Chapter 43
Beijing
Critical intelligence sometimes came from the most unexpected sources. This was one of Zhang’s mantras, and it pounded in his brain as he stood in the headquarters operations center.
By mere chance, Wu had stumbled upon evidence that Chen and Sky Fire had survived the crash.
That was a possibility Zhang had never considered.
Even the researcher herself seemed stunned to have uncovered it.
Earlier, as the two of them had walked through the cold rain from the executive suites, he’d pressed her mercilessly on whether she might be mistaken.
Wu insisted there could be no doubt. Sky Fire had gone active near the crash site, and only one person could be responsible.
While all that ran its course, Zhang was left to ponder a looming decision.
His preference was for the Ice Wolves to take possession of Sky Fire and its creator, yet they would not reach the crash site for hours.
The alternative was to muster a shore party from the Snow Dragon 2 to do the job sooner.
The icebreaker carried a few light weapons, and Zhang expected no resistance.
On the other hand, the crew were little more than merchant sailors, technicians, and scientists, none of whom would have a tactical bone in their soft bodies.
“Where is that reconnaissance?” he growled.
Thirty minutes earlier, Zhang had requested a satellite pass on the coordinates where Wu had detected Sky Fire, a radar imaging platform that wouldn’t be affected by the cloud cover.
He needed the best possible information for what he knew was coming: a very difficult call to the president.
“New images arriving now,” said a technician.
The picture that flickered to the screen caused confusion around the room. It was very similar to a scene they’d all seen hours earlier. The USS Cheyenne surfaced in an ice pack.
“No,” Zhang bellowed. “Show me the one from the crash site!”
“That is the crash site,” replied Wu in a low voice. “Look at the coordinates.”
Zhang checked the bottom corner of the image.
She was right. The latitude and longitude were correct.
Then he noticed subtle differences from the earlier image.
The submarine had surfaced next to a rounded lake of thin ice.
A large cylinder nearby could possibly be the partial fuselage of an airliner.
Zhang stared slack-jawed at it all.
“How could the Cheyenne have moved so quickly?” the chief wondered aloud.
“Could it be a different boat?” Wu speculated. “The Americans must have other submarines in the region.”
Zhang studied the submarine more closely. Its lateral lines were obscured by a skirt of ice… yet something about the silhouette did seem different. This wasn’t the Cheyenne. He was about to order analysts to identify the boat when the operations center chief interrupted.
“Sir, there is something you must see on television.”
“Television?” Zhang barked. “Nothing takes precedence over what is happening in the Arctic!”
“But sir,” the man persisted, “this is about the crash. A newscast on Russia-1.”
Zhang twisted around to view the television on the back wall.
He could decipher none of the words at the bottom of the screen because he didn’t speak Russian.
The video, however, held him like a vise.
A camera panned across a group of bedraggled individuals.
Halfway through its arc, he saw a face he recognized.
The unmistakable profile of Dr. Chen Li.
And just like that, Zhang’s world whipsawed again.
Surely this is all a dream, he thought. A dream meant to drive me mad.
His personal phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out and saw a call from his boss, the Minister of State Security. Zhang tapped on the green button.
“The president just called me!” shouted the minister. “He is furious. Something about a Russian newscast.”
Zhang stood speechless. His left cheek twitched.
Critical intelligence sometimes came from the most unexpected sources.