Never, page 45
“None visible,” said Liu.
Kai realized they were contemplating sinking a defenseless ship, and he felt a shiver of guilt. How many people would drown in that cold sea? It had been his idea, but he had only wanted to prevent something worse.
Liu said: “The Jiangnan is armed with antiship cruise missiles, guided by active radar, each with a high-explosive fragmentation warhead.” He turned to the president. “Should I order the crew to prepare to fire?”
Chen looked around the room. Several men nodded.
Kong Zhao said: “Isn’t this a bit hasty?”
Chen answered him: “It’s now more than twenty-four hours since the drone killed our people. Why should we wait?”
Kong shrugged.
“I think we’re all agreed,” Chen said in a somber voice.
No one dissented.
Chen said to Liu: “Prepare to fire.”
Liu spoke into his phone. “Prepare to fire.”
The room fell silent.
After a pause, Liu said: “Ready to fire, Mr. President.”
Chen said: “Fire.”
Liu said into the phone: “Fire.”
Everyone watched the screens.
The missile flew over the prow of the Jiangnan. It was six meters long and it trailed a spurt of thick white smoke. It shot away from the Jiangnan at astonishing speed.
Liu said: “We’re getting video from the missile’s onboard camera.” A moment later a new image appeared. The missile’s speed over the waves was blinding. The Vietnamese ship grew larger every second.
Kai looked back to the view from the Jiangnan again. A second later the missile hit the Vu Trong Phung.
The screens whited out, but only momentarily. When the picture came back Kai saw a huge blaze of white, yellow, and red fire bursting from the middle of the ship. The flames were chased by black and gray smoke and showers of debris. The noise arrived moments later, picked up by the camera’s microphone, a bang, then a roar of burning. The flames died down as the smoke bloomed. It rose high in the air, and so did fragments of the hull and the superstructure, heavy lumps of steel flying like leaves from a tree in a gale.
Much of the ship was still visible above water. The middle was smashed and the drilling tower was slowly sinking, but the prow and stern seemed intact, and Kai thought some of those aboard might have survived—so far. Was there time for them to find life jackets or launch lifeboats before the ship sank?
President Chen said: “Order the Jiangnan to rescue survivors.”
Liu said: “Prepare to lower rescue boats.”
Moments later the Chinese ship picked up speed and began to race through the waves. Liu said: “Its top speed is twenty-seven knots. It will get there in about five minutes.”
The Vu Trong Phung remained miraculously afloat. It was sinking, but slowly. Kai asked himself what he would have done if he had been aboard and survived the blast. He thought the best course would have been to put on a life jacket and then abandon ship, either in a lifeboat or simply by jumping into the sea. The ship would go down sooner or later, and anyone still on board would go down with it.
The Jiangnan curved away, then approached the Vu Trong Phung on a parallel course but at a safe distance. On the surface of the sea the camera showed one lifeboat and several heads of people floating on the waves. Most of them had life jackets on, so it was difficult to know whether they were dead or alive.
A minute later three of the Jiangnan’s boats appeared, going to the rescue.
Kai peered more closely at the heads in the water. All were dark, he saw, except for one, which had long blond hair.
Chapter 25
President Green paced up and down in front of the desk in the Oval Office, seething. “I’m not going to stand for this,” she said. “Corporal Ackerman was one thing; that was terrorism, even if they did have Chinese guns. But this? This is murder. Two Americans are dead and one is in the hospital because the Chinese deliberately sank a ship. I can’t take this lying down.”
“You may have to,” said Chester Jackson, the secretary of state.
“I must protect American lives. If I can’t do that, I’m not fit to be president.”
“No president can protect everybody.”
The news of the sinking of the Vu Trong Phung had just come in. But this was the second crisis of the day. Earlier there had been a Situation Room meeting about the drone that had attacked Port Sudan. Pauline had ordered the State Department to assure the governments of Sudan and China that this was not an American attack. The Chinese refused to believe it. So did the Russians, who traded with Sudan and sold them costly arms; the Kremlin had protested loudly.
Pauline had established that the drone had “gone missing” during an exercise in Chad, but this was too embarrassing to be admitted publicly, so the press office had announced that the army was conducting an investigation.
And now this. Pauline stopped pacing, sat on the edge of the ancient desk, and said: “Tell me what we know.”
Chess said: “The three Americans aboard the Vu Trong Phung were employees of American corporations on loan to Petrovietnam, the government oil company, under a State Department scheme to help third-world countries develop their own natural resources.”
“American generosity,” said Pauline angrily. “And see how we’re rewarded.”
Chess was not as agitated as she was. “No good deed ever goes unpunished,” he said equably. He looked at the sheet of paper in his hand. “Professor Fred Phillips and Dr. Hiran Sharma are presumed drowned—their bodies have not been recovered. The third geologist was rescued: Dr. Joan Lafayette. They say she’s in the hospital for observation.”
“Why the hell did the Chinese do this? The Vietnamese ship was unarmed, wasn’t it?”
“Yes. There’s no immediate reason that we can think of. Of course, the Chinese don’t like the Vietnamese looking for oil in the South China Sea, and they’ve been protesting about it for years. But we don’t know why they decided to take such drastic action now.”
“I’m going to ask President Chen.” She turned to her chief of staff. “Put in a call, please.”
Jacqueline picked up the phone on the desk and said: “The president would like to speak with President Chen of China. Schedule it as soon as possible, please.”
Gus Blake said: “I can guess why they did it.”
Pauline said: “Do tell.”
“It’s retribution.”
“For what?”
“Port Sudan.”
“Oh, shit, I never thought of that.” Pauline tapped her forehead with the heel of her hand, in a gesture that meant How could I be so dumb? She looked at Gus, thinking how often he turned out to be the smartest person in the room.
“It’s possible,” Chess said. “They will say they never intended to kill American geologists, just as we say we never wanted our drone to be used to kill Chinese engineers. We’ll say it’s not the same, and they’ll say what’s sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander. Neutral countries will shrug and say these superpowers are all the goddamn same.”
It was true, but it angered Pauline. “These are people, not debating points. They have families who grieve for them.”
“I know. As they say in the Mafia, whaddaya gonna do?”
Pauline clenched her fists. “I don’t know what I’m going to do.”
At her desktop workstation, there was a tone indicating a video call. Pauline sat behind the desk, looked at the screen, and clicked her mouse. Chen appeared. Although he was as smart as ever, in his usual blue suit, he looked tired. It was midnight there, and he had probably had a long day.
But she was not in a mood to inquire how he was. She said: “Mr. President, the action of the Chinese navy in sinking the Vietnamese ship Vu Trong Phung—”
To her surprise he interrupted her rudely and loudly in English. “Madam President, I protest in the strongest possible terms about criminal activities by Americans in the South China Sea.”
Pauline was astonished. “You’re protesting? You just murdered two Americans!”
“It is against the law for foreign nations to drill for oil in Chinese waters. We do not drill in the Gulf of Mexico without permission; why do you not give us the same respect?”
“It’s not against international law to explore for oil in the South China Sea.”
“It’s against our law.”
“You can’t make up international law to suit yourselves.”
“Why not? It’s what the Western nations did for centuries. When we made opium illegal, the British declared war on us!” Chen smiled maliciously. “Now the boot is on the other foot.”
“That’s ancient history.”
“And you might prefer it to be forgotten, but we Chinese remember.”
Pauline took a deep breath to help her keep her temper. “The Vietnamese activities were not criminal, but even if they had been, that would not have justified sinking the ship and killing those on board.”
“The illegal drill ship refused to surrender. Police action was necessary. Some of the crew were arrested. The ship became damaged and some of those on board regrettably drowned.”
“Bullshit. We have satellite photos. You sank the ship with a cruise missile fired from three miles away.”
“We enforced the law.”
“When you discover people doing something you think is illegal, you don’t kill them, not in a civilized country.”
“What do police officers do when a criminal refuses to surrender in the civilized United States? They shoot him—especially if he’s nonwhite.”
“So next time a Chinese tourist is caught shoplifting tights in Macy’s, you would be perfectly happy for the security guard to shoot her dead.”
“If she’s a thief we don’t want her back in China.”
This was a remarkable conversation to have with a Chinese president, and Pauline paused for a moment. Chinese politicians could be politely aggressive, and Chen seemed to have lost his cool. She resolved to keep hers.
Then she said: “We don’t shoot shoplifters, and neither do you. But we don’t sink unarmed ships even if they violate our rules, and it’s unacceptable for you to do so.”
“This is an internal Chinese matter, and you may not interfere.”
Jacqueline held up a sheet of paper with the words ask about Dr. lafayette.
Pauline said: “Perhaps we should talk about the surviving American, Dr. Joan Lafayette. She must be allowed to come home.”
Chen said: “I regret that will not be possible at this time. Good-bye, Madam President.” To Pauline’s amazement, he hung up. The screen went blank and the phone became silent.
Pauline turned to the others. “I fucked that up royally, didn’t I?” she said.
“Yeah,” said Gus. “You did.”
* * *
Pauline left the Oval Office and went to the Residence to say good-bye to her daughter and husband.
Pippa was leaving on a three-day school trip to Boston, staying two nights at a budget hotel. The pupils would visit the Kennedy museum as part of their history course. The trip included tours of Harvard University and the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. Former pupils of Foggy Bottom Day School who were now college students would show them around. Foggy Bottom parents were very keen on elite universities.
The school had asked for two parents to accompany the group and act as supervisors and marshals, and Gerry had volunteered. He and Pippa would each be accompanied by a Secret Service team, as always. The school was accustomed to bodyguards: several pupils were the children of high-profile parents.
Gerry had one small suitcase. He would wear the same tweed suit for three days, changing only his shirt and underwear. Pippa had packed at least two outfits per day, and needed two suitcases plus an overstuffed carry-on bag. Pauline made no comment on the luggage. She was not surprised. A school trip was an exciting social occasion, and everyone wanted to look cool. Romances would begin and end. The boys would bring a bottle of vodka, which would result in at least one girl’s making a fool of herself. Someone else would try smoking cigarettes and throw up. Pauline just hoped no one would get arrested.
“How many grown-ups are going?” Pauline asked Pippa as she hauled her bags into the Center Hall.
“Four,” said Pippa. “My unfavorite teacher, Mr. Newbegin; his mousy wife, who’s coming as a volunteer parent; Ms. I-know-best Judd; and Daddy.”
Pauline glanced at Gerry, who was busying himself putting a strap around his case. So he was going to spend two nights in a hotel with Ms. Judd, concisely described by Pippa as small and blond with big tits.
Making her voice casual, Pauline said: “What does Ms. Judd’s husband do? Schoolteachers often marry schoolteachers. I bet Mr. Judd is a teacher too.”
Without looking at Pauline, Gerry said: “No idea.”
Pippa said: “I think she’s divorced. Anyway she doesn’t wear a wedding ring.”
Just fancy that, Pauline thought.
Was this why Gerry had changed—because he had fallen for someone else? Or was it the other way around? Had he become disaffected with Pauline and then gotten interested in Amelia Judd? Probably the two things had worked together, his disenchantment with Pauline heightened by a growing attraction to Ms. Judd.
A White House porter took the baggage away. Pauline hugged Pippa and felt a sense of loss. This was the first time Pippa was going on a trip that was not a family vacation. Soon she would want to spend a summer touring Europe by rail with girls of her own age. Then she would go to college and live in a dorm, then she would want to share an apartment off campus for her sophomore year, and then how soon would it be before she moved in with a boy? Her childhood had gone by too fast. Pauline wanted to live through those years again and relish them more the second time.
“Have a great trip, but don’t misbehave,” she said.
“My daddy will be watching me,” Pippa said. “While the others are playing strip poker and snorting cocaine, I’ll have to be drinking warm milk and reading a book by Scott frigging Fitzgerald.”
Pauline could not help laughing. Pippa could be a pain in the neck but she was funny too.
Pauline went to Gerry and tilted her face for a kiss. He brushed his lips against hers as if he was in a hurry. “Good-bye,” he said. “Keep the world safe while we’re gone.”
They left, and Pauline retreated to her bedroom for a few minutes of quiet. Sitting at her dressing table, she asked herself whether she really thought Gerry was having an affair. Dull old Gerry? If so she would soon know. Illicit lovers usually thought they were being rigorously discreet, but an observant woman could always read the signs.
Pauline had never met Ms. Judd but had spoken to her on the phone and found her intelligent and thoughtful. It was hard to believe she would go to bed with someone else’s husband. But women did, of course, all the time, millions of them, every day.
There was a tap at the door and she heard the voice of Cyrus, the butler, a longtime member of the White House domestic staff. “Madam President, the national security advisor and the secretary of state are here for lunch.”
“I’ll be right there.”
Her two most important advisors had spent the last hour or two trying to find out more about Chinese intentions, and the three of them had agreed to meet at lunch to decide what to do next. Pauline got up from her dressing table and walked along the Center Hall to the Dining Room.
She sat down to a plate of seafood in a cream sauce with rice. “What have we learned?” she said.
Chess said: “The Chinese won’t speak to the Vietnamese. I’ve had the Vietnamese foreign minister almost in tears telling me that Wu Bai won’t take his calls. The British have proposed a UN Security Council resolution condemning the sinking of the Vu Trong Phung, and the Chinese are furious that there’s no motion against the drone attack.”
Pauline nodded and looked at Gus.
He said: “The CIA station in Beijing has a more or less amiable relationship with Chang Kai, the head of the Guoanbu, the Chinese intelligence service.”
“I’ve heard that name before.”
“Chang has let us know that Joan Lafayette is in good shape and has no real need of hospital treatment. She has been questioned about what she was doing in the South China Sea, she has answered frankly, and, off the record, they don’t think she’s any kind of spy. She clearly knows everything there is to know about prospecting for oil and very little about international politics.”
“Pretty much what we would have guessed.”
“Yes. All this is unofficial, of course. The Chinese government may well say the opposite in public.”
Chess put in: “They’re taking an aggressive line. The Foreign Ministry refuses to discuss Dr. Lafayette’s return home or anything else to do with her unless we admit that the Vu Trong Phung was engaged in illegal activity.”
“Well, we can’t do that, even to rescue an American,” Pauline said flatly. “We would be stating that the South China Sea is not international waters. That would violate every maritime agreement and undermine our allies.”
“Precisely. But the Chinese won’t discuss Dr. Lafayette until we do.”
Pauline put down her fork. “They’ve got us up against the fucking wall, haven’t they?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Options?”
Chess said: “We could increase our presence in the South China Sea. We already carry out FONOPs, Freedom of Navigation Operations, sailing battleships through the waters and overflying. We could simply double our FONOPs.”
Pauline said: “The diplomatic equivalent of a gorilla beating its chest and tearing up the vegetation.”
