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Barrett leans over and says, “You can kill my son and dump his body on the South Lawn, and it will not make a lick of difference in my actions. I’m doing what is best for my nation and its people. There will be casualties. And if by some odd chance in the future, I wish to have another son …”
Barrett quickly stands up, slaps his crotch.
“I have the hammer and forge to produce another son, even finer.”
“This … makes no sense.”
“Sense? I’ll show you what makes sense from where I sit.” Barrett goes around to his wooden desk. From the lower right-hand drawer, he pulls out a Colt Model 1911 .45 caliber semiautomatic pistol. He comes back to the couch, puts the pistol on the table.
“See that?” he asks. “Designed more than a century ago. One of the finest sidearms ever developed for our military. This one was carried by my grandfather, when he was in the Marines, in Korea, and nearly got killed at Chosin Reservoir. I’m sure you know about that battle … hundreds of thousands of your ancestors came at my grandfather and other Marines. He survived, but he lost both feet, frozen from the cold.”
Barrett touches the pistol. “My father carried this in Vietnam, until a round from a Chinese-made SKS-56 blew off his right knee. For the rest of his life, even as a schoolteacher, my father was a bitter drunk, thanks to you folks. But now … your aggression, your violence, ends with me.”
Enough is enough,Dejiang thinks. He has to get out of here and report back to Beijing the condition of this nation’s president. Quickly.
He abruptly gets up. “You have made your position quite clear, Mr. President. We have offered you a way out from our dilemma. You have refused any consideration, any compromise. You have until noon tomorrow to reverse course.”
The president of the United States stands up as well, face red, eyes wide.
“Fine,” he says. “And you have sixty seconds to get the hell out of my White House.”
CHAPTER 104
LIAM GREY IS driving the beat-up Polo into Johannesburg, yawning, desperately trying to stay awake.
It’s taken nearly nine hours to get here from the truck stop where he had met Chin Lin. She left before him, allowing him time for a burger, fries, and refueling the Polo before driving east. Along the way he pulled over for a nap, refueled the Polo twice more, and kept on going with water, energy bars, and coffee. Now he’s on Stiemens Street, following the directions Lin gave him.
There.
A bulky, concrete parking garage, part of the Joburg Theatre complex, consisting of four separate theatres in the Braamfontein area of the city.
Liam slowly drives in, notes that it costs twenty rands to park—money supplied to him before he left the States—and then he goes into the complex, up a level, and finds a certain spot. He parks the Polo, takes his duffel bag and steps out, stretches, and a voice says, “You’re cutting it close.”
Lin emerges from between two parked cars, walking to him, feet echoing on the concrete.
“Had to pass through a herd of water buffalo, sorry,” he says. “I’m ready if you are.”
She nods, gestures him over. She has on gray slacks and a white, button-front blouse with the same leather jacket as yesterday. Lin is alert and looking smart.
“Come along,” she says, leading Liam to a dark-gray Mercedes-Benz S-Class sedan. She toggles a key fob and the rear trunk pops open, makes a gesture, and Liam says, “No.”
“What?”
“I’m not getting in that trunk, not now.”
“You agreed.”
Liam says, “No, I’ve agreed to this op because it’s the only way I see to get Benjamin freed and find out how to help the vice president. But this op goes against every bit of tradecraft I’ve learned over the years. And climbing into a car trunk in a parking garage, trusting you’ll take me to the right place? That’s not going to happen.”
With anger in her dark eyes, Lin says, “Then whatisgoing to happen?”
Liam goes around to the passenger’s-side door, opens it. “Lady, I’m trying to minimize this big-ass risk. Which means I need to see the target building before we begin. I’m not going in cold. All right?”
“What difference will it make?”
“It’ll make me happy,” he says. “Aren’t you in favor of improving Sino-American relations?”
“Only for one particular American,” she quietly says.