by Andrew Watts
The president shook his head. “Unbelievable.”
The chairman of the joint chiefs said, “Sir, I’ve spoken with my counterpart in the People’s Liberation Army. He has assured me that China has no hostile intent towards the United States. He couldn’t explain why any Chinese South Sea Fleet units were located in the Eastern Pacific. He has agreed to stand down Chinese military assets’ defensive postures. We’ve seen corresponding activity that verifies that. Ships pulling into port, fewer fighter aircraft flights. That sort of thing. Our Pacific theater assets are all on alert.”
“So we’re not at risk of starting World War Three, after we just sunk a sub and four Chinese Navy ships? Is that what you’re telling me?”
“Sir, from what I can tell, the Chinese want very badly to de-escalate. They were shown the preliminary evidence that Director Buckingham mentioned, and they realize that this was their fault. The Chinese don’t want any further aggression.”
CIA Director Buckingham and General Schwartz sat in a private meeting room at the embassy of the People’s Republic of China in northwest Washington, D.C. The official communication would take place between the US president and the Chinese president and include high-level State Department personnel. But that official meeting was still being set up. This was the unofficial communication. And it couldn’t wait.
Their meeting was with the Chinese ambassador in D.C., and by secure video feed, with a Politburo member they were certain was loyal to the Chinese president. Director Buckingham went out of his way to ensure that no Chinese intelligence representatives were invited into the room. He was too worried that Jinshan would influence the proceedings.
The discussion took about an hour. It was late at night in Washington. The Chinese Politburo member asked for a ten-minute recess when the Americans were done speaking. He did his best not to sound upset, although it was easily the most difficult conversation of his professional career.
After the recess was over, they re-joined the call.
The Politburo member said, “We are gravely concerned about this matter. I am to assure you that China’s senior leaders were quite unaware that this was taking place. We are very upset that military action has been taken. These military actions occurred without the knowledge or consent of the Chinese military leadership, including the president.”
The CIA director said, “The United States would like to keep our relationship with China positive. We understand that these actions were not the result of Chinese-sanctioned activities.”
The Chinese Politburo member said, “I have been authorized by the highest levels of my government to ask if there is any way that we might find a mutually beneficial resolution, and keep these conflicts…confidential?”
Director Buckingham said, “I’m afraid that is not possible. You can hang that on Jinshan if you like, but lives were lost. We will not keep this conflict secret from the American people, or from the world.”
“I understand.”
“Good. Now, what about Iran, and any Americans who might be on the Red Cell island? We want resolution on those matters as soon as possible. We request that China immediately contact the Iranian regime and enlighten them on Jinshan’s actions there. Specifically regarding Jinshan’s part in the assassination of Ahmad Gorji. We want China to pressure Iran into standing down its military, and ensuring that no further hostilities occur.”
The Chinese Politburo member nodded. “Yes, of course. We will contact the Iranian leadership immediately.”
“And the Red Cell—the Americans that are being held on your island base in the South China Sea? We demand that they be released immediately as well.”
“Please give us a day to look into this. Again, this is most disturbing for us. A complete breakdown of trust in our chain of command. We need to take these rogue leaders into custody and then ensure that the personnel under their command conduct no further illegal actions. That will take a matter of hours. Once that occurs, we will ensure that any Americans that they had in custody are released.”
The CIA director nodded. “That sounds acceptable.”
“The president of China will call your president tonight. He wishes to personally pass on this message. He wishes no harm to our relationship. These actions were not the actions of the Chinese people. They were the misguided actions of…as you have said, rogue persons. If there are truly any Americans on that island, they will be released immediately.”
Guangzhou, China
Jinshan and Admiral Song were in the middle of their lunch when the call came. They sat on the enclosed balcony of Jinshan’s tower penthouse. The view of the hazy cityscape stood in front of them as they dined on seafood and white wine.
“Mr. Jinshan, you have an urgent call.”
He waved over his assistant, taking the encrypted phone and putting it to his ear.
Admiral Song had been discussing their military options. Song was nervous. It had been almost twelve hours since they had heard from the four ships and one submarine that were to attack the USS Farragut.
Jinshan listened to the voice on the call. “You are sure? When?” Jinshan looked at his watch. “That was more than two hours ago. Why am I just getting this information now?” He looked at Admiral Song in disbelief. He held his hand to cover the receiver and told the admiral, “They know.”
“Who? The Americans?”
Jinshan shook his head. Song’s eyes went wide.
The front door burst open and commotion erupted in the next room.
A group of nearly a dozen uniformed military police stormed into the dining area. Jinshan’s own three bodyguards looked at him nervously, not sure of what to do. They were clearly outnumbered and outgunned, and likely wanted nothing to do with a confrontation with the People’s Liberation Army.
The highest-ranking officer in the group of military police looked at the two men eating lunch and announced, “By order of the general secretary of the Communist Party of China, you are both under arrest.”
Admiral Song stood up. “What is the meaning of this? This is preposterous. What is the charge?”
Jinshan didn’t say anything. The military police quickly surrounded the two men and placed them in handcuffs.
The military police officer said, “Treason.”
The Chinese Y-20 jumbo transport plane landed at the Manta airport runway just like all of the others, with one exception.
This one wasn’t expected.
The Chinese PLA captain who was in charge of the airfield’s flight operations called his superior, but he couldn’t be reached. So the captain cleared the aircraft for landing and sent out a team to taxi it in to the nearest hangar. He and his men watched it from the control tower with curiosity.
As the rear ramp went down, he was surprised to see a platoon of fully armed military police walk off and begin separating into groups, heading to different parts of the base, their leader shouting and pointing as they marched.
“Sir, there is the colonel,” one of the men said, the only one in the control tower to speak.
Indeed, the base commander had driven up to the aircraft in a jeep, with two other vehicles behind it. The military police filled them, and the small convoy raced off to the other side of the runway, where the barracks were located.
The military police were to arrest only one person on the base. The others were to stand down and await further orders. They were all to be recalled to China within the week, according to the senior ranking officer of the military police unit.
“Where is she?” the military police captain asked the base commander. His men had searched her quarters, but they were empty.
“The last report that I received on Lena Chou was that she was in her quarters with the Indian man.”
The base commander spoke the truth. Just like he was told, he had kept a close eye on her as soon as he had received the call from Beijing. One of his trusted lieutenants had been watching them this morning, and he was told to notify the base commander of any unusual
activity.
They called the lieutenant over. The one that had been watching her from his own office window.
“Where are they?” demanded the military police captain.
“Sir, Miss Chou and Mr. Chaudry were in Captain Lin’s trailer this morning. I saw them go over there about an hour ago. I have been watching them as instructed. I did not see them leave.”
“Captain Lin?” the military police captain said.
The colonel said, “What of him?”
The military police captain was thinking that a Captain Lin was the one who had contacted them, letting the PLA military police know that Ms. Chou was the one they were after, and where she was located.
“Nothing. Where is his trailer?”
The man pointed to another trailer fifty meters away. “The last one in that column. He bunks with three other logistics officers.”
The military police vehicles raced over there, and a team of them entered. One of the men who went in came out a moment later. He looked like he would be sick.
The military police captain said, “What’s wrong with you? Are they not in there?”
The man shook his head.
Furious, the military police captain pushed by him and into the trailer.
Captain Lin lay on his bed. Blood running out of his mouth. A knife jammed into his chest.
The military police captain swore profusely and walked outside. After a few more minutes of arguing, the military police force was instructed to fan out and search the base.
Their efforts were fruitless. Lena Chou was gone.
David read the headline of the New York Times with delight.
IRAN-US Stand-Down as China Negotiates Truce
At the bottom of the front page, which would have been below the fold on an actual print version of the newspaper, was another headline.
China returns 18 Americans, apologizes to US—Rogue Chinese intelligence mastermind arrested
Chase walked up to his brother’s cubicle. “Pretty wild, right?”
David said, “There will be massive repercussions.”
“When does it say that the Americans are coming home from the island?”
“They’re in Korea now. It says that they’ll be transferred to the States within twenty-four hours.”
Chase looked proud. “You did great, David.”
“Thanks. You too.”
“Are you going to go back to In-Q-Tel?”
David looked around his CIA office space. “I don’t know if I can.”
“What, like they won’t let you?”
David shook his head. “No, I mean—there’s nothing that compares to the work they do here. It’s invigorating, being a part of something like this. The work the people at the CIA do…it really saves lives, and protects our country. It’s just so…”
“Fulfilling?”
“Yeah. Exactly.”
Chase nodded. “I get it. You don’t feel like the research you were doing was the same.”
David looked over at the group of CIA analysts a few desks down. Their normally serious faces were all smiles. They were gathered at a single desk, enjoying their morning coffee and basking in their recent victory.
The intelligence collection and analysis that they conducted lead to massive global decisions. The SILVERSMITH team had, in less than a week, stopped a war. It had freed American hostages. And it had saved American lives from a Chinese attack.
Most importantly, the intelligence community, including the NSA, DIA, and CIA, had illuminated the truth. In a world of ever-increasing moments of espionage and disinformation, it was these dedicated patriots that had saved the day.
David knew that preventing the US-Iran war was only part of it. Jinshan’s group had tricked the US and Iran into attacking each other, yes. But their real objective was much larger. By uncovering Jinshan’s plot, millions of lives might have been saved.
David still wasn’t sure if it would have been possible—but Jinshan was going to launch a Chinese invasion on the United States. Many of the other members of the SILVERSMITH team laughed at the idea. It wouldn’t have been achievable, they had argued. But a few weeks ago, they might have said the same thing about Jinshan’s other terrible achievements. David knew in his heart that his CIA team had prevented a large scale invasion on the United States of America.
Chase nodded to the New York Times article on David’s screen. “Does it say what’s going on in the Persian Gulf now?”
David read, “American and Iranian forces are both being ordered to stand down, as it now appears that many of the recent regional hostilities were triggered by a massive deception. Sources close to the White House are saying that rogue CIA agent, Lisa Parker, is now believed to have been working with Chinese billionaire Cheng Jinshan. These same sources say that there is now credible intelligence pointing to Jinshan as the one who ordered the assassination of Iranian politician Ahmad Gorji, the event that provoked the Iranian attacks on US military assets in the region. Incredibly, Jinshan also appears to have been the primary communicator responsible for the Iranian sleeper cell’s attack on the Washington, D.C., Beltway. Chinese diplomats have apologized profusely for these actions, which they claim were conducted in secret, without the knowledge or consent of Chinese leadership.”
Chase shook his head. “This is crazy.”
“I know.”
The brothers sat in silence for a moment. Finally Chase said, “You said you might not be able to go back to In-Q-Tel. So what, then?”
“I’ve actually been talking to Susan about sticking around here.”
“As an analyst?”
“Yeah.”
“Cool.”
“But first, we plan on taking some vacation. Lindsay, the kids, and I.”
“Nice. Where at?”
David shrugged. “Henry Glickstein has a beach home near Destin, Florida. He’s down there now and offered to let us stay there. We might take him up on it.”
David could see his brother reading the article in the paper. “You’re looking for her, aren’t you?”
Chase glanced at his brother. “Did it say anything?”
“No. She’s still missing.”
“They won’t find her. Not if she doesn’t want to be found.”
Susan walked over to David’s desk. “Good morning, Mannings. Congratulations again on saving the world.”
Victoria felt good getting back into the cockpit again. It had only been eight days since she had last flown, but that was too long for someone like her.
She aimed her aircraft straight at the giant grey floating city on the horizon. She could see two helicopters in orbit on the starboard side of the carrier. They were in between cycles, she knew. The brief window for helicopters to take off, land, and refuel before the jets needed the flight deck.
She adjusted her lip mike and checked that she had the right frequency before she made her call.
“Tower, Cutlass 471 is five miles on your 170, inbound for pax drop-off.”
“Roger, 471, we got ya,” came the full southern accent on the other end. She presumed that it was the air boss on the carrier. He would be a Navy commander, most likely a jet pilot. His job was to oversee every aspect of active flight operations on the carrier’s flight deck and close-in airspace.
She checked her airspeed. One hundred and twenty knots. “Coming down to two hundred feet.”
“Roger, two hundred feet,” replied Juan.
He had a renewed confidence in his tone—and why not? In the last week, he had gotten more actual over-water SAR rescues than any Navy helicopter pilot she’d ever met. He’d also sunk a nuclear submarine in combat.
He was a little upset by that, he had confided to her. She would need to pay attention there. There was no glory in killing, she had told him. But there was honor and justice in protecting others. He had done the right thing.
The external radio circuit came on with the tower voice again. “Cutlass 471, Charlie spot three—you’re cleared to lan
d on spot three. Just follow the wands, Princess.”
“471, Charlie spot three.” Well, she guessed everyone knew she was coming. She shouldn’t be surprised that he used her call sign, Princess.
Victoria also noticed that he gave her extra instruction since she wasn’t one of the helicopters based on his carrier.
Helicopters from single-spot ships that weren’t used to operating around aircraft carriers were like rural persons who found themselves driving through New York City. It was a busy, shocking atmosphere, and there was little room for error. The air bosses on the carriers usually didn’t have any tolerance for helicopters that weren’t familiar with their procedures. But most helicopters weren’t piloted by their boss’s boss’s boss’s daughter.
They landed on the carrier’s flight deck, and two flight deck personnel wearing yellow shirts and head gear came running in from each side to tie the aircraft down with chocks and chains.
Victoria said, “Unstrapping. You have controls.”
“I have the controls,” Juan echoed.
She got out of the helicopter and followed one of the white shirts over the carrier’s expansive flight deck. Everyone who worked on the flight deck wore different color shirts and helmets, which denoted their job type. White shirts were part of the air transfer officer’s unit, responsible for logistics flights and passenger transfers.
She was always surprised by how large and stable the carriers were. She could barely tell they were at sea. It was just flat, huge, and motionless. Compared to one of the small destroyers that she landed on, it was like landing on a real airport on land.
They entered the superstructure door and she took off her helmet, holding it by the sweaty chinstrap as they climbed up the stairs.
“If you’ll follow me, ma’am, I’ll take you to see your fath—um…the admiral.”
Victoria smiled. “Thank you.”
