“And this one?”
“It’s growing by the minute,” the man admitted.
“I’ve got a massive Russian war exercise on the border with Mongolia, Tibetan separatists in downtown Beijing, and I’m not sure what’s going on in Macau province. This spring is not coming up with fresh-smelling flowers.”
“Do you want me to order troops to disperse the protesters?” the head of state security asked.
“Absolutely not,” Jintao said. “Our world standing still has not been repaired from Tiananmen Square, and that was in 1989. We take action against peaceful Buddhist monks, the repercussions will reverberate for decades.”
“Then do nothing?”
“For now,” Jintao said, “until we figure out what is happening.”
“WHERE are we at on this thing?” the president of the United States asked.
“Off the record, sir?” the Director of Central Intelligence asked.
“I did not sneak you into the White House through the underground tunnel so that I could discuss it tonight on Larry King, Director. Yes, completely off the record.”
“It’s progressing perfectly,” the DCI noted. “And we are shielded behind an armor of deniability that couldn’t be penetrated with an antitank round.”
“How soon before you need me to do my thing?” the president asked.
“Tomorrow,” the DCI said, “if all goes according to plan.”
“Then,” the president said, rising, “you make sure it does.”
“Yes, Mr. President,” the DCI said as the president walked through the door and down the hall to a state dinner that was already in progress.
THEOregon was flying across the water. The schedule called for the ship to stop in Ho Chi Minh City. Once there, the operatives that would be needed in Tibet would be off-loaded and flown in a C-130 northwest to Bhutan. Then the Oregon would continue on, passing Singapore. Traversing the Strait of Malacca, the vessel would race north into the Bay of Bengal, arriving off Bangladesh on Easter Day.
That was the closest to Tibet that the Oregon would ever be.
No one in the Corporation enjoyed it when the Oregon and her battery of electronics and firepower were far from the operation. The ship was the lifeline to the crew, their home away from home, their anchor in the stormy sea of intrigue where they operated.
Ross and Kasim were doing their best to smooth the difficulty.
“I’ve tested the satellite uplink,” Kasim said. “The Oregon will have command-and-control capability. Everyone will be reachable either by radio or secure telephone.”
Ross glanced up from her computer screen. “I’m programming the drones. We have two. That’s less than I would like, but they’re just so damn expensive.”
“Who will fly them?” Kasim asked.
“They will need to be operated from within three hundred miles,” she noted. “Thimbu or inside Tibet itself.”
Kasim nodded.
She scanned a sheet of paper that listed crew qualifications. “Four of us are trained in the operation. You, me, Lincoln and Jones.”
“Lincoln would stand out in Tibet like a debutante at a tractor pull,” Kasim noted. “If he operates the drone, at least he’ll be hidden inside a tent. If I were you, I’d recommend to Hanley he get the job.”
Ross nodded her head in agreement. “He’s good,” she said, “and the drones are critical—they will be our only eyes in the sky. If Lincoln can keep them over station above Lhasa Airport, the control room here can watch the action unfolding.”
“What have the Chinese got in Tibet to shoot them down?” Kasim asked.
Ross glanced at the sheet listing Chinese defenses that had been recently smuggled out of Tibet by the underground freedom movement. “Some old antiaircraft guns and one ten-year-old missile defense battery. Around Gonggar Airport near Lhasa there’s not much,” she said. “Looks like a couple of cargo planes, some helicopters, and rifles carried by the troops.”
“I’d make a note to Hanley to target the antiaircraft guns for early destruction,” Kasim said, “then have Lincoln fly only one drone at a time.”