Drone Command

“China enjoys the same right as other nations to protect its borders, territories, and economic zones. We’re confident that the international community will eventually see things our way.”

Myers turned and faced Pang. A smug grin was plastered on his face.

“Because of the heightened state of tension between our two nations, I’m willing to keep this matter as private as possible, Mr. Pang. But I demand a full, official apology from your government for that reckless, senseless attack on our airplane.”

“Forgive me, Madame President, but it’s impossible to apologize for an act that wasn’t committed. We made no attack on your person, and had we known you were on board the aircraft, we would have taken extra precaution. But your aircraft was specifically warned to remain on its scheduled flight plan and that leaving the designated flight corridor could result in a shoot down.” The ambassador’s grin widened. “But as you witnessed, the Chinese people showed great restraint, and our pilot didn’t fire any weapons.”

“Good thing I wasn’t flying over Tiananmen Square.”

Pang’s grin fled.

“My government hoped that my appearance here at your hotel room would sufficiently convey our deepest concern for your well-being.”

“Your government is going to get us into a shooting war.”

“The Chinese people have no wish for war.”

“Then why are you trying to steal the oil reserves in the East China Sea?”

“One cannot steal from one’s self.”

“Tell me, Pang, who’s the idiot behind this Mao Island business? I know President Sun. He’s far too smart to do something this radically stupid.”

The ambassador’s jaw clenched. He opened his mouth to speak but decided against it.

Now it was Myers’s turn to grin. “Did I hit a nerve?”

“I believe President Sun is in complete agreement with the current policy.”

“How uninformed do you think I am? He’s not the one behind all of this. It’s Feng, isn’t it?”

The ambassador frowned briefly, surprised at her insider knowledge.

“Vice Chairman Feng speaks for many in our government. The East China Sea belongs to China. That is a historical fact and a current reality.”

“My advice to you is to tell President Sun to call off his dog Feng before the Sixth Fleet steams into Shanghai harbor with all guns blazing.”

“Highly unlikely, Madame President.”

Myers laughed. “Why? Because of the Wu-14? It’s a joke, and we both know it.”

“I am not a military man, but I have been assured of its capabilities.”

“My government knows for a fact that it’s a fraud. We can’t even produce one. And since all of your country’s military advancements only come from stealing ours, I’m completely confident the Wu-14 is nothing more than a two-bit bottle rocket.”

“Spoken like the former president of a failing superpower.”

“You’re an arrogant man representing an arrogant country. Someone needs to teach you both some manners.”

Pang’s pallid face flushed crimson. Myers had scored a direct hit.

“Perhaps I have upset the president. Please forgive my intrusion today. I will take my leave.”

“If I don’t get an apology from Feng personally within twenty-four hours, I’m contacting President Lane.”

“I will convey your message.” Pang turned to leave. He fumbled with the door, unnerved by Pearce’s glowering eyes. He finally got it open and slammed it shut after him, fuming.

Pearce approached Myers. “A little rough on him, weren’t you?”

“That’s the point. It’s not enough to find a Buick. You’ve got to crash it into your man, remember?”

TWENTY-EIGHT

PRESIDENT SUN’S OFFICE

ZHONGNANHAI

BEIJING, CHINA

13 MAY 2017

The headquarters of the Chinese Communist Party and the vast bureaucracy known as the State Council were located behind the ancient red walls of Zhongnanhai, the ornate imperial leisure garden of China’s resplendent emperors.

Vice Chairman Feng and Admiral Ji stood uncomfortably in President Sun’s executive office. The squat, balding technocrat sat glumly behind his massive mahogany desk, his small hands folded quietly in front of him. Four red phones, a single black phone, a row of sharpened pencils, an empty yellow writing tablet, an iPad, and a recent family photo of Sun, his wife, and his daughter were the only items on the fifteen-foot-wide expanse.

Behind Sun, a wall-length bookcase of identical construction as the desk, each shelf neatly stacked with legal, political, and chemical engineering texts, reflecting Sun’s accomplished professional background. Above the bookshelves, a reproduction of the ten-inch-tall, seventeen-foot-long scroll painting Along the River During the Qingming Festival, the most famous work in all of Chinese history. The thousand-year-old painting by the master Zhang Zeduan depicted the prosperous economic life of the Song Dynasty. Sun’s administration referenced the painting as often as possible. It was a clear message conveying the peace and prosperity of an era before both Western colonialism and the brutality of Maoist Communism, the perfect metaphor for Sun’s reform programs.