Dancing with the Dragon (2002) (38 page)

Continuing his conversation with his aides and advisers, the president patiently waited until nearly everyone had finished his or her drink to rise and suggest that it was time to call it an evening.

"Folks, we'll be leaving for Washington at a very early hour, so I'm going to have to retire. Thank you for your support and hard work. You've done a superb job under stressful circumstances, and I greatly appreciate it."

Macklin tossed back the rest of his Chivas and soda. "I'll see you folks in the morning."

Within a matter of thirty seconds, they had all finished the last of their drinks, placed the empty glasses on the bar, and said goodnight to Macklin.

"Hartwell," the president said, "I'd like to have a word with you, if you don't mind."

"Yes, sir." Prost gently shut the door when the last person left. "You need a fresh one?" Hartwell asked as he headed for the bar. "Sure, thanks."

The president sat down on the sofa, removed his shoes, and wearily propped his feet on a stack of briefing folders. "The Roosevelt group just had another run-in with the Chinese."

"What's the situation?" Hartwell handed Macklin his Scotch and soda and sat down in a chair facing the president.

"Another round of missiles from three different locations in China heavily damaged our frigate Kauffman and the Australian guided missile destroyer Brisbane."

"What about our Aegis ships? How did the missiles get through?"

"The Aegis system worked well, but two missiles managed to evade the protective cover--don't know the technicalities of the situation."

"Casualties?"

"Six deaths confirmed on our ship and two on the Brisbane."

Saddened and feeling a growing sense of uneasiness, Hartwell looked at the president. "What condition are the ships in?"

"I don't know, but they're under way. The frigate is going to
Yokosuka and the destroyer is returning to Australia."

"What kind of response do you want?"

"Since the attack, we've sunk four of their patrol boats and the Haizhou. It's one of the three Sovremmennyy-d ass guided-missile destroyers the Russians sold them. The destroyers were assigned to the East Sea Fleet to intimidate Taiwan."

"Are you going to target the new launch sites?"

"Oh, yes--they'll be history by sunrise."

Prost stared at his drink and mentally juggled all the possible things that could go wrong with the China-U. S. showdown.

"Hartwell, how far do we go before this mess becomes a declared war?"

"Sir, as you well know, during our struggle with Vietnam we never officially declared war on the country--not formally or officially--but it's still called the Vietnam War."

"I know, but do we wait for another World Trade Center?"

"More like San Francisco or Los Angeles," Hartwell said, uneasy with the escalation of attacks and counterattacks. "As far as I can tell, Liu is totally unpredictable. We could be in serious trouble if we've miscalculated."

"How about if we remove him?" Macklin slowly sipped his Scotch. "Take him out?"

Prost studied the president for a long moment. "Sir, with all due respect, that is not a course of action I would recommend. Besides, the next dictator might make Liu Fan-ding look like Mother Theresa."

"Well, you do have a point."

"That's why it's so important to rescue Richard Cheung. Dalton and Sullivan must succeed in their mission. We have to know the capabilities of the Chinese lasers and how many they can field. We can't risk having our nukes shot down en route to their targets."

"As usual, you're right. But in the meantime, we're going to stand firm where Beijing is concerned."

"You have my vote."

The Pentagon

Air Force general Les Chalmers and his Joint Chiefs of Staff were concerned about Chinese early-warning radars around many of the missile launch sites. The radars helped to integrate the air defenses and needed to be alleviated. At 10:22 A. M. Washington time, a U. S. electronic intelligence-gathering satellite obtained an extremely accurate fix on the radar complexes.

Minutes later, Chalmers was handed a highly classified message by an aide. He quickly read it.

"We have them pinpointed," he said to the other four-star generals and admirals around the table. "Lets get a U-2 over them ASAP."

An air force brigadier general immediately contacted Beale Air Force Base, California, and instructed the pilot of a U-2 over the Strait of Taiwan to fly over Communist China and photograph the radar sites. Coordinates were transmitted to the pilot of the spy plane as he flew westbound toward the coast of China.

Once the U-2 was finished with the photo run, the data was transmitted straight to Beale AFB. After the information was confirmed and analyzed for precise coordinates of the radar sites, the target information was transferred to the Pentagon and then sent to the commander of the U. S. Pacific Fleet.

In Hawaii, the four-star admiral and his staff had been nervously waiting for the message from Washington. He immediately passed the orders to his type commanders.

Four minutes later General Chalmers and the joint chiefs received confirmation from the units that would execute the attack.

"The Tomahawks have been programmed," Chalmers said. "By the time we finish lunch, the radar sites and some of the missile sites will be a junkman's dream."

Chapter
26.

En Route to Hong Kong, China

Jackie and Scott were going over the final details of their upcoming operation when the chartered Dassault Falcon 50 jet began descending. The flight from Bangkok had been more than bumpy at times, but the Thai pilots had managed to work their way around most of the severe thunderstorms.

Scott glanced out the window as they flew through a heavy rain shower, and then turned to Jackie. "After the demo, we'll secure the helicopter for the night and make sure the jet and the helo are topped off with fuel, and then we'll check into our hotel. We'll wait there until after dark to make our way back to the airport and preflight the helicopter."

"Sounds good," she said, and looked at her briefing folder. "According to the map, it's just a short walk to the hotel."

"Looks like it." Scott thumbed through his aeronautical charts. "When we request permission to take off, we'd better fly southeast about ten to twelve miles before we turn the exterior lights off. Then we'll turn off the transponder and head north to Mianyang."

She rotated the round metal wheel of her small, pocket-size aviation computer. "Let's see, it's going to be about eighty-five to ninety miles from that point. We'll call it thirty-five, say, forty minutes to the grass field near the complex."

"That's about right." He studied the detailed aeronautical charts for the area around Chengdu and then turned his attention to the recently opened Mianyang Nanjiao Airport. The civilian airport was near Jiuzhaigou, one of the most popular tourist attractions in China.

"We're going to have to be careful around the new airport at Mianyang."

She nodded. "True, but we have to worry about getting there first. We need two ingress plans--one for good weather and another if we have to hug the ground."

Jackie looked at the charts. "Why don't we file IFR to Chongqing? When we clear the ridge, we'll cancel. That will put high terrain between us and Chengdu most of the way to Mianyang."

Chengdu was in a valley with an average elevation of 1,660 feet. Mountainous terrain to the northwest rapidly rose to a height of almost 21,000 feet. Fifteen miles to the southeast of Chengdu a narrow elevation of land nearly ninety miles long extended from fifty miles south to forty miles northeast of the city. The tops of the ridges ranged from 3,300 feet to nearly 3,700 feet.

Scott turned the chart and ran his finger along the ridge leading to Mianyang. "If the weather cooperates, that's a great idea. But if the weather turns sour, we'll have to stay on the west side of the ridge and follow the railroad to Mianyang."

Jackie pointed to the vast number of rice fields in the sparsely populated area. "The other side of the ridge gives us a better chance to arrive at Mianyang without being noticed by anyone, including the controllers at the new airport."

"That's a great plan if the weather's clear, but if we're in the clag and the GPS goes down, we're cooked--finished. We can't risk groping around in the dark trying to find Mianyang. We need to remain visual and follow the railroad up there."

She thought about it for a few moments. "Okay, let's be flexible and have two different flight plans to Mianyang--behind the ridge if the weather's good and following the railroad if the weather tanks."

"Sounds reasonable to me."

The landing gear dropped out of the Falcon's wheel wells and thumped into place. The pilot pulled the throttles to flight idle and rapidly increased his rate of descent.

"I just hope Hartwell's info on Cheung's location is correct," Scott said. He studied the map of the area surrounding the Mianyang complex. Next he turned his attention to the high-resolution commercial imagery provided by Space Imaging, Inc. The panchromatic satellite pictures of the secretive complex were extremely sharp and clear. "If it turns out to be heavily guarded, we're in trouble."

Jackie flipped through the pages of her folder. "It says the complex is guarded, but the housing area where Cheung is supposedly kept is totally enclosed by a high chain link fence. No mention of guards."

"What would keep Cheung, or any other detainee, from cutting through the fence and escaping?"

"A guard, or guards--maybe it's an electric fence."

"We'll know soon enough." Scott closed his folder and examined the various ships plying the waters of the South China Sea. "How's the Agusta cramming coming along?"

"No problem."

"Seriously?"

"I mean it. I have everything I need to know memorized. You've flown one, you've flown 'em all."

"Need to know," he said with a smile. "That would be category-one information, right?"

"That's correct. Want to know is category-two information, and who gives a rat's patootie is category-three info."

"Well put, my dear."

Jackie leaned close to him. "Something's bothering you--what is it?"

"I don't know. I just have an uneasy feeling."

"We don't have to do this, you know."

He rubbed his chin. "It's probably just anxiety from sitting around thinking about the unknowns."

"That'll do it every time."

"It'll go away as soon as we get started. It always does, at least for me, when I kick the tires and light the fires."

"Yeah, when you're scarring the hell out of yourself, you don't have time for self-doubt or introspection--just pure survival mode."

"You got it." Scott watched the container vessels and cargo ships rapidly grow larger as the tri-engine Falcon 50 approached Chek
Lap Kok Hong Kong International Airport and marine terminal.

Located on a 4.82-square-mile island outside the urban corridor, CLK is a key international freight hub for aircraft and cargo ships.

They remained quiet as the Falcon touched down, rolled out to a safe speed, turned off the runway, and taxied to the Hong Kong Business Aviation Centre on the south side of the airport. The pilot brought the sleek jet to a smooth stop in front of China's first business-aviation support center.

Jackie and Scott used their bogus credentials and passports to clear customs and immigration, and then they were approached by their contact from the Agency.

The tall American male was dressed in an airline pilot's uniform and introduced himself as Bob Smith. He had been briefed and was shown their photos only three hours before they arrived.

"Let's take a walk," Bob said. The trio headed back to the expansive aircraft parking area.

"This isn't my usual role," Bob admitted. "We've had some unusual . . . ah, circumstances that weren't factored in."

"Like what?" Jackie asked.

"Everything is okay, but your jet theLearjet--is still at Shanghai's Hongqiao Airport."

"When is it going to be back?" Scott asked.

"We're not exactly sure. They had to change an engine part--I don't know what the hell it was. The replacement parts were shipped to Pudong International, Shanghai's newest airport. It's taken a while to get things sorted out, but the pilot said they should be here by early tomorrow afternoon."

Scott looked at Jackie. "I told you I had an uneasy feeling."

"I have the VIP lounge reserved for you. You can stay in there until your instructor arrives. He'll be back in about fifteen to twenty minutes."

"Sounds good," Jackie said, glancing at the low-lying mountains behind the Hong Kong Business Aviation Centre. "Is the helicopter here?"

"Ah, yes--it's in the hangar along with the, ah, supplies you requested. They're inside the helicopter and need to be camouflaged."

"Well, that's certainly good news," she replied. "Scott, let's check with Hartwell and see how this delay is going to affect the operation."