Washington Power Play, page 10
Beijing
“We have a problem,” General Piao, the head of the People’s Liberation Army, said to Liu.
They were in Liu’s office. As the general paused to clear his throat, Liu put out his cigarette and lit another. How could there be a problem, he wondered. Today was a glorious day for China. They had humiliated their archenemy Japan in the confrontation over the East China Sea, and the United States hadn’t had the courage to intervene.
The general was stalling. It was obvious he didn’t want to tell Liu.
“What problem?” the spymaster asked.
“Following the incident in the East China Sea,” Piao continued, “we increased monitoring of conversations emanating from Japan. We picked up a conversation between Prime Minister Nakamura and President Braddock. In it, Nakamura reports on a conversation between two of our pilots in which they make it clear they knew the Americans would not attack.”
“Meaning that the Americans are now aware we have a spy at a high level in their government.”
“That’s correct.”
Liu was furious. He had given the information that the Americans would not intervene to General Piao with the express understanding it was to be acted upon but not repeated. “Didn’t you tell your pilots what I told you? Under no circumstances were they to discuss this information.”
The general looked pale. “Yes, sir, I did. There is no excuse for what happened.”
“I want these two men punished.”
“They’ve already been demoted. They’ll never fly again.”
Liu pounded his fist on the desk. “That’s not enough. I want them imprisoned indefinitely. We must make an example of them. That’s what happens when you disobey orders.”
“But,” the general began to protest, then apparently thought better of it. “I’ll make sure they are imprisoned,” he said.
When the general had left, Liu smoked two more cigarettes while trying to decide how to play his meeting with President Yao, which was scheduled to take place in an hour. The purpose of their meeting was to discuss the incident in the East China Sea. In reliance upon the information Liu had given Yao, that the Americans would not intervene, the Chinese president had ordered the attack on the Japanese. Liu should have been praised, since he had obtained that information as part of Operation New World Order, but Yao didn’t give praise—or even thanks. Still, Liu knew the Chinese president was sure to be pleased. That would have made for a satisfactory meeting with Yao, but now there was this revelation from General Piao to contend with.
Liu wondered what he should do. Disclose this new information to Yao, or keep it to himself? With bad news, Liu’s general rule was only to disclose it to the president if there was a good chance he would learn about it on his own, since then Liu would have to answer both for the mistake and his failure to disclose it.
In this situation, it was possible the American president would complain to Yao about the Chinese spying on the US. Then Liu would be in deep trouble. The spymaster decided he had no choice, he had to make the disclosure.
Liu was still cursing those two pilots half an hour later as he left his office for the meeting with Yao.
Liu and Yao were alone in Yao’s office. The president was extremely pleased at how the incident had gone in the East China Sea. To celebrate, he poured glasses of an eighteen-year-old scotch for the two of them.
After taking a sip of his drink, Liu said, “We have a small complication.” He then explained what General Piao had told him. As Liu spoke, Yao became so red in the face with anger that Liu thought he might have a heart attack.
“It’s all your fault,” Yao blurted out. “You didn’t impress upon the military the importance of confidentiality.”
Of course Yao’s charge was ridiculous, but Liu saw no point in denying it. The president would never believe him, and arguing the issue might put Liu in prison along with the pilots. Instead, he tried to shift the discussion.
“It’s immaterial that the Americans know we have a mole at the top of their government,” said Liu.
“How can you possibly say that?” asked Yao. “They’ll go on a witch hunt to discover who he is.”
“They’ll never find him,” Liu said with confidence he didn’t feel. “Now we move into the next phase of Operation New World Order, right on schedule.”
“For your sake, I hope you are right.”
“Don’t worry, I am.”
“Andrew Martin is your weak link,” Yao remarked.
“Martin can’t do us any damage. I have a way of controlling him.”
“How?” Yao demanded to know.
Liu never liked disclosing any of his sources of information, but with Yao he had no choice.
Reluctantly, he said, “There is a woman watching Martin and reporting to me.”
On the way back to his office, Liu thought about what President Yao had said. The Americans would go on a witch hunt to discover the mole in their government. Liu had to find out what they were doing, and fast.
By the time he reached his office, Liu had an idea. Undoubtedly, Kelly Cameron would be involved in this witch hunt. In view of her job at the FBI, she would have to be. And following Liu’s orders, Xiang had been seeing Kelly every couple of weeks. Liu hadn’t discussed with Xiang his relationship with Kelly, but he had read all of Xiang’s reports. Xiang had said their relationship was gradually improving and romance was developing anew. So far Xiang hadn’t gotten any useful information, but in his last report he predicted that he might get Kelly into bed with him soon. Then he would be able to obtain important information. When Liu had read that, he had been prepared to wait. All of that had now changed. He had to find out what was going on, and he had to find out now.
Liu called Wu, the director of security at the embassy in Washington, and ordered him to take Xiang to the basement room for a call.
Once he had Xiang on the line, Liu told him, “We believe the Americans are launching a major effort to identify a mole in their government. I want you to find out from Kelly Cameron what they are doing.”
When Xiang didn’t reply, Liu said, “Are you still there?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I want you to obtain this information as soon as possible. It is critical. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“When is your next date with Kelly Cameron?”
“I’m not sure,” Xiang sounded flustered.
“What do you mean you’re not sure?”
“I have to call her and set it.”
“Well, you better do it soon.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And you better obtain this information.”
“Yes, sir. I will.”
When Liu put down the phone, he was convinced from the sound of Xiang’s voice that Xiang was lying or concealing something. He went back and reread all of Xiang’s reports on his meetings with Kelly, which he hadn’t read very carefully when he had received them. As he did, he became convinced they were bogus. They were all too general and didn’t seem authentic. In view of how Xiang sounded today, Liu doubted whether he’d even had any dates with Kelly. Another possibility was that Xiang and Kelly were lovers again, and he refused to spy on her. Liu had to know for sure.
He called Wu back and instructed him to have embassy security people follow Xiang around the clock and immediately report back if he was with a blonde American woman. Liu would find out what Xiang was really doing. If he was deceiving Liu, the spymaster vowed to come down hard on him.
Washington
As noon approached, it was almost time for the task force meeting. Kelly summarized in her mind what she had learned in the last couple of hours.
These so-called islands in the East China Sea for which Japan and China had rival claims, were nothing more than clumps of rock in the ocean. They were neither inhabited nor habitable. To be sure, there might be oil and minerals under them, but the dispute over the islands themselves was a matter of patriotism and pride, as well as an effort to settle past scores and exploit antagonism and hatred between China and Japan. Kelly was no expert on foreign policy. To her, for the United States to be dragged into a war over these “islands” seemed ludicrous.
As for the other members of her task force, she had found out that George Wilkins had graduated with distinction from Georgetown’s School of Foreign Service. Following graduation, he began as an intern at the National Security Council during the Carter administration. Whenever the Democrats were in the White House, Wilkins had a position in the NSC, gradually working himself up to the top position as the president’s national security advisor under Braddock. When the Republicans were in, he joined prestigious foreign policy think tanks, including the Council on Foreign Relations and Brookings. During those off years, he wrote and spoke extensively.
Lance Farrell had been with the CIA from the time he had graduated from Cornell. He had received the agency’s “outstanding young agent” award five years ago. Following that, he had been assigned to “special projects.” Two years ago, he had been put through a crash course on China and was now a member of an elite CIA China policy team. Including Paul Maltoni, the three were a very talented group. For Kelly, being their chairman was a great honor.
All four arrived at noon at the FBI conference room. They ate sandwiches and made small talk until Kelly decided to get down to business.
“Tell us about the Camp David gathering,” she said to Wilkins.
“Let me put Camp David into context,” Wilkins said, putting his coffee cup down. “Following the February 28 summit meeting in Beijing, President Braddock conducted a full review of our Asia policy and decided to move more of our military forces to the area in a signal to our allies that we would not yield control of Asia and the Pacific to China. Then about three weeks ago, the rhetoric between Japan and China became more intense. It seemed likely there would be a military confrontation over the islands in the East China Sea. So two weeks ago, the president convened a high-level gathering at Camp David to discuss our response in the event of hostilities.”
Paul, who was taking notes, looked up. “Who was there?” he asked.
Wilkins reached down to his briefcase on the floor, pulled out four sheets of paper, and gave them one each. “I thought you would want to know, so I made copies.”
Kelly glanced over the list. It had all the people she would expect, including the president, vice president, the secretaries of state and defense, their deputies, Cartwright, as well as Wilkins and Vernon. Twelve altogether, including Wilkins, plus the president.
“How did the discussion go?” Kelly asked.
“Not at all the way I had expected,” Wilkins replied.
“Meaning what?”
“President Braddock and the vice president were the only ones pushing for a military response.”
“The two politicians,” Farrell interjected.
“Correct,” said Wilkins. “The rest of us were opposed. Being the only military man present, General Cartwright and his position in opposition to a military response carried a great deal of weight. We didn’t think what was at stake, some meaningless clumps of rocks in the Pacific, justified the risk of war. Can I speak frankly?”
“Of course,” Kelly responded. “Everything said here remains with us.” She glanced at Paul and Farrell.
“Correct,” they agreed.
“Okay,” Wilkins continued. “What I want to say is, Braddock was more stubborn at Camp David than he usually is. Eventually, he retreated to an economic rather than a military response: sanctions against China in the event they attacked Japanese planes. Even that was strongly resisted by this group. They believed the sanctions would only hurt our economy. In the end, I think Braddock was sorry he had convened the group. After all, he’s the president. He could have acted on his own.”
Paul asked, “Was the decision not to respond to a Chinese attack over the islands memorialized in a written document?”
Wilkins again reached into his briefcase and pulled out copies of another sheet of paper. He distributed them.
Kelly studied the document. It was a single page memorandum entitled, “Camp David consensus.”
“When was it prepared?” Paul asked.
“Before the gathering at Camp David broke up,” Wilkins replied. “I drafted it and asked the president’s secretary to type it.”
“And were copies distributed to all those present?” Paul inquired.
“Exactly,” nodded Wilkins.
“So this document could have been leaked to the Chinese?” Paul continued.
“The president is convinced, based upon his conversation with Prime Minister Nakamura, that this document was turned over to the Chinese. Or at least, its contents were leaked to them. I’m not sure he’s right, however, we have to accept that.”
Silence settled over the conference room as they studied the document.
“I have an idea,” Kelly finally said. All eyes were on her. “Let’s set up a sting. We’ll prepare a new document, a phony presidential decision with the opposite policy. It will say: ‘In view of what occurred today, I have changed my position. The next time there is an incident between China and Japan, the US will intervene on the side of Japan and attack Chinese forces.’ The document will be marked with ‘Classified. Highly Secret. No copies made. Do not take from your office.’ We will distribute copies to all those who were at Camp David.”
Paul asked, “How will we know if one of them violates those instructions?”
Farrell responded before Kelly had a chance. “We can insert on each document a concealed nano chip that will permit it to be tracked and which will establish whether a copy is made. Also, it will tell us if the document is photographed or removed from someone’s office. In other words, we could track each document electronically. Is that what you had in mind, Kelly?”
“Precisely,” she affirmed. “I’ve heard about the technology, but never used it.”
“The CIA used it for an operation in Jordan,” said Farrell. “It helped us catch a traitor in their government.”
Kelly looked at Wilkins. “What do you think?” she asked him.
“I don’t know. Lots could go wrong.”
“It can’t hurt to try,” Paul said.
“What if the substance of the document is passed orally?” Wilkins asked.
“We’ll be no worse off than we are now,” Kelly replied. “Does anybody have any objections?”
“I don’t like the idea,” Wilkins said, “of treating the top officials of our government as spies.”
“We’re not doing that,” Kelly insisted, “we simply want to identify the mole.”
“If this illustrious group learned what we were doing or word gets into the press, we’d be crucified,” said Wilkins.
Kelly held her ground. “I haven’t heard another idea of how we should proceed.”
Paul spoke up. “I’m in favor of Kelly’s proposal.”
“Let’s do it,” Farrell said, sounding excited. “We can prepare the document at Langley using our high-tech people.”
“That’s okay with me,” Kelly replied. “I’ll have to get Director Forester’s approval.” She looked at Wilkins. “Are you in with us, George?”
“I guess so, but I’ll need the president’s approval,” he replied.
“Ditto for me with the AG,” Paul said.
They decided to seek those approvals and confirm by email with a simple yes or no in case anyone hacked the emails.
The next step, Kelly told them, was to meet later that day at Langley to get started. The goal was to distribute the phony document the following morning.
An hour later, Kelly had Forester’s approval. He liked the idea of the sting operation. “This is top priority,” he told her. “Use my name to get access to any resources the bureau has.”
She immediately accepted that offer, asking the head of the investigations branch to prepare personal profiles on all twelve of the participants at Camp David and to forward the profiles to her electronically.
While waiting for emails from the other members of the task force, Kelly called home to tell Luisa she wouldn’t be back until quite late. Once again, she wouldn’t be having dinner with Julie, or even putting her daughter to bed. When she spoke to Julie to explain, her daughter sounded resigned and asked if she could watch a video on her iPad, to which Kelly readily agreed. She considered telling Julie that she’d take her to the Nats game Saturday, but she decided she might have to work through the weekend on the project. She didn’t want to make one more promise to Julie that she would have to break.
Andrew Martin left his Jaguar XK8 convertible, painted in British racing green, with Clyde, the parking attendant on Pennsylvania Avenue in front of the Capital Grille. He handed Clyde a twenty dollar bill, saying, “Take good care of my baby.” Then with a swagger, he walked into the restaurant, passing sides of beef in a glass walled refrigerator and the wine lockers some of the regulars maintained. It was Thursday evening and the place was booming. The near deafening noise greeted Martin before he made it to the maître d’s stand.
Jacinda immediately recognized him, “Evening, Mr. Martin. General Cartwright is at the bar.”
She pointed to Martin’s right. The area was crowded by mostly men, with the exception of a couple of busty blondes in short skirts. As Martin surveyed the scene, General Cartwright, standing near the bar with a glass in hand, stood out. Not just because he was wearing his blue Air Force general’s uniform heavily adorned with medals, but because the tall, broad-chested Cartwright had a charisma and presence that drew eyes like a magnet. He was talking to a man in civilian clothes standing next to him. The general was speaking in his normal booming voice, talking about the threat the Russians posed to Central Europe. The bartender held out a drink to Cartwright. He drained his glass and swapped it for the new drink.
