Wu relaxed into the opulent throne he had had installed in the operations center beneath the government buildings of Beijing, monitoring the situation far to the south with a feeling of tremendous satisfaction. The interior of the Zhongnonhai compound, next to the Forbidden City and north of Tian’an Men Square, was all but unknown to outsiders, the basement rooms even less so. But it was from here that Wu would control the fate of Asia; and then, perhaps, the entire world.
Those cowards, he thought with sweet contempt. Key government figures, including Taiwan’s president, had obviously seen the writing on the wall and had fled the country before the first PLA troops had stepped ashore. Just like Chiang Kai-shek and the Kuomintang, who’d fled the mainland in the first place back in 1949 to set up their ‘wartime capital’ in Taipei.
And now, for the first time in over seventy years, Taiwan was back in the hands of the real Chinese government, back where it belonged. Or, Wu corrected himself, it was now in the hands of the real Chinese military, which had assumed the role of a de facto government under his own leadership.
Which was even better.
He smiled again as he envisioned President Rai Po-ya and his ministers calling around Asia, begging other countries to take them in; and every time, being told ‘no’.
The message was clear — nobody on the Asian continent wanted to upset China by giving succor to her enemies; they were scared that if they got onto Wu’s radar, then they would be next.
It had been Australia that had finally let them in, right at the last minute, although she had stopped short of allowing Rai to set up a ‘government in exile’ in her territory; she had simply granted them safe harbor, nothing more.
Wu stretched back, his stiff neck cracking audibly, his huge shoulders grinding.
He was used to the power already, having dreamed of wielding it for years, for decades. It wasn’t that he was anti-Communist; far from it in fact, he had been a loyal party member for years, and it was only partially because he had to be in order to attain the upper ranks of the military.
He thought the communist system had a lot to offer; the only trouble was, the party itself had become corrupted, no longer driven with the purity of spirit necessary to achieve greatness. As a result, China herself had become a shadow of what she could be, a sleeping giant forever cursed, never to awaken and use her might as she should.
But Wu had changed that in one fell swoop, and the world was simply not ready to deal with a China on the warpath. The speed with which Wu had crippled US influence in the area and achieved two major victories in the space of just a few days was testament to that.
But, Wu reminded himself, although the action had been short and sharp, the planning had been years in the making. He wasn’t the overnight success that some might think; the entire thing had been meticulously plotted and schemed.
He wished he could take credit for the idea himself, but Wu was forced to admit that he was only the tool; an effective tool, but a tool nevertheless. The artist behind the plot would never achieve the level of adulation — and fear — that Wu would, but he didn’t seem to mind. The real genius behind it all seemed to be content to skulk in the shadows, a puppet master controlling the strings of his playthings.
Except that Wu was no longer a plaything, he was the puppet master himself now, and everyone would soon be dancing to his tune. His old friend and ally would still be useful until this thing was truly over, but then Wu might have to arrange for an unfortunate ‘accident’ to befall him.
His eyes wandered to the huge man standing away to one side, the one good eye in his massive shaven head scanning the operations room constantly, always on the lookout for threats. Yes, Wu thought, when this thing is over and China had become the world’s leading nation, he would have no more use for the true genius behind the plot; and then Zhou Shihuang, the most frightening, most capable warrior Wu had ever met, would go and pay his old friend a visit.
And then there would be no more strings to be pulled, and Wu would be in charge of everything.
‘Could you please clarify the position of the US government regarding the crisis in Asia?’
The question came from Graham Norris of Fox News, a weasely little man that Clark Mason had a distinct disliking of, a dislike that was enhanced even further by the boldness of his enquiry. He thought the press had been briefed on questions like this? A briefing that basically said — don’t ask anything too difficult.
But Norris’s question had ripped right into the heart of the matter. What was the government’s position? It was… undecided. Wait and see. Hope for the best.
None of which Mason could transmit to the general public.
Damn him.
Mason took a breath as he looked around the trimmed gardens of Number One Observatory Circle, completely covered now by members of the United States press corps, with a select few foreign correspondents also in attendance. He wasn’t overly concerned by the intrusion; although it was his home, he had to remind himself that it was also a place of business. And more to the point, a temporary place of business, suitable only until he graduated to the White House itself. And he still had his estate in West Virginia, the cabin in Colorado and the beach house in the Bahamas with which to console himself.
It had been his idea to hold the conference here instead of at the White House; it would split the press coverage, give the staffers in the West Wing a bit of much needed breathing space. It also sent the message that America had everything under control, the Vice President wasn’t hiding and refusing to provide information or to reassure the public; no, he was addressing them from his own home, supremely confident.
He hoped that the footage would be replayed during his presidential nomination campaign in the years to come.
He finally turned his attention back to Norris, hitting him with an accommodating smile. ‘The word crisis is perhaps a bit strong at the present time,’ Mason said reasonably, ‘and it is important to keep things in context. At the moment, the problems are strictly regional, and deal with issues that are nothing new — the repatriation of the Senkaku Islands and of Taiwan have been long-standing goals of the People’s Republic of China.’
Mason noticed that the reporters were all set to pounce on this statement, and held up his hands to indicate that he wasn’t finished. ‘Now, I realize that this situation is unsettling — China is second only to the United States in terms of military power, and the fact that the military itself is now in charge is cause for great concern. Of course it is. But things are what they are, and we have to deal with reality rather than wishful thinking. General Wu and his compatriots are now in charge of the PRC, and we are dealing with them. It is not a policy of our government to interfere in the internal matters of state of sovereign nations.’
‘But what of the USS Ford? Are we making any progress on getting our people back?’ asked a correspondent for ABC.
‘That is an ongoing issue and one which I cannot comment on directly, but suffice to say that we are doing everything we can to make sure that we get them back. I would like to confirm, however, that they are in no immediate danger, and we are making solid progress with the negotiations.’