by Andrew Watts
“What do you mean?” Chase was familiar with parts of the operation, but hadn’t been a part of this brief preparation.
The CIA briefer said, “We looked at the finances of these transactions. The Chinese didn’t make a profitable deal, in many cases. They sent Venezuela way more APCs and tanks than they were paid for. Now, the Chinese, as a rule, are good businessmen. They don’t make mistakes like that, unless it’s on purpose.”
“What are you saying?”
“We think they saw it as an investment.”
Chase frowned. “You mean, like foreign aid? In order to have a good relationship with these countries, so they would be partners in the future?”
The CIA briefer shook his head. “Not just that. We think that they were pre-staging their arms. Putting military equipment over on this side of the pond so they would have easy access later on.”
Gunnery Sergeant Darby said, “Clever little bastards.”
“A week ago we received signals intelligence that Chinese military units were conducting operations near Manta, Ecuador. Reconnaissance images”—the CIA briefer flipped through a few screen shots of an air base—“showed an increasingly large presence of Chinese personnel, weapons, and transport aircraft. These are Chinese construction companies plowing the fields, Chinese defense contractors selling the arms, Chinese troops training the Ecuadorian armies.
“Stuff like this has been going on for years, but not in concentrations like this. China is the largest arms seller in the world today. And much of it goes to nations unfriendly to the US. But the number of troops here is abnormally high. And it has raised a lot of concern in Washington. We now suspect that there was at least some Chinese involvement in recent attacks on US interests around the world—this includes the Persian Gulf attacks, the US cyberattack known as the Blackout Attack, and possibly even the Beltway attack.”
Chase watched the reaction of the two Marines. He wondered how long it had been since they’d been able to catch up on the news. The mainstream media was a twenty-four-hour billboard for the Beltway attack and the imminent US war with Iran, but there was almost nothing about China. That secret was being tightly controlled by US intelligence.
But Chase knew better. And now that Jinshan’s operative was spilling his guts to Langley interrogators, others would too. The Chinese—or Jinshan and his allies—were planning a major military attack on the United States. The wheels were already in motion. The cyberattack on the US satellite and communications network last month, while not crippling, had done an incredible amount of damage.
The American GPS system was still down. Military satellite communications were still down. The US Internet was just now recovering, with billions of dollars of data lost from tech companies’ data storage centers. And perhaps the biggest impact—the US economy was plummeting from the shock to the markets. People no longer had confidence that the Internet would be there for them. Perhaps they never should have had that confidence to begin with…
David and the American members of the Red Cell had unwittingly been planning a Chinese invasion of America. If the Red Cell plans were being implemented, then the Iranian attack on the US a few weeks ago was just a diversion, created by Jinshan. And Chase had seen with his own eyes that Lena Chou had been a part of that operation near Bandar Abbas.
After the Beltway attack, nearly eighty percent of Americans, according to the latest polls, supported a war with Iran. But they were being misled. And if Jinshan succeeded, it would be one of the greatest head fakes the world had ever seen.
The CIA briefer tapped his keyboard and brought up a grainy image of what looked like a trailer with a bunch of antennae.
“This is a PLA mobile communications unit. We took this picture last week.”
Chase said, “Where?”
“At the base in Manta.”
Chase said, “I thought the satellites were down.”
“This picture was taken from an Air Force drone. But once we saw the SAM sites get erected, we stopped sending aircraft overhead. That’s when we placed the MARSOC team nearby.”
Chase looked at the two Marine Raiders. “Have you got eyes on them now?”
Captain Calhoun said, “We’ve got a recon team positioned north of the base near Manta.”
“What have they seen?”
“A total of twelve aircraft drop-offs that we’ve witnessed so far.”
“What airframe?”
“Chinese Xian Y-20 military transports. Long-range, big suckers. They look just like Air Force C-17s.”
Chase said, “Twelve aircraft. That’s a lot of supplies. If they were selling arms to Ecuador, it would be a lot more economical to transport by ship.”
“That’s what your CIA guys told us in Colombia.”
“So what did they take off those planes?”
Gunnery Sergeant Darby said, “Not just what. Who.”
“Excuse me?”
“They took a lot of pallets of stuff off those planes, that’s for sure. But that wasn’t what the big stink has been about. It’s who they’ve been unloading off those planes.”
The captain reached down into his backpack and produced a small tablet device. He held it for all to see and scrolled through the pictures.
Chase said, “That’s a lot of Chinese soldiers. How many?”
“Almost fifteen hundred by our last count.”
Chase whistled. “Do we know what unit they came from? Specialty?”
“The CIA guys we’ve been working with in Colombia think some of them might be Leishen Commandos. PLA airborne special forces.”
“That’s a lot of special forces.”
“Yup. They’ve also started sending planeloads of very green-looking troops. New recruits, it looks like.”
Chase said, “Really? That’s odd. Why would they do that?”
The CIA briefer said, “We still don’t know.”
“There were also a few other interesting faces in the mix,” the captain said, showing another image.
Chase’s world stopped. He tried not to show any outward change in expression, but he felt his face getting hot. He saw the CIA briefer watching him and wondered how much backstory he had gotten.
It was Lena Chou.
The photo showed her walking down the ramp of one of the aircraft, her dark, flowing hair draped over one side of her face. Covering the burns that Chase had left.
“When did she arrive?”
“Two days ago.”
“Has this been sent to Langley?”
“No clue. That’s you guys’ job, remember? As far as I know, you spooks are having just as many problems with comms as we are.”
The CIA briefer said, “I’ll make sure to take these latest images back. Thank you, Captain.”
Calhoun handed over the tablet.
The CIA briefer said, “Gentlemen, there is a piece of hardware that we will refer to as the crypto key located inside that mobile comms unit. This crypto key could help us unlock a lot of mysteries. Right now there are competing theories on China’s level of aggression towards the United States. We believe that the Chinese president and highest-level leadership are unaware of what some of their military assets have been doing to cause harm to the United States. By taking this crypto key, our team of experts here in Panama will be able to provide the Chinese president with infallible proof that there is a contingent of rogue operators in the Chinese military and intelligence community. This could help prevent war between the US and China, and possibly stop war between the US and Iran.”
Gunny Darby said, “So if we steal this piece of equipment…that’s going to tell you what the Chicoms are up to? That what you’re telling me?”
Chase nodded. “That’s about it, in a nutshell.”
“And what are we stealing?”
The CIA briefer said, “A piece of crypto. A big black box. Their key that lets us cut through all their encryption on the Chinese military datalink network. It’s a new system, but we’ve got an NSA team that ca
n hack into it, if we get that crypto key.”
Darby said, “Alright, so we go in, kill all fifteen hundred of them Chinese Special Forces, plus a few Ecuadorians for good measure, and steal that trailer. Maybe I could drive my Ford F-150 down there and hook her up? Then you send down a C-130 and pick us up, and we’ll be out of there lickety split. That it? Damn, I’m good at this shit.”
Captain Calhoun smiled at his gunnery sergeant. “Please excuse this old man. He’s growing senile in his old age.”
The CIA briefer said, “ROE—no use of force with deadly weapons, unless in self-defense.”
The Marines went silent for a moment.
Captain Calhoun said, “Sorry, maybe I’m missing something, but why is that?”
Chase frowned. “Because they aren’t sure if the Chinese are really bad guys yet. Sorry. I know this won’t be easy. I’ll be coming with you. We’ll have nonlethal weapons to take out the men manning the comms unit. The point of this mission is to prevent World War Three. If we go in there with weapons blazing…well, that kind of defeats the purpose.”
Calhoun said, “Seems to me like this mission isn’t to prevent World War Three, it’s to confirm whether it’s already started or not.”
“Probably an accurate statement,” Chase conceded.
The Marines looked at each other. “Alright, how are we stealing it, then?”
Chase said, “I’ve been trained on how to remove the crypto key box. I just need your help getting in to the trailer.”
“Sir, I’m from the Deep South,” Gunny Darby said. “I got lots of experience sneaking up on trailers to get to my girlfriends without their dads knowing. You don’t have to worry about a thing.”
Chase smiled. “Glad to hear it, Gunny.”
He winked back. “What’s the plan for extraction?”
The CIA briefer said, “It will be a delayed extraction after the mission is accomplished. We recommend a small team of about four of you to go in. You’ll steal the device without being noticed. We’ll have a way for you to incapacitate the men manning the comms trailer. Their shifts are for four to six hours each, so if you go in during a shift change, you should have about that long before they’re discovered.”
Captain Calhoun said, “That sounds like wishful thinking.”
“It may be. But we’ll have a local asset on the base with a small supply truck going by the comms trailer when we’re ready to get out of there. Once you get the crypto key, you’ll ride in the back of a supply truck for about a mile. That will get you far enough away from the scene that you won’t risk capture. The truck will stop somewhere along the road that no one will be able to see—and drop you off back into the jungle. That team will then hike it back to your larger team’s recon position on the mountain, north of the base. It will then be another few miles to the extraction LZ. We will have a pair of army helicopters waiting in Colombia, assigned to pick you up.”
Chase turned to the briefer. “I thought we talked about this. It can’t be a delayed extraction. It puts us all at unnecessary risk. And the timing might be off.”
The CIA briefer sighed. Chase could tell that he didn’t like giving him this information. Don’t shoot the messenger.
He said, “Mr. Manning, we looked at every option. In this situation, the enemy has air superiority and is likely able to prohibit air and water extraction in the immediate area. As long as you’re able to accomplish the mission undetected to begin with, you’ll still enjoy the jungle terrain’s cover and concealment. You and your team are to travel back up the mountain, undetected, and reconnect with the rest of the MARSOC unit. You’ll then travel on foot to an LZ that’s a safe distance away. It will be out of range and hidden by terrain—so the anti-aircraft batteries they have at Manta won’t be able to shoot down the helicopters.”
“What if they get on foot and chase us? And maybe bring some RPGs? Or MANPADS?” said Captain Calhoun, using the term for shoulder-mounted surface-to-air missiles.
Chase said, “And you said we’ve got…what, four days before the codes are switched on this thing, right? This plan kills a lot of that time. I’m sorry, but this seems too risky. Who the hell thought this up?”
The CIA briefer said, “You’ll have ninety-six hours to get it to us once you remove the crypto key. After that, we don’t think the data will be usable, as the codes will reset. Gentlemen, the JSOC planners have been over all the options. This is the best we’ve got. You’ll have to stay undetected and move fast. We did the calculations and expect you to travel on foot for approximately eight hours. The air extraction process will then get you to Panama City three hours later. It should be enough time.”
Calhoun looked at Chase. “We’ll have to come up with something to help with escape and evasion if we run into resistance. Let’s talk offline.” He didn’t look happy.
A few hours later, Chase left his hotel and spotted Darby waiting for him across the street. Darby leaned casually against the black metal streetlight pole. A light grey hoodie covered his shaved head, and he had his hands in his pockets. Wraparound sunglasses. Khaki shorts and hiking boots.
As Chase walked outside his hotel lobby, Darby locked eyes with him and gave a slight nod. They joined up in silence and began walking down the street.
“Gunny.”
“Mr. Manning.”
“You ready?”
“Yup. One of my guys is parked around the block. He’ll take us to the airport. We’ve got a small plane that’ll fly us down the coast.”
“Sounds good.”
It was a two-hour plane ride south, into Colombia. Darby slept the whole way. Calhoun looked like he was going over things in his head. They landed on a tiny little dirt strip in the middle of the night. Glow sticks lined the runway.
The three men got out of the aircraft, and it immediately turned around and took back off, its engine noise fading into the night. They walked through long grass to the end of the makeshift runway. Four Chevy SUVs were parked in a column. The windows were rolled down. It was December, but still a humid seventy-five degrees Fahrenheit in this part of the world.
There were about four men in each vehicle. Chase could see that they all wore jungle camouflage. In the moonlight, he could tell that most had on camo face paint. White eyes stared at Chase.
“Gunny, you guys can change over here.” One of the men pointed to the lead vehicle, its rear hatch open. “We’ve got his stuff ready too.”
Someone took one of the glow sticks off the runway and placed it in the trunk of the lead vehicle so they could see their gear better.
“You need boots?” Darby asked.
“No thanks.” He had learned the hard way never to break in a pair of unused boots when on a mission. It was the one article of clothing he had on that wasn’t really civilian attire. Darby and Chase hurriedly threw on their gear. Then Chase got in the same vehicle as Darby, and the convoy began rolling.
It was bumpy, mountainous terrain. The car smelled of mint chew. Dip. Every few seconds he could hear someone spitting into an empty plastic bottle.
Darby said, “Mr. Manning, you want some of this?” He held up his tin.
Chase shook his head. “No. Thanks anyway.”
Darby shrugged.
“How long until we get there?” Chase asked.
“Shouldn’t take us more than an hour to get to where the helo will pick us up,” Darby said. “About an hour in the air after that. They’ll drop us off in some pretty thick rainforest. It’ll be another day’s hike after they drop us off. Don’t want to get too close, you know.”
The vehicles came to a halt. An H-60 was spinning in the field about one hundred yards away. The other Marines got out of their SUVs. They threw on their gear and marched in a column toward the aircraft.
Two days later, Chase saw the Y-20s with his own eyes.
“Goddamn, those things are big.”
One of them was on a slow final approach. Dark grey, wings sloped downward. Four engines and a T tail, just
like the C-17. Its flight path took it about even in altitude with their mountain location. Chase’s chest reverberated as the jet engines drowned out all other noise. The freaking thing was a monster.
They lay in thick jungle brush, watching the airfield from a mountain several miles to the north. Everything was wet, and a light mist hovered above the trees. The sounds of jungle birds and bugs filled the air.
Chase looked through a sniper spotting scope, examining the base. The two Marines who had been serving as the recon team on the hill for the past week lay next to Chase and Gunnery Sergeant Darby. The other dozen men on the MARSOC team were spread out in the forest around them, forming a defensive perimeter.
One of the Marines said to Chase, “Two days ago they started putting up sandbag pillboxes stationed at all four corners of the base. Today was the first time we saw them place anti-aircraft weapons inside. The SAM units were unprotected before that.”
Chase looked at each of the pillboxes. “Looks like they’ve got two 35mm twin guns on the eastern side. And I don’t see anything on the western pillboxes. Just personnel.”
“MANPADS.”
“Got it.”
“Saw them doing training on them earlier. My guess is once they unload some of these recent cargo arrivals, they might put something in there more sophisticated.”
Chase said, “Alright, thanks. What else?”
“Take a look about a mile to the east of the airfield. You’ll see bulldozers and a tent city going up. They’ve got a few semipermanent structures, but most of it’s pretty mobile.”
“Strength?”
“That’s where they all are. About fifteen hundred, I’d say. But they go out in groups into the fields and forest farther over to the east. Lot of training, that’s for sure. We hear small-arms fire about round the clock right now. Three days ago they even were firing off mortars.”
“How much participation from the Ecuadorians?”
“Oh, they’re there alright. They got some general or something who has a nice car and an entourage.”
“Communications center?”
“Just south of the airfield. About three hundred yards from the runway.”
