Two Peasants And A President Part 4

"That you do, my friend, that you do. And n.o.body knows better how to handle dirt than the Boston Sanitation Department. Our friend Baines had an ugly divorce; it cost him his wife, his girlfriend and a half a million bucks. But everybody who wanted to already beat him up on that score. Presumably he's a lonely, h.o.r.n.y ex-Marine. Aside from that, he doesn't appear to have any major vulnerabilities that I know of."

"And I presume it would be far more convenient for us if he had a vulnerability," said Shumer.

"We're way beyond convenient here, Stuart. The entire expansion of government that we've worked so hard for is in jeopardy. I don't have to tell you how it works. Boston was built on a simple system. I do you a favor, like giving you a job, and you owe me. And the currency of repayment is your vote. The fact that the Democrats have controlled Boston for decades is testament to how well it works. We're making the system work in Washington too. But the lifeblood of the system is money, and unless we find more, and soon, everything we've done is in danger of collapsing. There's nowhere to get that money other than China, and Baines is endangering that."

Shumer leaned back in his chair, his hands knitted behind his head. "Mr. President, what you are talking about, if I understand you, isn't something new. There have always been those whose actions endanger the greater good. Sometimes it becomes necessary for the benefit of all to cause those people to reconsider their actions. I believe that Senator Baines can be persuaded to see the light."

The president smiled broadly. Those who didn't know Stuart Shumer well often a.s.sumed he was a mere functionary, one who was uncomfortable on his feet and preferred to work behind the scenes. But those in his inner circle knew him to be a highly skilled operative, capable of dealing with challenges and keeping promises. He was also someone whom it was very unwise to underestimate.

As the president's motorcade pulled away into the night, there were a few offices where the lights still burned, offices whose occupants, like elsewhere across the nation, were putting in the extra effort it takes to stand out, to make money in hard times, to make a difference. One, directly across the street from Stuart Shumer, belonged to a successful real estate investor who buys and sells desirable properties in Boston's old warehouse area. Shumer's people had checked out everyone in the building across the street, including this one; it's good policy to know who one's neighbors are.

But the owners of the office across the street had successfully veiled the true ownership of their business. Real estate, in fact, did make them a great deal of money. But information was their real currency.

14.

In the well of the Senate "Ladies and gentlemen, we have grown so accustomed to speaking of such astounding sums regards our national debt and spending, that I believe we are becoming numb. The American people, to most of whom $1,000 is a good deal of money, have become gla.s.sy-eyed at the level of indebtedness that is being heaped upon their children and grandchildren. There are some in this chamber who cynically rely on precisely that to continue to enslave future generations."

"Allow me to put this in terms that one of the hard-working wage earners who pay our salaries could relate to. If a taxpayer were to spend one dollar every second of every day, it would take eleven and one-half days to spend one million dollars. Spending one dollar every second of every day, it would take more that thirty-one years to spend a billion dollars. Likewise it would take 32,000 years to spend one trillion dollars."

"Yet every few weeks we ask our countrymen to allow us to spend that much in addition to the trillions of dollars in debt that we have already heaped upon them. How in good conscience can we do that to our citizens and their families?"

"From 1791, the year in which the United States first took on debt, it took until 2002 to ama.s.s $5.98 trillion in debt. That's 211 years! It took just seven more years to double that to $12 trillion. And just one more year to reach $14 trillion."

"A well known Marxist professor at a prestigious University and friend to some in this administration has said that the way to change the government, to get rid of the Const.i.tution, and move to Marxism/Socialism is to collapse the system."

"Ladies and gentlemen, we are well on our way to doing exactly that. I, for one, do not intend to let this great nation become a Marxist state regardless of what this president and his Marxist college professor friends want. I do not intend to allow the far-left to dismantle the Const.i.tution. And I do not intend to allow some members of this body to continue to push our spending skyward until this nation collapses from its debt. Today we are facing a threat the likes of which we have not seen since the 1930's. It is not coming from a n.a.z.i Germany. It is not coming from a Communist Soviet Union. It is coming from within this body and we must stop it now!"

"Does anyone in this room actually believe that China continues to buy our debt because they believe we are sound fiscally? Does anyone actually believe that our treasury secretary has been going to China to lecture them on floating their currency in order to make our products more compet.i.tive?"

"I'll tell you what I believe he's been doing. He hasn't been telling the Chinese a d.a.m.n thing. They've been telling him, telling him what they expect us to do if we want them to continue to fund this administration's unprecedented expansion of the federal government."

"They expect us to cede to them the entire South China Sea! All one million, four hundred thousand square miles of it - one of the most oil and gas rich areas on the planet. They expect us to allow them to control waters that are twelve hundred miles from their coast and adjacent to the coastlines of at least six other nations."

"Several days ago, in the middle of the night, a modern Chinese Navy frigate challenged a Philippine naval craft that was older than many of you. At the same time, a lurking Chinese submarine sank the Philippine ship with all hands aboard, this only seventy miles off the sh.o.r.es of the Philippines and more than seven hundred miles from China."

"China would like the world to believe that their frigate only fired warning shots across the Filipino's bow, which is true. They did not expect the world to learn that their submarine sank the Filipino ship. This administration was not planning on telling you that. I just did."

"Ladies and gentlemen, it is time we pick ourselves up and learn to live within our means. It is time to tell this administration that we want a government that we control, not a government that controls us. And it's time we tell the Chinese that we don't want anymore of their d.a.m.n money!"

By the time Senator Baines had finished his speech, the veins in the Senate Majority Leader's neck were swelling. His face had gone from its normal pallid pink to half-shades shy of purple. He knew that every reporter in the capitol was at this moment rushing to file a story that would lead the nightly news broadcasts from Shreveport to Singapore.

There would be no sweeping this one under the rug. The wily old Senate Majority Leader had weathered his share of storms, but this typhoon would sp.a.w.n tsunamis worldwide. In recent months Senator Baines had on several occasions shone a light on China, exposing back door deals and sell outs which had severely disadvantaged the United States, thereby upping the level of anti-China sentiment dramatically. Now the questions that would inevitably be raised by events in the South China Sea could threaten the presidency itself.

Rausch's cell phone was buzzing angrily before he was even out of the chamber. Fishing it out of his pocket he flipped it open. The display flashed what he already suspected: The White House.

15.

CBC Evening News "We have breaking news to share at this hour," the familiar voice of Gayle Mansfield announced. Normally, her network had no problem ignoring a story that reflected poorly on the president or the administration. In fact, there were many who had simply stopped looking to CBC for 'news.' But the vestiges of stature once shared by the big three broadcast networks still attracted the sublimely naive and gullible to whom critical thinking is a foreign concept. Ignoring another important story had left considerable egg on the network's face when they were belatedly forced to report on events that had been widely discussed elsewhere. So this time, they decided not to further trash their own ratings.

"Republican Senator Virgil Baines, in a speech less than one hour ago, claimed that the Philippine warship lost in the South China Sea was in fact sunk by a Chinese submarine. China has maintained that their frigate only fired warning shots across her bow as part of a campaign to a.s.sert sovereignty over an area of more than 1.4 million square miles."

"China has also previously insisted that the Philippine vessel was in Chinese waters, in spite of the fact that the Filipino ship was sunk approximately seventy miles west Palawan, the largest island in the southern-western Philippines, and more than seven hundred miles from China."

"Response in the Philippine capitol of Manila has been swift and violent. Rock-throwing mobs surrounded the Chinese emba.s.sy and only quick action by the military prevented further violence. The Philippine government has requested an emergency session of the UN Security Council."

"Calls to the White House and the Chinese emba.s.sy have not been returned. We will continue to bring you breaking news on this story as we receive it."

The president stabbed the remote with his thumb and tossed it on the coffee table in the oval office. "d.a.m.n!" he uttered. His chief of staff and press secretary sat stone-faced. The door flew open and the first lady burst in, slamming the door in the face of the Secret Service agent trailing her.

"That son of a b.i.t.c.h! Who the h.e.l.l does he think he is?"

The timid and unctuous press secretary cast his eyes downward, hoping to avoid the attention of a first lady who had on more than a few occasions addressed him as a princ.i.p.al might speak to a p.u.b.escent seventh grader. In truth, he was terrified of her and he had never seen her this ugly before.

"We've got to come up with a response, and quickly," she said. Looking over at the cowering press secretary she ordered: "Out!" Less than six seconds later the door had closed behind him.

"What's Stuart doing?" the first lady demanded.

"He's sewing a Boston necktie," the president responded, referring to an old Boston machine trick, something that could be hung around the neck of a political opponent.

"What kind of necktie?" she continued.

"Let's just say it involves a hidden video camera," replied the president.

"What are you planning to tell the press?"

In truth the president hadn't come up with the answer to that question. Obviously there'd been a major leak, but with the USS Hawaii still in the Pacific, that left only the Department of Defense and a few members of the cabinet and national security team. The president thought he had a pretty good idea, but he was not yet certain and a cabinet shake up in the midst of a crisis would only make him appear more inept, not to mention dishonest.

"If you'd get out of my face for a minute," he shot back at her, "I might be able to come up with an answer." His chief of staff sat wishing he'd been expelled along with the press secretary. As was her custom, the first lady retreated not an inch, and he was getting weary of being forced to listen to her frequent tirades.

"It was that b.a.s.t.a.r.d, Benedict," she ranted, "he's always wanted a show down with China. I told you he was a bad idea."

"Would you rather have seen him nominated for president?" the president asked. There was no reply.

"It seems pretty clear," the Chief of Staff said, finally summoning the courage to speak, "if it's confirmed that we knew about the sub, the Republicans will trumpet it all over Washington and the right-wing media will crucify us for being too cowardly to stand up to the Chinese. If we climb on the anti-China bandwagon we can kiss any future investments goodbye end of expansion, end of administration."

"Unless we want to just sit around slitting our wrists," he continued, "there's only one decision that can be made: deny everything. We deny it. China denies it. Larimer denies it. There's not a d.a.m.n shred of proof out there that we don't control. That leaves Baines hanging in the wind with a preposterous, unfounded rumor. And once we've tied our little necktie around his neck, his credibility will crumble and he'll look like just another lecherous loose cannon."

The first lady looked at the president as if to say: 'You got any better ideas?'

"I'm starting to see a certain beauty in all this," said the president. "We destroy Baines' credibility and the Chinese owe us for a change. With us holding their dirty little secret, they have no choice but to continue buying our Treasuries. Tell numb nuts, our beloved press secretary, what he's going to need to say in his briefing."

"Don't you think you should to address this personally?" said the first lady.

"No, I do not!" replied the president, tiring of her interference. "My involvement would just add credence in the minds of some. It's got to look like this whole thing is so preposterous that the president wouldn't stoop to even speak about it."

16.

Emba.s.sy of the People's Republic of China Washington, DC Call volume since the sinking of the Philippine warship had been higher than Amba.s.sador Li could remember. The switchboard was overwhelmed and, as was the emba.s.sy's policy, it was simply shut down and a recording activated. Those whom the emba.s.sy felt important enough had alternate numbers to use.

The Philippine government was pressing the UN for an emergency meeting of the Security Council. Beijing not only repeated its official position that only warning shots were fired, but then it doubled down: 'China, having been the victim of repeated warlike acts in the South China Sea, over which it enjoys indisputable sovereignty, reserves the right to sink any foreign vessel entering Chinese waters without its permission,' stated the official announcement from the Foreign Ministry.

It was a stunning announcement, equivalent to Iran threatening to close the Strait of Hormuz but with far more power backing it up. While Iran was well aware that it would ultimately lose any confrontation with the United States Navy, China evidently now felt itself in a position to back up those words.

To those who had been following the rise of Chinese military power, this was hardly a surprise; rather it was an inflection point in a plan that China had been implementing for many years. Some had felt that it would be several years before China would feel confident enough to make such a bold move, but experienced China hands understood that at some point it would become inevitable. Few remembered the prescient words of Deng Xiaoping, the man largely responsible for China's rise as an economic powerhouse: "Hide your strength, bide your time."

Amba.s.sador Li a.s.sumed that his government was not sharing all the details of the incident with him; it seldom did. But he was well aware that US-China relations had just entered a dangerous new phase. What had been notably absent in the Chinese declaration was any pretense of diplomatic language. It was a clear threat, a line which China now dared the United States to cross.

It was approximately 6:00 pm when there was a knock on the door of the amba.s.sador's office. As his aide entered, the amba.s.sador noticed the DVD in his hand.

"Yes, what is it?" he said crisply.

"Sorry to bother you, Mr. Amba.s.sador, but I believe you will want to watch this," replied the aide.

"The familiar voice and visage of the CBC News anchor once again greeted the amba.s.sador. He had watched her broadcasts many times, some with amus.e.m.e.nt, occasionally with concern, but this time he had the feeling that there would be nothing amusing in her words. He was not proven wrong. By the time her report had concluded, the amba.s.sador's normally stony countenance had drained like melting mascara from his face. His aide thought he detected a slight trembling in his hands.

It would not be necessary to transmit the file contained on the DVD to Beijing because they too made daily recordings of all major news broadcasts. Based on what he had seen, the amba.s.sador a.s.sumed his private phone would be ringing in a matter of seconds. He was not disappointed. After the usual procedures to ensure that the call was secure, he heard the familiar voice of the most senior aide to the Chinese president.

"Good evening, Mr. Amba.s.sador. I a.s.sume that you have already been informed of this evening's American news broadcasts."

"I have," replied the amba.s.sador.

"Then you know," continued the aide, "that it casts us in a rather bad light. Furthermore, it forces us to take additional measures, both here and in America." The aide obviously was not going to specify what those measures were. "The President," he continued, "has instructed me to advise you that a certain personnel will be in the air in approximately one hour. You, yourself, will attend to formalities at the airport."

"I will see to it personally," replied the amba.s.sador.

The secure link clicked off and the amba.s.sador was again alone with his aide, who noted that the amba.s.sador's face was now a pale shade of gray. Amba.s.sador Li was a career diplomat, but he was also something of a historian, and he knew well the risks involved in China's gambit. China was now employing its considerable leverage in a way it had never dared before. It was also backing the young American president into a corner.

17.

About an hour after robo-doc visited her, the food came, that is, if you could call it food. A plastic tray, a plastic bowl of rice, some veggies and meat she couldn't identify. And chopsticks. Oh G.o.d, Not chopsticks, she thought. What had been kind of romantic on the junk, now seemed like a cruel joke. She left the meat, not wanting to know what it was, and ate the rice and veggies with her fingers.

A book had been delivered with her food. Uncle Tom's Cabin was printed on its binding. She threw it at the wall. The sons of b.i.t.c.hes kidnap me, throw me in a stinking cell and then try to feed me propaganda! The rest of the day was boring and lonely. She thought about Ray and about home, wondering if their folks had realized they were missing yet.

But at least she knew it was day because when they opened the door, she could see narrow, horizontal windows along the top of the other side of the hall. She marveled at how she had come to cherish such seemingly insignificant bits of information, but it was important to her because it provided a measure of time. Here one grasped at any tiny piece of reality, any shred of humanity.

The next morning they brought her fruit, fruit she could recognize. She didn't want to give them the pleasure of seeing her enjoy it, but the minute they closed the door, she devoured it hungrily. An hour later, the lock turned again. The same man came in and looked at her, this time his gaze lingering. His eyes made a quick scan of the room, and then he ushered in the cleaning lady and took his perch across the hall.

The woman started her ritual. Holly saw that there was a certain dignity in this woman that she hadn't noticed before. Her stooped and tired body sheltered a strong spirit, a spirit that would not be quenched by hardship or oppression. The woman sensed Holly staring at her and she paused and turned. She seemed to want to say something, something that neither language nor circ.u.mstance would allow her to voice. Then she smiled, regarding Holly for what seemed like a long time.

Five minutes later, the woman had pushed her bucket and mop out the door and was gone.

On the third day, the suitcase appeared. She had given up hope of ever seeing it again. Everything was there, the makeup kit, the clothes . . . she paused to examine them. The filthy clothes she had changed out of and balled up were there too, but someone had laundered them, she was sure of it. And there was another surprise her make up mirror. She started to look at herself, but paused, afraid to see what she had become. Finally she couldn't resist and held it up. A gaunt face stared back at her, struggling to hold back tears. No more tears, no more tears, she told herself for the hundredth time. She knew she needed to be strong for with the suitcase came thoughts she had tried to banish, thoughts of her uncertain future.

Once again, after she had eaten her morning fruit, the man and the cleaning lady returned. The cleaning lady seemed nervous now. But once again, when the man seated outside could not see her, she turned to Holly and smiled. This time there were unspoken words in the smile, something she wanted Holly to understand. She seemed to be looking at the sink. Then the man outside grunted, which brought her upright, a sudden flash of fear in her eyes. In an instant she'd a.s.sumed again the tired, frail visage that wandered the halls with her mop and pail. But now Holly sensed that it was a persona that she projected and that there was far more inside that she was hiding.

A little while later Holly went to the sink to wash. She had developed a routine. During the periods when no one usually came, she would soak a washcloth and then go into the corner where she couldn't been seen and wash herself. She couldn't always tell when someone was outside and she had no intention of allowing them to see her unclothed.

She reached for the faucet handle and noticed something in the drain. It had almost dropped through the small holes. It was a narrow, tightly rolled piece of paper. She pulled it out gently and hid it under the washcloth. Then she moved to the corner like she was going to wash. Carefully unrolling it, she saw the words: "I am friend. You have family? I try talk to." Holly's heart leaped in her chest. The message was crude, but it was clear.

Then she heard the lock in the door turn. Holly quickly folded the washcloth over the paper and set it on the stack of towels. Robo-doc walked in, as usual without knocking. He looked over at her standing there near the sink. She was sure he would hear her racing heart with his stethoscope. He was looking at her strangely, sensing her fear as she struggled not to panic.

"I was about to bathe, you startled me," she said defensively. To her enormous relief, he seemed to buy her story and again motioned her to turn around. When he was done, he asked her how she was feeling.

"Oh, I feel just great," she said. "I'm in a prison cell, I don't know what happened to my husband and I never know when some pervert's going to burst in on me and catch me naked! Does that answer your question?" she glared at him. So much for acting timid.

It was like she had just said "fine, thank you." No expression, no anger. Then he pointed one of those things with a light that a doctor uses into her eyes. It was as if he was examining the knots in a two-by-four. She wanted him to leave like she hadn't ever wanted anything in her life, but he seemed to want to examine her more closely this time, like he enjoyed torturing her with his despised presence. Finally robo-doc stood back and started at her for several seconds before packing up and leaving.

She listened for awhile for any sound outside the door. She knew they could easily sneak up on her in their knock-off Reeboks. But she had a reason to be in the corner now and she picked up the washcloth, throwing a towel over her shoulder.

Carefully unwrapping the paper, she looked again in disbelief. The words were still there; she hadn't been dreaming. Then she rolled it up and put it in her bra. There was a song in her heart, but the accompaniment was in a minor key, menacing. Her mind struggled to understand what was happening. She sensed that the cleaning lady was not a plant, something about the way her spirit shined through that smile. And her fear was obviously real, you can't fake that. That meant that the little Chinese cleaning lady could be risking her life to help. But why?

18.

"That cruise outfit in Hong Kong didn't sound like it was trying very hard to be helpful," said Sally. "The guy sounded friendly at first, but when I mentioned Mr. & Mrs. Walker, he sounded evasive. I managed to pry out of him that they were on the cruise, were dropped off at the dock afterward and headed back to their hotel. When I tried to ask him if there were any suspicious people at the dock or anything unusual about the cruise, he clammed up."