Beijing

President Zhou was angry at his brother, Zhou Yun, which almost never happened. The two were having dinner alone at the
President’s house. Androshka had wanted to join them but President Zhou told her “positively not.” His brother had said he had something important to discuss.

As they approached the end of dinner, Zhou Yun delivered his
message: “Ordering the humiliation of Bao Yin, the Director of Intelligence, in front of the Central Committee and his execution, was not a wise move.”

“The man was incompetent. We can’t tolerate failure among our top leaders. Certainly not in a position as important as this. I intend to take China to the next step. To lead it to world domination. We can’t surpass the United States with fools and incompetents.”

“I don’t disagree with that. And I won’t defend the man’s competence. But a summary execution like this smacks of Mao’s methods. People are starting to talk.”

“What people?” President Zhou asked, sounding enraged.

“I hear it from business leaders, my brother. We can’t afford to lose their support. They want stability, not turmoil or erratic behavior.”

“Who used those words? Who accused me of erratic behavior?”

Zhou Yun was staring at his brother. “Who isn’t important. Word is also circulating that you had Mei Ling’s son killed on his ship and also Qin Ping, who was not only on the Central Committee, but a close friend of Mei Ling’s.”

“He was feeding Mei Ling lies about me,” Zhou protested.

Shaking his head, Zhou Yun looked very unhappy. “You may not know this because you were in Bali, but I had an incredibly difficult job persuading a majority of the Central Committee to select you over Mei Ling for president. Even with all the millions I spent in payoffs.”

“That’s why I tried to have Mei Ling killed.”

Zhou Yun seemed flabbergasted. “You did. Where?”

“In Paris. I didn’t want to risk leaving her alive to lead a coup. Captain Cheng failed. He died in the attempt. The damn French have now hidden Mei Ling. It must have been Craig Page’s doing.”

“Who else knows what happened in Paris?”

“Nobody in Beijing.”

“That’s good. Keep it that way. If people find out, they may turn against you and look toward Mei Ling to lead the country. She still has a great deal of support. It will grow if your attempt to kill her became common knowledge.”

Zhou gripped the arms of his chair tightly to keep from shooting to his feet with a furious diatribe against his brother. “That’s ridiculous.” Then he clenched his teeth to keep control.

“Believe me, brother, I talk to business people. You are isolated. You spend your time with lackeys who pander to you. And with the military leaders who have a narrow focus.”

President Zhou had planned to tell his brother about the efforts he was making to obtain the Americans’ top weapon, PGS, for the Chinese military. But he was so angry at everything he’d heard that he decided against it.

Besides, he now worried that after the Paul Walters incident, Orlov might not succeed. He hadn’t heard from the Russian for days. That was not a good sign.

Zhou Yun said, “All I’m asking is that you think about what I’ve said. I only want the best for you. Believe me.”

“I need your support. I don’t want you listening to my enemies.”

“You’ll always have my support.”

His brother’s words didn’t mollify General Zhou, but there was no point prolonging the discussion. He had barely kept his rage from boiling over. He’d never been so angry.

President Zhou’s brother left and he went upstairs to the bedroom suite. Androshka was pouting. “I don’t see why I couldn’t have been included at dinner. You could have had your discussion afterwards.”

Just what he didn’t need now was whining from that Russian bitch. “Because that’s what I wanted.”

“Perhaps I should go back to Moscow.”

“To do what?” He was shouting. His rage from the last hour exploding. “Be the whore of a Russian gangster… or the stooge for that incompetent brother of yours?”

“Orlov’s a good man.” Her eyes were blazing.

“He can’t do anything right. The worst thing I ever did was getting involved with your brother. And that was all your fault.” He was pointing a finger at her, yelling “I pulled you out of the gutter and made you an Empress here. You’ve changed and I don’t like it. All you do is complain.”

She began to cry.

“Get out of my sight,” he told her with a wave of his hand.

Screaming, she ran from the room.

Now alone, Zhou poured a glass of Armagnac and sat down in a leather chair. Upset by what his brother had said, he was mulling over Zhou Yun’s words. His critics lacked vision and courage. They didn’t understand or appreciate that Zhou was planning to lead China to world dominance.

He knew how to silence his critics. All he had to do was steal the PGS technology. Unlike the Americans, China had plenty of money to construct the system immediately. He would parade the new PGS missiles through Tiananmen Square and the streets of Beijing. China would then be able to take any military action it wanted. That would be his vindication.

Androshka walked into the room dressed in a sheer pink negligee. “I put on your favorite,” she said, her face still red from crying. “I’m sorry for what I said. I’d like to make it up to you.” She walked over and unbuttoned his shirt then unzipped his pants. “Come to bed. I’ll relax you.”

“I need that.”

When they were both naked in bed, he stretched out on his front. She took some lotion and massaged his back. “Oh, that feels good. So good.”

She worked her hands down over his legs then up to his buttocks. She reached in and played with his balls, grabbing his limp penis.

He flipped over. She caressed him, then took him into her mouth. Dammit, he wanted sex more than anything, but his stalk wouldn’t stand up. Except for a couple of nights, this is how it had been since he returned to China.

She was playing with him while sucking, but nothing happened.

He pushed her away. “You’re no good,” he said. “You can’t get me up. You’re not even good for that.”

She looked angry. “You’re blaming me? You’re the one with the problem. You can’t perform. You haven’t been good for weeks.”

“How could anyone be interested in you,” he shouted. “Somebody who does nothing but whine and complain.”

“I’m bored here,” she shouted back. “There’s nothing for me to do.”

“How about being grateful. I rescued you from your life as a whore. Killed Mikail Ivanoff before he killed you. And this is what I get from you in return.”

“I’ve done everything to please you.”

“Don’t make me laugh.”

“I should have gone back to Moscow long ago.”

“And go back to being a whore.”

“At least I’ll get sex. With you nothing. You have a problem. You should see a doctor. I’ll only stay if I can find a young Chinese man. I heard they stay hard forever. Not like you.”

That was too much for Zhou. First his brother heaped scorn on him. Now this Russian tramp insults his manhood. He’d had enough.

He reached over to the end table, opened the drawer, and pulled out a gun. She looked at him wide-eyed with astonishment. Then terror. She jumped out of bed and ran toward the open bedroom door shouting. “No, Zhou. No.”

Before she reached the door, he fired, hitting her in the center of the back. She turned around facing him and collapsed to her knees. “Please. No,” she moaned.

He fired two more time. Hitting her in the chest.

Calmly, he walked over and checked her pulse. She was dead.

He threw a blanket over her head. Then, he shouted for Liu, one of the servants whose orders were to remain close by at all times in case Zhou needed anything.

Liu ran into the room. “Yes sir,” he said.

Zhou pointed to Androshka’s bloody body. “Get her out of here. Bury the body secretly and clean the carpet. I don’t want any sign that she was ever here.”