The anchor looked shocked. "Are you saying, Colonel, that this man the police are seeking may have worked for our allies, the Nationalist Chinese?"

The man nodded. "Unfortunately, as this and previous administrations have moved closer and closer to fully normalized relations with the Communist Chinese, our friends in Taiwan have grown more and more militant in their opposition to this. And I'm reminded it was the vice president who served as the chief negotiator in setting up the recent summit between the premier of the People's Republic and the president."

He paused, trying to decide whether he should put on his serious or concerned look. "When taken in concert with the flag factory bombing earlier today, there seems to be little doubt left for anyone. However much the FBI might withhold direct comment."

A Secret Service agent interrupted the men. "The attorney general, Mr. President."

The president muted the TV, then turned to shake the hands of the younger man. "Jeff, you know George Steingarth."

"Mr. President. George, how are you? The son of German immigrants shook his hand as they all sat down."

"Well," DeWitt began without preamble, "here's where we stand." He handed a copy of his file to the president. "The FBI has confirmed that the hit team was Asian and staying in a dilapidated old bed-and-breakfast very near the a.s.sa.s.sination site. A t.i.tle search shows that the building had recently been purchased by a dummy corporation that has had ties to Nationalist Chinese intelligence."

"Swine, Steingarth said under his breath."

"Can we prove they came from Taiwan and were acting on their government's orders? The elderly president squinted as he continued to read."

DeWitt shrugged. "There's knowing and there's proving, Mr. President. Unless we catch one of them, unless he talks, we may never be able to actually prove what we are all certain of. At least not in court."

"I'm not f.u.c.king interested in courts," the president growled as he finished reading. "I've got a hundred and seventy-five dead-thirty of them Americans-in a factory in Taiwan, a dead vice president, and the military all over my a.s.s! We have a Crisis Management Committee meeting in ten minutes, and I need some f.u.c.king answers!"

DeWitt nodded. "Director Hayes is preparing a full presentation of the evidence to date for them."

"Good." The president seemed distracted. "Jeff, you're a pro, you understand the real world..."

"Yes, Mr. President?"

"Senator Buckley and Director Kingston, Mr. President."

The president waved the Secret Service to admit the men. Two minutes later, after DeWitt brought them up-to-date, the old man gestured at the muted TV.

"We have a terminal situation, boys. Getting worse all the time." He took a note from DeWitt that had been handed him by his aide, Michael. "And I am now informed that a van with the green tiger symbol painted on the side just fired on a group of American tourists in Manila."

He looked exhausted as he handed the note to Steingarth. "We are about as close to war as this nation has ever been, and will get all the way there in an instant if we don't act, and act decisively."

"What do you need, Mr. President?" Buckley asked-hoping he knew the answer.

"I've ordered all our workers back to barracks, sir," Kingston said firmly. "We're making arrangements with the host countries to provide extra security for all Peace Corps workers in Asia. But if there's anything more I can do for you?"

And he prayed that there was. One thing, specifically.

DeWitt, busy on the phone, covered the mouthpiece. "Mr. President, Director Hayes and the CIA director are downstairs, along with the Joint Chiefs, sir. Other staff and advisers are en route. They'll be ready for you in ten minutes."

If you're not ready for me before then, he hoped.

The president looked them each in the eye. He'd never really liked the young, idealistic lawyer, the politically correct politician, or the social-climbing administrator. He'd supported them, advanced their careers and expectations as much to please the more moderate wing of the party as for their qualifications.

And he knew they were all considering running to replace him in fourteen months, at the end of the president's second and final term. A prospect that depressed him.

He personally didn't care for the idea of these young, admitted former pot smokers with foreign educations and no military records-but winning smiles, charm, style, and a very high approval rating-replacing him.

But this was politics-all about making the hard, distasteful choices above personal desires, he'd been reminded within the hour-and the men in front of him were the champions of the young moderates that were gradually taking over the party.

Also, the president frankly admitted to himself-if no one else-he was tired.

Exhausted in his eightieth year of life, of defending the ideals that had been bred into him, that gave him chills each time he saw an American flag. The job of the last six-plus years had been draining and dispiriting, particularly since his wife had died of cancer.

The president had come to realize, in the private isolation that included only true friends like the German American banker beside him, that he was slipping away-like a faded melody-and would need their youth, energy, and strength if he was going to face what he knew would be the greatest crisis his administration had ever seen.

"If what we think has happened," the president said after too long a pause, "has in fact happened, this country cannot afford to appear weak. Not even for a second!"

Buckley agreed. "Of course, Mr. President. But what does-"

"George and I have been talking. There are niceties and there are political realities. And our reality-at this moment-is that we could be in combat in Taiwan within the week."

Steingarth leaned forward. "Gentlemen, what we are saying is that there must be no appearance of a vacuum in the national command authority."

The president looked uncomfortable but determined. "Look, I know old Bobby's not cold yet, but I have to act for the good of the country, dammit! And George agrees. h.e.l.l, his instincts are almost as sharp as mine at this."

"I know the Taiwanese," Steingarth said. "They will deny, obfuscate, plead communist plots and sinister conspiracies. We must not be perceived as even tolerating any of those lies."

"I understand," Kingston said slowly. "But what does this-"

"The Oriental mentality is such," Steingarth continued, "that they will believe they have dealt a crippling blow to our government. Even before I became a member of the President's Foreign Intelligence Advisory Board, I detected this growing animosity from them. This need to have a high-profile, world-shattering victory."

"He's been telling me about it for years," the president added emphatically.

"But we will deny them their moment," Steingarth said with surety.

"Jeff," the president said as he reached out and touched the younger man, "I want to nominate you for the vice presidency the day after Bobby's funeral."

"Mr. President." DeWitt sounded in shock. "I don't know what to say. You need to take more time, sir."

"There is no more time to take," the president argued forcefully. "We must demonstrate to the Nationalists that we are firm in our resolve and will not be bullied or frightened into abandoning decades of hard work at normalization with the mainland."

The president looked at the other men. "Rod, you're the new attorney general. I'm ordering you to immediately convene a special commission to investigate what's happened and provide definitive answers within two weeks."

Buckley, equally shocked, slowly nodded. "Sir."

"Lane, I've spoken to Governor Free. We can't afford to lose a vote in our thin margin in the Senate. Not with some of the things that will need to be done. She'll appoint you to replace Rod as soon as I announce Jeff and these moves."

"Thank you, Mr. President," Kingston said as he quietly exulted at his new power-even as he resented the others theirs.

"Mr. President," DeWitt said softly, instantly getting the other men's attention, "I think you should take more time. A decision like this..."

Steingarth looked at him supportively-privately appreciating the man's control. "Jeff, you're a moderate, with no clear China policy, but a proven history of loyalty to the goals of this administration. You know everyone on Judiciary and Foreign Affairs intimately and are a certain confirmation."

"You must do this, Jeff," the president said. "If not for yourself, then for history."

DeWitt was silent for a long time while the other men studied him, absorbed by their own private thoughts of ascension.

During the silence, Apple Blossom looked around the room, saw the trappings of the office, the history, the nervous Secret Service guards, aides on the phone getting further updates.

Their minds flashed over a lifetime of decisions, over decades of fear and avarice merged into a single, undefinable but overpoweringly l.u.s.ty emotion. They thought of the stark reality of what this moment would bring with it.

Of the universe that had been implied by the old man's words.

They looked into the eyes of that desperate old man and of the blank German adviser who had replaced the first lady as the president's only intimate; both begging in their own way to fulfill his and their destinies.

"Mr. President," DeWitt said with sober sincerity after a brief, whispered conversation with Michael, "for the sake of the nation, I accept."

Ten.

It was a small theater, steeply tiered, with three-quarters of the seventy-five seats surrounding the tiny stage. The stage itself had two comfortable chairs, a lectern with a microphone, and a floor-to-ceiling mosaic of a small man-holding a bamboo spade-slowly chipping away at a ma.s.sive mountain.

And above it, in large red letters trimmed in gold, the motto of the Long-Range Study Organization.

Time is our ultimate ally.

The room was packed, filled with men and women in faded gray or dark blue shapeless uniforms. Each with pad, pen, and laser pointer. All carefully arranged and undisturbed as they waited for the event to begin. There was no talking among themselves, no restless rustlings, just calm patience and antic.i.p.ation.

On the stage a man in a suit-older than the rest, somehow different-sat in one of the chairs. He looked them all in the eye, making mental notes as to the comportment of each for correction or compliment later.

To his right was Xi. Hands folded in his lap, the slightest of smiles; he looked every inch the humble farmer waiting to be congratulated for a b.u.mper crop of rice.

Nothing anywhere in the hall or on the stage indicated that the group was over one hundred feet belowground, surrounded by a company of elite guards and state-of-the-art anti-eavesdropping gear.

As the hands on the antique Chin dynasty clock struck twenty minutes past the hour, the man in the suit stood, as if propelled by the minute hand. He walked to the microphone, bowed his head toward the audience, then toward Xi.

They all stood, bowing deeply toward him. Then, settling back in their seats, they uncapped their pens, opened their pads, and waited.

"Friends," the man began in his strained, emphysemic voice, "these are dangerous times. Our enemies would seek to destroy us at every turn. Our allies become corrupt and useless, the unaligned continue to be seduced by the falsehoods and promiscuity of the West."

"But we remain stalwart in our defense of our people's honor and pride."

He paused, looking over at Xi, then back at the a.s.semblage.

"I am well pleased at our progress on this score. General Xi."

Even as the suited man began applauding the approaching general, the rest of the group leaped to their feet and wrapped an enormous ovation around the tiny man. Shouts of "Xi!" and "First chair! rained down on the man, who took it stoically."

Xi shook the suited man's hand, then paused while he sat down. The applause instantly ceased.

"Friends, I am unworthy."

Again applause led by the suited man.

"Friends," Xi finally continued, "this is a progress report on Project Apple Blossom, as of 0515 this date."

He opened a file-which he knew by heart-and began reading.

"Since the a.s.sa.s.sination of Vice President Kroll, the American FBI and CIA have concluded through the Buckley Commission's investigation, as intended, that the Dan J is responsible for the crime. This belief has been bolstered by the discovery of appropriately incriminating evidence at the sites of the factory fire and the tourist ma.s.sacre. Taiwan has officially and unofficially denied all complicity, have offered complete cooperation to the American investigators in the case."

"After initial proclamations of the PRC's probable hand in this, they have even retreated on that score. Now even the Taiwanese traitors are beginning to believe that the operation was carried out either by renegade members of the Green Tiger, or by the Green Tiger itself without government sanction." He paused. "We are encouraging that belief both in Taiwan and the United States."

"Three American Naval Task Forces have taken up positions in the South and East China Seas and the Philippine Sea. They are flying freedom of navigation exercises in the Taiwan Straits and have moved B-1 and Stealth aircraft to their base in the northeast on Okinawa. While no strike appears likely in the short term, the pressure continues to build among American popular opinion for a retaliatory mission of some kind."

He moved ahead several sections in the file before continuing.

"Vice President Kroll will be buried this afternoon-Washington time-in his home state of Wyoming. The president and full cabinet will be in attendance under maximum possible security. Upon his return to Washington, he will address the nation from the Oval Office and announce he is placing into nomination the name of Jefferson DeWitt-his attorney general-to become the next vice president, and Senator Rodney Buckley to replace DeWitt. The nominations will be approved within the month."

This time there was no prompting for the applause. Shouts, cheers, genuine love were thrown down at him.

For nearly five minutes he luxuriated in it, then raised his hands for silence.

"This is the people's victory," not one man's. It is a victory that was won due to the hard work of a great many. I stand here for them, to accept your thanks and answer your questions. He turned to the suited man next to him. "Mr. Chairman?"

"Has any connection been made between our man and the operation? he asked carefully from a list prepared by his staff after Xi's private briefing earlier."

"Canvas has reported that the shooters and their facilitators escaped unwitnessed or marked in any way." Xi seemed completely at ease. "The a.s.sociate support drawn for this operation performed well and was never suspected. Their supervisors have been eliminated in two automobile crashes and a commercial airliner explosion. Those few voices that cry 'conspiracy,' cry 'Taiwanese conspiracy, nothing more.'"

The chairman nodded as he read the next question. "What are the prospects for Apple Blossom implementing some form of policy control and on what timetable?"

Xi pretended to deeply ponder that question, although he and the chairman had fastidiously crafted the answer hours before.

"It is a forked element of the plan," he said slowly, as if the words were drawn from deep thought. "We can do nothing but rely on momentum and judicious tappings. This, in and of itself, will almost certainly deliver the Democratic nomination for the presidency to Apple Blossom in ten months. With proper funding, he cannot lose the general election and would rise to the presidency within fourteen months."

"However, I am still cautious of the situation. There are the traitor Pei's allegations; Congresswoman Alvarez is still a figure of concern; there is the very real possibility of exposure-in some form-prior to November of next year."

He clasped his hands in front of him, the picture of deep concentration.

"The other fork available to us-in light of this information-is to continue to expedite the situation. President Brackens is an old man in ill health. The pressures on him are enormous. It would be a simple matter to eliminate him, thereby giving greater policy control to Apple Blossom in the inevitable political confusion that would follow." He looked contemplative. "From any number of positions or tangents, the elimination of the president must, of itself, give us more, perhaps total, control."

"Another a.s.sa.s.sination?" the much older and sicker chairman said in shock, not from the prepared cards. His tone was both disapproving and fearful.

Xi shook his head in the finest tradition of grand Chinese theater. "A natural death, Mr. Chairman. A stroke or heart attack at a fortuitous moment."

The room seemed to relax.

The chairman didn't.

"You mentioned the congresswoman as a continuing threat," the chairman said stiffly as he struggled to read his staff's enlarged typing. "Is there anything new on that score?"