Two Peasants And A President Part 10

"Get outta here, Chuck, before I say something both of us will regret!"

Then Rawles did something that Brewer didn't expect, something that had never happened before. He said: "f.u.c.k you, a.s.shole," and stormed out.

Brewer looked at his watch. He'd have to leave now if he wanted to make his meeting with Shumer on time. He grabbed his keys, threw his jacket on and headed for his car.

Clifford Storm had to park his car more than a block away; the restaurants and bars in this trendy area were at high tide at this hour. But he managed to grab a two top near the bar's front window and ordered a drink. Rawles had described Brewer and said he drove a dark blue BMW 7 Series. So when a car matching the description drove by slowly in the dense traffic, Storm did a final equipment check. Using an I-Phone he had modified to receive the tiny bug's signal, he could already hear in his ear bud that Brewer was talking to someone on his car phone. So far so good.

Minutes later he heard elevator sounds. Storm hit record and transmit simultaneously. Looking around the bar, the other patrons seemed to be mostly white collars watering down with their colleagues after a day at the office. No one seemed interested in him. A couple of off-duty Boston cops were at the bar, but they were animatedly discussing something.

Lanny, good to see you," Shumer said mechanically. "Close the door, will you?" Taking a seat across the desk, Shumer could see that he was sweating."

"It seems our favorite senator has more than a few enemies," Shumer said.

"So I heard," replied Brewer. "What the h.e.l.l happened anyway?"

"You took the words right out of my mouth, Lanny," Shumer said, as if antic.i.p.ating learning something.

"It sure as h.e.l.l wasn't us," said Brewer. "Somebody wanted to stop him permanently."

"It doesn't make any sense," said Shumer. "He'd already left the house. Anyone watching him would have known that. But they went ahead and tried to snuff the red head. Who knew she'd be there besides your boy?"

"n.o.body," replied Brewer.

"So you're telling me that somebody just happened by and decided to murder a woman they didn't even know was there?"

"I'm telling you whoever it was wasn't connected with us, period!" said Brewer. Shumer thought that over for a minute before looking Brewer in the eye.

"I a.s.sume you have what we need?" he asked, his tone more demand than question. On the way over, Brewer had tried to come up with a good way to break the news, knowing he wouldn't find any.

"Unfortunately not," was all Brewer could say.

"Come again?" said Shumer.

"We didn't get it; there was some kind of a screw up."

Shumer's anger was clearly rising. He started to say something several times but seemed to reject it each time. Finally, he leaned over the desk.

"I don't want know exactly what went down there, Lanny, but the point is we don't have what we need. It was your responsibility to deliver and you didn't."

Storm had begun to worry. The conversation wasn't anywhere near explicit enough. Unless more details were spilled, the recording wouldn't put a dent in anyone. He looked around again; only the waitress on the way over with another drink seemed to be paying any attention to him. He checked outside, noticing only that someone in an upstairs window across the street was looking down at him.

"The senator might as well have dropped an A-bomb on China," he continued. "They've ratcheted up the whole thing so far that it's starting to look like the cold war. Only this time it could get hot. You are aware, Lanny, that the Chinese are threatening to blow any ship in the area they don't like out of the water? And by water, I mean about a million and a half square miles of it."

Brewer sat silent.

"I don't have to tell you how that makes the President look, do I, Lanny?" Without waiting for an answer, he continued. "Everyone's screaming tariffs. Now some of them are even talking sanctions. We need China's money, Lanny, and now they're gonna make the President get down on his knees and lick their boots to get it. Your little operation was the only thing we had to discredit the senator and you blew it! He paused in disgust. "Any ideas, Lanny?"

"Maybe the broad could try again," replied Brewer weakly. "She got with Baines, she just couldn't get the camera to work or something."

Shumer's raised hand, telling Brewer to stop.

"I don't need that level of detail, Lanny," he said. "Is what I'm hearing that you want me to believe that the situation can be salvaged?"

"Yeah, we should be able to pull it off," he said, not having any idea exactly how he was going to do it.

"Should, could and would are not words in my vocabulary, Lanny," Shumer said. "Can, do and did are words in my vocabulary. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yeah," replied Brewer.

"Then I suggest that you not waste time. This administration may not be around for a second term if we don't get this thing behind us."

Storm smiled. The conversation probably wouldn't hold up against the full frontal a.s.sault of an army of Washington attorneys, but it could be quite effective on the internet or in the hands of certain journalists. Glancing upward, he noticed that there were now two people in the upstairs window across the street, one of whom was pointing at him. That's odd he thought.

Then he saw Brewer walking by on the way back to his car. It was time to saddle up.

He performed two functions on his I-Phone, pushed a b.u.t.ton on the device in his pocket and laid some money on the table. On the way out, he looked up and noticed that there was no longer anyone standing in the window. He was halfway back to his car, when he turned around, more as a matter of habit than out of concern. Two men were behind him and walking fast. He was still trying to decide if they were just in a hurry when his head exploded.

"h.e.l.lo, Mr. President," said Shumer.

"Look, Stuart," the president said, jettisoning formalities. "I've got a lot coming at me at the moment. This thing with Baines is just part of it. Rausch tells me he's got a revolt on his hands; n.o.body wants to be seen as knuckling under to China. Some of them are leaning toward supporting some sort of tariffs. They feel they have to if they want to be back in Washington next spring."

"Just tell me we've got Baines where we want him," the president said plaintively. The silence on the other end didn't bode well.

"Our project has not gone well, Mr. President," Shumer finally replied. "There was a problem."

"How big a problem, Stuart?"

"It seems to be one that can be resolved, but it's going to take a little more time."

"Time is something I have very little of," replied the president. "I'm sure you're aware of what the Chinese have done; it's become an international incident that's being followed by d.a.m.n near everyone on the planet. I'm starting to look like a third grader who backed down to the school bully in front of everyone. I need you to get Baines off my back, Stuart. He's the one leading the charge, and if he's stopped I think I can salvage things."

"I'll get to work on it, Mr. President."

33.

It was quite late when Jim and Sally got back home. Just the same, they tried Brett and Maggie's number. Probably still on their way back, they thought, but they nevertheless left a message. Then they called Richard. It was of course the middle of the day in Hong Kong. His hotel said he was out and asked if they would like to leave a message. They did.

"Hi, Dad," said Sally. "Missing you already. We're back at the house. We rang over to you know who's. Left a message there. Please be safe and let us know if you hear anything. Love you."

At first they'd all been hopeful that because Sally and Jim had returned home safe, Brett and Maggie would soon follow. The next day they started to worry.

That evening they received a call from Richard. He was calling from the Consulate, reluctant to call from his hotel. Perhaps because he has a different name or possibly because the Chinese preferred to leave him unmolested to learn anything they might, he had neither been contacted nor arrested by the police.

Richard had the news they'd all hoped not to hear. While not mentioning their names directly over the phone, he managed to convey that the American Citizens Services had Brett and Maggie on a list - of Americans who had been arrested. The charge, armed robbery. While it could be argued that Brett was armed, even with his bare hands, robbery was absurd. But then, the Chinese were acting with increasing absurdity every day. They had evidently decided that they had arrived at position of sufficient strength from which they could afford to confront America on any level. They had drawn a line in the sand, feeling confident that America would not dare cross it. And so far they had been right.

Richard was obviously speaking guardedly, no doubt wary of eavesdropping. China had demonstrated the ability to hack everyone from the Pentagon to a long list of critical infrastructure and defense companies. They even routinely grab wi-fi data from phones and other devices that Americans carry with them in Hong Kong and on the mainland. It was just one of many areas in which the United States had apparently ceded the leading edge to China. America was at a historic inflection point, and China was poised to overtake what had been the most powerful nation on the planet. There would likely be no return.

"Listen, Dad," Sally said. How do you want us to pursue things on this end?"

"Sally," Richard replied, "there are larger forces at play here. It's pretty obvious that the president isn't holding many face cards. China has laid down the gauntlet and the President will cave. The welfare of Americans abroad isn't very high on anybody in Washington's list right now either. I think our only chance is the media, excluding the ones that carry the President's water, of course. You know who I mean."

"Sally, your brother-in-law didn't have much choice. If he'd just gone in there with a few questions, we'd still be in the dark. He busted it open and now we know what happened, at least the first half of the story. I could be wrong, but it doesn't look like the police have made the connection to me. As long as they don't, I'm gonna do what I can on this end to learn the rest of the story."

"I don't have to tell you," he continued, "that China could decide that getting rid of the witnesses would be the easiest way to deal with the problem. It's not what any of us want to hear, but we have to understand it's one of the things we're up against. I've lain awake worrying that somehow we could make things worse. But I came to the conclusion that we're the only ones who care, and we just don't have a choice; we have to do whatever we can."

"I understand, Dad. I love you."

34.

"I'd like your a.s.sessment of the crisis we find ourselves in as a result of Senator Baines reckless conduct," said the president, looking in turn at each person in the situation room. "Valerie, why don't you start," he said, referring to Valerie Waters, Secretary of State.

"Mr. President," she began, "I have two thoughts on the matter. First, we should all remember that when China feels threatened, they typically respond with hyperbole. I don't think anyone seriously believes that they are going to start sinking international shipping."

"I seem to recollect that several days ago they did precisely that," replied James Langley, National Security Advisor.

"That was before their declaration and it obviously was intended to remain secret," responded the Secretary of State. "Allow me to continue, please. Beijing is looking for a way out of this, as are we. It is not in their nature to back down, unless forced to, and we are in no position to force them to do anything. I believe that they are asking us, in their own way, to provide them with a way to save face."

"Frankly," interrupted the President, "at this point, I'm more concerned with our face. It's badly bruised and getting redder by the day. Baines is making us out to look like a bunch of cowards and liars."

That would be fairly accurate, thought Benedict, the DCI.

The President continued, "n.o.body in his right mind thinks a trade war would be helpful, but Baines knows he can use it to push b.u.t.tons with the kind of people who can't even balance their checkbooks much less fathom international trade."

"Sometimes the best thing to do with a wood stove that's too hot is to just allow it time to cool," said Langley. "If you open the door, you give the fire more oxygen. Right now we're giving this whole thing an awful lot of oxygen."

"Most of the oxygen is being provided by Baines," responded the President angrily. "Besides, we don't have time to wait for the stove to cool down. I've already had to put my request for another increase in the debt ceiling on hold and we're scrambling to plug the fiscal gaps. Our expansion needs continued infusions of cash. Without it the whole thing comes grinding to a halt, and with it this administration."

"I think we need to keep the focus on China," the Secretary of State said "We can't force Baines to back off, so let's set him aside for the moment. Cash is critical and the place it comes from, at least for now, is China. We've got to focus on what it will take to persuade them to continue investing. I believe that what they are trying to tell us is that they want us not to raise any substantive objections to what they're doing in the South China Sea. The issue of the sinking will blow over, so let's not get bogged down with that. If we were to provide China with a.s.surances that we will not interfere with what are basically claims to oil and gas drilling rights, I believe they would become more amenable."

"Seems incredibly short-sighted to me," interjected Langley, "They've already bought up half the oil and mineral rights on the planet, and now we're going to just look the other way while they gobble up the rest, not to mention stomping all over the legitimate claims of six other nations. This continual bowing to China will come home to roost, and when it does we won't be worried about expanding, we'll be worried about surviving."

"I think we're forgetting one important detail," said Larimer, the Secretary of Defense. "What's being proposed sounds to me like a capitulation, when it comes to our fundamental right of access to the seas. If you allow China to get away with a.s.serting that it has the right to exclude our Navy and anyone else it wants from access to a million and a half square miles of international waters, not to mention half of the worlds maritime shipping, you'll be setting a precedent which they will interpret as an opportunity to take Taiwan by force and also enforce militarily their outrageous a.s.sertions regarding the other nations in the area. This thing will be worse than standing aside while Hitler was handed the Sudetenland, and we all know where that led."

"Melvin, I think you may be overreacting," said the President.

"Like h.e.l.l I am," he shot back, surprising the President as well as the others in the room with the outburst.

"I'd like everybody to calm down," said the President, sensing he had the makings of a mutiny on his hands. "Perhaps the a.n.a.logy of the wood stove is apt. What I'm proposing is not a long term acquiescence to China's a.s.sertions, but a temporary cooling off of a volatile situation. Once the election is behind us, we'll be in a much stronger position to make demands. Meanwhile I'm going to propose speaking with the Chinese directly, here in Washington. I suspect that we can come to an accommodation."

Ah, another insight into what this is really about, eh Mr. President? thought Benedict to himself. You were planning all along to give the Chinese carte blanche in order to get re-elected. You just needed to go through the motions of consensus.

It was easy to see on the faces of those gathered around the table who the party loyalists and sycophants were. They all had a sense of relief on their faces, as if a reasonable way out had been found. The looks worn by the others reflected their concern that a grave mistake was being made today, one whose ramifications would be felt for generations.

35.

The houses here were very basic, typical of a style that had all but vanished. In the shadow of sprawling, modern apartment buildings, two rows of rudimentary one room brick structures with crumbling tile roofs stood like a museum display, depicting what ancient life had looked like.

Ping had always pa.s.sed here on her way home from work, reminding herself of a happier time, a time when she had a family and neighbors, neighbors who could remember her grandfather and great grandfather. For her, these tiny houses held a certain comfort, like landmarks from her past. They were empty now, but she tried to imagine them as they had been when she and her family had been part of a thriving neighborhood here. But as the day when they would be demolished grew nearer, she felt more and more saddened by their hollow emptiness. Like gaping mouths, their open doors seemed to call out to her, admonishing her for abandoning all they had provided, pleading with her to save them from the wreckers.

She, like thousands of others, had been promised a better life, modern, with conveniences the tiny brick homes could never boast. The minds of the city planners had danced with grandiose visions of a transformed society. But like the 'great leap forward' of the sixties and seventies, their dreams had been truncated by the continued realities of over-crowding and corruption. Even the grand edifices they had envisioned for themselves had become rather unpretentious concrete buildings, crowded and dreary, like the so called 'com-bloc' apartment blocks in the Soviet Union, Eastern Europe and elsewhere.

There was, however, an unexpected blessing that had sprung from the sheer magnitude of the endeavor of relocating thousands upon thousands of people: the thread that bound them to the bureaucracy had in some cases been severed. Like the family memories buried by the bulldozers, many official personal histories had failed to survive the transformation intact. The bureaucracy had simply been overwhelmed by the size of a task compounded by wildly unrealistic time estimates.

Those entrusted with the continuity of the census, with maintaining the long tentacles of government, realized that it had become a futile endeavor. Unwilling to risk the penalties a.s.sociated with failing to complete their work, they had simply adapted as best they could, fudging, even inventing when they had to. And, occasionally, deleting. So the official past of the pet.i.te lady who walked by the old brick houses each day, along with many others, had simply vanished.

She soon learned that there were certain advantages to this.

She had arrived home just after dark. After a simple meal of rice and vegetables in the stark enclosure that was her kitchen, she set out to visit a friend. While her past thread linked to the bureaucracy had terminated, the bureaucracy itself had certainly not. Whereas before there had been a person on each block whose job it was to keep an eye on the others, now on every floor of every apartment building in this great forest of almost identical buildings, one person, usually an older woman, had been selected to 'help.'

These minders kept an eye on everyone. They knew when to expect the menstrual cycle of every young woman on their floor and were alert to make sure it was not skipped lest a prohibited child be born. They knew when their charges were ill and did not make it to their jobs. They were vigilant for the slightest vestige of an illicit romance. In short, they were most 'helpful.'

But there are always ways to skirt a bureaucracy, provided that one is careful and alert. Getting caught was universally dreaded. Scarcely a resident in any of these buildings did not know at least a relative of someone who had made a careless mistake. The penalty could be quite severe, particularly in this city.

Ping smiled as she pa.s.sed the open door of the one who watched, lest a frown or unhappy sigh elicit further attention. People smiled whenever they neared a minder; it was an old joke that a smile didn't necessarily convey the happiness in your breast, only the heartbeat in your chest. The pet.i.te lady continued on her way to visit an old friend, one whose family had also lived in one of the crude brick houses about to be demolished. A elevator with peeling paint lowered her to a cheerless lobby where another minder sat watching who came and went.

Three buildings down, the process was reversed. When she reached the door of her friend, she knocked lightly. The door was opened by a smiling woman in her sixties. She motioned her visitor into the tiny apartment. Her husband raised his hand in greeting. He was seated on the couch watching a small television. He turned up the volume before they all sat down together over tea, the better to keep the conversation private. They spoke quietly for some time, reviewing what had transpired since they last met.

Then they asked about her news. She had already related to them a most unusual event. She told them more about the amazing development as they listened raptly. Finally, she reached into a carefully concealed pocket that she had sewn into her coat. Producing a neatly folded piece of tinfoil, she handed it to her friend's husband. There was a certain solemnity as she held her hand forth, conveying not only the importance of the object but, more subtly, the danger.

The conspiracy the three shared was not to be taken lightly. They and the others involved knew that discovery surely meant death and in this city, death held a special dread. Her friend's husband said that he would be sure that it reached the person who knew what to do and how to do it. They chatted for some time. It was getting late by the time she left.

On the way back to her apartment, she felt happier than she could remember. Perhaps now at last she could avenge the wrong that had broken her heart forever. Again she pa.s.sed the open door of her minder. The one who watches didn't bother to look up. All she noticed were the familiar pink canvas shoes padding quietly by.

When she reached her apartment, Ping fixed tea and sat in her kitchen thinking over what had just happened. The young American woman was now aware that there exists a group that is trying to help her. That knowledge const.i.tutes a danger to the group. Her mental fabric has been stretched to the limit since her abduction. She had experienced the depths of despair. Now Ping had given her hope. The look on her face mirrored that. But if in her exhilaration at the prospect of being rescued, she were to let something slip, if the change in her emotions were to become too obvious, if that change were to be noticed, she could jeopardize everyone.