Invasion: Colorado ia-3 Page 17

  Chairman Hong scowled, and there seemed something different about it this time. “What is it now, Marshal?”

  Maybe Marshal Wu noted the difference. His own mannerisms changed instantly as he nodded enthusiastically. “It is a brilliant idea, Leader. I would have simply driven north and expected Denver to fall to us because the Americans would retreat west from it. No, your idea is better than mine. I was taught the old tried and true strategies that will bring inevitable victory. Your way will—”

  “Enough praise, Marshal Wu,” Hong said. “I am not a tyrant who demands my Ruling Committee colleagues to bow down and scrape to me. We have now decided what to do with Marshal Liang’s Third Front.” He rubbed his stomach. “I’m getting hungry and this meeting is taking too long. Therefore, let us move on to other matters, other Fronts.”

  “Yes, Leader,” Wu said.

  “To the east of Liang’s Front are the South Americans,” Hong said. “Firstly, let us agree…”

  DENVER, COLORADO

  Paul slept in the dark on a small sofa in Romo’s hospital room. The fever had finally broken and the man’s wounds were healing properly now. The doctor said he could leave tomorrow.

  Romo snored softly. That’s how Paul knew his blood brother wasn’t quite one hundred percent. He had never snored in the field.

  Paul tried to get comfortable. The cushions were okay; it was the sofa’s size that caused the problem, being too small for him. He had to curl his legs to lay on it. He liked to stretch his legs. Paul was almost ready to do that, letting them hang over the end, when the door to the room opened slowly.

  Paul was groggy, but something about the person’s entrance alerted him. He opened his eyes wide, waiting for the lights to come on. They didn’t. Instead, the person moved in the darkness toward the softly snoring Romo.

  Is this a hit? Is Colonel Valdez really that crazy and vengeful?

  The person’s shoes creaked. Whoever it was stopped, waiting. Then, maybe even slower than before, the person stepped toward Romo. Paul heard the person’s clothes swish. They must be wearing hospital scrubs.

  Paul decided being quiet was stupid. If this were Valdez’s assassin, the man would be ready and tense. Would he have a knife, a gun, a rope—Paul had no idea.

  From on the sofa, Paul Kavanagh shouted. Then he rolled and hit the floor.

  The distinctive sound of a suppressed bullet preceded that of a slug tearing into cushions. Paul didn’t hesitate, even though he flinched. He crawled on his hands and knees, rushing the assassin.

  Two more suppressed shots sounded. One hit the sofa, while another struck the tiled floor beside Paul. Bits of debris stung him.

  Paul lunged, straining to reach the assassin before he turned the gun on Romo. His shoulder crashed against metal.

  Romo stopped snoring. The assassin cursed softly in Spanish.

  Then Paul Kavanagh reached the assassin’s legs. Paul wrapped his arms around the man’s ankles and surged forward. Now the assassin shouted, while two more suppressed shots sounded. One bullet grazed Kavanagh’s back, then the assassin struck the floor. Paul crawled up, reaching forward with a hand. His left touched metal. He wrapped his fingers around a gun barrel and twisted it to the side. Three suppressed shots phutted, two of them ricocheting.

  “Paul?” Romo asked from above him.

  One of the assassin’s knees slammed upward—the man lay on his back, with Paul crawling over him. The knee caught Paul in the gut. Kavanagh’s responses became instinctive then—this was a fight to the death. He was hardly aware of the knife in his hand, that he’d pulled it out of its belt sheath. He twisted the muzzle away from him and thrust the blade forward. The tip hit resistance.

  Paul shouted, driving the blade deeper. He felt the edge grind against bone. Twisting savagely, he heard a gurgle in the darkness. The man he struggled with began to thrash wildly as blood jetted onto Kavanagh.

  The door opened again. Someone must have heard the commotion. The lights came on and a nurse screamed. She kept on screaming as Paul scrambled off the dying assassin.

  His blade was sheathed in flesh. It had sunk under the man’s jaw and gone straight up, likely hitting the brainpan from underneath. It was a gruesome sight. So was Paul with the assassin’s blood dripping from him.

  “Santiago?” Romo said. He peered down at the floor from his hospital bed.

  “You know him?” Paul asked.

  Romo switched his gaze, looking up at Paul. “Si, it is my friend, Santiago. He is the one who called to warn me. We used to…”

  “He’s one of Valdez’s assassins?”

  Romo nodded.

  Two other nurses had entered. They each held the screamer, trying to calm her. With wide eyes, they looked at Paul.

  “We’re moving the patient,” Paul told them. “That man tried to murder him and I just saved his life.” Paul pointed his thumb at Romo.

  “It is true,” Romo said.

  The way the nurses looked at them, none seemed to believe either man, but it didn’t seem as if they wanted to argue either.

  OTTAWA, CANADA

  Anna knew she was the wrong person for this. She couldn’t cow foreign dignitaries and certainly not their only ally, Prime Minister Roland of Canada. Nor did she feel herself as overly persuasive. So why had David insisted she be the one to go?

  Prime Minster Roland of Canada massaged his forehead, with his elbows on his maple-wood desk. His hair receded, the dome of skull shiny up there, and he wore a black suit with a plaid bowtie. The man had worried eyes like the harried bureaucrat he was. His Liberal Party barely had enough seats in Parliament to give him his office. Maybe he felt this request would destroy his party’s hold on power.

  It was snowing outside with thick, heavy flakes. In here, the heaters blew hot air. The chamber was rather small, made even cozier by the dark wood paneling and the rows upon rows of old books. The place had a musty odor, like Harvard’s oldest library used to have. Anna recalled the smell fondly, as she’d done much of her research there for her national bestseller, Socialist-Nationalist China. She’d learned that the Prime Minister was once a university professor. Maybe that’s why David had chosen her for the task, but she doubted that was the main reason.

  “Ms. Chen,” PM Roland said, looking up as he continued to massage his forehead with his long fingers. He wore a fraternity skull and crossed bones ring, although he lacked a wedding band. The man had never been married. “I-I simply don’t know what to make of this request. Is the President serious?”

  “He is, sir,” Anna said.

  “But—give the Germans Quebec?” he asked. “It is national suicide for us and the strategic death of the United States. I cannot conceive how your President thinks this is a good idea.”

  Anna didn’t have to attempt being earnest. She was. “Prime Minister,” she said, leaning forward. “We’ve been watching the death of the United States for months now, one lost battle at a time.”

  “No. I don’t accept that. My generals have kept me informed. Yes, the Chinese and their Brazilian allies have taken much of the Southern Midwest, but you’ve inflicted heavy casualties on them. If you continue on that tack, victory is assured you.”

  “I wish that were true,” Anna said. “They have far too many soldiers compared to us. They can afford these staggering losses. The United States cannot.”

  “We are about to drive south with half the Canadian Army to aid you in the monumental struggle.”

  “Do you have an actual timetable for that, sir?”

  “We’re going to go soon,” Roland said, his eyes sliding away from hers.

  “Prime Minister, the Germans are poised in Cuba. We need the soldiers on the East Coast, on the Gulf Coast. We need them as reinforcements in the Midwest. This offer gives us an opportunity to concentrate our military on one enemy at a time. Well, in this instance, on two out of the three alliances combined against us.”

  “No, no, this offer is national suicide for us. I will not be able
to agree to it. Canada cannot willingly give up its national territory.”

  “Sir, I know the President has spoken to you on the phone concerning this. As he told you, this is a temporary situation only. We’re not suggesting you cede Quebec forever, just for the moment.”

  “Do you Americans think we’re naïve?” Roland asked. “Once the Germans fortify Quebec, no one will oust them from the province. Certainly, the United States isn’t going to have the strength to do so. And Canada lacks the military power to take on the German Dominion.”

  “Once we finish with the Chinese—”

  Prime Minister Roland massaged his forehead, staring down at the desk. “I cannot believe this. You’re abandoning us to the wolves. After all that we have done for you—do you realize the Chinese have offered us neutrality?”

  Anna went cold inside and her sternum seemed to press against her. So the rumors were true about that. “Sir,” she said, “the Chinese are attempting to do just what we are: concentrate on one enemy at a time. Don’t let the enemy lull you with empty promises.”

  “My Cabinet members are split,” Roland said. “The majority wishes to accept the Chinese offer and declare neutrality, sitting out the war. If the Germans invade Quebec…” He looked up at her. “We will drive the Germans out of our country, possibly gaining Chinese help in order to do it.”

  “Do you think the Chinese will engage the German Dominion for Canada?”

  Roland’s features hardened.

  Anna realized that was the wrong tack to take. “Sir,” she said, “if you summoned Chinese aid, you would be handing Canada to them.”

  “That would be better than letting the Germans in.”

  “I’m not sure you’ve considered what you’re saying. Mexico shows us that once the Chinese gain admittance into a country, they stay and take over. Our way, you would not be giving the Germans Canada, but its most troublesome province. You would rid yourself of your worst headache.”

  “Without Quebec there is no Canada,” Roland said. “We would lose the Maritime Provinces along with the French.”

  “Sir, respectfully, you’ve already lost Quebec. The people are poised to rise up in rebellion. Can you afford to halt the Germans while the people of Quebec aid the enemy and harass your formations through guerilla operations?”

  He stared at her, his mouth moving but no sounds issuing. Finally, he said, “America is abandoning us, Ms. Chen. You’re selling us down the river.”

  “Mr. Prime Minister,” Anna said, clutching the front edge of the desk. “We’re on the brink of ruin, both our countries. This gives us a chance to defeat the Chinese in detail before we turn around and deal with the Germans.”

  Roland shook his head. “I will not send the Canadian Army south into America if the Germans are massing in Quebec. It would be madness for us, national suicide.”

  “No. You don’t understand. We must grasp this lone opportunity and wrest victory from potential defeat.”

  “Words,” he said. “Those are empty words. Your President doesn’t fool me, nor will he fool Canada. We would have stood with you to the end. Now, now you have abandoned us, and still, you expect us to fight for you and die.”

  Anna sat back in defeat. Her stomach knotted. This was terrible. She knew a hard moment of bitterness and words spilled out of her. “You waited too long to join the fight, Mr. Prime Minister. Canada waited when it should have joined us from the beginning so it would have never come to this.”

  He looked at her wide-eyed. “On top of everything else, you will berate me?”

  “Yes,” she heard herself say.

  His mouth opened, and he blinked at her with astonishment.

  “Act now,” she said. “Take a risk with us and we will rejoice together in another year or two.”

  “In another two years, there will be no more Canada nor will there be a United States. We will all be thralls of the Germans and the Chinese.”

  “Then take a risk,” she said.

  Prime Minister Roland bit his lower lip. “We’re not able to stop the Germans, not if you don’t help. I will have to mass the Canadian Army on the Ontario-Quebec border. Then I will have to travel to Beijing and see if the Chinese will still accept our neutrality.”

  “I wish you would have faith in us, Prime Minister. As long as you’re giving the Germans Quebec—”

  “I will have to ask you to leave,” the Prime Minister said. “This…capitulation to blackmail, it makes me sick. Tell the President we will stand with America if you stand with us. But if you agree to the Germans taking Quebec, we will realize that you have abandoned us. In that case, Canada will have to seek out its own future.”

  Anna blinked back tears. Was this it? Had Chancellor Kleist shattered America’s last alliance through diabolical trickery? No, she couldn’t leave it like this.

  She stood, and she came around the Prime Minister’s desk. She wore a black dress. It showed her legs to good effect. She reached out, and she could see his surprise.

  “This is highly unusual,” Roland said. “I will summon my security officers.”

  “Prime Minster,” Anna said, taking one of his long-fingered hands in hers. She clutched his fingers, and she knelt on her stocking knees. She noticed his gaze flicker to her cleavage.

  “This is the moment of gravity for each of our nations,” she said. “Canada and the United States have long been the firmest friends. We have the longest demilitarized border in the world. We are each other’s best trading partner. Many of our best scientists are Canadians. We defeated the Chinese together in Alaska. We can do the same here. What I’m asking you, sir, is to trust us. The President’s back is against the wall. We are on the verge of defeat. But I want to assure you, Prime Minster, that we mean to defeat the Chinese utterly. We will hand them such a staggering loss that it will restore the US power in North America. We need Canada. We need those hard-fighting troops of yours to stand with ours. Only then can we hope to achieve a reversal that gives us both our precious freedom. I beg you, Prime Minister, stand with us. If ever there was a moment in American history where we needed Canada’s help, this is it.”

  Prime Minister Roland swallowed audibly. He stared into Anna’s eyes. “You…you are very compelling, my dear.”

  “I believe in my President, sir, and I love my country.”

  “Please,” he said. “Sit down. This is—this is unbecoming for the two of us.”

  Anna climbed to her feet, looking down at him. She squeezed his hand before letting go. Then she returned to her chair, demurely sitting.

  The Prime Minister took out the white handkerchief in his breast pocket and mopped his shiny forehead. “I-I don’t know how to respond to such a…” He waved his hand.

  “Sir, trust us. Trust David Sims. He knows how to defeat the Chinese. He did it in Alaska and he did it again in California. This is a bigger war, so he needs more time. But he will do it in the end.”

  “I have witnessed his successes. But can your President also defeat the Germans in Quebec?”

  That was a good question. But instead of telling the Prime Minister that, Anna said with a demure smile, “Let us deal with one enemy at a time, sir, one enemy at a time.”

  “Hmm, maybe you—or your President—has the right idea in that.”

  “I know he does.”

  “Hmm,” Roland said, knotting his handkerchief with his spidery fingers.

  “You know, sir. I just thought of something.”

  “Yes?” Roland asked.

  “Perhaps you should go to Beijing. I don’t know if you realize it, but I happen to be an authority on the ruling Chinese party.”

  “Oh.”

  “If the Chinese thought Canada was negotiating for neutrality, that might give our two countries a chance to surprise them.”

  “You are suggesting I lie?”

  “No sir, not lie, but you might go and ask the Chinese about neutrality. That in itself might send them the signal, and they will believe what they w
ish to.”

  “What are you thinking, Ms. Chen?”

  Anna was still flushed from her experience of begging on her knees and possibly having persuaded the Prime Minister. This new idea…it was worth exploring. Still, maybe she needed to hammer down the Prime Minister’s stand with the United States first.

  “I would need to speak to the President about this,” Anna said. “I am his personal envoy, not one of his strategists.”

  The Prime Minister allowed himself a wry smile. “The President knows how to pick his envoys.” Then Roland glanced away as if self-conscious. Two red spots appeared on his cheeks.

  He’s embarrassed. How did a man like him ever get to be Prime Minster? Anna didn’t know, but she wondered if that should be the theme of her next research paper.

  -6-

  I-70 Colorado

  THIRD FRONT HQ, COLORADO

  Marshal Liang of the Pan-Asian Alliance Third Front sipped tea in his quarters. It was an American farmhouse bedroom outside of Pueblo, Colorado.

  Liang was a sparse man in his late fifties. He seemed unassuming and quiet, and he left nothing to chance. He had never cared for Jian Hong, and he found the Chairman increasingly unappealing since the murder of Foreign Minister Deng. Still, Hong ruled with the backing of East Lightning and the man lavishly supplied the military with the materiel needed for this incredible undertaking of conquering the United States of America.

  First blowing across his cup of tea, Liang sipped the hot liquid. It was good tea, and it helped settle his stomach.

  Even after several days of receiving the orders, he still seethed about them. He had been given two objectives now: storm a great American city to capture the Behemoth Tank Manufacturing Plant and drive north to the Canadian border during the dead of winter. That meant pushing up through three states: Nebraska, South Dakota and North Dakota, and possibly passing through parts of Wyoming and Montana. That would be a harder task now with the diversion of some of his best assault divisions.

  Before the new orders, he’d wished to mask Greater Denver instead of entangling part of his army in street-to-street battles. In modern terms, Denver was a fortress city. He’d wanted to cordon off the urban environment with a ring of second-rate garrison troops. If the Americans wanted a fight, let them come out of the cities onto the plains where his greater numbers and superior quality would annihilate them.