Grace walked to one of the two large black leather sofas, next to where Uhlrich stood, and sat down.
“What’s on your mind?” asked Grace.
Uhlrich was quiet. He tossed the dart toward the board, where it stuck into the cork a few inches from the center.
“You want a drink?” Uhlrich asked.
“Certainly.” Grace started to get up.
“You sit,” said Uhlrich. “I’ll get it.”
Uhlrich went to the sideboard and pulled out a glass, then poured it a quarter full with bourbon. He walked to the sofas and sat down across from Grace.
“Baum?” asked Grace, referring to Richard Baum, the chairman of the Federal Reserve.
“Yes.”
“How much do we need to borrow?”
“Five hundred billion.”
“Mamma mia,” said Grace. “That would be the largest bond sale ever, if memory serves.”
Uhlrich took a sip from his glass, then brushed his hand back through his mop of curly blond hair.
“The strategy of trying to force Congress to cut spending has backfired,” said Uhlrich. “Frankly, Richard is right about one thing. As long as Congress refuses to cut spending, we need to borrow more money. He doesn’t spend the money. Congress is playing chicken with the Fed and with the president. They know Dellenbaugh won’t raise taxes. So what they’re going to do is keep spending and force us to borrow more money from China.”
“China will buy whatever bonds we put into the market.”
“That’s what I’m worried about,” said Uhlrich. “We owe the People’s Bank of China nearly two trillion dollars. Trillion with a T. That’s a lot of money. Soon we’ll be at two five, then three. It’s not sustainable. What happens when we have to choose between whether your grandma gets her heart medication or China gets their interest payment? What happens when we have to choose between some Marine unit getting a better kind of flak jacket or paying off Beijing? And what happens when we do choose your grandma? What do the Chinese do? Scares me to even think about it.”
“We restructure. What can they do? Invade?”
“You’re missing my point,” said Uhlrich. “The Chinese already invaded. They’re here; instead of weapons, they fired money. If they stop buying our bonds, the U.S. economy will collapse.”
“So we start paying it back.”
Uhlrich smiled.
“I’m going back to Kentucky,” he said. “When Rob Allaire asked me to be treasury secretary, I thought it would be an honor, and it has been. But I’m not big enough for this job. We need someone sitting in this room who can figure this all out.”
“You’re a great treasury secretary.”
“No, I’m not. It’s gotten beyond me, Bobby.”
Grace stood up. He leaned forward and picked up Uhlrich’s glass.
“Let’s have another one,” said Grace, “and talk about that fishing trip we’re going on next summer. You’re not leaving, Wood. I have too much dirt on you.”
Uhlrich leaned back, laughing heartily.
“I’m going to be remembered as the treasury secretary who sold America to the Chinese.”
“No you’re not,” said Grace, standing at the sideboard and pouring two more bourbons. “You’re going to be remembered as the guy who fucked up the door playing darts.”
22
MINISTRY OF STATE SECURITY
INTELLIGENCE BUREAU
SHANGHAI
In Shanghai, it was dinnertime. But none of the approximately one thousand employees within the ministry’s vast intelligence-gathering unit appeared to be hungry.
The desks were lined up in long rows; fifty rows in all, twenty desks per row, most of the desks occupied. The floor was an almost unfathomable collage of visual media. There were television screens one after another for as far as the eye could see, patient onlookers sitting and watching every media from every outlet imaginable in the entire world; earphones plugged in, listening and watching every news channel, television show, and movie released throughout the world, in every country, in every language, looking for information that had anything of intelligence value to China. This meant all geopolitical or economic issues affecting China as well as its allies and adversaries. They were to transcribe all mentions of China onto electronic tablets, which were then forwarded to human ciphers to examine further.
To the left, the job was to listen: radio shows, podcasts, music; again, any and every audio media introduced into the known world, if possible, in every country, in every language. To the right, the job was to pore over domestic and foreign print media, from every country, in every language: newspapers, magazines, blogs, books.
For a room filled with so many people and so much media, it was amazingly quiet.
Under Fao Bhang, the ministry had spent more than five billion dollars upgrading the technological might of the ministry’s electronic eavesdropping. This money went into trying to replicate America’s National Security Agency. This sophisticated eavesdropping apparatus—computers, satellites, satellite dishes, and software—produced massive amounts of information, which then needed to be analyzed by human beings. This was the room where that work was done.
Near the front of the room, a middle-aged man in a light yellow sweater and glasses stared at his computer screen.
11:50:01 PM
ARG 6/Córdoba
Gunfire reported
Location: Airport Córdoba
The analyst’s job was to monitor activity in Argentina, including dispatches originating at Argentine Federal Police—the country’s top law-enforcement agency—relevant to China. Normally, a generic crime report wouldn’t have drawn his attention. But some piece of software or algorithm within the bowels of the ministry had flagged it. He waited for another update. It came half an hour later.
12:18:36 AM
ARG 6/Córdoba
Multiple deaths reported
Location unknown
He went quickly into a bypass of AFP’s servers, going behind the AFP firewall through a backdoor Chinese hackers had built.
Locale: Estancia el Colibri
Mara Road 5’77”
AFP at scene
Multiple deaths confirmed
The analyst opened a separate program and typed “Estancia el Colibri.” When he hit “enter,” a satellite photograph appeared on the screen. The frame zeroed down in, focusing on the location of the ranch.
12:51:09 AM
Three confirmed homicides
**USSS at scene
He typed “USSS” into the ministry code manual.
United States Secret Service
The analyst sat upright. Suddenly, his computer screen went red and locked.
ACCESS DENIED
999999999999999
The number 9 replicated across his computer screen in flashing red until the screen was nothing but line after line of the numbers. He attempted to type, but it was useless.
He stood up from his cubicle and walked to the front of the room, went through a door, then walked down the hallway to the small, glass-walled office in the corner.
“Something has happened,” he said to a gray-haired man smoking a cigarette.
“Argentina? What could possibly happen in Argentina?”
“A triple murder, sir.”
“So what,” he said waving his cigarette dismissively.
“The U.S. Secret Service is at the scene.”
The man sat up.
“When?”
“Only minutes ago.”
“Well, what the hell are you doing here? Find out more!”
“The system shut me down.”
“What do you mean it shut you down?”
“It said ‘access denied,’ then flashed a number.”
He stood up.
“What was the number?”
“Nine.”
He stubbed out his cigarette and reached for his phone on the desk.
“Get me Minister Bhang,” he said into the receiver.
* * *
Bhang’s phone buzzed while he was out at dinner with his daughter and her young child.
“What is it?”
“Argentina, sir.”
Bhang listened to the information from the intelligence bureau in Shanghai as his grandson bounced on his lap. Perhaps Bhang should have attempted to reach Hu-Shao or Chang at this point. But his mind was already three steps down the line. If the mission had been a success, he would have already been told this by the agents on scene or by Ming-húa. But that’s not what happened. Something was wrong. He hung up, then dialed a different number.