The President's closest advisers, having observed the recklessness of the previous chief executive in conducting cov-erups, strongly advised Wallace simply to admit that mistakes were made and make no excuses. Any errors of judgment were made for what he thought was the good of the country. Damage control was already in high gear to sidestep any criticism encountered along his way for election to a second term.
“You stepped far beyond the bounds of your office,” Wallace said, directing his wrath toward Monroe. “And you did it without briefing anyone in my office regarding your intent.”
“Sir, I did nothing but the job I was appointed to do,” Duncan replied resolutely.
“China is a magnificent stage for the future of the American economy, and you jeopardized the close relationship I have worked to build between our two countries. The future of the United States lies in a universal world-trading system, and China is a vital step toward that goal.”
“But not, Mr. President,” said Sandecker with his usual testiness, “if it means flooding the country with illegal immigrants.”
“You people are not foreign-policy experts, nor are you economists,” Wallace said coldly. “Your business, Duncan, is to properly conduct immigration procedures. And yours, Admiral, is to conduct ocean-science projects. Neither of you were appointed to run amok.”
Sandecker shrugged and then dropped his bomb. “I admit NUMA scientists and engineers are not in the business of executing criminals, but—”
“What was that you said?” Wallace demanded. “What are you insinuating?”
With feigned innocence Sandecker replied. “No one briefed you?”
“Briefed me on what?”
“The unfortunate accident that took the life of Qin Shang.”
“He's dead?” Wallace gasped.
Sandecker nodded solemnly. “Yes, he suffered a temporary fit of insanity and attacked my special projects director on the wreck of the Princess Dou Wan, who in self-defense was forced to kill Qin Shang.”
Wallace was stunned. “Do you have any idea of what you've done?”
“If ever a monster deserved to be terminated,” Sandecker came back caustically, “it was Qin Shang. And I might add that I'm proud it was my people who were responsible.”
Before the President could censure the admiral, Peter Harper jumped into the debate. “I received a report from the CIA revealing that certain members of the Chinese government were themselves plotting to assassinate Qin Shang. Their plan was to appropriate Qin Shang Maritime Limited and merge it with their government-owned shipping line, China Marine. There is no reason to believe they will curtail illegal smuggling operations, but without Qin Shang they won't be able to operate as efficiently or on the same scale. This is all to our advantage.”
“You must realize, gentlemen,” said Pecorelli diplomatically, “the President has policies to protect and interests to defend no matter how unpopular they might seem.”
Sandecker gave Pecorelli a stern look. “It's no longer a secret, Harold, that Qin Shang acted as a middleman between the White House and illegal Chinese interests.”
“Purely a misinformed judgment call,” Pecorelli said, shrugging indifferently.
Sandecker turned to President Wallace. “Rather than bring Duncan and me in here to chew our asses, we should be awarded medals for getting rid of a scourge to national security and laying one of the greatest treasures of all time in your lap.” “You will certainly score a vast number of points with the Chinese when you return it to them,” added Monroe.
“Yes, yes, an amazing feat,” Wallace acknowledged unre-sponsively. He pulled a handkerchief from his suit coat pocket and dabbed his upper lip, and then blandly continued to defend his decisions. “You have to look at the international situation through my eyes. I am currently balancing a hundred different trade deals with China worth billions of dollars to the American economy and hundreds of thousands of jobs for American workers.”
“But why should American taxpayers help build China into a global power?” asked Harper.
“If nothing else,” said Monroe, changing the subject, "allow the INS more powers to halt illegal immigration. At last estimate over six million illegals are in the United States. We've established solid programs for reducing the flow over the border with Mexico, but the smuggling of Chinese across our shorelines is far more sophisticated and calls for stronger
measures."
“Maybe it's better to issue them all amnesty,” suggested Wallace, “and be done with it.”
“I don't think you realize the seriousness of the situation for our grandchildren, Mr. President,” said Monroe gravely. “By the year twenty fifty the American population will stand at over three hundred sixty million. Fifty years after that, with the present birth rate and flow of new immigrants, legal or illegal, the count will be half a billion. From there, the numbers become downright horrifying.”
“Short of a devastating war or plague,” argued Wallace, “nothing can stand in the way of the coming worldwide population explosion. As long as we have the capacity to feed ourselves, I fail to see the consequences.”
“Have you seen the predictions by CIA analysts and geographers?” asked Sandecker.
Wallace shook his head. “I'm not sure what predictions you're talking about.”
“The outlook for the future forecasts a breakup of the United States as we know it.”
“Ridiculous.”
“The Chinese in time will control the West Coast from San Francisco to Alaska and the Hispanics will govern the lands east from Los Angeles to Houston.”
“It's happening before our eyes,” said Harper. "Enough
Chinese have poured into British Columbia alone to take over its politics."
“I can't conceive of a divided America,” said Wallace.
Sandecker stared at him for a moment. “No nation or civilization lasts forever.”
The President's new chief of staff, who replaced Morton Laird, cleared his throat. “I'm sorry for interrupting, Mr. President, but you're late for the next appointment.”
Wallace shrugged. “That's it, then. I'm sorry I can't carry this discussion further, gentlemen. However, since you do not agree with my positions on policy, I have no choice but to ask for your resignations.”
Sandecker's eyes hardened. “You'll not get mine, Mr. President. I know where too many bodies are buried, literally. And if you fire me, I'll throw so much dirt on the White House your advisers will still be digging out by the next election.”
“My sentiments go with the admiral's,” said Monroe. “The INS and I have come too far together to hand it over to some bureaucratic stooge. My agents and I have worked closely together for the last six years to see light at the end of the tunnel. No, Mr. President, I'm sorry, but I won't resign without a fight either.”
Strangely, in the light of such mutinous opposition, Wallace did not become angry. He looked at both men and recognized their grim determination. He realized they were no ordinary officials afraid of their jobs, but dedicated patriots. They were not men he wished to engage in what would prove a messy fight, certainly not now when he needed all the good press and TV coverage he could get to weather the storm. Then he smiled disarmingly.
“It's a free country, gentlemen. You are entitled to express your dissatisfaction even to the president of the nation. I take back my request for your resignations and shall stand back and allow you to run your respective agencies with a free hand. But I warn you, if either of you cause me any political embarrassment in the future, you'll both be out on the street without a moment's hesitation. Do I make myself clear?”