Donna had drifted into deep thought again. She mumbled under her breath, “…arsenal of despair.”
“What was that, Donna?”
Donna fixed her eyes on Jack again. Jack knew Donna was smarter than he was. That intimidated him too.
“You know how Roosevelt referred to America as ‘the Arsenal of Democracy’ as World War Two was heating up?”
“Yes, yes, of course. He was referring to America being the reliable supplier of arms to the nations opposing Hitler.”
Donna was preparing to smash a home run, she knew it and Jack could feel it, but he was helpless to stop it. “Well, Russia has become for China what we were then for Britain. They are ‘the Arsenal of Despair.’”
“What are you suggesting?” Jack asked without really wanting to hear an answer that he knew would be well thought out and at odds with his own beliefs.
“I’m suggesting that China feels free to pursue a course of economic advancement and military strength. They don’t need to concentrate on building a massive military-industrial complex — they already have the world’s largest one at their disposal right next door! With international hard currency reserves in excess of $150 billion, I believe they can efficiently finance adequate purchases of hardware from the Russians.” Donna paused to catch her breath. She stabbed her finger in the air and looked past Jack, in her own world again, “What’s America’s annual weapons procurement budget, about $60 billion or so? I’m sure Russia would be more than happy to supply the Chinese with at least $20 billion per year in missiles, ships, and aircraft. Heck, with Russia’s debt problems, our banks would probably welcome the move with our own Treasury Department hailing the deal as good for the world economy!”
“Assuming China would really want to spend a fortune on a military build-up in preparation for invading Quemoy, why would Russia be willing to sell large amounts of equipment to China — after all, the Russians view China as more of a ‘Yellow Peril’ than we do.” Jack was still unconvinced.
“Cash. Cold, hard cash. It’s also a way to tweak America’s nose. Why did Russia sell Nazi Germany oil and war materials before the war? Between the world wars why did the Soviets allow the Germans to secretly practice the armored maneuvers on their soil that would eventually become known as ‘blitzkrieg’? Russia has done quite a few unexpected things in the recent past. Why not agree to become China’s arsenal? There’s good money in it.”
“Okay, granted.” Jack was worn down on that point but was still skeptical of Donna’s basic premise, “But you still have a long way to go to convince me or anyone else who matters that the Chinese are preparing to invade Quemoy — it just doesn’t make any sense. They haven’t even built, or bought, a large enough amphibious assault force yet. What are they going to do, row over to Quemoy?”
Donna smiled. She had at least scored a partial victory, “Well, we’re back to the beginning of our discussion, aren’t we? Why the build-up opposite Quemoy, boss? And, if they cared so much about the world community, why risk the resumption of underground nuclear testing a few months ago? Why does that make sense?”
“Oh, come on now Donna, we aren’t even sure they resumed testing…” Jack was getting annoyed.
“That’s right. Why bother? They stole all our nuclear designs and we gave them the nuclear testing software so they don’t need to test anymore. But Jack, what if they did? Don’t we owe it to the American people and the leaders we serve to find out?
“Oh, and one more thing, have you noticed that China’s UN troop dispositions in Indonesia virtually mirror the crude oil production regions of that nation?”
Jack smiled, snorted and turned on his heels, dropping his left hand down and symbolically pushing Donna away as he retreated back into his comfortable conventional thinking.
17
The Boss Is Dead
Lipu County Party boss Fu Mingjie had almost collected enough money to provide his up-and-coming son with a handsome investment portfolio on the Shanghai Stock Exchange. Zemin will never have to grub for bribes like I have — this will give him the untouchable reputation he needs to rise to the very top. If he played it correctly, there would be enough left over that he could retire in modest style on the outskirts of Beijing, close to his grandson and close to his old home village.
Fu smiled as he urged his Landcruiser’s big engine onward, up the steep incline to confront the troublemaker Chu. Old Chu has resisted me one time too many. He patted the old Makarov 9mm pistol in the holster buckled to his waist. This ought to persuade Chu to see things my way — what will it be, the road tax or the county trucks? He smiled again at the “choice” he would give Chu. It was good to be the boss.
Fu pulled his white Toyota 4X4 left up the narrow lane that led to the Chus’ house. He looked in the mirror and smoothed his slicked back black hair — he had taken to dyeing it five years ago when he realized how old the gray made him look. He stepped down out of the truck. He looked around to see no one was watching, then straightened his large, tan cotton blouse shirt.
He permitted himself a twisted smile and walked deliberately to the door. He knocked.
No one home. Fu was annoyed that these peasants would spoil his entrance by not being home — they were probably working. He decided to go looking for Chu.
Fu rounded the house and started uphill to the citrus groves. In spite of himself he found their aroma delightful. Ah, there was Chu’s woman. Fu kept his eyes fixed ahead, not acknowledging the presence of the strange woman who seemed both to lack hatred towards him and be unbowed by his power.
Chu Ling looked up from her work in the garden and gave Party Boss Fu a modest nod. As usual, Fu ignored her.
Fu saw Chu Pui pruning a leafy green orange tree. He was intent on his work, dusty, sweating, and, no doubt, smelly.
“Comrade Chu!” Fu called out loudly. Chu’s head whipped around and his eyes narrowed in hatred at the Party boss.
“What brings you here to foul my orchard?”
“Come, come. At least you can be cordial when the People’s representative comes to visit.”
“‘People’s representative’!” Chu spat out, “People’s dogshit, maybe. Have you come here to try and rob me again?” Chu yelled more loudly than Fu yelled his false greeting.
Fu sharply drew in his breath and narrowed his eyes. He growled softly, “Chu, if you know what’s good for you you’ll pay the road tax or pay to use County trucks to bring your village’s fruit to market. One or the other, your choice Chu.” Fu stood with his hands on his hips, his right hand reassuringly resting on his pistol in its holster.
“Why you son of a turtle’s egg.” Chu then yelled again, “What are you going to do if I don’t pay your bribe, bandit, shoot me?” He took a step towards Fu.
Fu suddenly realized that Chu was a powerfully built man, used to a life of hard work. Fu never did anything more demanding than shuffle papers or lift his chopsticks to his mouth. He felt his shaking hand lift the holster’s leather flap. Fu took a step back. “Are you threatening a Party official?” Fu’s voice cracked. “Look Comrade Chu, agree to pay today and your little outburst will be forgiven. If not, the road tax doubles tomorrow.”
Fu caught movement out of his left eye. It was Chu’s older brother and partner! He stepped back again. His foot landed on a large clod of dirt and painfully twisted as he lost his balance and fell.