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“And we don’t have a Freedom of Navigation Drill going on near Taiwan or the disputed islands? That usually gets them wound up, but nothing like this.”
“All quiet on that end for now,” the vice chairman says.
Like all military officers of a certain age, Wyman knows his military history. He recalls how things quickly got out of hand during the early days leading up to the outbreak of World War I: panicked generals and leaders had to get their armies on the move first, afraid their enemies would strike first, and the Austrians, Serbians,Germans, Russians, Italians, French, and English soon fell into a maelstrom that killed millions.
If only someone could have nipped that chain of events in the bud before it got out of hand.
Like now.
To the vice chairman, Wyman says, “I’m going to duck into the Comm Room. See if I can chat with my counterpart. Hold down the fort here until I come back.”
“Yes, sir,” the vice chairman says.
A few minutes later, accompanied by his assistant, Colonel Doug Leonard, Wyman enters a cool, slightly darkened room, subdivided into two offices. The one on the right maintains the original hotline between the United States and Russia, begun in 1963, which evolved from teletype to faxes to secure emails.
The room on the left holds the latest hotline, set up in 2008, maintaining communications between Washington and Beijing. But this hotline isn’t as robust as its older brother. It’s a voice-only system, which can lead to awkward moments and silences.
He opens the door and he and his aide go in. Two female and one male Air Force NCO stand up when they spot him, and he motions them back to their seats. Before them is a communication console with computer screens and three telephones.
“I need to reach Beijing,” he says. “Now. Make the call.”
“Yes, sir,” the male NCO says, handing over a headset, which Wyman puts on. The older female picks up the phone and through the headset, Wyman hears the ringing of the phone.
The other noncommissioned officer serves as a translator, as the line is picked up, nearly seven thousand miles away.
“Zhongnanhai,” the NCO says, repeating what he’s hearing, and Wyman knows it’s the Zhongnanhai telecommunications directorate in Beijing.
“This is the United States Department of Defense, General Tucker Wyman calling.”
A slow sentence in Chinese, which is nearly instantly translated by the NCO to the room. “This call is in violation of Article 3, Section 2a of the Defense Telephone Link Treaty of 2008, indicating these calls should not be made without a forty-eight-hour notice to the other side.”
Wyman says, “Tell him we’re making the call under Article 3, Section 2c, allowing immediate communications in a crisis situation. We are in a crisis. We see a widespread movement of your military forces. I need to talk to either General Li Fenghe, minister of national defense, or General Wei Zuocheng, the chief of the staff. It’s very urgent. We want to discuss what’s occurring and how we can de-escalate the situation before shooting starts, before it all spins out of control.”
No one on either side of the world speaks for a moment.
General Wyman feels a growing weight of responsibility and of history weighing down his shoulders.
A faintclick.
The senior Air Force NCO turns to Wyman.
“I’m sorry, sir,” he says. “The call’s been disconnected. The Chinese don’t want to talk to us.”
CHAPTER 127
IN THE REAR seat of the armored Suburban, CIA Director Hannah Abrams keeps close view of the traffic and the pedestrians out there on the sidewalk, wishing for a moment that she was out there, just scurrying along, only worrying about one’s bank balance or the grocery list or an upcoming visit with a school principal.
A minute ago they went through Washington Circle and now they’re on the four-lane-wide Pennsylvania Avenue.
The driver, Alec, says, “Ma’am?”
“Yes?”
“We have two Metro DC police cruisers coming up behind us, lights flashing,” he says.
Hannah turns in her seat, looks through the darkened windows.
Two white-and-blue cruisers are speeding through the traffic, and other traffic is moving aside to let them go by.
