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Zuocheng watchedthe status screens running on side-by-side monitors.
After long negotiations with the President, they had reconvened the meeting aboard his 737 still parked at Rimba Air Force Base in Brunei. He didn’t lead them through the command-and-control section, of course, only admitting them into the luxury suite at the front of the plane.
Of them all, only the woman Susan Piazza had looked twice at the fine furnishings. How spoiled these Americans were.
“Not quite a poker plane,” Mike had told him as if that meant something, “but that’s not what we’re here for.”
Zuocheng hadn’t asked for an explanation.
Instead, he’d sat and watched the left-hand screen.
Neither satellite was technically against the 1967 Outer Space Treaty as neither was a weapon of mass destruction. There had been a brief debate about whether nuclear-poweredclassified the lasers as nuclear weapons, which were explicitly prohibited. But it was ultimately agreed that was too much of a stretch.
Yet the two 2014 UN General Assembly Resolutions to not allow a space-based arms race definitely included the ZY-2B and the Defender II.Both China and the United States were parties to that agreement.
And their President’s recommendation had come down to insisting that be honored.
“Deorbit burn complete on Ziyuan-2B,” a voice announced. The left-hand screen began flashing a red message:Orbital failure.
The silence in the room was palpable. He should be able to do something with the seven Americans seated in what might be legally construed as Chinese territory aboard his aircraft—what could they do if he ordered an immediate departure? Nothing. But he couldn’t think of what might be achieved without considerable backlash.
Instead they all watched the right-hand screen. It was down counting seconds of remaining burn. Forty became thirty. Which became twenty, then ten.
After nine minutes and forty-three seconds, it cut off.
There was a long silence before a different voice, one based in some American bunker, reported, “Deorbit burn confirmed complete on Defender II.Tracking on planned profile.”
They shared tea and silence for the twenty-six minutes it took the two satellites to fall through the atmosphere, burn, and sink together into the sea near Point Nemo. It was the spacecraft graveyard, the farthest point from land in any ocean—halfway between Chile and New Zealand.
As a mutual gesture of good faith,their naive President had said.
Liú Zuocheng took comfort from Sun Tzu’s wisdom:Never interrupt your enemy when he is making a mistake.
None of them appeared to have remembered that Ziyuan-2B had been designed as a twinned observation satellite, the two craft supposedly allowing coordinated, high-resolution 3D imaging. In reality, they were two sides of a single new weapon.
The second one still remained in orbit.
He was patience itself until they had deplaned.
They all made noises about a happier, more cooperative future.
Once they were gone, a subordinate informed him that Zhang Ru was out of surgery and in recovery.
“Get him aboard, in a stretcher if you can, in a coffin if you have to. Then get us back home. Make sure I do not see the bastard.”
Alone in his private office, he contemplated the Americans’ next action. Every one of their actions were always so public. Every decision reviewed by so many. It is what made them such an easy target for theft of their technology—so many saw every plan that it offered many opportunities to insert or buy an agent. Theiroversight committeesand transparent methods would also hamper any future actions by the CIA in space operations. If they managed to launch another satellite of their own within a decade, it would be a miracle.
For him, the next action was simple.
He picked up the phone and called the director of the China Academy of Space Technology. “General Liú Zuocheng here. I need a replacement for one of the Ziyuan-2B satellites. Begin manufacture immediately.”
Zuocheng had greatly enjoyed watching first-hand as the CIA Director writhed during the unjustified destruction of their magnificent weapon.
Next, he sent aJob well done!message to the Chinese hacker’s drop box. He was the highest paid military specialist in China, and worth every yuan. That also meant that he was dangerous as could be. But Zuocheng had uncovered his real identity and made sure that a special unit tracked him constantly through the nation’s facial ID systems.
For now, Zuocheng had proven that the satellite laser design, which he’d had stolen from the Americans in the first place, worked magnificently against a real-world target. Laying the blame on Saudi Arabia—and a fictional defense contractor who the Americans would never be able to track down because none had been involved—was perfect.
At the next meeting with the Crown Prince of Saudi Arabia, Zuocheng would have to consider telling him that the death of the American Senator had been laid at his door as the price for not offering a better deal for oil to China. No, he would keep that for himself. It was sufficient to know that nothing could now heal the prince’s relations with America.
After that, he began considering his next move.
