by Andrew Watts
Victoria could hear the water lap the sides of the hull. Their ship was at all stop. The ship guys were doing engineering drills.
She said, “Plug, I’ll tell you the same thing I told the chief two hours ago. We’re staying put. We’ll be the last ones to go anywhere. And that’s a fact.”
“You’ve got to be shitting me. Everyone else is getting sent to Fifth Fleet. Guys are saying that the Iran stuff is heating up. Chief was on deployment during Iraq Two. He said this is just like that. One day Iraq had the fourth-largest army in the world. The next they had the second-largest army in their own country. If Iran shoots again, I think this thing is going to blow up. And I just—”
“I know, Plug. You don’t want to miss out.”
He had a sheepish look on his face. “I feel bad saying that.”
“You didn’t say it. And don’t let your men hear you say it, for God’s sake. Being in the military is like playing a sport. We practice and practice and everyone wants to see what it’s like to play a real game.”
“Well…yeah, kind of. I guess. I mean, what the hell are we doing all this for if we don’t get to protect our country when it’s in danger?”
Victoria said, “I know. But, Plug, listen…if Iran and the US really do start a shooting war, and the US Navy sees fit to keep us here, two hundred miles west of Panama, then everyone on this ship, including our air detachment, is going to be burning to get over there. No one wants to get left out of the big game. But you, as a leader, need to set the example. You need to keep your focus on making sure everyone does their job here. We need to ensure that people keep focus on procedures and safety. Because if we’re stuck here, Iran isn’t a threat to us. But there are still a hell of a lot of ways that people can get hurt out here. And if those guys up there are thinking about how pissed off they are that we aren’t fighting Iran, they might not tighten the Jesus nut on the main rotor. And then what happens?”
Plug smiled. “The rotor falls off?”
“No. I catch it in preflight because I’m a shit-hot pilot, then I kick your ass and make one of your junior pilots my new maintenance officer.”
Plug laughed. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Hey. I know this sucks. We’re going to be doing exercises while everyone else in our squadron gets to do the real thing. I’ll tell you what. I’ve never been shot, but I don’t really want to be, either. Running to war for glory and adventure is something that little ignorant boys do. I’ll defend my country with my life if I ever get the chance. But I have a healthy respect for my profession. Combat isn’t a game and it isn’t a sport. We’re going to focus on training to keep our men sharp, and prepare them in case we are ever called up for the real test. Understood?”
He nodded. Serious eyes. Chin up slightly higher than before. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll talk to the chief. He was saying something similar about making sure everyone doesn’t get distracted.”
“Well, he’s a chief. So he knows a thing or two.”
Plug gave her a half salute and walked over to the helicopter. He began joking with his enlisted men. He was a good kid. Victoria hoped that everyone’s morale remained high. It really did suck to be the only US Navy ship that got left in this part of the world.
Two miles to the west, hidden in the bright orange rays of the setting sun, a periscope broke the surface of the ocean and rose just high enough for its digital cameras to see the USS Farragut. It was China’s newest nuclear fast-attack submarine. The Captain was quite disciplined. He did one sweep with the periscope, recording a 360-degree image that he would later review with several members of the crew.
The executive officer approached him and handed him a paper copy of the high-priority message they had just received. The transmission had come from the Chinese Naval High Command. It stated that there were only a few naval vessels in the area, and only one US Navy ship. In a few days there was to be an exercise where all of these Navy ships would be positioned together. It would be the perfect time to strike.
Pawns of the Pacific
The world is in a constant conspiracy against the brave. It's the age-old struggle: the roar of the crowd on the one side, and the voice of your conscience on the other.
Douglas MacArthur
1
Langley, Virginia
“What is this place?” David asked.
They had arrived at a high-ceilinged room that reminded David of a NASA command center. Dim lights. High-tech. Lots of people with headsets on, each neatly spaced throughout rows of computer screens. The people in the room were a mix of what David assumed to be CIA and uniformed military.
David had been showing up to Langley every day for the past few weeks. Each day, he was taken to interrogation rooms or conference rooms, where he was asked repeated questions about the Red Cell, China, and Iran.
But they never took him to a setting like this. Chase and the other man stood silent, waiting at the entrance of the room.
An enormous wall of monitors stood at the front of the large room, each screen showing different bits of data. Many of the men and women in the room were gathered around a screen that showed the live feed on one of the monitors.
It showed an aerial view of a small land mass, surrounded by water. The land mass looked familiar to David. It had a large runway that barely fit on the island. A few scattered buildings next to the runway. Beaches that were several shades darker than normal. The rest of the island was covered in green vegetation, right up its mountainous center.
A flash of recognition hit him. David was looking at the Red Cell island.
David looked at his brother, confused. Chase had that same knowing look in his eye.
David said, “What are these people working on in here?”
Chase replied, “What’s it look like?”
David took in the room once more. Some of the screens showed tactical displays of the South China Sea. Others monitors were zoomed out to focus on the entire Western Pacific theater.
Tiny blue and red digital shapes covered each map. David knew that these were the ships, submarines, and aircraft. Blue shapes for allied forces. Red for enemy forces.
David observed a man sitting nearby. He monitored three computer displays. Thick headphones covered his ears. The man typed furiously, and Chase noticed that the text looked to be Chinese characters.
“It looks like they’re taking the Chinese threat seriously after all. They’re monitoring the Red Cell island, at least.”
Chase nodded.
“You aren’t surprised. You’ve known about this? Why the hell have I been led to believe that we weren’t doing anything about it?”
He leaned in close to David’s ear. “Keep cool and try not to be pissed off. You can yell at me all you want once we get to the car. But the fact that they’ve invited you here means that you’re going to get read in. That’s a good thing. Don’t spoil it.”
David looked at his brother a moment. Part of him was angry that he had been kept in the dark. But he understood that it couldn’t have been a choice. Secrets were the norm for Chase’s line of work.
The automatic doors let out a whoosh as they opened behind them. The room got quiet as about half of the personnel turned to look in David’s direction. There was a brief moment of panic as he mistakenly thought they were looking at him. They weren’t. They were all looking past him.
David turned around and saw two men. One, David recognized right away. He had seen the face on TV. Director Samuel Buckingham—head of the CIA, in the flesh. The other man was military. An Army three-star. Starched uniform and gleaming medals.
A woman with an air of authority said, “Director Buckingham, we’re ready to start whenever you are. We have seats for you over here.”
“Thanks, Susan.” The CIA director checked his watch and frowned. “Alright, ladies and gentlemen. As you all know, business is booming around here right now. I need to brief the president on Iran later this morning, and that conflict is using up the majority of our resources. But I want you all t
o know that the work you are doing here is vital. Please don’t misinterpret my lack of time for you this morning as an indication of the importance of your mission.”
He looked at the Army general. “I’ve asked General Schwartz to step in and serve as the sponsor for this task force. He’ll be briefing me every day on your progress. Now I’ve got thirty minutes free and I need to use two of them. Susan, I beg your forgiveness. Please give me a moment.”
“Of course, sir,” the woman said,
The director and the general turned to look straight at David. He walked a few steps, closing the distance between them, and stuck out his hand. He lowered his voice. “Gentlemen, I’m Bob Buckingham. This is General Schwartz.” The men all exchanged handshakes and then sat down on couches facing each other.
The general said, “You’re Art Manning’s boys?”
“Yes, sir,” said Chase.
“He’s a good man. We were at the Navy War College together.”
The brothers smiled politely.
Director Buckingham said, “Let’s get a little privacy for a minute before the briefing begins. I’m afraid every goddamn person in this room will be eavesdropping on us. You’d think I was surrounded by spies.” The CIA director had the broad smile and easy manner of an experienced politician.
They climbed a narrow set of metal stairs to an enclosed room that overlooked the larger space. The room reminded David of a box seat at a football game. They were above the worker bees here, and the chatter from below was being piped in by a speaker somewhere.
There were seats in the room, but no one sat. The director said, “Gentlemen, I would first like to thank you for your service to our country. Without the brave acts each of you performed over the past few weeks, we would be completely in the dark on the Chinese Red Cell, and the role that the Chinese played in Iran.”
Chase didn’t say anything.
David, still feeling his way around the situation, said, “I appreciate that.”
“Now, I will ask you both to serve your country once again. General Schwartz and I have been directed by the president to put together this task force in hopes of…well, in hopes of preventing World War Three. If we can’t stop it, then we are to ensure that we are at least prepared for it.”
Sounds familiar, David thought to himself.
“David, I’m going to be frank. I always am. I find it saves me time, my most precious commodity these days. There are some members of the government that expressed concerns that you may have compromised your nation.”
David was very familiar with the charge. Over the past few weeks, he’d been through countless classified debriefings and interviews with various agencies, including closed session hearings with congressional intelligence committees.
There were also news stories on him, which he was still getting used to. He wasn’t allowed to comment, of course. But that didn’t stop the damn press from speculating on what had really happened. Some of them came pretty close to the truth. Others—at some of the extreme ends of the journalistic spectrum—thought he was a traitor and should be shot.
Everyone—government and press—wanted to try and get to the bottom of David’s allegations that the Chinese had kidnapped him and tricked twenty Americans into disclosing classified information.
The director said, “These people would have me believe that you gave too much information to the Chinese and were an unwitting agent of a foreign adversary. What say you?”
David clenched his jaw. He could see Chase giving him a look as if he were ready to hold him back from socking the director. It took all the patience David could muster to respond calmly.
“I would say that I did the best I could under the circumstances. I never willingly gave classified information to the Chinese. And as soon as I discovered that the Red Cell was not what it appeared to be, I made every effort to organize an escape.”
The director seemed satisfied with that answer. He looked at the general. “General Schwartz has recently been assigned to us. He is the Associate Director of the CIA for Military Affairs. I’ve asked him here because the four of us need to discuss a part of Operation SILVERSMITH that might become very important. I’ve known General Schwartz here for over two decades. I trust him implicitly. He tells me that he knows your father. He swears to me that you’re from good stock.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“I will also note that I think it’s very easy to second-guess someone if you haven’t walked a mile in their shoes,” the director continued. “So—if anyone gives you a hard time David, you just let me know. I, for one, think you’re a fine American. I think what you did showed ingenuity, and tenacity. And I need scrappy, intelligent fighters on my team.”
David looked at his brother, and then back at the director, not sure what to say.
Director Buckingham went on, “I also need someone who’s seen what we’re up against. Your experience will be an invaluable asset. And I’d rather have you helping us here than sending my interrogators to try and tease out bits of information that may or may not be the most relevant. I can’t think of anyone who would be a better contributor to Task Force SILVERSMITH than you. You not only have the knowledge of what these bastards are up to, but you’ve also got the motivation to disrupt their plans. So, what do you say?”
“What do I say, sir? I’m sorry. About what?”
“I would like you to join us here at Langley for the foreseeable future. We’ll work out the admin details with In-Q-Tel, but it should be manageable. We’d like you to work as an analyst and advisor for us as we evaluate the Red Cell and any potential Chinese war plans. Do you accept this request?”
He blinked. “Um. Yes. Yes, of course.”
“Excellent. I apologize for the inconvenience of all those Q&A sessions we’ve been putting you through. But as you’ll see, we are putting the information to good use. Now let’s go back downstairs and get this show on the road.”
Marching down the steps behind the other three, David felt dozens of eyes on him. He caught a few of their gazes. Not all were friendly. He wondered what they thought of him being here, given that he had been part of the Red Cell.
The director said, “Ladies and gentlemen, as most of you now know, we have been directed by the president to form a joint task force to defend against the Chinese threat to our national security. If you are in this room, Operation SILVERSMITH is now one hundred percent of your work plan. Drop everything else. Don’t talk about what goes on here to anyone. What we do over the next few days, the next few weeks, and the next few months is crucial to the security of our nation. I have no doubt that each of you will give it your very best. Alright, that’s my pep talk. Susan, I understand you’re going to bring us all up to speed?”
“That’s correct, sir.”
“Alright, hit it. I’ve got…” He looked at his watch. “Twenty minutes.”
They all sat. The lights dimmed. The woman whom the director had referred to as Susan spoke. Her voice was amplified through a small microphone attached to her collar.
“Director Buckingham, General Schwartz, good afternoon. My name is Susan Collinsworth and I’m the staff operations officer lead for this team. This is the introductory brief for Task Force SILVERSMITH. Our objective is to identify and counter the Chinese threat to our nation, with a specific emphasis on the recently identified plans of Cheng Jinshan and the Chinese Red Cell. The following is a brief timeline of relevant events.”
David looked over the room. The scattered audience sat in rows, many behind computer terminals. They each looked up at the big screen, where a presentation showed a timeline of events and pictures.
Susan said, “On October second, twenty Americans are flown from various locations in the continental United States to a small airport in California—Half Moon Bay Airport, near Oakland. From examining satellite feed and FAA records, we have determined that nine private aircraft were used in all. Each of these aircraft was owned and operated by a shell company connected to Ch
eng Jinshan—more on him later in the brief.”
She took a sip of water, then continued, “These aircraft then refuel and fly the twenty Americans to what we shall refer to as the Red Cell island—it has another name, but frankly, it’s a bear to pronounce. The Red Cell island is located north of the Spratly Islands in the South China Sea. We assess that none of the Americans knew their true whereabouts or who was planning and operating the Red Cell.”
David saw a few questioning glances in his direction. “We assess” was not the same as “we know.” He wondered what the others in this room were thinking. Perhaps that he and the others in the Red Cell were fools? Or worse…traitors? The thought made him sick.
“From October third until October twelfth, these twenty Americans participate in a Red Cell operation on the island. There they are told that China is planning to attack the US, and that the goal of the Red Cell is to plot out ways in which the attack might be conducted. As many of you know, the group of twenty Americans was comprised of military and intelligence experts, as well as civilian experts in technology, communications, utilities, and several other fields.”
Groans could be heard throughout the room. There was David’s answer about how people felt.
The director said, “I’ve heard much of this before, but let me ask the obvious question. How were these people duped?”
Susan glanced at David and cleared her throat. “Sir, in each instance, there was a legitimate source within their chain of command that triggered the participation request. Each of the American experts thought they were going to be participating in a work-related project that was vital to US national security interests.”
“So who were the people telling them to travel?”
“Sir, we’ve identified at least five personnel that we think were responsible for triggering the travel and participation requests for the Red Cell participants. These five people had positions of authority in various defense and intelligence agencies. For example…” She looked down at her notes. “A GS-15 in the Defense Intelligence Agency used a contract with a Boston-based consulting firm to send one of their consultants on the trip. This consultant was a former Army officer and held a TS/SCI clearance. She had expertise in multiple classified Army weapons systems.”
