It seemed everyone was helpful with the exception of his father’s employer. Several times, Reed attempted to speak with a representative at the Dallas regional headquarters who might provide even basic information. Who were his father’s colleagues at the office? What was he working on? To whom did
he report? All of these were legitimate questions. When he couldn’t get any response the nice way, he got mean. He filed a motion in federal court for discovery. A federal judge, after consultation with the Attorney General’s litigator, denied the motion. Next was the Freedom of Information Act. For months, Reed plowed through a mountain of forms and regulations, only to have his request denied in less than an hour after its submission. He had begun work on a civil lawsuit when his partners at the firm called him in.
“Reed,” the senior partner announced, “you have to stop this. We just received notice from the Texas Bar Association that our firm in under investigation. My wife’s brother works there. He whispered to me that someone here in our firm has angered the feds. He said he’s never seen anything like it, and they want to decorate their pikes with our heads. You have to stop, man – you can’t fight city hall on this.”
Reed resigned from the firm that afternoon and initiated his campaign for Congress the next day.
Chapter 2
Beijing, China
January 13, 2017
Minister Hong arrived exactly three minutes before the meeting was scheduled to begin. The
Zhongnanhai complex in central Beijing was synonymous with the Chinese communist government in the same way Moscow’s Red Square represented authority to the Soviet people, or the White House was an icon for the president of the United States. Once a resort destination for ancient emperors, the park-like setting was hundreds of years older than any of its current occupants. Bordering on the famous Forbidden City, the walled compound was noted for its system of lakes, which had been adorned with names such as the Southern Sea or the Central Sea. In reality, the lakes had been constructed as defensive moats to protect ancient royalty, their beauty an unintended benefit.
Today’s meeting wasn’t on any public schedule or noted in any press release. The State Committee officially met once every six months to formally conduct the business of China. Those widely publicized events were actually carefully planned theatrics, designed to reassure the Chinese people that their leaders were working hard to move the country forward.
The day-to-day business of China was most often conducted via email and closed circuit television, as required. Only the most important issues warranted a face-to-face meeting, and even then, the entire State Committee was never invited. Ministries that wielded little power, such as environmental and natural resources and interior were often excluded.
The presentations housed in Minister Hong’s briefcase documented a bold plan that could result in a change to the world’s balance of power. Such an ambitious undertaking warranted the ministers’ meeting in person. The State Committee had been briefed on the operation years ago. Authority had been granted to proceed with the initial phases of the operation – within certain guidelines.
Today’s summit was organized to rehash the downside or unintended consequences, should the operation go awry. Hong was more annoyed than nervous. The outcome of today’s conference was predetermined, Hong having already received the blessing of those who controlled his country’s destiny. Still, others who might be affected needed to know what was coming and have a chance to voice their objections. In the unlikely event things did go badly, Hong might need their support.
Five of the six invitees stood b
ehind high-backed executive chairs surrounding a wide conference table inlaid with teak and mahogany. The interwoven red and gold textile covering each chair was of the finest quality and could last for hundreds of years. Quality silk is the chosen fabric of status for the elite Chinese, who would sneer at mass-produced Western leather upholstery, believing it lacks artistic value and craftsmanship.
A respectful hush f
ell over the assemblage as the president entered the room and commanded his place at the head of the table. After the most powerful men in China had taken their seats, pleasantries were exchanged. They were all refined dignitaries who considered diving immediately into business boorish and rude. Ten minutes into the conference, the president nodded at Hong, signaling permission to proceed. In turn, the head of MOSS motioned to his assistant, who delivered each attendee one of the carefully prepared presentations.
Each minister studied the eight-page handout as if he had never seen the information before. In fact, a secure courier delivered the exact same documents less than 24 hours ago, to allow review prior to this forum. Information of such a sensitive nature certainly could not be distributed via email or fax.
Hong maintained a stoic demeanor while the committee completed the review of the documents. MOSS’ top man was not at all surprised that the Minister of Finance took the most time to analyze the brief. The only one of the group who wasn’t a hardliner, Hong trusted the politics of China’s head banker the least. The room remained silent for some time, as the Red Nation’s powerbrokers digested the gravity of the mission. “I apologize to my esteemed colleagues for the quality of my project update and proposal,” he began, knowing full well each page represented perfection to the smallest detail. “My team is ahead of schedule, so there wasn’t time to craft a presentation worthy of this council.” Several heads nodded, accepting the unnecessary apology and acknowledging Minister Hong’s humility. The head of MOSS continued, “My comrades, we have before us the single greatest opportunity for the Chinese people in recent history – perhaps of all time.”
Hong paused to take note of the indifferent faces comprising his audience. None betrayed their thoughts, but Hong didn’t expect them to. Instead, he used the short gap in his presentation to demonstrate his stoic, controlled approach to the subject.
“With Operation Golden Mountain, we can guarantee our economic growth and eventual domination of global affairs. As the only truly civilized race, we will take our rightful place at the head of the world’s table. China will once again control its own destiny. As most of you know, the European Union is in shambles. The insolvent capitalist governments of Spain, Greece, and Italy have failed, and there is general anarchy in the streets. Our intelligence reports detail the ongoing battle between Muslim political groups and organized crime syndicates to establish control. Germany is withdrawing its support of the euro, causing France to be the next to fall. The British are barely holding on, a result of nine years of recession. Today the United States and India are considered global dominant forces, but both countries are weak and teetering on the edge of collapse as well.”
No one spoke for almost a full minute. It was the Minister of Finance who broke the silence. “Minister Hong, first of all I wish to congratulate you on the progress of this project. I do, however, have some small reservations that I feel deserve to be aired before this wise council. As well planned and detailed as this operation is, there is substantial risk. If discovered, the United States will consider our actions as an act of war. They have numerous methods of retaliation at their disposal. If deftly handled on their part, they could unite a significant portion of the world against us.”
Two others nodded their heads in agreement, but Hong seemed not to notice. His response was controlled, “You are correct as usual, Minister. There is risk, but I feel it is warranted. If our plan is discovered, it is unlikely to happen until the damage to the US is done. They will be weakened at that point and have fewer options. The People’s Republic will publically deny any involvement, blaming the exaggerated claims on organized crime syndicates and drug cartels. I also believe there is a strong possibility that many nations will see a wounded beast and decide to finish the job we started. Russia, several countries in the Middle East, and most of OPEC would no doubt prefer a weakened, less intrusive United States of America.”
The p
resident began speaking without waiting for any response to Hong’s statement - a clear indication of his support. “Ministers, I believe this operation is warranted for other reasons as well. Our economic growth becomes more and more difficult to sustain. Our government is less popular than ever before. Our people are being misled by the false promises of the West. Should the United States suffer the projected damage from this plan, our method of governing would be recognized as undeniably superior. The issue would be settled once and for all – what we are doing is the right choice for the Middle Kingdom.”
Without further questioning, Hong’s proposal was authorized. Within two hours, orders were issued to begin the attack on the United States of America.
January 14, 2017
San Jose, California
Zang examined the suit and high heels in the mirror one last time. She smoothed the nonexistent wrinkles from her skirt as she had important business today, and wanted her appearance to reflect the significance of her responsibilities. While she would never admit it, her nerves were more than a little frayed.
The 24-year-old hadn’t felt such emotional turmoil since entering the United States just over two
years ago. Her immersion into western society had been stressful. Extensive preparation provided by MOSS had sustained her, even as she waited in line at the immigration office. She had continued to remind herself that no law had been broken, and there was little risk of arrest – yet. Her degrees in mathematics and engineering were legitimate and could withstand any level of scrutiny.
I’m just one of the thousands of Chinese wishing to join her family in the United States
, she kept telling herself.
If I believe that, live that, and feel that, these crass, American barbarians won’t suspect the truth.
After receiving her green card, working at the Silicon Valley technology firm enabled her to establish a routine. Routines reduced stress. Her new employer performed research on advanced storage technologies for laptop computers and smart phones.
Zang was stunned at the quantity and quality of scientific information that crossed her desk practically every day. It would have taken her countrymen years to develop what she saw in her email inbox and departmental updates every week. She was pleased to bundle the valuable information and send it back home where teams of engineers and students happily dissected the data.
Often,
Zang wondered why she hadn’t been discovered. Didn’t the Americans wonder why Chinese factories were ready to produce the latest products before the specifications were publically available? Her newest project involved lab testing a micro-sized hard drive for cell phones. The electronic storage unit was no larger than a small coin and stored gigabytes of information. When her testing was completed, the US cell phone providers would seek bids to mass-produce the device. The Chinese factories would undercut even the most efficient competitors because they had been studying the plans and specifications, secretly provided by Zang, for months. The combination of industrial espionage and cheap labor was invincible.
Her covert task today wasn’t criminal as far as she knew. The assignment was so unusual she exasperated her superior by her reques
t for clarification. The raspy Mandarin voice on the other end of the phone was impatient with the junior agent’s questions, and his tone relayed that clearly. After researching the mission thoroughly for the past three days, she was ready. Turning off the bathroom light, she headed to the door, scanning the flat one last time, verifying she wasn’t forgetting anything.
By Chinese standards, her San Jose apartment was actually quite lavish. The one bedroom efficiency had a dishwasher, microwave, and solid surface cooktop. In her native country, only the upper echelons of society, living in the major cities, enjoyed such luxury.
Zang rejected the place when she first toured the complex, because her mandate dictated that she appear to mesh with average Americans of the same socioeconomic situation. Standing out or drawing attention to oneself was strictly forbidden. It had taken her a while to realize the apartment was normal by local standards. Still, always conservative with money and image, she had opted for a third story unit, amazed that its monthly rent included a discount because most folks in this country didn’t want to climb three flights of stairs. She leased modest furniture and purchased essential pots, pans, silverware, and linens at a nearby discount store. After a few months, her concerns faded with the comfort of routine.
Zang
rummaged in her purse, locating her key chain. After locking the door behind her, she began her trek down the stairs to the parking lot.
Driving a car had almost been the death of her. Motor vehicles are still a rarity in China, with waiting lists
of more than five years to acquire even a modest family sedan. As a college student, she rode a bike on campus. Upon graduation, Zang located a flat that was a comfortable walking distance to work. The idea of navigating through superhighways while steering around traffic snares was more than a little daunting. It wasn’t like she had toured the countryside with her family, buckled in the back seat of an SUV or completed a driver’s education course in secondary school. Zang had only ridden in an automobile twice in her life before arriving in the states. After acquiring legal status to work, the original plan had been for her to gain employment in the San Francisco area and use the mass transit available there. The chance job opening in San Jose had been a perfect fit for her background and qualifications, so it was decided that Zang would learn to drive.
The Chinese gent who operated the On Track Driving Academy chain-smoked cheap cigarettes with a stench that betrayed their Taiwanese origin. His late model, training sedan was fully equipped with passenger side brake pedal, extra-large beanbag ashtray and family size bottle of Tums. Normally, within four weeks, new drivers were competent enough to complete the class.
Zang passed on the third time through the course. She was never sure if the instructor’s nerves couldn’t deal with her obvious anxiety anymore, or if she had obtained the necessary skills. Even then, she failed the official state driving test twice before being issued a State of California operator’s license on the third attempt.
Purchasing her first automobile was another revolutionary experience. The glistening showrooms, fast talking salesmen, and seemingly endless options amazed
Zang. She was almost at complete cognitive overload when a co-worker rescued her, explaining the process, and visiting several dealerships with her in his spare time. More than once, Zang studied the San Jose bus routes and cost associated with taking a taxi everywhere. Those options were simply impractical, so she made a cash purchase of a brand new, wonderful smelling Ford Escape. She had her first fender bender pulling into traffic from the dealership.