“The bomb will kill the people in the target area, but not damage the buildings,” said the scientist. Fann knew Ai was exaggerating slightly—buildings very close to the blast would be damaged and possibly destroyed by the neutron bomb his grandfather had had built. Still, unlike a “normal” atomic weapon, the large cylinder before him would cause relatively little damage to the capital.
Should he use it?
His concerns had nothing to do with the deaths the bomb would cause—he cared nothing for the communists, who clearly deserved to die. While undoubtedly many innocent victims would be caught up in their destruction, their deaths were completely justifiable, an honorable part of the necessary equation.
Regrettable, lamentable—but necessary.
Chen’s concern was with what would happen next. The communist military leaders who survived would no doubt wish for revenge.
Would the Americans step in and prevent it?
He was unsure.
And if they did, then what?
An uneasy truce? Things would continue as they had for the past fifty years.
That would be an even greater failure.
Perhaps he should wait, and try and build other bombs, enough to obliterate every last communist.
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Chen Lo Fann thought of his grandfather, whose body he had just come from cremating.
The letter in the old man’s desk—a letter Ai knew of, though he seemed not to have read—directed that the meeting between the two heads of state be stopped at all costs.
What was his duty as Chen Lee’s grandson? Should he use the weapon as Lee clearly wished? Or should he choose his time?
Duty demanded he carry out his grandfather’s wishes. The way was clear.
The endless surging of the universe, as he interpreted the Tao, or “way.”
The way that can be spoken is not the true way.
Life and death were as one, different stages in the never-ending river. His grandfather’s death, his own—these were meaningless. Duty was constant. Duty lasted longer than the poor clay and ashes of a single day.
“Prepare,” he told Professor Ai. “We will strike during the meeting, as my grandfather wished.”
Dreamland
2100
JENNIFER GOT UPfrom the computer station and bent her head straight back. Her vertebrae all seemed to crack at once. She felt a surge of energy, and if it weren’t for the fact that they were close—very, very close—to a breakthrough, she would go for a run. Instead, she stretched and twisted her way across the lab to the coffee counter. A fresh pot had just finished sifting through into the carafe; she poured herself a cup and took a few slow sips.
Dog’s voice had surprised her during the video conference earlier that morning; he seemed to have aged ten years since she’d last seen him.
Maybe that meant she was over him.
Good.
She went back to the computer, which had just finished running a search of an NSA database. The computer had deposited three lines of hexadecimals on her screen; not taking any chances, she recorded them on the blank yellow pad at the station, then entered each one into the second search program she and an assistant had customized earlier in the day. A set of computers across the country at Fort Meade, the NSA headquarters, began rumbling through a vast array of intercepted and logged transmissions, trying to match the scripts she’d just harvested. Six keystrokes later, a Navy computer began doing the same.
The screen flashed. It had found the radio.
Several radios.
“Oh,” said Jennifer aloud to the empty lab. “Now I get it.”
She picked up the phone to call Major Catsman, who was over in the Dreamland Command Center Page 178
getting ready to update the Whiplash Force in Taiwan.
“I know how they do it,” she said when the major came on the line. “Basically they’re using buoys and a commercial satellite. I should be able to narrow down the ship, but I’m going to need some help from the Navy. High-level help. We have to tap into their collection of NOSS intercepts, the Sigint data they collect to track ship movements.”
“Who do I talk to?” asked Catsman.
Hangar 43C, Taichung Air Base, Taiwan
1600
ROLLING TOWARD THEsmall room at the far end of the hangar, Zen realized he hadn’t spoken to his wife, Breanna, in more than two days. While she’d certainly understand, he felt a pang of guilt, and told himself he’d catch up with her as soon as he could.
Dog—just in from Brunei with Penn and the two Flighthawks—was already holding forth on the latest plan. Danny and Stoner had come down from Taipei, along with a driver and Sergeant Liu; the rest of his Whiplash team was due in a few hours, aboard Dreamland’s souped-up MC-17, which was en route with one of the Ospreys tucked inside its cavernous tummy. A contingent of Marines from the Philippines was due to arrive at the airport no later than 2300; they would add a little more muscle to the assault.
Danny and Stoner had worked out a straightforward plan to secure the factory site at Kaohisiung. Penn would launch a laser-guided E-bomb at the start of the assault, wiping out all unshielded electronic devices at the target site. Whiplash would parachute in, secure the building, and hold it. The Marines would come in with the Osprey as well as some small boats, providing backup and extra security. The devices would be evacked out via the Osprey to this airport—the hangar area would be secured by more Marines—and then taken away by the MC-17 to Brunei.
Stoner would ride with the Marines in the Osprey, carrying backup detection gear and his own hot link back to Dream Command, where a team of experts would be providing real-time analysis of the data the assault team gathered. Major Alou and Penn would fly offshore, with two Flighthawks—one piloted by Starship, the other by Kick, providing cover. About the only difficulty Danny could see was persuading the Marines to take what was drawn up as the secondary role in the operation.
While the site was being secured, Zen and Raven would head south to observe the ship Dreamland had just tagged as the possible UAV operator. With the help of signal intelligence the Navy routinely collected as it tracked ships on the ocean, the Dreamland team had matched seemingly innocuous radio transmissions to those Jennifer Gleason had ID’d as belonging to the UAV control mechanism. The transmissions had been traced to the Dragon Prince, a small oil tanker. According to Jennifer’s theory, it operated the UAV with the help of a network of buoys and a satellite, disguising transmissions to appear as routine navigational inquiries or as “junk” reflections from other systems. The latest intelligence, cobbled together from a variety of sources, showed that the ship was due in Kaohisiung harbor tomorrow.
Undoubtedly to get the bomb.
If the robot launched, Zen would destroy it. Raven had been tabbed for the mission because its computers had the UAV frequency data; Dog would take the helm.
The Dragon Prince would be apprehended by two U.S. Navy destroyers in international waters after Page 179
the ground operation was under way. The ships were already en route, though they had not yet been informed of their exact mission or situation.
“Washington is worried about security concerns,” explained Dog.
“That doesn’t make sense,” said Stoner. “The ship captains may not think it’s a high priority. They ought to have the entire situation laid out for them.”
“It’s not my call,” said Dog. Zen realized from the sharpness in Colonel Bastian’s voice that he didn’t agree with the decision, but was prepared to carry it out. “The concern is not only to preserve the element of sur- prise, but to keep the Mainland Chinese from finding out. If they knew there were nuclear devices on the island, they might use that as a pretext to launch an all-out attack.”