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Chapter 1
The concrete bunker trembled under André's feet. A muffled
boom rose like a moan under the earth's limestone crust. Four thousand square
miles of Chinese desert awoke early that morning. The floor suddenly lurched
sideways and the large Frenchman was thrown against a bank of consoles. "Mon
Dieu,"
he exclaimed. My God! The floor began to
rise and fall in rapid succession. He crouched low to maintain his balance.
Through a tinted window, he saw vultures spring to flight. Dust puffed
skyward as if slapped from a huge cushion. He listened to every
creak and groan as the walls of the control room threatened to buckle and
break. He didn't trust Chinese technology in
any form. He had insisted to the foreign ministry of the People's Republic of
China on witnessing the subterranean atomic detonation firsthand. But he hadn't
expected to be so close to the blast. Even if the Chinese had designed the
control room to withstand the jolt, could the walls contain the more harmful
effects of atomic blasts‹the hellish heat, the flash burns and the poisonous
radiation from neutrons and gamma rays? "Impressed?"
General Chou inquired in English. Somewhat premature to
ask, André thought. The room still rocked up and down. He checked the thick
black fur on his arms. His hair hadn't fallen out. The room's temperature
hadn't lost its pre-dawn chill. Like ocean waves
subsiding against a beach, the quaking dissipated against China's western
Takla Makau Desert. The air cleared and the sky returned to its former deep
blue. Lizards crawled back into their holes in the barren sand. The test site occupied
wasteland, a region of ephemeral, disappearing marshes and lakes. Why the
Chinese bothered to hold nuclear tests below ground was a mystery. He removed a pair of
goggles and thick eyeglasses and wiped away his sweat with a large
handkerchief. "Can you deliver?" "Absolutely." André wrote down the
name of a ship. "Send it to the Alabaster. She's currently
offshore in the South China Sea. She belongs to my Hong Kong partner, Johnny
Ouyang." "I know Johnny
well," the general said. "The People's Liberation Army is a
majority shareholder in his brokerage." André smiled. The Chinese
couldn't wait for the Hong Kong handover from the British. The entire country
had bitten the apple of capitalism. "Now for the
price," André said. "Ah yes,"
the general said. "The price." Around the room,
technicians picked up chairs, straightened out consoles and wiped dust off
their uniforms. Suddenly it occurred
to André that he had no idea what price to pay the Chinese. What was the
going rate for a weapon that had taken 1.2 billion people over twenty years
to produce? He studied the sweat
that had soaked through his handkerchief. "General, how
would you like Taiwan?" |
Description
CIA operative Mick Pierce leads a
humdrum, but peaceful existence at a posting in the South China Sea. Telltale
signs of looming disaster that assault the periphery of his consciousness
mount to a steady drumbeat. Along with his perky wife and erratic brother, he
starts putting clues together. Can he react in time to stop an international
calamity in the making? Can he alert a sleeping Washington to respond? The
last thing policy makers are suspecting is a strike out of the blue. But all
the while, the enemy is following his every move! In this beautifully written
novel termed "chillingly realistic," you can experience an
on-the-edge-of-your-seat international thriller, full of passion, action and
nerve-wracking suspense. You won't put Thunder in Formosa down until its
explosive conclusion. Bookstores
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