numbers of missiles.

Deng thought about his days of freedom as a student in America, before this insanity of nuclear weapons had trapped him. In China careers were dictated for men like him. Deng had rationalized his feelings about building weapons meant to kill millions by telling himself that China’s nuclear forces were defensive in nature.

Looking at Yang and Lu, he had a chilling intimation of the future. Deng’s face gave nothing away of his thoughts, but he suspected more about Yang’s plans than the General imagined. Deng was not without his sources of information. It was necessary for personal survival in a position as sensitive as his.

“UNDERSTOOD?”

Yang shouted in his face, sending flecks of spittle onto Deng’s glasses. Deng was shocked. He kowtowed, twice, nervously.

“Yes, of course, General, two plans, as you suggest.”

Yang grunted. “Keep me informed.” He turned to Lu. “I have to get back to Beijing. Ride with me.”

Lu nodded and the generals rudely turned their backs and walked outside without a further glance at Deng. He stared after them and felt a hot flush of shame. Everyone in the room was suddenly absorbed in their instruments and charts. No one was looking at him but they had all witnessed his humiliation. He had lost face.

Yang acts like he thinks he can find resources to up production, Deng thought. Then what? More orders, more bombs, more threats. They have no respect. They have no honor. I might as well be dog shit under their boots.

He marched into his private office and shut the door, his rage building. Enough was enough. He sat down at his computer, furious. He opened his email and sent a brief, innocuous, message to an address he’d never thought he would use.

On the road leading away from the facility, Yang and Lu sat in the back seat of their vehicle. The salt flats of the old lake bed of Lop Nur slipped by in a blur, billows of brown dust trailing far behind the speeding car.

Lu drummed his fingers on the armrest. “We must have more warheads.”

“We will,” Yang said. “Once I give the order, we will have the centrifuges in six months. All that remains is to locate the ore.”

“You are sure the deposit exists?”

“Reasonably sure, yes. The location is being sought as we speak. We’ll have it soon. Meanwhile our plans go forward.”

“I worry about Chen. We need the railroads.”

“Let me worry about Chen. So far, he has done all that we asked. Of course, he may not get what he wants afterwards.”

“What does he want?”

“To be President.”

Lu laughed. There was no mirth in the sound.

“President! He deludes himself, as usual.” Lu paused, sneezed from the dust. “What do you think about Deng?”

“He bears watching, but I already have full surveillance on him. Meanwhile, he continues to produce. For such a small man he builds big bombs, and they are getting better.”

“Yes. One day we may see how well they work.”

“The West is weak, they have no political will. When we have control, they will be afraid to do anything. Just the threat will be sufficient. Then China will step into her rightful place.”

Lu nodded agreement. The two men sat lost in their thoughts as the car barreled along the gravel road, each in his own way contemplating a new China, dominant over the world.