“I understand Bill Baker perfectly,” Han said. “He thinks America is unique in history. That no power on Earth can defeat it. And he would do almost anything to prove that belief true.”
“What if Baker used nuclear weapons to buy time to launch the arsenal ships?” Wu asked.
“He might use nuclear arms,” Han noted. “Now that’s an interesting question. But forget about those arsenal ships. We have been assured that they’re either a massive disinformation effort, or Bill Baker’s desperate and delusional dream of some superweapon. Perhaps they’re some of both.”
“But what if they weren’t just a delusional dream?” Wu asked. “What if they could defeat our fleet? What if they could gain total supremacy of the sea?”
“What are you telling me, Wu?” Han asked in almost a whisper.
Wu looked around nervously, then related to his father his meeting with a senior naval officer without revealing who it was.
Han listened attentively. “If this is true, Wu,” Han said slowly, “then the Americans mustn’t launch those ships. We must, at all costs, seize or destroy those shipyards, because if we don’t, we lose everything. We lose China. Our job, Wu, is to turn this supposed fact of yours to the advantage of our own family. If what this ‘naval officer’ said is correct, then surely Sheng must intend to destroy those shipyards at all costs. At all costs, Wu. Now how do you think those costs will be paid? They will be paid by classmates of yours like this Tsui, and they will be paid in numbers and at a rate that we have not seen in ten long years of war. Those casualties, Wu, will be highly unpopular at home — highly, highly unpopular — and so would the military. Think of it. All those families losing their one and only male child. Their ‘little emperors.’ ”
Wu was quiet as he contemplated Han’s analysis. Wu’s jaws ground against each other. “Would President Baker use nuclear weapons?” Wu finally asked again.
“Perhaps,” Han replied, “if he had no other choice. For he, too, will pay all costs. Look at his commitment of women to ground combat.”
“His own daughter is a soldier,” Wu eagerly pointed out.
“But if he went nuclear,” Han said, “we would destroy his ships, shipyards, and ports with nuclear counterattacks. So the point is, Wu, that if we play this right, the ships will be destroyed, the military will be weakened and highly unpopular, and we will have America to govern.” Han smiled at the simplicity of it all. “But we have to manage things just right. To do that, information is key. If you want to take part in all this, which you obviously do or you wouldn’t be here, then you must continue giving me information. I know Sheng. He would never dissipate his advantage in combat strength by ceding the initiative to the Americans. He’s not the reactive sort. He’s hiding something — some plan — and it’s your job, Wu, to find out what that plan is.”
As Han again turned to the rural landscape, he felt Wu studying him. After a mile or so of silence, Wu said, “Maybe you shouldn’t worry about military operations.” Han’s head snapped around to Wu after the insolent remark, but Wu quickly continued. “Maybe, for instance, Sheng has a,” he shrugged, “special intelligence source in Washington. Someone at the very highest level.”
Just before Han’s anger peaked at the boy’s arrogant lecturing, he realized what Wu was saying, and smiled. “Tell me what you know, Wu, and tell me now.”
“There is a spy,” Wu explained, “in Washington, code-named ‘Olympic.’ ”
Han’s eyebrows rose, and he waited for more, but Wu fell silent. “I see. Well? What else do you know about this ‘Olympic’?”
“Nothing,” Wu answered. “He’s an army spy, that’s all I know.”
Han’s mouth hung open for a moment, then he arched his brow and said, “Interesting.”
Wu doesn’t know everything, Han thought, but Sheng must. He said, “Good job, Wu. Now what I want you to do is to find out everything you can about this ‘Olympic’—every detail, every development — and report them to me immediately. But most importantly, I want you to find out who Olympic is.”
Wu nodded, but his distracted gaze sunk to his lap.
“What is it, Wu?”
The boy’s reply seeped from him, bubbling straight from some deep well of thought. “What if the American army stops our forces from seizing the shipyards without resort to nuclear arms?”
Han laughed. Wu looked at him with knitted brow. “Their army is filled with pampered schoolchildren. We have a veteran army that in a few months will outnumber them fifteen-to-one. Do you really think they can stop us?”
Wu slowly shook his head. “No. But what if they do?”
Han shrugged and sighed. “Then we lose,” he said in a matter-of-fact tone.
General Sheng’s aide, Colonel Li, opened Han’s limousine door. He and Wu fell in behind Han and General Sheng as they walked along the edge of Mobile Bay. Chinese ships filled the harbor. Eight of the huge supercarriers were berthed at the wharves, each debarking troops at the rate of ten thousand per day. Eight more were anchored in the bay behind them. Troops lined the rails to look out at America.
They walked past a battery of large missile launchers: eighteen sealed canisters atop tracked vehicles. With a total of thirty such batteries ringing Mobile Bay plus fleet air defenses, Sheng informed Han that they had total air supremacy for sixty kilometers inland.
“I noticed as we were driving here,” Han said, “the lines of trucks and armored vehicles parked on the shoulder of the road. Why weren’t those troops moving?”
“They probably need fuel,” Sheng replied. “The Americans were very thorough. They removed or destroyed all petroleum, oil, and lubricants. They appear to have destroyed practically everything of value.”
“Not the port,” Han said, looking out across the water. “Not the airport.” He waited, but Sheng did not reply. “It still seems, however, that you should have anticipated that the Americans would not leave fuel waiting for us on the beach. Why didn’t we bring enough fuel with us to keep those units moving?”
Sheng was finally baited into reply. “Those men were in our assault wave. They were to be expended in establishing the beachhead. Their idleness is the result of our success. We did not supply them with any more fuel than was necessary for them to reach objectives a few kilometers inland from the coast.”
“In other words, you expected them all to be dead,” Han translated. “And yet they appear to be very much alive and well… and of no current utility.”
Sheng let the barb pass. But from behind, Colonel Li said, “We are working on new operational orders for the assault troops. We will supply them with fuel from our theater reserves. But follow-on forces have integral fuel stocks, so they are already pressing north to try to establish contact with the Americans.”
General Sheng cut his aide-de-camp off. “I’m sure,” he ventured loudly, “that our civilian guest is bored by all the details of our operations.”
Han was thrown into a flurry of calculations. He considered shoving the word “guest” back into Sheng’s face with appropriate — but not excessive — force. But Han decided on a different tack. Instead of reminding Sheng who it was that governed the territory on which they now strolled, Han picked up the more important thread left dangling by Sheng’s comment.
“You’re correct, General Sheng. I am, in fact, less concerned with our operations, and more interested in the Americans’ plans, dispositions, and capabilities. I don’t need to convey, I’m sure, the trepidation felt by our countrymen over the outcome of the American Campaign. The eyes of China are on your performance here, General Sheng.”