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  Her co-host, Emilio Valdes, straightened his teal silk tie and checked his lapel mic on his navy suit jacket before taking a seat next to her. With his naturally bronze skin, dark hair, and brown eyes, Emilio enjoyed a few advantages over Tori on camera. Whereas he stood out, she had to design her makeup and outfit to make sure she didn’t wash out under the bright lights.

  Moving over to Emilio, the makeup artist dusted his face with a darker shade of powder and then moved offstage. From behind the glass of the sound booth, The Counter View’s executive producer gave the thumbs up that it was almost time to start the show.

  Tori took a last sip of water and checked for any loose strands of hair. She looked over at Emilio, who was reading through the headlines on his tablet. After a year of working together, Tori and Emilio had become good friends—against all odds. Because their views couldn’t be more diametrically opposed.

  Before Homeland Network News (HNN) hired them to host The Counter View, they’d both worked as rival reporters for different stations and were known to get into it with each other on social media. After a particularly nasty digital spat, they bumped into each other at the Octane Grill in downtown D.C.—a restaurant frequented by the movers and shakers of the Beltway. In fact, the CEO of HNN was having dinner a few tables away from their shouting match. That’s how he got the perfect idea for an improvised news show featuring vibrant personalities debating both sides of the issues.

  Tori and Emilio enjoyed the excitement of arguing back and forth on live TV. They would often go off script to cover breaking headlines that came in over their tablets in real time. The improvised element of their show had clinched ratings with viewers across the political spectrum and made The Counter View one of the hottest news shows on TV.

  The cameraman motioned to Tori and Emilio that he was about to roll the camera and began counting down on one hand. “Ready in five… four… three… two… one.” Then he pointed to Tori.

  “Hi, I’m Tori Scott, from the left,” she said, smiling at the camera.

  “And I’m Emilio Valdes, from the right,” he said, raising his eyebrow and giving the camera his signature cocky smirk.

  “Welcome to The Counter View on Homeland Network News,” Tori said, turning her face toward Emilio with a smile.

  “The news talk show that presents both sides of the issue and lets you decide,” Emilio said, finishing her sentence and smiling back at Tori as he always did.

  She glanced at the teleprompter and began speaking. “Right out of the gate this morning, we have some breaking news coming out of Hong Kong, China, where it is 8 p.m. on Tuesday evening. After a series of aggressive tweets threatening the U.S. with a nuclear attack, China’s Ministry of Public Security initiated a crackdown on a peaceful demonstration in Hong Kong.” She took a deep breath and continued. “The conflict between unarmed protesters and police quickly descended into violence when several police officers fired on the unsuspecting crowd. So far, more than three thousand civilians are estimated to have been injured or have died in the shooting and the subsequent stampede. Experts say this is the worst slaughter of unarmed demonstrators in China since the Tiananmen Square Massacre in 1989.” She turned to Emilio. “What do you think of this tragic turn in the Hong Kong saga?”

  Emilio narrowed his eyes and rubbed his chin. “I guess my first question would be this: how do we know these casualty reports are true? I’ve seen estimates in the news media ranging from less than a hundred dead into the thousands. How do we know what is happening on the ground in Hong Kong?” He paused for effect. “The truth is that we can’t unless we’re there. Ever since China kicked out Western journalists from Hong Kong, we’re stuck with secondhand information.”

  “Emilio, this is happening,” Tori said. “Right. Now. People are getting killed in the streets of Hong Kong. Innocent civilians. It’s all on camera. The evidence is spreading quickly across the internet.”

  Emilio shook his head. “How do you know for sure? Everyone wants us to believe the story that supports their specific agenda. The Chinese government wants to minimize the casualty reports. Meanwhile, the protesters want us to think people are dying in the streets. Both sides use the data that helps their arguments. We can’t know how many are dead until the body bags are lined up, side by side, and we can count them. Maybe someone should drum up some satellite imagery from a reputable company to verify these so-called casualty reports. Because I won’t believe anything that would come from our deep state’s intelligence community.”

  Tori shuddered at the crassness of his words, but she should be used it by now. Although she liked the guy, sometimes it was difficult to sit next to Emilio without punching him in the face when he said stupid shit. She took a deep breath. “What about all the video footage and images coming in over social media? That looks like pretty damning evidence to me.”

  Tori noticed her executive producer give her a warning through the sound booth window.

  “Can you be sure that stuff is real, though?” Emilio asked. “I mean, we’re way past the early years of deep fakes at this point. Until we have forensic evidence that the videos and images are authentic, I don’t know what we should think. It’s premature to jump to conclusions.”

  “Several Asian news media stations are already calling it the Mong Kok Massacre, named after the famous shopping neighborhood,” Tori said. “The hashtag has gone viral on social media with more than ten million people posting in less than thirty minutes. Emilio, think about it. There’s no way the protesters had time to go home, sit in their apartments, alter hours of video footage, and create deep fakes for release onto social media. That’s a lazy assertion, and you know it.”

  Emilio shrugged. “Just because something has gone viral and has a hashtag doesn’t mean it’s true. The fake videos could have been prepped in advance. Have you seen the latest video editing software? It’s insane what that shit can do.”

  Tori saw their executive producer glare at them through the window. She’d complained recently about having to delay the broadcast by several seconds in order to censor their foul mouths and avoid a fine from the FCC.

  “Always with the conspiracy theories,” Tori said sarcastically. Then she turned back to the camera with a serious face. “The State Department issued an official statement about thirty minutes ago, condemning the violence and calling on China to restore law and order in Hong Kong. The State Department spokeswoman said the secretary of state intends to seek economic sanctions at the United Nations in New York City later this morning.”

  “Well, that move would merely be symbolic since the resolution won’t pass,” Emilio said, interrupting her. “China holds veto power in the UN Security Council. They’ll just veto anything we put forward.”

  “The U.S. can still impose economic sanctions on key leaders within the Chinese government without support from UN members,” Tori said.

  “Good luck with that. All that will do is harm U.S. trade with China,” Emilio said. “How will President Tolley explain to American businesses that she’s putting the interests of Chinese protesters over their ability to make a living?”

  Tori ignored the barb and attempted to move on. “Until a few months ago, the citizens of Hong Kong still lived a mostly democratic society, and now they’re getting shot in the streets by an oppressive regime for exercising their right to free speech. It will be interesting to see what actions the Tolley administration takes in response to China’s aggression. This will be our first chance to get a glimpse into the new president’s worldview on national security.”

  Emilio grimaced. “I don’t expect this administration to take strong actions against China. Tolley will likely be even softer than Monroe was. How many times has China crossed a red line in the last six months?” He waved his hands in the air for effect. “The Chinese took over Hong Kong several months ago by sending its troops into the city streets. What did we do? Nothing. That failure is on President Monroe. But don’t get me started on Tolley. She’s been in bed
with the Chinese for the past six months, getting all hippie with it on the environment. I just don’t see her siding with the protesters and going against China on this one. Not that I support the U.S. getting involved in this mess. Because I don’t. After all, China has already threatened retaliation if we get involved. And they did it on Twitter for the whole world to see!”

  “There’s some speculation on social media that the China Xinhua News handle may have been hacked,” Tori said. “I’ve also read reports from some intelligence analysts suggesting that the tweets came from an individual not affiliated with the Chinese government.”

  “Well, isn’t that convenient. You believe the videos of the massacre are real, but these tweets from the Chinese government, no… they must be fake,” Emilio said, scrunching his face.

  “Those are different issues, and you know it. Tensions are running high with China’s planned war game, which is scheduled to start tomorrow,” Tori said. “What if someone is trying to escalate a conflict between the U.S. and China? Plus, the tweets are way out of form for the Chinese government, don’t you think?”

  Emilio made another face. “Or maybe China is finally showing us its true nature? Look, when it comes to the protesters in Hong Kong, they’re shit out of luck. It boils down to an issue of national sovereignty. Hong Kong belongs to China now. Even if China took Hong Kong back a bit early. What’s done is done.”

  “You’re saying we shouldn’t care about the fate of protesters in Hong Kong?” Tori asked.

  Emilio shrugged. “Don’t get me wrong, I don’t like seeing people die in the streets. But I think what happens inside China’s borders is none of our business. Unless we’re willing to go to war over it. But it’s not in our national interest to take on a nuclear-armed country for running its internal affairs the way it sees fit. Frankly, I don’t understand why everyone is surprised by this development. In recent years, China has become a bona fide surveillance state, oppressing its own population left and right, and no one did anything to stop it. Did everyone really not see the writing on the wall? And now we’re supposed to fight for the people of Hong Kong?”

  Through the glass, Tori glimpsed her executive producer signaling it was time for a commercial break.

  Looking into the camera, Tori said, “Next up, we’re speaking to one of the protesters with the Campaign Against Killer Robots. Stay tuned. We’ll be back in a bit.”

  The cameraman counted down five seconds. “And we’re off air,” he said, relaxing his stance.

  Tori turned to Emilio and shot him a fierce look. She clenched her fists. “I can’t believe you implied the killing of protesters in the streets of Hong Kong is fake news. What the fuck were you thinking?”

  He gave her a lopsided grin. “Hey, that’s what I’m paid to do. Say terrible things and stir shit up. And I can’t believe you wasted time interviewing that obnoxious kid this morning.”

  Tori returned Emilio a brilliant but fake smile. “The clip went viral within minutes of its posting. Now that’s what I’m paid to do.”

  14

  The Russia Connection

  MORGAN

  0715

  Situation Room

  The White House

  Why did Tolley request my presence at this meeting?

  Over the past fifteen minutes, Morgan had listened carefully to every word of the heated back and forth between various cabinet members and wondered how she could possibly jump into the animated discussion.

  Am I expected to participate?

  If Morgan dared speak without an invitation, it would be like entering a boxing ring with the world’s heaviest hitters in a fight to the death. Depending on how it went, she might not survive to see another day in her job, let alone her national security career. With a few well-placed social media posts by certain influencers, Morgan had witnessed carefully built reputations go up in flames in just a few hours.

  She tugged on the edge of her beige skirt with clammy hands, trying to suppress her anxiety.

  Why would President Tolley call on me during a meeting of the National Security Council?

  Morgan stole a quick glance at President Tolley at the head of the table and admired her confidence.

  Tolley’s pale, freckled face was rather thin and long, which made her dainty features look larger. She wore a streamlined gray pantsuit with a black knit shirt. The color combination accentuated her shoulder-length reddish-brown hair and tawny brown eyes. For a woman in her mid-forties, Tolley was rather young-looking—that is, until she took control of a room full of power players and gave out commands to them. Then there was no mistaking her maturity or fierceness.

  Morgan examined the other people in the room. Everyone who was anyone in national security was seated around the conference table in the Situation Room—the secretary of defense, the secretary of state, the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, the director of national intelligence, the director of the CIA, White House counsel, David McDonough, Morgan’s boss and the national security advisor, and Tolley’s chief of staff, Elise Russell.

  The Situation Room was located in the West Wing of the White House and served as the primary spot for handling sensitive matters or dealing with a major crisis. The main conference room represented only a small part of the more-than-5,000-square-foot intelligence complex, which also housed the White House Watch Center that monitored world events around the clock. Morgan had been in the complex many times before in her six months at the White House, but rarely to attend a cabinet-level meeting. It was her boss’s prerogative to decide whom to take with him, and he rarely chose her.

  Morgan sat along the beige wall behind her boss’s chair, the mahogany woodwork pressing into the back of her neck. From across the room, Luis, seated behind his own boss, tilted his head and grimaced at her. He attended such meetings on a regular basis as the chairman’s plus-one. As his executive assistant, however, Luis would never be expected to participate.

  He’s so lucky. Gets to be a fly on the wall without all the pressure.

  As the voices got louder, Morgan bit her lip.

  “We can’t just let the Chinese government slaughter people in the streets,” Elizabeth Whitaker said, tossing her long, blonde hair behind her shoulder and shooting a death glare across the table at the secretary of defense. “Hong Kong was a democracy less than six months ago. Are you telling me that the United States is going to stand by and allow such bloodshed to take place with no response? If that’s the case, then this is not the country I love anymore.”

  “What do you suggest we do about it, Beth?” Isaiah Burke asked, his tone gruff. “I don’t mean hapless measures like your proposed resolution on economic sanctions at the UN Security Council, either. I mean real, tangible actions to stop the shootings from happening. We don’t yet have satellite confirmation that the massacre is as terrible as it appears on social media. We can’t afford to go to war with China over this. Especially not when they have two nuclear-armed submarines with missiles pointed at U.S. cities and parked God-knows-where off the fucking coast of Canada. Maybe we should talk about that situation before we worry about a few dead Chinese citizens.”

  Morgan suppressed a grimace.

  I can’t believe he just said that.

  An uncomfortable silence descended upon the room. Apparently, no one else could either. Despite the star power around the table, no one wanted to get involved in the heated face-off between Elizabeth Whitaker—who had been Tolley’s only pick for Monroe’s cabinet and was a close friend of hers—and General Isaiah Burke, the first ever African American secretary of defense. He was a retired four-star general who had become a living legend during the cleanup of the Nightfall Incident.

  Morgan had heard rumors of their mutual hatred in the news media, but this was the first time she’d had a chance to observe their bitter rivalry play out behind the scenes. Burke had vocally opposed Whitaker as Monroe’s choice for the highest-ranking diplomat in the country. Ever since Whitaker’s appointment at the beginn
ing of President Monroe’s term, he’d had an ax to grind with both Whitaker and Tolley. He also fumed over Tolley’s clean energy deal with China, openly expressing his negative views in the news headlines. Burke viewed China as a dangerous competitor and potential enemy, an aggressive rival always seeking the upper hand in any form of collaboration.

  Although they’d both led successful careers, Whitaker and Burke could not have come from more opposite worlds or held more different views.

  Whitaker hailed from a wealthy family, attended Ivy League schools, and got her first job in Washington D.C. through her family’s vast connections. Her career advanced quickly as a result of her powerful network, and she became known as a right-leaning Democrat, capable of working across the aisle.

  Burke had grown up in the harsh streets of East Baltimore, paid his own way through college, and enlisted in the Army. After paying his dues as an infantry soldier, he attended Officer Candidate School and became a first lieutenant in the Army. Then he clawed his way up the military chain of command to reach four stars—a nearly impossible feat from such humble beginnings.

  As a conservative Republican, Burke was a fierce defender of U.S. national security interests, but he defined them more narrowly than most. That was why he appealed especially to those on the far right and became Monroe’s pick for SecDef. Monroe’s political base liked the fact that Burke wasn’t about to get the military wrapped up in another extended conflict overseas. Morgan had heard a rumor that Burke was gunning for the open VP position, which could explain Tolley’s extreme caution around him.

  Morgan was especially impressed that Whitaker had managed to hold her ground against the notoriously cantankerous Burke.

  I’m not sure I would’ve fared half as well.