The
In Ji’s mind, the Taiwan campaign would be his crowning achievement and the first goal of the PLA Navy once he was installed as president of the People’s Republic. Shaming the Americans into backing down over the Diaoyus would finally convince the rest of the world that the United States was no longer a reliable ally, and the rebellious Taiwanese would either capitulate or suffer the mainland’s wrath in a lightning-swift war of reunification. The Mao Island campaign was the key to China’s rise and dominance in the East. It was as bold as it was necessary, which was why Ji was able to convince a significant number of PLA and PLAN flag officers to support the adventure, including Admiral Deng, commander of the South Sea Fleet. Neither he nor Deng were under any delusions that the Mao task force could withstand a direct confrontation with the U.S. Navy’s vastly more powerful Sixth Fleet — but the Wu-14 virtually guaranteed that such a confrontation would never occur.
Ji believed the greatest threat to the expeditionary force at the moment was President Sun. As a precaution, the admiral had deployed a second battalion of marines to guard Ningbo from a possible PLA attack that Sun might mount to stop the small fleet while it was still at base replenishing for the mission, but no such attack occurred. Ji wondered if Sun’s inaction was a tacit endorsement of his efforts. But Vice Chairman Feng argued that President Sun was more afraid of the blowback he would suffer for an attack on a Chinese naval facility led by China’s greatest and most admired military commander. Feng also assured his allies in and out of uniform that Admiral Ji’s task force was preparing for a mission to secure China’s future and glory, and squashed the ugly rumor that the PLAN was preparing some sort of military junta against Sun and his reformist cronies.
A junior officer approached Ji with a cup of steaming hot tea. The young man’s eyes radiated with hero worship. Ji took the tea with a grateful nod and dismissed him, cherishing the last few moments of solitude he would enjoy before he transferred his combat command to the
The cabinet room on the fourth floor was much larger than the prime minister’s circular private conference room, matching the shape and scope of the enormous blond birchwood table in the center. The walls were a combination of birchwood and diatomaceous earth, and a window afforded a view of yet another tranquil rock garden. For Myers, the intention of the design was to induce a kind of natural serenity, but the mood in the room this morning was just the opposite.
Prime Minister Ito’s entire cabinet was seated around the table in supple white leather chairs, while their assistants and secretaries stood anxiously behind them, clutching file folders, tablets, and smartphones.
Myers sat to Ito’s right, a position of high honor. She wore an earpiece linked to an official government interpreter in an adjoining room. Lane had informed her about the Chinese fleet setting sail and the latest Chinese demands. The crisis was escalating, yet Lane’s calm voice reassured her. For a president on the verge of war, he was amazingly composed. Another advantage of having a commander in chief with combat experience.
Lane asked her to attend Ito’s emergency cabinet meeting. She agreed, of course. Anything to help. They discussed his agenda. Under no circumstances could she allow the Japanese to undertake unilateral action. She concurred, silently wondering how in the world she could possibly prevent them from doing so. Lane wished her luck.
Ito called the meeting to order.
“Today’s session will be recorded for posterity, but the information discussed is top secret. Under no conditions are any of the matters we discuss in this room today to be released to the general public.”
Heads nodded around the table.
“What is she doing here?” Tanaka asked, glowering at Myers.
The translator’s voice echoed with Tanaka’s anger.
