Wei’s Mercedes crossed over the Landmark River on Xindong Road, the thick veil of smog leaving him unable to see past the edge of the structure’s steel railing. The pollution was getting worse. More and more days were deemed unfit for breathing and each of those meant a significant loss in productivity. Change was no longer avoidable. It was only a matter of time.
The general looked at his watch. Of all his meetings, this was one he could not be late for. In reality, it was less a meeting than it was a summons.
The seven people that waited for Wei were beyond authority. They were beyond any real definition of accountability, yet everything that happened in China fell under their ultimate control. They were the government elite, the Politburo Standing Committee of the Communist Party of China, and the seven men who determined the path of China’s future. It was the same group who secretly appointed nearly all heads of state and the military. And they were the same group who had appointed Wei.
Regardless of their ultimate disconnect from the average citizen, the Politburo Standing Committee steered the political, economic, and military courses of China’s future with a deft hand. A hand that also had the ability to instantly clench into the most ruthless of fists. While justice in other modern countries was bound by at least a facade of judicial fairness, the masters of China had no such requirements. Punishment was occasionally handed down from them with a stunning lack of mercy, usually in the form of executions. Swift and strategic, the executions of high-ranking public officials were performed just as often to make a point rather than to actually deliver ‘justice.’ In fact, out of a number of officials executed for their role in deeply rooted corruption, Wei suspected several were never involved at all.
It was what made the recognition by the group of seven as much of a curse as a blessing. Power and wealth could be granted with the wave of a hand, yet it could be withdrawn even faster with the swing of a sword.
Wei’s mood grew even more somber as his driver turned onto the byway and the image of a giant complex emerged through the suffocating brown smog. The Mercedes made its final turn into the half-circle entrance under an enormous glass overhang. After the car stopped, Wei barely had time to unfasten his seatbelt before the door was promptly opened from the other side.
He was escorted to the eightieth floor where the elevator dinged and opened its silver doors. Wei walked forward into the expansive room, which was the top floor. Glass walls, on all sides, looked out over a heavily obscured cityscape.
They motioned him to a chair on the far end of the oval table. He sat and looked up at the serious faces of each of the seven members.
On the other side of the table, Xinzhen began immediately. So much for etiquette.
“So the Americans have arrived.”
“Yes,” Wei answered.
“Are you prepared?”
Wei nodded. “Yes. We will protect it at all costs.”
“Even if it leads to conflict?”
Wei tried to appear relaxed. “We always knew that was a possibility.”
The man nodded slowly. Another of the Committee members spoke up, the brashest of the group.
“And what about the extraction?”
“It is nearly complete,” Wei reassured. “You will have it soon.”
The man’s eyes narrowed. “I hope so. Time runs short, General.”
“Careful steps must be taken, Mr. Secretary.” Wei had explained it all to them many times before. Each meeting was almost like the first, yet Wei revealed none of his irritation.
After all… he knew something that the Committee didn’t.
Lieutenant Chao stood on the deck of the corvette class ship, this time in direct sunlight. Secrecy no longer mattered. The Americans knew. They had gotten a sample and by now, no doubt, had discovered the secret of the plant. But ironically, they wouldn’t realize its full potential for at least another week. Nevertheless, they knew enough now to understand what Chao and his men were up to.
The boat sat surreally silent, rocking gently with the help of the mild incoming ocean surge. There were no more shipments, no more transfers in the dark, and no more running the crates back to the hangar for the next load of trucks.
In fact, General Wei was probably sitting in front of the Committee now, being questioned for the hundredth time. They wanted to make sure their prize was safe. It was their future. And it would ensure survivability for China’s supreme ruling class and their political structure, regardless of the coming devastation their economic rot would bring. At least that’s what they were expecting.
Chao looked up at the distant mountains of Guyana. Who would have thought that crazy explorer Zang had been telling the truth? And that it would turn out to be a discovery that would change the path of human history, a history of which Chao was an astute student. He wondered how many explorers had dreamt of this find. How many had spent their entire lives searching for one of the world’s greatest legends? Only to have someone else stumble upon it by accident. What fools.
He raised his binoculars and looked out across the ocean. The American ship was still there. They were no doubt running around desperately trying to figure out what to do. A grin crawled across his tight lips.
Soon they would come in with guns blazing like the Americans always did. But this time, their only discovery would be that they were too late, that their mighty empire missed out on the most epic of revelations. He only wished he could be there to see it.
But he couldn’t. What was going to happen that evening remained far more important. It was their last trip back into the mountains. Yet this time, the trucks were loaded with more than just crates.
And most of his men would never come back out.
Several miles across the water, Clay stood on a metal grating just outside the Bowditch’s bridge. He remained still, with his binoculars up, studying the corvette ship. For a moment, he thought he saw a glimmer of reflection from something.
Standing next to him, Captain Krogstad looked through his own pair. He scanned the waterfront from side to side and muttered to himself. “‘Don’t let them out of the dock,’ he says. How the hell am I supposed to do that with an unarmed science vessel?”
Clay mused and turned to scan the rest of the southern shoreline. He panned, looking out over the northwest horizon. He froze and, after a brief pause, dropped the binoculars. He couldn’t help but smile. “Vessel sighted.”
Krogstad spun with his glasses still up. The small white object was clearly visible against the dark blue water, even with the unaided eye. The azure sky stretching overhead lacked even a wisp of cloud.
The object was the Prowler catamaran steaming ahead at twelve knots.
Krogstad noted the time on his watch. “They’re even early. Well done, son.”
It took almost an hour for the boat to reach them, eventually rounding the stern and coming under the same maintenance ladder Clay and Caesare had used. Peering over the edge, Clay smiled at the sight of Caesare at the helm. He was wearing a T-shirt and someone’s baseball cap to block the sun.
Lee and Chris were the first to climb the ladder. With some difficulty, they reached the top and were immediately escorted off to sickbay by Krogstad’s crew. Next came Kelly, followed by Alison. Considering recent events, the women seemed no worse for the wear. When Alison spotted Clay standing off to the side, she quickly covered the distance to him, smiling all the way. She wasn’t sure what would be deemed appropriate on an official ship with an official crew and was pleasantly surprised when Clay put an arm around her.