Warshot (The Hunter Killer Series Book 6) by Don Keith (top ten ebook reader TXT) 📗

his bed a foot or so in order for him to gaze out the window. The way the sun lit the scene, the view could just as easily have been a fine Oriental frieze.

The SEAL had also been wounded and hospitalized enough in his career to realize that such luxurious and personalized treatment for a "grunt” like him was most unusual. For some reason, he was one highly valued patient. He decided to enjoy it while he could, before he learned what he would ultimately have to do to deserve such attention.

Ward was finishing up a fine pork chop with generous applesauce—almost the equal of the way his mom made it—when he heard a quiet knock at the door. The great teak double doors swung open and Li Min Zhou slipped in.

“How do you like your new digs?” she asked. “Better than Changi General?”

“Truth is, I’m worried about what somebody’s going to expect in return for all this.”

“You’ll earn it.” Li Min Zhou smiled. “You’ll earn it, I’m sure.”

She took a seat on the tufted leather couch, placing an attaché case on the chrome-and-glass coffee table, then waved the nurses out of the room. Jim Ward’s sixth sense had already alerted him that those nurses likely had duties other than merely monitoring his blood pressure and O2 levels. They had not gotten those muscles slinging bedpans.

Once they were gone and had quietly closed the doors behind them, Li Min Zhou opened the case and extracted some files. Ward swallowed the last bite of pork chop, put down his knife and fork, and leaned back on his pillows. Clearly, a meeting had just begun.

“I brought you a little light reading to pass the time while you are lounging in the lap of luxury,” she said as she handed the files over to Ward. “This will give you some background and details on what is happening in China. All facts have been verified by some very diligent, resourceful, highly placed...and loyal...people. This information may give you some grasp of what that might mean for our two countries.”

Ward quickly scanned the first few pages.

“Interesting. This implies President Tan Yong is going to use the Dongsha incident as a ploy to keep our interest directed that way while he really makes a move to grab the gold in Tonga. Regardless of how that plays out, this is one hell of a dangerous game. The devious bastard could set the whole world on fire, you know.”

Li Min Zhou nodded.

“Most really high-stakes games are dangerous. But not to belabor the point, this is Asia. There are layers upon layers here. Tan Yong is using Yon Ba Deng’s plot to take down Soo Be Xian as a foil. But what the president is really doing is usurping Yon Ba Deng’s move to grab the Tongan gold. This will have the effect of keeping the Americans busy doing their duty, keeping their promises, rushing to Taiwan’s aid while the Chinese abscond with the gold. But where Tan Yong sees Dongsha as merely a diversion, the Taiwanese see it as a threat to their very existence. And they are going to fight all out to protect it. Tan Yong does not want a shooting war. He wants an economic war. He knows he has the best opportunity, the resources, and the groundwork it takes to win that kind of conflict. But now that the shooting has started, it is in danger of spinning into something the Chinese communists might not be able to stop. Primarily because there are those in positions of power who do not want it to stop, for many varying reasons.”

“And we’re going to be in the middle of it regardless.”

“Yes. But I am convinced we are not too late. At least not yet. We need the Americans to continue to be diverted to Dongsha. To make the show of force way out there in the Pacific, as is already underway. But to have other units come in and stop the shooting. To do so quickly and decisively. It is a matter of national survival for Taiwan. And it could well avert a horribly greater war.”

Ward shook his head. The twists and turns were giving him a roaring headache. He stared out across the Keelung River toward Mount Qixing, standing blue-green and peaceful in the distance. For a moment, he wished he could get out of the bed, put on his running shoes, walk away from all the intrigue, and hike up that beautiful mountainside.

“So where do we fit into this little multiplayer game of three-dimensional chess?” the SEAL finally asked. Then he had another thought. “Zhou, tell me something. Are you asking me to keep all this secret from the US, including from my father? If that’s the case, then why did you bring me here and share so much with me? Why did you not tell me that before you let me see all this?”

She sat there, looking at him for a long moment. Ward stared back, unable to ignore just how absolutely beautiful she was.

“Just the opposite, Jim,” she finally told him. “We have you set up in this little pleasure palace so that we can feed you the straight, hot skinny, as you Americans so colorfully put it. Then you will be able to pass it along, backchannel, to your father. Some of it he will know already. We are not the only ones with big ears in key positions. Some of it will confirm what he suspects. Some of it can benefit from your perspective. All of it will be valuable in planning how he and the US can help unravel this tangle and possibly eliminate this particular threat. At least until the next one.”

Ward rubbed his forehead. The headache had not subsided with her explanation. It had ratcheted up to a new level.

“But except for my genetic attachment to the head of US Naval Intelligence, I’m thinking I’m in no way qualified for relaying spy stuff. You spooks do