Two Peasants and a President (42 page)

“Guess they didn’t like my speech, huh?” she said in a soft voice.  With those words, the fear and tension that marked their faces melted into smiles streaked with tears.  Holly would spend the next two days at the ho
s
pital, the doctors needing to be cautious in case some unseen trauma had gone undetected.  But when she was finally released, a white bandage on the side of her head was the only visible evidence of what had happened. 

The family was ready to leave for home as s
oon as they could find a flight,
feeling rightly that nearly losing Holly twice was twice too many.  It was time for someone else to pick up the torch.  As they sat
at the phone
back at the hotel,
asking the owners of the Gulfstream to take them home
, Holly made a sudden announcement. 

“I’m not going,” she said.  H
er mother’s face was a mask of
incred
u
lity as she turned to face her daughter.

“You’re what?” she said
.

“I’m not going,” Holly repeated, enunciating each word.

No sound escaped the lips of anyone in the room for more than a mi
n
ute.  The next words came from her grandfather, the soft lines of his face expressing a calm understanding of the inevitable.

“She means she’s got some unfinished business to tend to,” he said simply. 

Jim and Sally badly wanted to drag their daughter out of the room and into a taxi for the airport, but they had been down that path before.  Once Holly’s mind was made up, neither handcuffs nor straight jacket could restrain her. 

“I nearly died . . . twice.  It’s got to be for a reason and not wasted,” Holly said softly, “When I was unconscious, I could see my words as if they were objects.  As I spoke to those people, the words fell upon them like a gentle rain, the drops not running down their faces onto the ground, but soaking in.  I can’t describe the feeling but somehow I knew they understood.  I need to make others understand.  There’s no one else.  It has to
be
me.”

Rome was next. 

6
0

Molly grabbed Virgil’s arm so tightly that his head snapped around.  They were walking through an electronics store when every television erupted simultaneously with an image that froze them in place.  A loud crack sounded near an unseen cameraman and the subject in his viewfinder cru
m
pled.  It was unmistakable.  It was Holly.  They stood unspeaking as dozens of screens continued to mimic each other’s horror.  Finding a remote, they moved in front of the largest screen to listen for what they hoped not to hear.  Nothing was known that wasn’t already visible. 

Knowing that Ping might have the television on, they headed for the parking lot.  The car radio had only what they had already seen; the info
r
mation they dreaded but desperately needed was not yet available.  They resolved that if the TV wasn’t already on at home, they would keep it off for the time being.  Ping must be protected. 

When they opened the front door, the only sound was a faint humming coming from her room upstairs.  Ping loved to knit and would accompany her knitting with the sing-song melodies of her youth. 

“We’re home,” they announced loudly enough to be heard upstairs.

“
Tahnk
you,” came the accented reply. 
Ping’s
English was gradually improving, but she had managed to tangle up certain phrases that actually seemed to make more sense her way.  For example, instead of ‘mow the lawn,’ she would say ‘lower the
mawn
.
’  It was really very cute and only endeared her to them more.

Virgil went into his study and turned on the computer.  Molly stood behind him hoping they would not find what they dreaded.  Finally they came across a BBC report.  It said what they already knew, that Holly had been shot, but it did not say that she had died.  It was scant but uncertain r
e
lief.  Virgil called his office to see if any of his aides were still there.  Pr
e
dictably, his indefatigable chief of staff was still working.  Virgil asked him to try to get in touch with someone in Paris who knew what had happened and get back with him.  Then he called his contact at the company that provided the Gulfstream to see if they had any info.  It was simply too soon.  

Molly and Virgil tried to read for awhile, but it was futile.  Finally about 10:00 pm, his aide called to tell them that Holly was expected to live.  There was still no information as to the identity of the shooter or the reason. 
That Holly was alive was all they needed.  The morning news programs would have more.  They tiptoed past
Ping’s
room, hoping she was still awake, but a buzzing rather that a humming told them she was not.

******

With the first smell of morning coffee from the kitchen, they turned on the bedroom TV.  There were still few details other than the only one that mattered: Holly had been wounded and would be out of the Paris hospital in a couple of days.  Virgil wrapped a robe around himself and went down to see if Ping was up yet.  He found her standing in front of the television in the kitchen, tears streaming down her cheeks.  The gentle touch on her shoulder reminded her that she had someone who cared.  She turned and let him wrap his arms around her.

“She’s all right, Ping, she’s all right.  They hurt her but not badly; she’s going to live.”

Like sorrow cleansed by a miracle, the shadow of grief passed from
Ping’s
face as she looked up into his eyes. 

“My baby OK?” she said. 

“Yes, Ping, she’ll be fine.” 

Another pair of arms gently wrapped themselves around Ping and Virgil. 

******

The aide who never slept was already in the office when Virgil arrived.  He had just spoken with Holly’s parents.  Incredibly, Holly intended to so
l
dier on.

“I’d give her the Medal of Honor if it were in my power to do so,” said the senator, “she has to be the bravest young lady I have ever known.” 

What had been captured by an unseen cameraman played over and over on morning news shows across the country and in Europe.  Within days, that grim footage was replaced with the image of Holly’s bandaged head as she stood before ever growing crowds, speaking in a voice that had found its way into the hearts of people on every continent.  Like a modern Joan of Arc, the spunky little lady was conquering Europe.  

In what seemed impossible, people in stores were turning items upside down, pulling labels out of clothing and refusing to buy: Made in China.  Even cheapskates who would drive a mile to save a buck were passing on the lowest prices.  While there were adverse and unfortunate consequences for
those in the ancillary businesses connected to the China trade, the boycott overall was proving more effective than anyone had ever dreamed.

Unfortunately for the president, he continued to focus on all things negative.  The man seemed incapable of admitting that he was ever wrong.  It was always someone or something else.  Had he adapted to the reality of what was happening, he might have been able to resurrect his popularity, but his inflexible
ideology
was his undoing.  Increasingly, those in the media who had carried his water saw their own survival on the line and began to moderate their positions.  Even his allies in the Congress were starting to drift.  Perhaps his biggest problem was that there simply was no defense for having attempted to aid in a cover up of the undeniably despicable events surrounding Holly and her husband.  His position was utterly indefensible.

China’s obstinacy
and hubris continued unabated at first.  They were well aware that with many products in America’s stores, buying ‘Made in USA’ was simply not possible; there weren’t any.  But they failed to realize how quickly countries like Viet Nam, India, South Korea and others would rush to fill the gap with low priced goods of their own.  Shipments of ev
e
rything from kitchen utensils to electronics were being loaded into containers bound for America.  Even in the United States smaller companies began to produce what was needed.  Their prices were not as low as the Chinese goods they replaced, but jobs meant paychecks and Americans increasingly were earmarking part of their paychecks for ‘Made in USA’ products.  In what was perhaps the most powerful result of the boycott, people were feeling good about it; they were pulling toget
her and they were beating up
the bully for a change. 

Then China miscalculated badly.  Believing their own fiction regar
d
ing the South Chin
a Sea, they decided that their “indisputable sovereignty”
over the area permitted them to ‘monitor’ shipping.’  It was an obvious ploy to counter the boycott, but China was not averse to being obvious when they wanted to send a message.  Using the pathetically thin pretext of interdicting contraband, they began stopping and inspecting ships
bearing goods bound for the
United States.  Since vessels leaving Vietnam were closest at hand, they started there, boarding two container ships and several smaller freighters.  The following day, Vietnam adopted a WWII tactic, setting up convoys and escorting each with a warship.  The powder keg was now perilously close to the fire.

Vietnam was neither new to having a navy nor to using it to battle China on the high seas, their first victory over Chinese Southern Han forces having been in the year 938.  In 1288 an attack on the Yuan (Mongol) D
y
nasty killed over 80,000 Yuan sailors and destroyed more than 400 of their
ships.  In a modern clash over the Spratly Islands in 1988, Vietnam did not fare so well, with over seventy Vietnamese sailors killed.  Intermittent clashes had continued since then.  But unlike China, who had numerous routes to the open sea, Vietnam’s coast lay along the very area which China now claimed, meaning Vietnam’s economic survival was at stake.  She could not back down. 

The first Vietnamese convoy was escorted by the
Dinh
Tien
Hoang, a brand new ‘stealth’ frigate of Russian design.  While its 76.2 mm main gun was smaller than the 100 mm gun some Chinese warships carried, its co
m
plement of Kh-35E anti-ship missiles, 533 mm torpedoes,
Osa
-M air defense missile system, as well as anti-submarine and point defense systems, made it a very capable platform.  It was China’s move. 

A Chinese frigate shadowed the convoy.  Sailors aboard both warships were at battle stations.  Continuing east past the disputed Paracel islands toward the northernmost tip of the Philippines, the convoy passed the point at which Vietnamese land-based anti-ship missiles could no longer reach.  Now out from under that protective umbrella, the convoy was at its most vulnerable point. 

Suddenly radar aboard the
Dinh
Tien
Hoang painted a flight of four Chinese J-10 fighters taking off from Hainan Island.  The J-10’s, first i
n
troduced in 2005 carried short and medium range air-to-air missiles as well as YJ-9K anti-ship missiles.   It was a modern, capable fighter that some b
e
lieved equivalent to the American FA-18 Hornet.   As they closed on the Vietnamese frigate, its air-defense radar officer programmed the system to lock on to the fighters at a distance his captain had ordered.  At the same time a message was sent to his base alerting them of the presence of the Chinese fighters
.

The Chinese fighters could see that they were being ‘painted’ by the frigate’s air defense radar.  A lock on would be the immediate prelude to engagement.  The pilots did not know at what point the Vietnamese would loose their missiles, or indeed if they would even open fire.  Likewise, the captain of the
Dinh
Tien
Hoang had no way of knowing if the Chinese fighters had orders to attack or not.  It was at this point that the Chinese frigate broadcast a message ordering the cargo ships to heave to for boarding and inspection.  The captains of those ships had strict orders to ignore any such demand and they steamed onward without slowing.  

In both Oriental cultures, ‘saving face’ is paramount.  The warriors on both sides had devoted their lives to a code of conduct that would never allow them to disgrace either themselves or their governments.  That young, po
s
sibly hot-headed fighter pilots were now involved made it an even more
volatile mix; a single hostile act could start a war that was in no one’s interest. 

Aboard the
Dinh
Tien
Hoang, the captain was advised that a contact had been picked up off the port bow, likely a Chinese Song-class submarine, itself a formidable adversary.  At the same time his radar picked up a flight of four SU-27 Vietnamese fighters responding to the presence of the Chinese J-10’s.   The Vietnamese captain knew that his ship had the best technology and warfare systems that Russia had to offer.  With four top line SU-27’s on the way, the fight, if it were to occur, would be relatively evenly matched with training and skill being the likely deciders.