Flash Point

by Kenneth Andrus

  “Yes, Mr. President?”

  “Wasn’t Bob Lawson on tap to meet with Justin this morning?”

  “I believe so. Let me check. Yes, at 09:30.”

  “Would you round him up before he gets out of here? I’d like to have a talk with him.”

  “Can I tell him the topic?”

  “Just say, ‘I’d like to share a cup of coffee.’”

  His finger lingered on the intercom, aware of the gossip floating around Washington. He was perceived as being too deferential to the wishes of the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs. He dismissed the thought and removed his finger from the button. They had known each other for over thirty years.

  Stuart smiled as he recalled one his first memories of Lawson. Their relationship had been very different in 1978 when they first met at Naval Air Station Pensacola. He’d just received his commission from the Navy ROTC program at Ohio State. Lieutenant Robert Lawson was an instructor pilot assigned to Training Wing Ten.

  He swung his chair around. His eyes came to rest on the glass case suspending his gold Naval Aviator Wings. His mind drifted to a cloudless September afternoon over the Gulf of Mexico.

  * * *

  He’d been in the front seat of a T-28 trainer, Lawson strapped in the seat behind.

  He lined up for his approach and shot a nervous glance at the blur of approaching pine trees off his right shoulder. He dropped the flaps and reduced airspeed.

  The aircraft slammed onto the runway for the third time that day. His head whip-lashed at the impact.

  “Damn.”

  “Sorry, sir.”

  Lawson checked his instruments and verified their altitude. Assured, that for the moment at least, they were safe, he turned to glare at his student.

  “Stuart, if you don’t get your act together I’m going to unstrap my kneeboard and throw it at the back of your head. Focus on what you’re doing, or you’re gonna fly this aircraft into the ground, killing yourself and, more importantly, me.”

  Stuart knew better than to interrupt.

  “Ensign, if you will recall,” Lawson continued, “the intent of this exercise is to have the number of successful takeoffs equal the number of successful landings. Do you understand what you screwed up? If you can’t get this right, I’m going to bust you out of the program.”

  “Yes, sir. I understand my error, sir.”

  “Let’s come around and try again. Watch your rate of descent and airspeed.”

  * * *

  Stuart’s mind returned to the Oval Office. He reached out to touch the case with his wings. It’s a miracle I didn’t kill us both.

  The door to his right opened and Mary Allus’ head popped into view. “Mr. President? Admiral Lawson.”

  “Can you shuffle my schedule?”

  “Already done. I moved your 1100.”

  Stuart glanced at the schedule and grunted at the name filling the timeslot. He would have preferred she had just canceled. “Thank you.”

  Mary Allus ducked out of sight as Lawson replaced her in the doorway.

  Stuart stood and walked around his desk. “Throw your cover on the couch. You have time to catch lunch with Dianne and me?”

  “You kidding? I’ll make the time. Sure beats what I had in the works.”

  “And that was?”

  “Six-inch tuna on wheat at my desk.”

  “I think we can beat that,” Stuart said crossing to the door. “Mary Allus, can you let Dianne know Bob will be joining us for lunch?”

  “Will do.”

  “You have your flag lieutenant in tow?” Stuart asked.

  “He’s hanging out in the Military Office with our driver.”

  “Good, figure they can catch something to eat in the mess. Coffee?”

  “That’d be good, thanks.”

  “Make yourself comfortable. I’ll be back in a sec.”

  Stuart disappeared into the pantry and grabbed two coffee cups embossed with the Presidential seal. He topped them off from the pot the steward brewed earlier in the day.

  “Try this,” he said, handing a cup to Lawson. “I’ve got a connection with one of the small plantations on the Big Island. They keep me supplied with their Pea Berry.”

  Lawson took an appreciative sip and waited until Stuart settled into his chair before speaking. “What’s on your mind?”

  “The Carter.”

  “Rohrbaugh’s pickup went off without a hitch. We’ll have confirmation on Valiant Crane within thirty-six hours.”

  “Tell me about South Rock.”

  “Turned into a Mexican standoff. The Chinese have deployed a number of paramilitary ships but have refrained from sending any warships. Makes sense.”

  “It does?”

  “A Fisheries Department spokesman insists the incident was an unfortunate mistake about fishing rights.”

  “They expect anyone to buy that story?”

  “That’s what they’re hoping. My cut? The PLAN had no idea those Chinese fishing boats were even near Scarborough Shoal when they were boarded by the Filipinos.”

  “I’m not convinced there wasn’t intent.”

  “There’s one positive. Their Coast Guard is now playing a significant role in coordinating the multiple agencies with conflicting jurisdictions scattered across the area. I can’t recall them all, but they include Fisheries, Oceanographic, Border Control, Maritime Safety, and a bunch of local provincial vessels. They’ve lumped them all under the umbrella of the People’s Armed Forces Maritime Militia.”

  Stuart recognized the implications. “Any one of them could trigger an incident that could spin out of control.”

  “Zhu and Xiao are in a bind. On one hand, they’re trying to contain the situation with their paramilitary units to diminish the odds of a regional backlash. On the other, they’ve backed themselves into a corner with the territorial jurisdiction issue.”

  Stuart motioned to a green folder set amongst the clutter of his desk. “That’s consistent with State’s summary.”

  “Did Richard’s summary happen to mention that a couple of days ago two Chinese ships made a high-speed run at a Filipino cutter near Second Thomas Shoal before breaking off at the last second? Generated a seven-foot wave. Injured some folks.”

  Stuart suppressed an epithet. “No.”

  “Their actions are all part and parcel of their ‘Cabbage Strategy.’”

  “Their what?”

  “One of their admirals coined the term describing a strategy using an inner ring of fishing boats and an outer ring of warships to prevent resupply. Wrapping an objective in layers like cabbage leaves.”

  “Second Thomas Shoal? Isn’t that where that small Philippine garrison is living on a beached World War II-era landing ship?”

  “The Sierra Madre.”

  “Manila have any recourse?”

  “Short-term, they could protest the incident under the International Provisions of Prevention of Collisions at Sea. Long-term, they may consider going to the UN’s International Tribunal on the Law of the Sea.”

  “They have a case?”

  “Doubtful. Beijing’s already ignored the Hague’s Permanent Court of Arbitration verdict that rules their claims in the South China Sea violate international law.”

  Stuart signed. “And Beijing continues to coerce most everyone in the region.”

  “While accusing us of sowing discord. That said, under UNCLOS, Manila could still try to site the sovereignty issue. The Shoals are roughly one-hundred forty miles from Luzon. Well within their two-hundred-mile EEZ.”

  “They might have a better chance bringing the issue to the World Court for adjudication.”

  “Neither is likely to go anywhere. Beijing has no intention of backing down.”

  “You have timelines?”

  “Xiao’s not talking, but we’ve had back channel communication with the Deputy Chief of the General Staff. Army general named, Cheng.”

  “Good cop, bad cop?”

  “I’ve heard he’s aligned
with Zhu, but you never know. DIA is pulling background.”

  “Speaking of UNCLOS, the VP’s been doing some arm-twisting. We’ve been screwing around with this bill for over two decades. It’s time to move it out of sub-committee for a vote on the floor.”

  “Agreed.”

  “Aren’t you on tap to testify before the Senate Foreign Relations Committee?

  “Next Wednesday.”

  “You think I’m pushing too hard?”

  “No. The way things are shaping up, you don’t have a choice.”

  “And if I make the wrong move, the country...”

  Lawson held up his hand. Behind the question lay the real intent of the impromptu meeting. “You won’t. And you don’t have to do this alone. We’ve got your back.”

  “Care to check out the roses?”

  Stuart pushed back from the desk and led the way to the portico. He stopped by the podium set up for an event later in the day and swept his hand over the expanse of green. “Did you know this entire area once housed the stables?”

  “Explains why the grass grows so well,” Lawson said with a grin.

  “You would think of that.”

  “You’re the guy who grew up on a farm.”

  “This one’s my favorite,” Stuart said pointing out a flower. “King’s Ransom.”

  Lawson leaned over the yellow rose and gave it a sniff. “I need to get this one for Chris.”

  “Good move. Dianne will want to compare notes with her. She’s been after me to get you guys down to Camp David for a long weekend.”

  “Just give the word. We’ll crack open my new bottle of Scotch.”

  “Your usual firewater?”

  “I’ll have you know, it’s a double-matured, eighteen-year Lagavulin. The Scots say, ‘tis nectar.’”

  “You’ve bought yourself an invitation.”

  “What are wingmen for?”

  “Roger that.”

  Stuart placed his hand on Lawson’s back to steer him toward the residence. “Let’s get lunch. I’m starving.”

  Chapter 31

  USS JIMMY CARTER SSN-25

  SOUTH CHINA SEA

  01:00 WEDNESDAY 7 MAY

  The USS Jimmy Carter maintained neutral buoyancy two-hundred feet beneath the surface, her crew preparing for the next evolution of her top-secret mission. She’d completed her run through the Ryuku and Palawan Trenches the day before, then turned west to assume her current position between Fiery Cross Reef and Woody Island. She’d come to periscope depth shortly after her course change and rendezvoused with a fishing boat carrying mission commander, Mike Rohrbaugh.

  Four dull thuds signaled the mission was underway. The latching mechanisms holding the submersible to the back of the Carter released their grip. No longer captive, the minisub lifted several feet off the deck pylons. The ASDS’s pilot applied power to the thrusters and began a series of delicate maneuvers to position his vessel alongside the Carter’s ocean interface hull module located aft of the sail.

  “Free and clear,” Ace announced.

  “ASDS-1, ‘Free and clear,’” the sub’s operations officer echoed. “You have a ‘go’ to deploy swimmers.”

  “Wilco. Maintaining station. Preparing to deploy swimmers.”

  Ace alerted Rohrbaugh. “Y’all ready, Commander?”

  “Affirm.”

  The first pair of divers from the eight-man detachment verified the oxygen/helium mix of their breathing apparatus. Each was a master diver with unique qualifications in the dangerous field of deep-sea diving. These men, like the SEALS, were a select few. Their work would become the source of legend if their mission was ever declassified––which was doubtful.

  “Initiating egress.”

  The divers exited the ASDS’s hatch into absolute darkness. They switched on their high voltage lamps. “We are positioned abeam of the payload aperture hatch. Ready for extraction.”

  “Roger that,” the payload specialist aboard the Carter confirmed as he initiated the sequence of procedures required to open the cargo bay door.

  “Carter, we have visual.”

  The first Towed Deployment Vessel carried three pieces of mission-essential gear: A remotely piloted underwater vehicle equipped with high-definition cameras, a suite of LED lights, hydraulic grabbling arms, a large reel of digital cable, and a sophisticated communications buoy. The second TVD held a featureless black oblong object twelve-feet in length and three-feet in diameter. This entity was known as “The Pod.”

  The Pod’s design enabled it to eavesdrop on communications transmitted along undersea fiber optic cables. It performed this function by tapping into the amplification junctions used to boost the signals traveling along miles of cable. The Pod intercepted the cable’s fiber optic light signals and converted them into digital signals to be stored for burst communications by the communications buoy.

  The moment the two Navy divers had been preparing for had arrived. For the past two months they’d perfected the maneuvers necessary to transfer the TVDs from their storage bay on the Carter to link them in tandem to the minisub. Thirty minutes later, their task complete, the tired men entered the ASDS to begin their decompression procedures. The TVDs were secured to the ASDS, their electric systems activated, checked, and verified.

  Receiving confirmation, the swimmers were back on board,

  Rohrbaugh gave the go-ahead to begin the next evolution. “Ace, we’re good to go.”

  “Roger that. I’ll pass the word.”

  Ace selected a new channel and informed the Carter that all systems were ‘Go.’

  “We copy, DV-1. You are cleared to proceed. Rendezvous is set at this location for 0500 hours. Please verify your plotting data is downloaded in the inertial guidance system.”

  Ace punched a button on his console and gave a thumbs-up to his co-pilot.

  “Carter, data is verified. We’ll be able to find our way home.”

  Ace dove to their operational depth. He had little difficulty maneuvering to the location of the Chinese fiber optic cable mapped by the Impeccable.

  The communications trunk’s position had been identified five months earlier by the National Reconnaissance Office’s Earth Imaging Satellite System. The satellite had locked in on a PLAN Yudian class cable-laying ship with real time imagery and transmitted the ship’s precise location to the NRO. This data, and that from Impeccable, was loaded into the ASDS’s inertial guidance system. Rohrbaugh now possessed the means to find the proverbial, needle in a haystack.

  * * *

  ASDS-1

  02:37

  Mission Specialist Charles Dane rolled his head to release the tension in his neck. He’d spent the better part of an hour hunched over a TV monitor searching the monotonous length of cable for a very specific object. Seven minutes later, his efforts were rewarded.

  “Got the sucker.”

  Dane manipulated the toggle control to position the RPV’s camera for a closer look. A few more taps positioned the platform over the target. “Sure enough, looks just like the pictures.”

  Rohrbaugh slid across the narrow bench to peer over Dane’s shoulder.

  Centered in the screen was the object of their search, an amplification junction of the Chinese sub-ocean laser communications trunk line.

  “Ace, what’s our depth?”

  “Ninety-eight meters.”

  Rohrbaugh gave a thumbs-up to his crew. “Teams 2 and 3. Ready to roll?”

  “We’re set,” the senior diver responded.

  “Commence egress.”

  The four divers exited the hatch and made their way to the TOV where they unlimbered The Pod and maneuvered it to a position over the five-inch optical cable.

  “Rendezvous effected. Initiating tapping protocol.”

  “Copy that. Sequence initiated.”

  Rohrbaugh kept to his schedule and allowed another fifteen minutes to elapse before alerting his fourth team. The intent of the staggered sequence was to prevent congestion at the tap site a
nd reduce the likelihood of mishap. This team’s job was to ready the communications buoy for deployment and connect its digital cable to the Pod.

  “Team 4. Up.”

  The teams completed their tasks without incident and were soon inside the submersible. ASDA-1 assumed a course conforming to the prevailing undersea current while the divers recovered from their mission.

  “Commander, we’ve reached the drop-off point.”

  “Release the Package.”

  Dane flipped open the red safety cover of the release button. He pushed the exposed toggle to the down position, sending a signal to the TDV, releasing the clamps holding “The Package.”

  The critical component was an extreme HF transmitter capable of sending billions of bits of encrypted data within milliseconds. The transmitter, contained within the buoy, permitted it to be deployed to the surface and complete the link with a stationary military communications satellite.

  Dane completed his systems checks ten minutes after releasing The Package. “Commander, we have optimal deployment. All components are powered up and in a full-go status. The test transmission has been sent.”

  “Affirm,” Rohrbaugh replied. “Ace, take us home.”

  “What the hell?” Ace shouted. “Commander, we’re been lit up. Someone’s tracking us.”

  Dane jerked upright. “How’d they find us? There weren’t any reports of PLAN warships in the area.”

  “The Undersea Great Wall,” Rohrbaugh answered. He redirected his response. “Ace, the Chinese are laying a system similar to our SOSUS array, but there hasn’t been any intel to suggest they deployed it in this area.”

  Ace didn’t need more. He questions could come later. “Up plane ten degrees.”

  “Up?” Dane said. “Is he nuts?”

  Ace ignored the comment and started to prepare for an emergency blow. The action, used for an emergency assent, would forcefully empty the mini-sub’s ballast tanks creating a huge amount of noise and surface turbulence. Exactly what you shouldn’t do if you were trying to hide.

  Before Rohrbaugh could respond, the blow commenced, then abrupted stopped only to be replaced by another sound as the vessel began to descend.