Dalton’s fist came down on the polished timbers of the Resolute desk. “Goddamn it! I’m not hinting at anything. I’m not suggesting anything. I am outright saying it. The People’s Republic of China is dangerously close to being at war with the United States of America. Is that clear enough for you, Premier Xiao? War.”
He could hear his voice rising, assuming a strength and assurance that he had not felt since taking the oath of office. He waited for the translator to repeat his words in Mandarin, and then he continued before the Chinese leader could respond.
“There will be no more skirmishes,” the president said. “There will be no more diplomatic intimidation. If Chinese forces throw so much as a snowball toward any US person or asset, military or otherwise, we will answer with war. If you continue to press your attacks against the Republic of India, we stand by our allies, and we will bring the fight to your door. So you need to decide right now… Are you prepared to go to war against the United States?”
There was a long silence, and Dalton could hear his pulse hammering in his ears.
Then, Xiao’s aged voice spilled a torrent of Mandarin. “I will not be spoken to this way! You will not—”
President Wainright hung up the phone, slamming the receiver back into its cradle without waiting for the rest of the translation.
He took several deep, slow breaths. When he thought his heart rate was a bit closer to normal, he lifted the receiver and punched the number for the Situation Room Duty Officer.
“This is the president,” he said. “Round up the Secretary of Defense, and get the National Military Command Center on line. I want the full battle staff in the Situation Room in half an hour.”
He lowered the receiver again, and then glanced at the nineteenth-century John and Thomas Seymour clock near the east door. A little over an hour left before India launched the attack against the Three Gorges Dam, and then this thing was really going to get ugly.
CHAPTER 56
First Vice Premier Lu Shi pushed his chair back from the conference table and got to his feet. “The loss of the Liaoning cannot go unpunished. We will crush them!”
Jia Bangguo raised a hand. “We will crush who, Comrade Lu? The Americans? Are you saying that we will crush the United States?”
“The Americans have gone too far,” Lu Shi said. “They have crippled a major strategic asset, and damaged the credibility of our naval forces. We must show the world that China does not kowtow to any foreign power. We do not back down from India. We do not back down from America. We do not back down from anyone. And any nation that challenges the People’s Republic does so at its own peril.”
Ma Yong, Party Secretary of the Leading Group for Financial and Economic Affairs, nodded toward Lu Shi. “Comrade Vice Premier, I know very little of military affairs, and I know even less about the intricacies of international strategic deterrence. But I do know that the United States and India collectively consume more than thirty-five percent of our manufactured trade goods. America is by-far our best customer, and India is also one of our largest trading partners. Have you considered what will happen to our national economy when a third of our export market suddenly evaporates?”
Lu glared at him. “Comrade Ma, you know that I have always considered you a wise counselor. But you are overestimating the resolve of your adversaries. America is an undisciplined consumer culture, and India is not much better. They cannot live without their toys. If the average American is forced to choose between his political convictions and his iPhone, he will take the iPhone every time.”
Ma Yong started to speak, but Lu Shi cut him off. “If you examine the true nature of your customers, you will see that there is no real danger of economic reprisals. There will certainly be a few economic sanctions — boycotts of Chinese trade goods, perhaps some short-lived tariffs — to demonstrate America’s financial independence and the strength of American character. But any such measures will be short in duration, and they will not significantly impact the flow of our manufactured goods. Because, regardless of their misguided pride, American resolve is weak, and their economy is inextricably tied to ours. If they attempt to cut financial ties with China, they will be cutting their own throats.”
“Perhaps you are right about that,” said Party Secretary Wei Jintao. “But you are talking about fighting two tigers at the same time.”
“Yes,” Lu Shi said. “But both tigers have more whiskers than teeth. These are not real tigers. They are make-believe tigers. They will growl and thrash their tails, but India is no match for us, and we will pull America’s fangs before they can do much in the way of biting.”
Ma Yong raised an eyebrow. “How do you propose to accomplish this? How exactly will we pull the fangs of the United States?”
“Unrestricted cyber warfare,” Lu Shi said. “We have been probing strategic elements of their critical infrastructure for years, and their cyber defenses are not capable of withstanding a determined assault. We will take down their national power grids. We will infect their computer networks with military-grade viruses, interrupt their cellular telephone communications, disrupt their air traffic control systems, and paralyze their commercial banking architecture. Within forty-eight hours, the average American won’t be able to buy a slice of bread or a liter of water. Bank accounts will be frozen. Planes will be grounded. Telephones will be useless. And the vaunted U.S. military will have its hands full quelling riots, and trying to keep the peace within its own borders.”
“An ambitious undertaking,” said Jia Bangguo. “But what if your plans for hobbling America are not as successful as you hope? What if you have overestimated the effectiveness of your proposed cyber attacks? Or if you have underestimated the resilience of the Americans?”
“I’m not wrong,” Lu Shi said.
“Possibly,” Jia said. “But before we commit ourselves to such drastic measures, we must consider all possibilities. So I ask again, what happens if you are wrong?”
Lu Shi’s voice rose to a shout. “I am NOT wrong!”
He turned hard eyes on every face gathered around the table. “Look at yourselves,” he sneered. “You are supposed to be leaders. You are supposed to be men. But you sit around whining like a gaggle of old women. Where is your heart? Where is your spirit?”
His gaze was an open challenge to every man at the long table. “This will happen,” he said. “It will happen. And when it does, I will remember everyone who opposed me. I have the complete backing of Premiere Xiao on this—”
“No!” said a voice from the far end of the room.
Every head turned toward the newcomer. The wizened form of Xiao Qishan stood in the doorway, flanked by two young and hard-looking PLA officers.
“You do not have my backing,” Xiao said. He began to hobble toward his chair.
“I don’t understand,” Lu said. “You were going to speak to the American president. You were going to—”
“I have spoken to the president,” Xiao said. The old leader was wheezing slightly, as though the act of walking to his chair had used up a significant fraction of his strength reserves. “I am no longer in favor or following your plan.”