Invasion: Alaska (16 page)

Anna felt cold inside, never doubting Alfredo for a moment. He was good at what he did. One of the reasons she didn’t doubt was that the election was near. Sometimes presidents did strange things to win an election. She needed to study Alfredo’s data. It was hot, and she had to make sure no one caught her reading it. She opened her purse to hunt for her plastic. It was time to leave. Then she noticed Alfredo, the fear in his eyes.

Anna reached across the table and touched one of his hands. The skin was cold, and it felt clammy.

“I’m worried,” Alfredo whispered.

She patted his hand. “Don’t be. I’m going to figure this out, but it might be wise if we don’t see each other for a while.”

“I understand. I don’t want to end up in that lonely base in Nevada. And thank you, Anna. I knew you were the person I should tell.”

Anna hardly heard. She wanted to get to work and study the data.

ANCHORAGE, ALASKA

Stan found Bill in his garage, working on the family car. It was the only vehicle the pastor owned. Few people had more than one car or truck these days. Like most of the homes on the street, it was over thirty years old and showed it in many subtle ways. Paint and repairs could only hide so much. Anchorage had a rundown feeling, with too many vacant lots and old, deserted buildings.

“You should take that to my friend’s shop,” Stan said, walking into the garage.

Bill was hunkered under the hood. “I’d like to,” he said, “but I can’t afford it right now.”

Leaning on the fender, Stan looked at the engine. There was rust in places, and the parts looked worn. “It wasn’t like this when we were kids,” he said.

Bill wore greasy overalls, with a wrench in his hand as he unscrewed a bolt.

“Did you hear about my dad?” Stan asked.

Bill looked up, searching Stan’s face. “Oh-oh, what happened?”

Stan shook his head. He didn’t have enough extra cash for bail. His dad—

“Does this have anything to do with Sergeant Jackson?” Bill asked.

Stan blew out his breath and began to tell Bill what had happened the other day.

WASHINGTON, D.C.

Anna had a high capacity for work, for compiling data, absorbing the data and reaching conclusions. Her book
Socialist-Nationalist China
had made it onto the bestseller lists for just those reasons.

She had spent a long day in the West Wing after studying Alfredo’s memory chip. Shop files on China, secret memos and several key blog reports had each given her more information. That night at home, she’d studied and correlated various details. She was like a spider spinning a web, trying to capture the reason for the Presidential order to intern the S&R Team.

The next day in the West Wing, she turned on her computer and continued her line of inquiry. After sifting through reports, downloading more, reading and thinking, she tried to access a critical Shop file. The data was blocked. She used her override code, and was surprised to find that blocked, too.

She tapped her fingers on the computer. Taking a breath, she tried a different code, one she’d seen on the Third Assistant’s desk several months ago. It had been a momentary glance seen upside down. The Third Assistant had swept the paper into his top drawer, but Anna had a nearly perfect photographic memory.

She typed in the code and waited. Her screen flashed, and she was afraid the entire system had crashed. Then she was in the Shop file. Soon she was studying top-secret satellite info on Ambarchik Base, East Siberia. What she found frightened her.

She made a call ninety minutes later. “Dr. Blanco, please.”

“Can I ask whose calling?” asked the woman on the other end.

“Tell him it’s Anna. Tell him the time has come.”

“Excuse me?”

“Several years ago he promised I could ask his counsel when I found something….”

Anna hesitated to say more. She’d followed Dr. Blanco to D.C. and onto the National Security Advisor’s staff. After Dr. Blanco’s forced retirement and on his recommendation, his post had been offered to her. She’d been reluctant at first. That’s when Dr. Blanco had told her she could come to him for advice—but only if it was something too hard for her to cope with alone.

“Could you please tell him what I just said?” Anna asked.

“He’s taking his nap,” the nurse said.

“Please?”

“It sounds important.”

Anna wanted to say, ‘Does war with China sound important?’ Instead, she said, “I really need his advice.”

“Just a minute,” the nurse said.

Anna stared at her computer screen, at the satellite image of Ambarchik Base. This was more than she’d bargained for. She needed to talk to someone. Dr. Blanco was in his eighties now, going blind and in an old folk’s home, one of the best in the country.

“Yes,” the nurse said, coming back on line. “Dr. Blanco would be delighted to speak with you. When can you make it?”

“Give me two hours.”

“He looks forward to it,” the nurse said.

***

Two hours later, Anna sat across from Dr. Blanco. Long ago, his parents had emigrated from Mexico, working in agriculture their entire lives, pushing him to study hard. He had. Old Dr. Blanco now sat forward on a creaking straw chair, with a cane between his knees. He wore a white hat and tie. They were in a side room, with a huge-screen TV showing angelfish swimming in clear water. On a nearby table were two glasses of iced tea.

They spoke of pleasantries for a time. Finally, Dr. Blanco tightened his veined hands on the knob of his cane.

“You look worried, my dear,” Dr. Blanco said. “Please, what is it you would like to tell me?”

“Have you seen the news on the destroyed oilrig?”

“A terrible tragedy,” he said.

Anna nodded, having already decided to edit her story in the interests of protecting her sources, primarily Alfredo Diaz.

“You know I have access to highly confidential information?” she asked.

“My dear, I’m old, not senile. I remember the job.”

Anna nodded. “I happened to run the radio signals from the oilrig on the evening of its destruction.”

Dr. Blanco raised his eyebrows, but made no comment on how she’d gotten something like that.

“Patrol Boat One radioed that they’d picked up a swimmer, an Asian swimmer.”

“I don’t recall seeing that in the news,” Dr. Blanco said.

“It wasn’t. What’s interesting is that the swimmer must have been part of the team that attached the CHKR-57 to the platform. It would be good to know what sort of Asian, but I’m sure the Blacksand men in the patrol boat at night couldn’t tell. CHKR-57 is a Chinese explosive.”

“Does that mean the Asian swimmer was Chinese?” Dr. Blanco asked.

“The search and rescue team found a Chinese body with a TOZ-2 underwater pistol. Those pistols are issued to White Tiger Commandos.”

“None of that was in the news.”

Anna told Dr. Blanco about the Presidential order to intern the S&R Team in Nevada.

The old professor frowned. He finally asked, “Does it make sense for the Chinese to blow up the oil platform?”

“The destruction occurred just before the Secretary of State was getting set to meet with Deng Fong,” Anna said. “It is highly unlikely that Deng would have allowed himself to be used in such a manner. We believe that Deng is being groomed by the Chairman to take his place. It seems even unlikelier that the Chairman would do such a thing to his man, as it would entail a massive loss of face.”

“So it makes no sense for the Chinese to destroy the oil platform,” Dr. Blanco said.

“Yet the search and rescue team found a Chinese swimmer carrying a White Tiger Commando weapon.”

“When did they find the body?”

“The day before yesterday, I believe,” Anna said.

“Do you think our military is trying to hide the information?”

“Sir, I don’t think they would have the authority to hide it. Do you?”

“Do you truly suspect the President or has one of his people ordered the information suppressed?”

“…I suspect both possibilities,” Anna said.

Dr. Blanco made a depreciative sound. “Do you hear yourself? A White Tiger Commando is supposedly found in the water. That would mean the Chinese blew up the oilrig. If the President is hiding the information…. Hmmm. It would seem he believed the Chinese did it and he doesn’t want the public to know.”

“That scenario has occurred to me.”

“Why would the Chinese do such a thing? And why would President Clark hide the information?”

“That’s what I kept asking myself,” Anna said. “Every indicator shows that Deng Fong definitely wished for a trade agreement. He wouldn’t have come in secret to Sydney unless he was serious. I glimpsed the brief that included his offer. They were willing to send large oil shipments for our grain at well below market prices.”

“Hmmm, the Chinese offered to trade at below market prices? They’re among the sharpest traders in the world and have a huge percentage of the oil market. Would they have destroyed the well to make us more desperate and to force us to trade with them at better terms?”

“That very reasoning—that America desperately needed the oil—blocked the Secretary of State from going forward with the deal,” Anna said. “It would show everyone that blowing up our oil wells could change American policy. Terrorists would target them even more often then. You should know, too, that the President can’t look like an appeaser this election year. He’s toughening his international image.”

“Could elements in the Chinese military have taken it upon themselves to independently sponsor the attack?” Dr. Blanco asked.

“You and I both know that’s highly unlikely in most governments and even less so in the Chinese. The Chairman may be ailing, but he still runs the country as his personal fiefdom.”

Dr. Blanco appeared perplexed. “Why are you telling me all this? What makes you so suspicious?”

“The Presidential election is near.”

Dr. Blanco began shaking his head. “No, no, you can’t keep these sorts of thing secret, certainly not for very long. Already, the truth is leaking out because of what you’ve learned, if this is the truth. No, this makes no sense. First, why would the Chinese secretly destroy an American offshore well? Would they be that confident the United States would cave into threats? Now I’ve read your book and I know the Chairman has practiced expansionist military moves before, but only in areas formerly under Chinese control. You went to great lengths to point that out in your book.”

“There’s more,” Anna said. “I…ah…became curious this morning and searched for information concerning China. Do you know they’ve moved ice-mobile formations to the edge of northern Siberia?”

“Excuse me?”

“The Chinese have formed certain of their military units into ice-mobile—”

“Oh, yes, I know about those,” Dr. Blanco said. “The disputes in Antarctica are building concerning the mineral rights there. Several nations have begun to deploy military personnel onto the seventh continent. Russia, China and Argentina have also developed experimental winter-vehicles and several ice-mobile formations.”

“Sir,” said Anna, “let me show you something.” She took out the computer-scroll in her purse and used the touch screen to bring up a tiny map of Eastern Siberia. She pointed out Ambarchik Base.

“These are satellite images,” she said, “Some of our very best.”

“What about verbal communication?”

Anna shook her head. “You know that Chinese electronics are much better than ours.”

“I won’t argue that. What do you think is going on?”

“First answer me this,” Anna said. “Why move ice-mobile units to the most northern edge of Siberia?”

“You think they’re doing it to threaten us?”

“Yes I do, by threatening a cross-polar attack.”

Dr. Blanco frowned. “You mean across the Arctic ice?”

“Exactly.”

“But that’s ludicrous. How many men could they send across, five hundred, eight hundred? It would be a logistical nightmare and to what end?”

“The end would be in capturing the north slope of Alaska where all our oil lies,” Anna said, “to say nothing about the oilrigs in the Arctic Ocean.”

“With eight hundred soldiers?” Dr. Blanco asked. “It would make more sense to airdrop Commando teams or send submarines to smash up through the ice in the Beaufort Sea and disgorge the eight hundred soldiers nearer the targets.”

“What if they could send a division or two across the polar ice?”

“What do you really think? Tell me.”

Anna looked Dr. Blanco in the eye. “I think the Chinese blew up our oil well. What their reasoning was, I don’t know, at least not yet. As preposterous as it seems, however, I do think they’re threatening to grab the north slope of Alaska.”

“And in your opinion the President knows this?”

“President Clark wishes to appear internationally strong, but we both know he isn’t strong. He has shied away from even the slightest use of American power, except for security on the Mexican border. Therefore, I believe he is suppressing the news of the Chinese Commando so the pundits don’t whip up the voters for him to do something against China.”