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 wish 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.
He knew the army would take brutal and, in his opinion, unnecessary casualties to capture the tank plant. El Paso, Albuquerque and Santa Fe had taught him how hard the Americans defended their cities. Worse, urban entrenchments turned second and third rate soldiers into stiff defenders. No, he wanted no more city fights. The latest estimates from his staff showed that this battle could prove even bloodier than the earlier ones of the past summer.
Outside the upstairs window, snow fell instead of the unseasonable rain. For too long the gods of war had frustrated Chinese arms with the warm rains. Here at the Front Range of the Southern Rockies, it should have been sunny this time of year.
The local region here had different names. One was the Colorado Front Range. Liang preferred its other name: the Front Range Urban Corridor. It stretched from Pueblo, Colorado north along I-25 to Cheyenne, Wyoming. Within the oblong area lived nearly five million Americans. The cities sheltered themselves where the Great Plains merged into the Southern Rockies. The majority of the people of Colorado lived here under the auspices of the looming mountains. Denver itself lay a mere twelve miles east from the beginning range.
Because of the protecting Rockies, it was normally sunny this time of year. Usually the mountains were a bulwark against the eastward-traveling storms. Instead, there had been rain, rain and more rain. Finally, for the last several days the temperature had dropped. It froze the mud into icy ground the vehicles could use. Ever since the new orders and the proper winter weather, he had been