Two Peasants and a President (8 page)

“Damn it! Mel, I’m lost here,” interrupted the president.  “A Chinese frigate approximately 700 miles from home fires warning shots at a Philippine warship, basically in its own waters, while a submerged Chinese submarine, also roughly 700 miles from home prepares to sink her with a torpedo.  Have I got that right more or less, Mel?”

“Basically, yes,” replied the SecDef.

“Ok, I guess what I can’t even begin to understand is why the hell would they do that?” continued the president.  “Anyone?”

Thomas Benedict, Director of Central Intelligence took a deep breath.

“I think I may be able to hazard an educated guess, Mr. President.”

“Please do, Tom,”
the president replied, staring intently at the DCI.

“As you know,” began Benedict, “China has laid claim to virtually the entire South China Sea, some 1.4 million square miles.  May I remind you that not only is this area bordered by Taiwan, Malaysia, Brunei, Indonesia, Philippines, Singapore, and Viet Nam, but the region has proven oil reserves of 7.7 billion barrels with an estimate of 28 billion barrels in total and natural gas reserves of around 266 trillion cubic feet, not to mention the fact that more than 50% of the world’s annual merchant fleet tonnage passes through these waters.  China’s goal was obvious.”

“Chinese Foreign Ministry spokesperson
Jiang
Yu has stated: ‘China enjoys indisputable sovereignty over the South China Sea and the islands.’”

“
They appear
to have embarked on an increasingly aggressive program to drive home that claim.  There have been attacks on Vietnamese fishermen, as well as other incidents where shots were fired across someone’s bow.  Then there was a mysterious transmission to an Indian warship on a friendly visit to Viet Nam ordering her to basically bug out.  Later a quote ‘Chinese fishing vessel’ rammed the exploratory equipment of a Vietnamese explor
a
tion ship mapping the seabed.  Obviously, this would appear to be a major escalation of that pattern.”

“O.K,” said the president, “but why the frigate and the submarine?”

“I have a theory,”  answered the DCI. “The Chinese wanted to make a point and make it powerfully; the sinking of the Philippine ship has succeeded in doing that and has sown considerable fear.  But the Chinese are not yet ready to start openly sinking other nations’ ships.  That is why they left themselves a back door by claiming that they only fired warning shots across the bow and didn‘t sink anything.  Plausible deniability.”

“We know about their submarine, but they don’t know that we know.  The question is: what will we do with that knowledge?  I think they have unknowingly handed us some very powerful leverage.  If we were to reveal what actually happened, there would be significant repercussions that would cast them in a very bad light.” 

The DCI was looking at the president, whom he could see was not te
r
ribly enthusiastic about the turn of events.  The president knew that in the game with the Chinese, he had just been dealt a face card, but he also knew that playing it would be a very bad move.  Besides, the Chinese were holding all the aces.  Clearly he had hoped there would be no proof that the Chinese
had sunk the Philippine ship.  Now, not only was there proof; he was holding it, and his hands were already starting to burn. 

13

A
chrome
metal desk and chairs sit in front of sand-blasted red bricks, part of what used to be a warehouse wall.  The office is bright and airy, mostly due to large w
indows and high ceilings.  The
man sitting behind the desk seems unremarkable, like so many other businessmen.  He is neither charismatic nor does he proj
ect an air of self-importance.  His once blond hair is now thinning and gray.

In the street below, art galleries and trendy restaurants have replaced loading docks and panel trucks.  On a typical evening, the streets here are packed with those who can afford a pricey meal or a painting for their apartment walls, but tonight blue helmeted police officers are roping off the front of this building and several others.  There are no vehicles parked in front of any of the eateries or night clubs on this block.  Their owners know that it is because of the man on the third floor.  They are not happy to be losing an evening of business, but none would complain to him, for he has friends, important friends. 

A plainclothes police office speaks into his radio, then makes an a
n
nouncement to the other officers around him.   They look up as a caravan of jet black vehicles rounds the corner, large SUV’s with dark windows escorting a heavy black limo.  Like cruisers guarding an aircraft carrier, they surround the limo protectively, alert for the unexpected.  Slowly the procession comes to a stop in front of the building where the man waits. 

Minutes later
,
the president sits across from an old friend in whom he has placed considerable trust.  On many occasions, the president’s career has rested in the hands of this unassuming man.  He is both an operative and a strategist.  He understands and deftly wields the power of the
Boston
p
o
litical machine and has used it to put the man who sits before him in the White House.   He intends to keep him there.

“Feels great to be back, Stuart,” said the president.  “I always feel hemmed in
when I’m in
Washington.
It’s like in a zoo, only the animals are looking in and I’m looking out.”

“I know the feeling, Mr. President.  It’s part of the reason I
never wanted to work in Washington
.  This is where I belong.  In Washingt
on
,
I’d
always
be
an outsider; I don’t think I’d ever feel at home there.  How did the fund raiser go?”

T
he president looked over at the Secret Service agent who was standing by the door.  His look told the agent to wait outside, which he did.  When the door was closed he turned back to
Shumer
.

“Office swept like always, Stuart?”

“Yes sir, once a month and anytime you’re coming to town.  They’re supposed to be the best.  What’s up?”

“The fundraiser was O.K.  Y
ou know how it goes.  You feed th
em beefsteak and bullshit and they take our their checkbooks.  Like church, only there you get the bullshit without the beefsteak.  Stuart, I got a couple of things I need to bounce off you.”

“Shoot.”

“This thing in the Philippines is picking up steam.  Manila’s screaming at China in the UN.  As you know, China thinks they own the whole damn South China Sea and their hints aren’t subtle anymore.”

“Did they sink the Filipino ship?”  Mr. President. 

“Yes and no,” the President replied.  “Their frigate no, their subm
a
rine, yes.”

“Damn
!” said
Shumer
. “What in the hell were they thinking?”

“Benedict thinks they wanted to make a big statement but with den
i
ability.”

“Deniability?” asked
Shumer
incredulously.

“Yes, actually,” replied the president.  “The Chinese frigate fired two shots over the Filipino’s bow.”

“What about the sub?”

“The sub sank it with a torpedo, but aside from you, me and a few others, no one else knows she was there.  You see the Chinese claim that they can prove that their warning shots intentionally missed the Philippine warship by more than two hundred yards.  They claim that old WWII destroyer that we turned over to the Philippines somehow managed to blow itself up.”

“We think the plan was to scare the hell out of everyone without taking the blame.  They’ve upped the ante as far as the South China Sea is co
n
cerned
,
and they’ll likely get away with it.  But they don‘t know that one of our Virginia class boats was listening.”

“Sounds like a gift, Mr. President.” 

“Yeah, but there’s a rattlesnake in the gift box, Stuart.  The Chinese have made it abundantly clear what they want in return for continued buying of our treasuries.  Refraining from anything more than cursory complaints about their activities in the South China Sea is high on the list.  My request to up the debt ceiling again will be moot if we can’t borrow the money.  And without them it’ll be virtually impossible.  Besides, I’d rather not advertise
the fact that Virginia class subs can come and go right under their noses.”

“So we leave the box closed for now, Mr. President.”

“We’ve got one thing going for us, Stuart, Filipino fishermen who were nearby that night claim they heard two shots.  They say a couple of minutes elapsed between that and the explosions that sank the ship.  This leaves the Chinese virtually untouched; it’s just what they were looking for and I believe it’s precisely how they planned it.  They were simply warning anyone who enters what they claim as their waters while denying they sank anyone’s ship.”

“Sounds a bit too tidy to be Washington, Mr. President.  What if somebody leaks that a torpedo sank the destroyer?” asked
Shumer
. 

“I’ve been assured that the ocean there is far to deep to prove anything.  The Chinese are nothing, if not thorough.”

“Then why do I think you didn’t come all the way here to tell me that, Mr. President?”

The president flashed the smile that so many love, and laughed.  “You’ve been around politics too long, my friend.  You can smell the skunk when it’s still in the next county.”

“Any chance the skunk’s name is Baines?”

The president chuckled.  “He’s using the Philippine thing to stir up more
support for tariffs
and it
’
s working.  If your job left the country and you’re angry, China is an easy target for that anger.  But it’s not China that has to deal with the anger, it’s me.  I’ve got to have China in my corner, but you and I both know that China only does somethi
ng for one of two reasons: One –
It’
s in their best interest.  Two –
They’re forced to.  And we are in no position to force them to do anything.  The problem is, more and more people out there are starting to feel like their government is kissing Chinese ass, and Baines is fanning the flames.”

“Do I hear the dust bin rattling?”
asked
Shumer
. 

“
That you do, my friend, that you do.  And nobody knows better how to handle dirt than the
Boston
Sanitation Department.  Our friend Baines had an ugly divorce; it cost him his wife, his girlfriend and a half a million bucks.  But everybody who wanted to already beat him up on that score.  Presumably he’s a lonely, horny ex-Marine.  Aside from that, he doesn’t appear to have any major vulnerabilities that I know of.”

“And I presume it would be far more convenient for us if he had a vulnerability,” said
Shumer
. 

“We’re way beyond convenient here, Stuart.  The entire expansion of government that we’ve worked so hard for is in jeopardy.  I don’t have to tell you how it works. 
Boston
was built
on a simple system.  I do you
a favor,
like giving you a job, and you owe me.  And the currency of repayment is your vote.  The fact that the Democrats have controlled
Boston
for decades is testament to how well it works.  We’re making the system work in Was
h
ington too.  But the lifeblood of the system is money, and unless we find more, and soon, everything we’ve done is in danger of collapsing.  There’s nowhere to get that money other than China, and Baines is endangering that.”

Shum
er
leaned back in his chair,
his hands knitted behind his head.  “Mr. President, what you are talking about, if I understand you, isn’t som
e
thing new.  There have always been those whose actions endanger the greater good.  Sometimes it becomes n
ecessary for the benefit of all
to cause those people to reconsider their actions.  I believe that Senator Baines can be persuaded to see the light.”

The president smiled broadly.  Those who didn’t know Stuart
Shumer
well often assumed he was a mere functionary, one who was uncomfortable on his feet and preferred to work behind the scenes.  But those in his inner circle knew him to be a highly skilled operative, capable of dealing with challenges and keeping promises.  He was also someone whom it was very unwise to underestimate.  

As the president’s motorcade pulled away into the night, there were a few offices where the lights still burned, offices whose occupants, like els
e
where across the nation, were putting in the extra effort it takes to stand out, to make money in hard times, to make a difference.  One, directly across the street from Stuart
Shumer
, belonged to a successful real estate investor who buys and sells desirable prope
rties i
n
Boston’s old warehouse area
. 
S
humer’s
people had checked out everyone in the building across the street, including this one; it’s good policy to know who one’s neighbors are.