to blunt us.”
“Describe what ‘great lengths’ means,” Hong said. “Or are these just words to try to get me to change my mind?”
Wu beckoned to his aide, a major. The major marched to the table and stood stiffly at it as Shun Li had done.
“Chairman Hong,” the major said, “the Americans have begun a desperation assassination campaign against our best commanders. Due to their inability to face us head-to-head on the battlefield, the Americans have sent many assassination teams behind our lines. They hunt for our most aggressive commanders.”
“What proof do you have of this?” Hong asked.
The major inserted a memory-stick into the Marshal’s slot. He brought up a picture of a Chinese general. “This is General Cho Deng,” the major said. “Marshal Liang considers him the best pursuit commander in his Front. While inspecting his troops, an American-Mexican assassination team murdered him. It was their best team, Leader, Colonel Valdez’s most successful hit man together with an American legend from the Alaskan and Hawaiian campaigns.”
“We send commandos behind American lines,” Hong told Wu. “Why is this any different?”
“Yes, Leader, but this is much more serious,” Wu said. “The Americans must have spent weeks preparing for this hit. Worse, they have infiltrated our ranks with spies, just as we have done with theirs. The successful strike against Cho Deng proves it.”
“Bah,” Hong said.
“Leader,” Wu said. “I believe the importance lies in the American desperation. Because they chose Cho Deng, it shows they fear the deep drives more than any other maneuver. It seems as if the Americans are actually telling us what works best against them. In this case, we must spare no effort to continue a swift, brutal and intense drive to the north.”
“You will do just that,” Hong said, “after taking Denver.”
“I fear the fight against Denver might be long and protracted. As much as you want those Behemoths, surely the Americans will defend them just as hard.”
Chairman Hong looked away. He appeared thoughtful. Finally, he nodded. “There is wisdom in your words, Marshal. It likely will be a hard slog into Denver. And this sniper attack against Cho Deng…yes, there is wisdom in your words. Therefore, as of this moment, instruct Marshal Liang that he has a dual assignment. He must invest and take Denver and he must continue to drive north to the Canadian border. We will do both at once.”
Marshal Wu licked his lips.
To Shun Li it was an obscene performance, as the tip of his tongue appeared whitish and diseased. It seemed to her as if the old man wished to debate the Leader’s decision.
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