NOTE: This is part of a continuing online novel. Here is the Table of Contents.

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The old Forbidden City was buzzing. The limousine coming on with the American flags in front of it was scrutinized carefully. Everyone it passed wanted to look at the expression on the face of the American ambassador.

They're so transparent.

Well, usually they are. But today Clark Randt was keeping his poker face on, as firm as he could. He looked, perhaps for the first time in his life, almost Chinese.

There was no protocol waiting for him at the end of his ride. The door opened, a woman bowed, and he was led down a hallway, four soldiers on either side, his two aides behind him.

The walk was long, perhaps deliberately long. The door that finally opened, however, was plain, as was the room beyond. The walls were all interior, and unadorned, but the wood glowed with new polish. The men across a long table from him did not rise.

One man was Jen Renquin, whom Randt had met with a few days before. The man in the center he recognized immediately as Chinese President Hu Jintao. To Hu's left he expected to see premier Wen Jiabao, but this was an older man, a man who had not been seen in this building for over a year.

It was Jiang Zemin.

Surprised and secretly pleased (he'd had good relations with Jiang) Randt made a bow before taking his seat. The three leaders, however, sat impassively. They wanted him to speak first.

"My President sends his greetings, and I offer my personal regards to former President Jiang. You seem to be growing younger in retirement, sir. You look fit."

The woman who had led him here, who turned out to be the translator, sat at the end of the table and did her job. After listening to her carefully for some moments, President Hu spoke.

"It seems you did not get the message given you by Mr. Jen," Wu said through the woman. "Not only do your armies continue to attack Iraq, but we have reports of a Pacific carrier group steaming from Honolulu toward our island province. Can you explain this?"

Randt opened the small diplomatic briefcase he had brought with him and pulled two letters from it. One he opened, the second he passed to the translator. "Our State Department has translated this word-for-word into Mandarin. You may check me as I read it, but I think you will find it in order."

Slowly, Clark Randt pulled his reading glasses from an inside breast pocket, while the woman read her copy of the letter, a look of concern on her face.

As he did this he said, "I apologize, honorable sirs. I was not allowed to read this before coming here, either. Leaks."

The Chinese leaders, meanwhile, were getting all they needed from the moving lips and increasingly concerned expression of their interpreter. Just before he began Randt looked over his glasses toward her, and she looked at him. His eyes were wide with surprise.

"Gentlemen," began Randt.

"We understand what you're trying to pull and it won't work. The policy of the United States is committed by treaty to the independence of the Republic of China. We are in mutual defense. An attack on Taiwan will be considered an attack on the United States of America. The ships now arriving there, and their armament, and the ships you can't see are tokens of our resolve in this matter.

"The policy of the United States in its War on Terror is known to the world, and is not an item for discussion. We know you have problems in your western provinces, and we support your effort to contain terrorism within your borders. But we will hunt down and kill terrorists wherever we find them, in Iraq, in Afghanistan. I underline the word anywhere."

"We trust your understanding in this matter. The vital security interests of the United States of America will not be undermined by threats or intimidation, just as you would not let your national security be threatened in this way. Any attack by the forces of China on the Republic of China will be met firmly.

"We will not start the battle. But we will not hesitate to finish the job.

"Signed, George W. Bush, President, United States of America."

By the time he finished, Randt's face was as ashen as the interpreter's. She had sat silently through his reading, and now merely nodded, confirming that the translation she'd read was accurate. Then she passed on the letter.

Jen sat stone-faced. President Hu sat stone-faced. Jiang, however, actually smiled.

"My friend Clark, you misunderstand," he said through the woman, and as she spoke color returned to her cheeks. "Your President misunderstands our intentions and our actions. Honestly. We offer no military threat. Our forces are on no alert."

Hu took up from his predecessor. "I am the President. We are standing down everywhere. Your satellites and other intelligence can confirm this. We offer no military threat."

"I understand," said Randt, nodding slowly and carefully. Once more the President's bluff was not being called. His heart rate slowed.

"BUT," the translator said loudly, as Hu nodded toward her.

"There are many ways to struggle against tyranny and terror," said Hu, speaking through the woman. "Our people have fought terror, from the Soviets, from America, for over 55 years, ever since our independence." Jiang nodded.

"The golden rod is the ultimate weapon," Jiang Zemin added. "It is more powerful than any explosive. Does your President understand this?"

"I can't speak for my President other than to confirm the contents of the letter," Randt replied.

Hu Jintao's face became a grim mask. Jiang placed his right hand over Hu's left, almost touching it, then withdrew. The smile disappeared from Jiang's face. Jen opened a notepad to a blank sheet of legal paper. The translator's face had gone white again

"Minister Jen," Hu Jintao said slowly through the translator. "You are to immediately go to the market and begin liquidating all national assets held in U.S. dollars. Buy Euros, buy Yen, buy any currency you can get to replace those assets. Your aim is to equal the value and yield of the currencies being sold, to minimize your losses. Take your time if you must, but move with all speed."

Jen took this all down in Mandarin, then passed the pad he'd written on, with trembling fingers, over to the President of China. With barely a glance at it, Hu signed it dismissively, folded it closed, and passed it on to the interpreter.

"See that our friend here gets a copy before he leaves," Hu Jintao said. "Minister Randt, you are dismissed. I hope we meet again."

The three men stood up. Randt reached across the table hoping for a handshake. There was none.