First Strike by Jack Higgins Page B

wondered.
    They’d got to know both Chuck and Kate just recently, and even been stranded in the deserts of Iraq together.
    Rich was disappointed when Chuck shook his head. “She’s out of town, I’m afraid. Taking care of a little business in New York State.” Chuck clapped his hands together. “So, where do you guys want to start? Lincoln Memorial? Smithsonian? We even have an International Spy Museum down near Chinatown.”
    â€œNo, thanks,” Halford told him. “We’re on holiday. No spying allowed.”
    In the conference room of a rather less expensive hotel in upstate New York, a meeting was taking place.
    A dozen men and several women sat round a large conference table that was peppered with cigarette burns and stained with coffee rings. They waited with a mixture of nervousness and excitement for the man who had just come into the room to speak.
    He was average height, with very ordinary short brown hair. His face was the sort that people immediately forgot as soon as they looked away. He had no distinctivefeatures at all, except for his voice.
    When he spoke it was a sound somewhere between a croak and a whisper. Everyone in the room leaned forward slightly, eager to catch every word he said. His voice was quiet, commanding and frightening.
    â€œI lied,” the man said, standing at the head of the conference table. He waited for his words to sink in. “Now that Tom has collected all your cell phones, and we’re about to get on the bus, I can tell you what’s really going on.”
    The man leaned forward, knuckles pressing down on the table. “We all know that the new cold war has already started. And if we don’t heat it up, the Chinese sure as hell will. They’ve already started by holding our airmen without trial. Hell, they won’t even admit they’ve got them.”
    There were murmurs of agreement here. Susie, who’d been in the National Guard, thumped the table.
    The man waited for quiet before he continued: “There’s no longer just one superpower in the world. And if we don’t stamp down hard, and fast, the Chinese will be ahead of us. We’re deep in a recession. We’re losing jobs, companies, manufacturing capabilities, resources. America is bleeding to death, and no one in Washingtongives a damn. They won’t even lift a finger to get our boys back. That tells you everything.”
    He looked around, pleased to see the attentive faces. The men were nodding. The woman at the back of the room with the long, dark hair was watching him carefully. She looked impressed, and he liked that. She’d only been with them a few weeks, but she’d come highly recommended.
    Even so, the man didn’t trust her. Until they proved themselves, really proved themselves, he trusted no one. It was a philosophy that had kept him alive and out of prison. But even without that, there was something about the woman that made him uneasy. He’d definitely be keeping a close eye on her in the hours ahead…
    â€œThe fight back starts here, and it starts now. You know that,” the man went on. “But like I said—I lied. We’ve been training for weeks now for this mission. And you think our target is that weak-brained Senator O’Donnaldson-Smythe. Hell, even his name screams ‘liberal’, don’t it? Yet he backs China against the freedom fighters in Wiengwei, the heroic rebels who’ve been so supportive of our cause, our fight against the Red Death.”
    â€œSo, if it ain’t the Senator…?” Hank from Tennessee asked.
    â€œNope, not the Senator. He can have his little party tomorrow in peace and quiet and never know how close he came to being a hostage in his own home. We have a new target, ladies and gentlemen. The floor plans and schematics you’ve all learned are not the Senator’s house. They’re not quite the place we’re really going either, in