“Yes to the first Mr. President,” Alan said, “and no to the second.”
“You’re suggesting Liang realizes the Behemoths caused the destruction.”
“I would think so, sir.”
David studied the computer table. So did Anna. It showed a map of the Midwestern United States, highlighting Colorado, Kansas, Nebraska, Iowa and Missouri.
“Zoom in on Greater Denver and the beginning mountain pass of I-70,” the President said.
A technician made adjustments so the computer map showed just that.
“Interesting,” the President said, although he didn’t elaborate. “Go back to how it was. Then show me the enemy front.”
From Denver, to Kansas City to the outlying regions of St. Louis—between the Rockies and the Mississippi River—a red line appeared.
“Show me the enemy gains in the past five days.”
A long but very narrow shaded, pinkish area appeared. The enemy had attacked along the width of the Great Plains, pushing northward. Anna checked the scale. In the past five days, the deepest penetrations showed a twenty-mile thrust. Elsewhere, it was only five.
“Their gains are deceptive, Mr. President,” Alan said. “In many areas, they passed through lightly defended Zones of Occupation. We built deceptive trenches and used inflatable artillery guns behind them, parks of dummy guns to fool their reconnaissance flights.”
Anna had only learned about that yesterday. It was a trick on a massive scale. The Zones of Occupation had been meant to absorb the initial enemy strikes: vast artillery barrages and intense air bombardments.
“In most areas, the Chinese are only now hitting our Main Line of Defense,” Alan added.
Anna continued to study the map, as did everyone else in the room. That included her former boss, the Director of the CIA. Beginning reinforcements from the East Coast had begun to arrive at the Great Plains Defensive Lines. In another few days, the first Canadian units would arrive and help stiffen the masses of Militiamen.
David stood as he told the technician to zoom back to the strip of Eastern Colorado. He had an electronic pointer in his hands. He clicked it on with his thumb and aimed it at the table. A green arrow appeared on the map.
“I consider this decisive,” the President said. A green arrow touched Denver. “General Larson and McGraw believe that two Chinese armies are involved in storming the city. They estimate that to be anywhere from three hundred to four hundred thousand soldiers. That means these forces won’t be headed north right away. The Chinese are helping us by hitting the wrong target. My question is this. Why are the Chinese trying to capture Denver instead of pouring everything north?”
Anna noticed several people glance at her surreptitiously before letting their gaze slide elsewhere. After all this time, some still didn’t trust her because of her Chinese ancestry. She blocked the thought and their darting glances, trying to put it in a drawer in her mind. That drawer, she shut.
“This two-Army assault is meant to capture the city,” the President said. “Their desire to close off I-70 proves it beyond a doubt.”
“I would agree, sir,” General Alan said.
“Then you don’t think it’s a vast Chinese deception?” the President asked.
“Why?” Alan asked. “Deception on that scale, with so many losses, doesn’t make sense. For one reason or another, they mean to capture Greater Denver.”
“Where are the Behemoth tanks as of this moment?” the President asked.
The technician adjusted the screen. The Behemoth position appeared in blue along I-70.
“Sir,” General Alan said. “Now that the Chinese know where the tanks are, they’re badly exposed. What if the enemy uses nuclear weapons to shut down the mountain freeway?”
The President looked up sharply.
“If the Chinese mean to cut off Denver’s backdoor supply link,” Alan said, “why not use nuclear weapons as they did with the California passes? If they knock out the right bridge or mountain tunnel, the Behemoths won’t be going anywhere for a long time except into Denver.”
“We must move the Behemoths now,” the President declared.
“Agreed sir,” Alan said.
“Right,” the President said. “Call the Tank Park. Tell Colonel Higgins to move his Behemoths tonight. I want them in Salt Lake City yesterday.”
“Yes, Mr. President,” Alan said.
Sims turned to Max Harold. “I have some questions about the Militia battalions in the Main Defense Lines.”
Director Harold nodded.
“First,” the President said. “I want to know…”
Jake Higgins was in a makeshift Army hospital in an old office building behind the front lines. His arm was in a sling due to a badly bruised left shoulder. He was here to see the commander of the Eleventh CDM Battalion, a captain, as the man was the highest-ranking officer left of the shattered unit. Heck, the captain was almost the only officer left.
Two days ago, Jake had dragged the bleeding and wounded captain out of a burning home in Castle Rock during vicious house-to-house fighting. After the first Chinese wave where he’d killed enemy in a bakery, the Chinese had changed tactics. Maybe that was because they’d changed from using penal soldiers to regular fighters. Instead of human wave assaults, the Chinese had advanced with overhead helos for protection and with combat bulldozers to knock down walls, rubble and houses. The bulldozers had changed the game, all right.
In the grueling battle of Castle Rock, the Eleven CDMB went from the original twelve hundred combatants to two hundred and nineteen survivors. In other words, the meat-grinder of war chewed them from a battalion to a company, which was about right because all they had left was the captain.
“Higgins,” Captain Lewis whispered from his bed.
Jake glanced at the doctor, an older woman. She nodded. He stepped up to the medical bed. Tubes stuck out of the captain’s body. Both his legs had casts and they were elevated. He was pale and his eyes were glassy, no doubt due to heavy meds.
“Give me your hand, soldier,” Lewis said with a slur.
Jake thrust out his hands and felt the captain’s clammy fingers. The man barely had any grip left. But what he did have, he used.
Lewis strained to lift his head. “I owe you my life,” he whispered.
Jake didn’t know what to say.
“I read your record before all this,” Lewis whispered. “You’re a troublemaker. You protested our President. That’s inexcusable. But…that’s over. You listen to me. You make trouble for the Chinese now, you hear?”
“Yes sir,” Jake said.
Lewis released his feeble grip. His hand flopped beside his side. He’d been straining his neck. He now relaxed his head against the pillow and the life seemed to go out of him.
“Higgins.”
“I’m here, sir.”
A pasty smile creased the man’s face. “The Lieutenant is going to lead the Eleventh. I don’t think he likes you.”
“No sir,” Jake said. It was more like the Lieutenant hated him, although Jake didn’t know why. Maybe it was just because.
“I’ll get better for you,” the captain said. “I owe you. I pay my debts, too. I’ll get better and I’ll be in charge. Until then, you stay alive and you give the Chinese hell.”
“Yes sir.”
“As my last act in command, I’m promoting you to corporal. I’d bump you up to sergeant, but the Lieutenant made a phone call. The Detention Center Director vetoed the sergeant idea. He suggested you earn the slot first. Neither man understands you earned it ten times over in Castle Rock. I’m sorry, Corporal.”