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THE WHITE HOUSE
SUNDAY 26 JANUARY
“I shouldn’t be learning about this from the newspaper.”
Randall Stuart’s hands tightened around the copy of The Washington Post. “We’ve got enough problems with the Chinese without them trying to hack our computers at Commerce. The Impeccable last month and now this?”
Stuart was angry. Angry at the winter storm raging outside. Angry at the Chinese. Angry at being caught off guard by the Post’s headline.
He dropped the newspaper and glared at Dan Lantis, his Chief of Staff. “What do we know?”
“There’s more than what’s being reported, Mr. President.”
Stuart’s eyes hardened. “Did they breach our firewalls?”
“No, sir. Security held.”
“Then what happened?”
“The contents of John’s laptop were accessed when he was in Beijing for the G-20 Economic Summit. Cyber Security believes the Chinese used what they downloaded to try and hack Commerce’s system.”
“We have proof?”
“The FBI has a trace to the Chinese Academy of Military Sciences in Jinan.”
Stuart’s shoulders tightened. “Same outfit that penetrated Google’s accounts. How did John let this happen? It violates every tenet of security––”
“He left his computer unattended in his suite.”
Stuart snapped. “He did what?”
“He thought one of his aides would secure it.”
“Wasn’t it encrypted?”
Sleet slashed against the bulletproof windows of the Oval Office. The glass protected him against the frigid onslaught. The windows didn’t shield him from this latest assault.
He grasped his pen and drew a spiral on a notepad. “What do I need to do?”
“With John or the Chinese?”
“John.”
“He’s pretty upset.”
“At the moment, his feelings aren’t at the top of my list of concerns. I’ll ask for his resignation.”
“I wouldn’t do anything until the FBI completes their investigation.”
“Do we know what they were after?”
“John believes they were targeting information relevant to punitive tariffs.”
“You’d think Beijing would understand the tariffs are being driven by our friends on The Hill.”
“I doubt they believe Congress operates without us pulling the strings.”
“If only.” Stuart tapped his pen on the spiral. “Have we approached their embassy?”
“Their spokesman said something to the effect of we shouldn’t be so paranoid. They feel any implication against the government of China is guilty of cybercrime is not conductive to fostering mutual trust and friendship between the People’s Republic of China and the United States.”
“They can’t be serious. Who do they think they’re dealing with? Some banana republic? The sheer arrogance of that statement...”
“Their response did reflect a certain lack of finesse,” Lantis finished for him.
“My read is they could care less what we think and that, my friend, is a dangerous position. You think anyone at State would care to explain how all of this fits with their policy of engagement?”
Lantis had heard all the arguments. Following the mid-air collision between a Chinese fighter jet and a Navy surveillance plane in the first month of Stuart’s administration, the Pentagon had pushed for a containment strategy. The Secretary of State, Richard Valardi, had countered, recommending a policy of engagement as the most pragmatic approach.
“You didn’t agree with my decision.”
“Circumstances have changed.”
“We need to reconsider. Their actions represent a clear and present danger.” Stuart blackened the center of his spiral. “We have to push back.”
“That should make the Pentagon happy.”
“This isn’t about the military, although we could take the stance that Beijing’s penetration of Commerce’s computer system could be construed as an act of war.”
“Pretty extreme,” Lantis said.
“Perhaps. Their verbal posturing at the Stockholm China Forum suggests they’re positioning to retaliate in kind if we impose tariffs.”
“They wouldn’t come out very well. Our economies are too interdependent,” Lantis replied. “That, and they’re projected to have their first trade deficit in eight years.”
“We’re just as vulnerable to rising commodity prices. Pull that National Intelligence Estimate from a couple of months ago, will you? The one addressing the impact of Beijing’s modernization programs.”
“What’s the connection?”
“Oil, our trade deficit, international shipping, the flow of hard currency to Beijing. They’re using their currency reserves to buy U.S. Treasury Bonds. These cyberattacks are coordinated and targeted. They’re part of a broader plan of economic espionage.”
“So they —”
“They’re supporting our national debt.”
“Beijing would intentionally drive us to bankruptcy?”
Stuart massaged his forehead to ward off a headache. “They could if they chose to.”
“What’s our next move?”
“Who’s Richard’s lead at State?”
“Adrian Clarke, Assistant Secretary for East Asia and Pacific Affairs.”
“I want his analysis.”
“I’ll call.”
“Anything else?”
“No, sir. That’s it.”
Stuart thought a moment and managed a wry smile. “Just another day in the office?”
“I suspect there’s more to come. You going to watch the game?”
“That’s the plan. So, how about getting out of here? You need to spend some time with your kids before something else happens to screw up our day.”
Stuart waited until Lantis left before opening the top right drawer of his desk. He felt around for his stash of TUMS. He selected a green one, popped it in his mouth. He glanced at the Rembrandt Peale portrait of George Washington displayed over the fireplace and set to work.
Ten minutes later, he completed typing several annotations to the prepared remarks he was going to deliver at the State Dinner that evening. He hit the print button and headed for the door of the adjacent office.
The pile of correspondence overflowing his secretary’s in-basket elicited a pang of guilt. He searched her face, concerned she might not get home for several more hours. She had followed him from Ohio where she served as his personal secretary when he was governor. He considered her to be part of the family. “I made a few changes, Mary Allus.”
She reached around to pull the speech off the printer. “I was just getting a head start on next week’s work. It won’t take more than a minute to clean this up and close the shop.”
Her answer eased his conscience. He left Mary Allus to her work and walked to the breezeway connecting the executive offices with the White House residence. Slowing, he turned to the Secret Service agent who had fallen in behind him. “What do you say we call it a day?”
Their feet crunched on small drifts of salted ice as a gust of wind pushed the men past the dormant rose garden toward the living quarters. Taking the stairs to the central hall of the residence, they saw the Chief Usher approach with a welcoming smile.
“I see it’s time to pass the baton,” Stuart said.
“Thank you, sir. Will there be anything else?”
“No, I’m good.”
“Good afternoon, Mr. President,” said the Usher. “Mrs. Stuart is still out.”
“The homeless group?”
“Yes, sir.”
“She keeps my priorities straight on days like this.”
“We’re all proud of her, sir.”
“Thank you, Jim,” Stuart said, handing over his suit coat.
The Chief Usher draped the coat over his arm and studied Stuart’s face. “Would you care for something to eat, sir?”
“Could I just have a soda?”
“It’s a long time to dinner, sir.”
Stuart craved a couple of grilled hotdogs, but resisted. “I’ll be fine.”
He settled down in his recliner and clicked on the TV. It wasn’t unusual for the station to be preset on ABC, but as he prepared to change it to ESPN, the words of the anchor stopped him.
“At the top of the hour our correspondent in Manila, Marie Lynne, is reporting the President of the Philippines has accused the Chinese of illegally detaining Filipino fishermen and breaking international law by building military installations in the disputed Spratly Islands. The Chief of Staff of the People’s Liberation Army, General Li Xiao, countered those claims, demanding an apology for an illegal Filipino incursion into Chinese territory and the harassment of its fishermen. The Philippine government is vigorously denying any wrongdoing and is appealing to the international community for support.”
“Now what?”
The remainder of the report did not provide any further information, so he clicked over to FOX. Nothing. Exasperated, he flipped back to the Super Bowl, hit the mute button, and picked up his secure phone. He scrolled down until he located the number of his National Security Advisor and pressed the speed dial. Three rings later, a familiar voice came on the line.
“Brown residence.”
“Justin?”
“Mr. President. How are you, sir?”
“I could be better. I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”
“No, no, of course not. I was just collecting myself for the dinner tonight. What can I do for you?”
“Did you happen to catch the segment about the Spratlys on ABC?”
“Yes, I’ve got the TV in the bedroom on. The embassy alerted me about a statement the Foreign Ministry was going to release. They’re protesting the boarding of a Filipino fishing boat by Chinese navy personnel. The report didn’t say anything about the military installations or President Montalvo going on national TV. Something else must have happened we don’t know about.”
“You think it’s unusual that Xiao responded?”
“Makes me wonder if the civilian leadership even knew.”
“Who’s setting the agenda? Xiao or Zhu? I’m thinking Zhu’s got a problem holding his government together.”
“If Xiao’s becoming the dominant player, we’ve got a problem.”
“When will you get the next report?”
Brown glanced at his bedside clock. Several more hours. “It’s four in the morning there, sir.”
“How did that reporter—”?
“Lynne?”
“Yes. How did she get her report on the air so fast?”
“The embassy believes she has back channel access to someone in the Foreign Ministry.”
“What do you think is going on?”
“I’m hesitant to venture a guess without more details. I wonder if Manila and Beijing haven’t just blundered into this confrontation.”
“Whatever the cause, I don’t want us getting dragged into the middle of it.”
“I can’t see that happening.”
“I’m not so sure.” Stuart stared out the window. The sun had set. “Justin, the rules are changing. We’re not positioned well if we have to intercede. State’s initiatives in Southeast Asia are losing traction. I don’t want Admiral Lawson’s Pacific Command to be our only option if this situation between the Chinese and Filipinos worsens.”
Brown pulled off his glasses and chewed on the stem. “Understood.”
“We’ll talk tomorrow. There’s not much we can do about it right now.”
Stuart hung up. The football pregame show flickered on the TV, unseen.
“Randall?”
Stuart turned at the sound of his wife, Dianne’s, voice. “In here.”
She flicked on the overhead light. “What on earth are you doing sitting there in the dark?”
“I was talking with Justin.”
“Is there a problem?”
“Something’s going on between the Chinese and Filipinos. We’ll know more tomorrow. How was your event?”
“You’re changing the subject.”
“Yup.”
“It’s serious?”
“Could be.”
“Anything I can do?” she asked, reaching for his hand.
“No, I’m fine. We’ve just got some damage control to attend to next week.”