to intercept the inbound RV in terms of pure geometry.
The issue was speed. Gregory popped open another Diet Coke from the room’s minibar and sat back on the bed to consider how troublesome that issue was. The inbound RV, at a hundred thousand feet, would be traveling at about sixteen thousand miles per hour, 23,466 feet per second, eight times the speed of a rifle bullet, 7,150 meters per second. That was pretty damned fast. It was about the same speed as a high-explosive detonation. You could have the RV sitting next to a ton of TNT at the moment the explosive went off, and the explosion couldn’t catch up with the RV. That was FAST.
So, the SAM’s warhead has to go off well before it gets to where the RV is. Figuring out how much was a simple mathematical exercise. That meant that the proximity fuse on the SM-2 was the important variable in the equation, Gregory decided. He didn’t know that he was wrong on this, didn’t see what he was missing, and went on with his calculations. The software fix for the proximity laser fusing system looked less difficult than he’d imagined. Well, wasn’t that good news?
It was another early day for Minister Fang Gan. He’d gotten a phone call at his home the previous night, and decided he had to arrive early for the appointment made then. This was a surprise for his staff, who were just setting up for the day when he breezed in, not looking as cross as he felt for the disturbance of his adamantine routine. It wasn’t their fault, after all, and they had the good sense not to trouble him, and thus generate artificial wrath.
Ming was just printing up her downloads from the Web. She had pieces that she thought would be of interest, especially one from The Wall Street Journal, and another from Financial Times. Both commented on what she thought might be the reason for the minister’s early arrival. His 9:20 appointment was with Ren He-Ping, an industrialist friendly with her boss. Ren arrived early. The slender, elderly man looked unhappy—no, she thought, worried—about something. She lifted her phone to get permission, then stood and walked him into the inner office, racing back outside to fetch morning tea, which she hadn’t had a chance to serve her boss yet.
Ming was back inside in less than five minutes, with the fine porcelain cups on a decorated serving tray. She presented the morning drinks to both men with an elegance that earned her a thank-you from her boss, and then she took her leave. Ren, she saw, wasn’t any happier to be in with her minister.
“What is the problem, Ren?”
“In two weeks, I will have a thousand workers with nothing to do, Fang.”
“Oh? What is the reason for that, my friend?”
“I do much business with an American business. It is called Butterfly. They sell clothing to wealthy American women. My factory outside Shanghai makes the cloth, and my tailoring plant at Yancheng turns the fabric into clothing, which we ship to America and Europe. We’ve been doing business with Butterfly for three years now, very satisfactorily for all concerned.”
“Yes? So, what, then, is the difficulty?”
“Fang, Butterfly just canceled an order worth one hundred forty million American dollars. They did it without any warning. Only last week they told us how happy they were with our products. We’ve invested a fortune into quality control to make sure they would stay with us—but they’ve left us like a dog in the street.”
“Why did this happen, Ren?” Minister Fang asked, fearing he knew the answer.
“Our representative in New York tells us that it’s because of the deaths of the two clergymen. He tells us that Butterfly had no choice, that Americans demonstrated outside his establishment in New York and prevented people from going inside to buy his wares. He says that Butterfly cannot do business with me for fear of having their own business collapse.”
“Do you not have a contract with them? Are they not obligated to honor it?”
Ren nodded. “Technically, yes, but business is a practical thing, Minister. If they cannot sell our goods, then they will not buy them from us. They cannot get the financing to do so from their bankers—bankers loan money in the expectation that it will be paid back, yes? There is an escape clause in the contract. We could dispute it in court, but it would take years, and we would probably not succeed, and it