Major-general Wang’s black bulletproof Buick sped through the gates of the nondescript compound before the People’s Liberation Army security guards could rush to their feet and affect the mandatory salute. The major-general made a note in his vast brain to give them a firm dressing down when time permitted. He required everyone to be alert at all times, now more than ever. The compound was the headquarters of the Third Department of the PLA General Staff and was located in the sprawl of Beijing’s Haidian district, home to the nation’s top universities, research labs, science parks and technology corporations. The major-general’s mind was reeling from the aftermath of recent events.

He took a deep puff on a gold-tipped Zhongnanhai Premium, thick nicotine-stained fingers holding on to the cigarette as though it was some kind of precision instrument. Thin lips set into a largish face with strong features exhaled the smoke, which was quickly flushed away by the car’s powerful ventilation system. He stubbed out the cigarette in the brimming silver ashtray set into the armrest. The ashtray retracted, the sound of some cleaning mechanism muffled behind thick layers of foam and leather.

The current situation was intolerable and if he didn’t quickly bring things under control the repercussions would be echoing through the halls of Zhongnanhai, the seat of Chinese political power, in no time. Major-general Wang hadn’t risen rapidly through the ranks of the People’s Liberation Army to see his entire future put at stake by a professor with grandiose ideas about world peace and an errant research student. The very thought of the damage the whole fiasco could do to his career filled him with rage.

“What do you mean he has disappeared?” the major-general had bellowed at the video phone in his car just a few minutes earlier. The Tsinghua University provost at the other end of the line had visibly blanched, shocked by the military leader’s outburst of anger. This was one patron he couldn’t afford to offend. Hundreds of millions of Renminbi in funding lay in the balance. The provost knew that some of this money was being used for “unofficial” research. He had been asked not to question the professors or students involved on those top secret projects and he had by-and-large concurred. As long as the bulk of that money was going into projects that eventually added to the already incredible world prestige of his renowned institution he was more than happy to concur with the whims of men like Major-general Wang. He also knew that any mistakes would put his job at the whim of the major-general. What if the man decided to withdraw funding? The provost’s agile mind rapidly accessed a mental list of alternate funding sources.

“The student disobeyed clear orders, an act which in itself is a serious offence. We have, however, secured the equipment and are awaiting your further instructions,” the provost informed the major-general.

“You should have placed the student under guard as soon as the edict was issued,” the major-general said gruffly.

“Major-general, I must remind you that we are an educational institution that can only resort to those kinds of measures under extreme circumstances.”

“How is this for an extreme circumstance? I want you to secure the lab until I can get some men out there. Do you understand?”

“Perfectly, sir,” the provost said with accentuated reverence, sensing a reprieve. The major-general’s previous project had netted the university an unprecedented level of funding, some of which had made it into other faculties, enhancing their effectiveness. New equipment had been bought, professors who were leading thinkers in their fields had been poached from rival institutions, new fields of research had been undertaken. That project had been so top secret though that the provost had had trouble explaining to his staff what so many PLA officers in plain clothes had been doing at the university. Nobody had been fooled. Yet, the provost had simply indicated that that section of the university was out of bounds and that the PLA was using some of the university’s resources for some run-of-the-mill research project. Quite the contrary, if the provost’s hunch was correct.

Major-general Wang had signed off in disgust and lit another Zhongnanhai cigarette. Now, as his car drove up to the freshly painted fa?ade of the nondescript gray building that housed his offices and those of his key lieutenants, the major-general reflected on the events of the last few days and sighed. First, there was the business of the Japanese Yakuza attempting to gain access to the system. He had known about Kenzo Yamamoto and his activities. In fact, the PLA had bought information from him on a few occasions, an act that actually angered him beyond belief. The Chinese would never forget the atrocities committed by the Japanese decades ago. The Nanjing Massacre. Just thinking about it flooded his mind with horrific images of the cruelties they had inflicted on the Chinese people. Yet, the Japanese gangster had tried one trick too many and the assassin had seen to it that he paid with his life.

The AIs had been deadly accurate on that one, pinpointing the source of the intrusions to Tokyo and tracing it back through complex data analysis all the way back to the Yakuza Yamamoto’s lair in Shinjuku. The major-general had hesitated before deciding on the Yakuza’s fate, knowing only too well that Yamamoto’s boss was a prominent member of the Japanese government. Yet, he had done everything in his power, and he wielded a considerable amount, to ascertain that Minister Takahashi was not implicated. If the minister was involved, this became a political game and the major-general could not afford to make this political. There was too much at stake.

Yet, if the minister had a hand in it, then there were ways of getting to him too without compromising New China’s national interests. The assassin’s modus operandi was silent and deadly yet there were risks involved with assassinating a minister of a foreign country. That wouldn’t go down too well in Beijing or Tokyo if it ever came to light. It would lead to war and that was something the major-general could ill afford right now. He was thinking about a radically different kind of war. Yet, he was a taker of risks and if the occasion demanded it then so be it.

The major-general smiled to himself. At any rate, routine precautions had been taken. Phones had been tapped, communications had been compromised and the major-general had access to a significant chunk of the Japanese minister’s private communications network. A small army of the Third Department’s best and most trustworthy was currently attempting a hack into the Yakuza’s network of satellites.

Everything was as it should be except for the small matter of how Kenzo Yamamoto had learned about and gained access to the prototype network in the first place. The network was highly secure, accessible only through custom hardware made in a secure secret manufacturing facility deep within the hinterland of New China. Yamamoto could have gotten his hands on one of the consoles but everything was accounted for. He could have blackmailed Professor Yao for a blueprint but the professor was clean. The major-general knew that for a fact. Anyway, that was yet another reason why the professor had to die.

The two PLA at the door of his office stiffened and gave him their best salute as he strode briskly towards his office. The men sensed his bad mood. Major-general Wang thrived on the fear of his subordinates, a small army of which stood to attention as he walked into his office. His personal assistant appeared out of nowhere and hovered diligently behind him. She was a wiry girl with a taut body, a keen mind and the major-general conjectured, a voracious sexual appetite. If only time and protocol would permit, he thought.

“Leave me alone. I don’t want to be disturbed,” he growled without turning around. The personal assistant exited the office without making a sound. The major-general sat down behind his expansive uncluttered desk and lit another Zhongnanhai. On the shiny surface of the desk, nothing but a console and screen and a gold plated ashtray with the PLA’s insignia and his name on it. He was about to take a puff on the cigarette when his secure cell phone rang.

“Speak,” he commanded, as he switched on the massage function of his elaborate computer-controlled chair. He barely felt the massagers probe the surface of his skin. The major-general had the tense combination of muscle and fat of a sumo wrestler, complete with a large square head crowned with an unlikely crew-cut.

“Lieutenant Liu, sir. We have some news.”

“It better be good.”

“Sir, we managed to gain access to one of their low level communications satellites.”

“Is that the news?”

“No sir. It seems that this Yamamoto sent two packages abroad just before he died sir.”

“And why is that interesting?”

“Sir, because the Yakuza just found out that the packages contained custom-made computers. And they seem to think these consoles were somehow linked to his death and are currently trying to retrieve them.”

“Mmmm... very interesting. So that is how his hackers gained access to our network.” The major-general allowed his brain a few seconds to digest the information.

“Sir, he sent them to a Professor Joplin of MIT in America and a hacker in the Union. A Cad Caldwell, sir.

“Did you do a trace on those two?”

“Yes, sir. Professor Joplin is dead according to the newspapers in America. And the hacker, sir, we have no data on.”

“The Japanese must have got to the American professor, which means they are probably looking for the hacker too,” the major-general said thinking aloud.

“Most likely, sir.”

The major-general made a mental note to have the technicians put the intrusion detection AIs and the ICEs on high alert. It wouldn’t be long before the hacker attempted to log on to the network and then he would be as good as dead. He would have to get to the hacker first, before the Yakuza. The assassin, it seemed, had a busy roster.

“If the American is dead, where is the console?” he asked, not expecting a useful answer. Lieutenant Liu was dreading this question, because he knew that the answer would mean several more hours in the office, his dinner long gone cold, his frustrated wife in bed asleep. Several days of cold shoulder awaited him.

“Sir, according to the data, it appears the Yakuza didn’t find the console. The American professor has a teenage daughter who has since disappeared. The American police fear she is dead but no body has been found. This leaves the possibility, remote as it may seem, that she is alive and she has the console.”

“Not remote at all. Have a trace on her yet?”

“We’ll get on it right away, sir,” the lieutenant said, picturing his marriage fragmenting into a thousand pieces.

“Good work, lieutenant. Keep me informed,” the major-general said at length and hung up.

That would explain how Yamamoto got access. He somehow got the blueprint and had a console made. Most likely got his hackers to hack the system at Tsinghua University and had the consoles custom built in Japan. But who could build such a computer, without knowledge of the network itself and the protocols it used. The major-general had made sure that there was no data anywhere on the specifications. They existed only in the minds of Professor Yao and the PLA technicians specially handpicked and assigned to this project. Those consoles would have to be state-of-the-art crafted by a true master.

The Third Department, the major-general’s domain, dealt in information, signals, data, patterns in data and data flows. And the major-general was its director and the mastermind behind the PLA’s advanced C4ISR systems - command, control, communications, computers, intelligence, surveillance, and reconnaissance. They would find the girl and hacker easily, the assassin would retrieve the consoles and everything would be as it should be. The research student on the run would be caught. The Third Department held the key to some of the information flows inside China and had considerable access to information globally. There would be no escape for those three. And then there will be the insertion and the project would proceed to its final live test phase.

It had been a shame to kill Professor Yao, the architect of the major-general’s brainchild. The major-general was actually cut up about it. The death of one of China’s greatest technical minds was a great loss for the country. Yet, the professor had served his purpose, performed his duty. The man had lost his mind. The information belonged to him, to New China. Sharing it with the world was tantamount to treason and would have set China back ten years and probably cost him his job. What was the man thinking? Yet, everything was in place now with just a few minor hiccups.

The project had passed its beta phase with flying colors. A select group of the Third Department’s best minds was keeping it ticking around the clock, both internally and externally. Two thousand subjects were now a living part of the network. The simulations of financial markets, electricity grids and global communications systems were yielding impressive results. Professor Yao himself had long declared the system ready for prime time. The only missing link was the AI itself. Did the professor know that this other thing he was working on and had just declared successful in New York had an important role to play in the scheme of things? He doubted it but then why would the professor try to sabotage the project by going to the world with his announcement. Had he realized the brilliance of the major-general’s plan, the beautiful logic of it?

The major-general thought about the thirty-six stratagems in the “The Secret Art of War” written by an anonymous scholar a few hundred years earlier. Professor Yao’s latest project, China’s first true AI, was going to rewrite the thirty six stratagems for the new digital age. The AI was going to weaken the enemy in ways unimaginable.

Fool the emperor to cross the sea. Yes, the AI was going to lower the enemy’s guard by hiding its intentions deep within the fabric of cyberspace, allowing the enemy to make a natural mistake. Besiege Wei to rescue Zhao. Attack something a superior enemy holds dear to bring him out of his lair, then pounce on the true prize. The target was the computerized systems of global trade, industry and communications. The prize was world domination.

Kill with a borrowed sword. The AI will use the enemy’s strength against it, subverting global technologies and systems for its own use. Victory will be a forgone conclusion. Await the exhausted enemy with ease. The time and place of battle would be at the major-general’s discretion, allowing the AI to encourage the enemy to exhaust his energy. The most significant battle will come when the enemy has lost the will to fight. Then the major-general would proceed to the fifth stratagem. Loot a burning house.

But first the assassin had to be put on high alert. There was more killing to be done and property to be retrieved.