Flash Point

by Kenneth Andrus

  “You got him?” Rohrbaugh asked.

  “Yeah.”

  Rohrbaugh inserted a fresh magazine in his rifle and sprinted, zigzagging his way across the runway. He pulled up at the sight of utter carnage. The twin rotor blades of the Cobra whipped the air above him, the only sound.

  He heard the isolated pops of a rifle. Movement. Voices calling out to their buddies.

  “Commander?” We’ve got one over here,” Torres said pointing to a bloodied body.

  Rohrbaugh looked at the PLA soldier and turned away. The Chinese infantryman wouldn’t make it. The guy’s only a kid. Crap. Why’d they have to fire on us?

  Rohrbaugh sat down on a wooden crate of anti-aircraft ammunition. He reached into the pocket of his utility jacket and pulled out a couple of cigars, beginning his ritual to decompress. There was nothing here to celebrate. His hands started to shake. He hadn’t noticed the holes––or the dents in the ceramic plates of his body armor.

  Torres approached, eyes white against his blackened face. Rohrbaugh clutched the two cigars and took a deep breath. “How’s your man?”

  “The corpsman thinks he’ll make it.” Torres looked up at the sound of a helicopter lifting off. “Flores was with me on the other op. Guy can’t catch a break. He took a round there, too.”

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah...think so.”

  Rohrbaugh slipped the wrapper off one of the cigars and offered the other one to Torres. Rolling his cigar in his fingers, Rohrbaugh applied a flame and took a long draw. He exhaled through pursed lips and studied the cloud of smoke. Fuck, now what?

  A squad of Marines approached and began to poke around the wreckage. Rohrbaugh took another pull on his cigar and crushed it out. I sure hope there’s a plan, because someone higher than my pay grade is going to have to sort this mess out.

  Chapter 48

  BLUE HORIZON

  THE CON SONG BASIN

  01:37 MONDAY 28 JULY

  The two American operatives standing watch on Platform Ten were wide-awake despite the hour. They were monitoring the communications and radar signatures of the two PLAN warships that had been harassing the Vietnamese for the past several days. There wasn’t anything noteworthy to enter in their logs until 0130, when the Chinese linguist detected a change in the radio traffic between the PLAN ships.

  “They just went secure.”

  “They sure made a big show of leaving the area yesterday afternoon,” his partner responded. “Wonder what’s up?”

  “Yeah, I ... What the...? Hey, check this out.”

  “What do ya have?”

  “Wait one,” the linguist replied pressing his hands against his headphones. “Somebody else just came online. There’s a third ship out there. You have anything on your screen?”

  “You’re right. I’ve got the signature of a Snoop Tray target acquisition radar.”

  “They’ve been pinging these rigs ever since they got here, but we haven’t seen this pattern before. We miss something?”

  “I doubt it. I’m wondering why they’re targeting these platforms. The Vietnamese aren’t even aware the Chinese are hitting them.”

  “We passed all of this along to Washington,” the linguist said. “They came to the same conclusion we did. Practice.”

  “Yeah, but we did kick around another scenario. We’re going to be in serious trouble if they’re on to us.”

  “We’re still sitting here, aren’t we? I’d figure we’d have been pulled out if there was a serious threat.”

  “Since when have you trusted anything coming from the Beltway?”

  “Good point.”

  “I’ve got a bad feeling about this. Why something new and why in the middle of the night?”

  “Pass me that book over there, would you? It’s time we identify the source.”

  “What is it?”

  The linguist didn’t answer for a moment while he flipped several pages back and forth. “Wubon class diesel boat.”

  “A God-damned submarine?”

  “Yeah, it’s a modified version of the Russian Romeo. Carries six cruise missiles similar to our Harpoon.”

  “You don’t think––?”

  “Are we transmitting?”

  “We are now.”

  A brilliant flash erupted from the direction of the nearest Vietnamese drilling platform at the same moment their burst transmission was sent to the military communications satellite circling overhead.

  The report of a huge explosion reached their ears within a second.

  “Oh, shit!”

  The companion explosion extinguished both of their lives before his partner could reply.

  * * *

  The Chinese missile traveled just below the speed of sound, crossing the short distance between them and the submarine in less than a minute. The men of Blue Horizon didn’t stand a chance.

  Its mission complete, Wuhan 351 slipped beneath the waves and set a course for its homeport.

  Chapter 49

  THE SITUATION ROOM

  09:17 MONDAY 28 JULY

  All conversation in the Situation Room ceased when Stuart strode in. The expression on his face required no explanation.

  “Gentlemen, the situation in Southeast Asia has taken a turn for the worse. The PLA has removed our last options to resolve this crisis.”

  Valardi closed his laptop with a soft click. “What’s happened?”

  “This morning, cruise missiles fired from a Chinese submarine destroyed Platform Ten and an adjacent Vietnamese drilling platform in the Con Song Basin. The preliminary reports from Hanoi indicate there are no survivors.”

  Valardi blanched. “Are they sure?”

  “The Vietnamese are preparing to conduct search and rescue operations.”

  “Perhaps they’re mistaken,” Valardi implored.

  Stuart’s jaw tightened. “I asked. At 0133 hours, NSA received a burst transmission from Blue Horizon indicating they were under attack by cruise missiles fired from a Wubon Class Chinese submarine. There has been no further contact with the rig.”

  “Do you think the attack was in retaliation for our raid on Nanshan Island?” Brown asked.

  “Possible, but that would be pretty short-fused. I’m not sure the Chinese could pull it off,” Payne responded. “My bet is the attack was already in the works.”

  “Premeditated?” Valardi asked, not wanting to believe what he’d heard.

  “Yes.”

  “Do we have anything on our people?” Brown asked.

  “It’s three in the morning,” Gilmore said.

  Valardi turned to Stuart. “Were you able to contact Zhu?”

  “I was informed he was unavailable.”

  “Did they provide an explanation?”

  “No.”

  “Shall I try Premier Yanglin?”

  “I’ll place another call in an hour. Right now, we need to review the bidding. Sheldon, you lead off.”

  “We could see a preliminary strike by PLA tactical aircraft and missiles within two to three hours followed by their main force units within twenty-six.”

  “Dawn tomorrow? Why the delay?”

  “Same tactics we’d use. Their initial attack will be designed to take down the Nationalists’ air-defense system.”

  “That’ll buy us some time,” Gilmore said.

  “Precisely.”

  “Is there any indication they’re prepared to use their anti-satellite weapons?”

  “No, sir. But if taking out Platform Ten is a prelude to a strike on Taiwan, I wouldn’t dismiss the possibility of a cyber-attack on our command and control systems.”

  “I’m operating under the assumption the Office of National Counterintelligence has that covered.”

  “I wouldn’t want to presume anything,” Gilmore said. “You remember those cyber-attacks on Commerce last January?”

  “Your point?” Payne asked.

  “They were sending a message. The hackers left a tell-tale marker behind they knew
we’d find.”

  “Why would they do that?” Valardi asked.

  “A warning. They were saying our firewalls are vulnerable.”

  Stuart glanced at Payne. He looked vexed. “Bryce, put all the appropriate agencies on alert.”

  “On it.”

  “Now, what about Valiant Crane.”

  “We’re still getting intercepts,” Gilmore answered. “We switched to our backup system to relay the transmissions after Blue Horizon went down.”

  “What are we hearing?”

  “Their communications are consistent with Sheldon’s assessment. We’re looking at a probable onset of hostilities within the next twenty-four hours.”

  “Our analysis suggests the PLA may confine their operations to Itu Aba.”

  “We will not permit that. I will not permit that. And the murder of sixty Americans will not go unanswered.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Mr. President?”

  “What, Richard?”

  “We have to presume he’s no longer in charge.”

  “Zhu?”

  “We know Xiao and certain senior elements within the PLA aren’t pleased with the reformist movement in China. And, Zhu didn’t help his cause any last week when he ousted a senior Politburo member closely linked to Xiao’s faction.”

  “We’ve been hearing rumors of a power struggle within the government,” Gilmore confirmed. “The Minister of Public Security has aligned himself with Xiao’s faction.”

  “You’re suggesting Xiao took pre-emptive action before their fall elections?”

  “It fits,” Gilmore said. “NSA picked up something odd while monitoring China’s Internet. The bulletin board of the search engine Baidu shut down right after reporting troops and armored personnel carriers moving toward Beijing.”

  Valardi understood the connection. “I need to call Yanglin.”

  “I concur,” Gilmore said. “Our analysts feel he’s no more than the general’s puppet. If he’s moved from his traditional role to one as principle spokesman for national affairs, we’ll have strengthened our case.”

  “Make the call. And see what the embassy comes up with,” Stuart ordered. “I’ll try Zhu again.”

  Stuart paused. “I also want to pose a question to all of you. Why did the Chinese destroy the Vietnamese rig?”

  “Could have been accidental,” Brown ventured.

  “We feel that’s remote,” Payne said.

  “Do you have another explanation?” Stuart asked. “Seems to me, destroying an oil rig is far out on the edge of rational behavior.”

  “Perhaps, but if we look at the PLA’s action within the context of—”

  “What have the Vietnamese done, for God’s sake? I haven’t heard of them blowing up any Chinese.”

  “That’s correct to a point, sir,” Payne said, “but we know there’s been a turf battle on maritime boundaries and Hanoi has been renovating that old airfield on Spratly Island.’

  “There’s something else,” Lawson said. “I didn’t pay much attention to it at the time.”

  “Could it explain what’s going on?”

  “Three months ago, Manila accused the PLAN of boarding a Filipino fishing boat and roughing up the crew. The next day they demanded an explanation from the Chinese for shooting at a Filipino Air Force reconnaissance plane.”

  Gilmore reached for his breast pocket and pulled out a packet of Marlboros. He tapped out a cigarette. “I recall that.”

  “Sounds like a reasonable reaction from the Philippine government,” Valardi observed.

  “It was,” Lawson said, “except the Chinese were innocent. They were set up.”

  “By who?”

  “The Vietnamese. It was one of their patrol boats.”

  “I’ve heard enough,” Stuart said frowning at the cigarette dangling from Gilmore’s mouth.

  “The reality is Zhu may be gone and we don’t know who’s running the government. What I do know is the PLA killed over sixty American citizens and is preparing to strike Itu Aba within the next twenty-four hours.

  “Richard, you find out what’s going on in Beijing. Establish contact with their Foreign Minister. Justin, share anything they have with State. Dan, contact Treasury and finalize our contingency plans in case Beijing chooses to play hardball with the $340 billion in U.S. Treasury Bills they hold. Sheldon, Bob, please join me in the Oval Office.”

  Chapter 50

  THE OVAL OFFICE

  16:50 MONDAY 28 JULY

  Stuart reacted to the sound of Bob Lawson entering the Oval Office. He didn’t wait for him sit. “Have we located the sub?”

  “Yes, sir. It’s being prosecuted by one of our P-8s.”

  “Where is it?”

  Lawson dropped into the armchair next to Payne. “Running deep at thirteen knots. They’re tracking east of Hainan’s three-hundred meter shelf.”

  “How’d we find it?”

  “We anticipated they would head for home and laid a line of sonobuoys across its projected course. The P-8 dropped directional frequency and ranging buoys.”

  “And the Honolulu?”

  “She’s proceeding south from her patrol area off Linghui. She’ll be positioned to intercept within six hours.”

  “Order the P-8 to lay a field of active buoys and ping the hell out of them.”

  “You want us to go after them?” Payne asked.

  “I want those bastards to sweat.”

  “Yes, sir. We’ll order the P-8 to turn them toward the Honolulu.”

  “Any contacts near the Washington?” Stuart asked.

  “We tagged a Kilo when it passed over our SOSUS array. Corpus Christi has a solution and can take it out any time we want.”

  “I don’t want to wait. Force that sub to the surface. He can take any action necessary, short of sinking it.”

  “Should I authorize the use of the MK11 depth charges?”

  “Yes, but make sure they drop them well out of crush range.”

  “Yes, sir. We’ll prepare a list of options for your approval.”

  “How soon can you get them to me?”

  “Within the hour.”

  Stuart nodded his assent. “Sheldon, what’s the status of the other components of Blue Fury?”

  “Admiral Cortez reports he’s ready to go. Ohio has downloaded her targeting data and is transiting the Palawan Trench. Her Tomahawks will take down every Chinese installation in the Spratlys.”

  “She alone?”

  “No, sir. La Jolla’s riding shotgun.”

  “What are our alternatives to minimize loss of life?”

  “We have two delivery systems loaded on the B-2s flying out of Whitman Air Force Base.”

  “Are they in the air?”

  Lawson looked at his watch. “They launched twenty minutes ago. They’re taking the southern route. It’s longer, but we want to avoid the Russian air defense radars covering Alaska.”

  “Good. Sheldon, you were about to say something about delivery systems.”

  “Yes, sir. One is the CBU-107.”

  “Freshen my memory.”

  “It’s loaded with tungsten and steel penetrators designed to take out soft above-ground targets. Radar, fuel tanks, generators.”

  “Sounds like high-tech shrapnel,” Lantis said, entering the room.

  “True enough. They’ll be pretty tough on any Chinese who happen to get in the way.”

  Stuart waved Lantis to the couch. “You mentioned two delivery systems. What’s the second?”

  “Our electromagnetic pulse weapon. We can fry all of their electronics within a several hundred-yard radius beneath the detonation point. The B-2’s delivery vehicle is a modified JDAM.”

  “I recall the weapon is also configured for our cruise missiles.”

  “The Ohio carries four.”

  “Do you have a plan to use them?”

  “Yes, sir. They’re our weapons of choice for the initial strike. The Ohio’s are targeting the Chinese installati
ons on Subi, Johnson, and Mischief Reef. The B-2s will blanket Fiery Cross, Woody, Duncan, and Rocky Islands.”

  “Should we deactivate The Pod?”

  “No, sir. We want to leave it up to monitor Chinese communications. It’ll give us feedback on the mission and how fast they recover––if they can.”

  “Are we prepared to block their attack corridors?”

  “The B-52’s of the 23rd Expeditionary Squadron at Anderson are ready to go. They’re carrying a mix of Quick Strike and moored mines. We’ve also ordered Seventh Fleet to surge his boats.”

  “And the Washington?”

  “The Strike Group––”

  The sound of an opening door stopped Lawson in mid-sentence. “Excuse me, Mr. President.”

  Stuart scowled, wondering what could be so important. “Yes, Mary Allus?”

  “President Zhu is on the line, sir. Are you available to take the call? The operator says you won’t need a translator.”

  “Yes,” he responded, his mind in turmoil. He looked at the desk clock. Just after five in the morning in Beijing. “Yes, of course. Please put him through. Dan, the other line.”

  In a moment, the light on the phone console blinked. Stuart lifted the receiver. “President Stuart. Good morning, sir,” Stuart replied to Zhu’s greeting. “I’m quite well, thank you. I was concerned you were not available to take my call yesterday... Oh? What happened? Yes, I understand. And you’re confident you’ve contained the situation? And Xiao? I can appreciate that. President Zhu, to have any party resort to the use of armed force would indeed be very unfortunate. Yes, our two nations cannot afford...”

  Payne and Lawson leaned forward listening to Stuart’s side of the conversation, trying to piece the fragments into something meaningful. Whatever had happened, it didn’t sound good.

  Dan Lantis, on the other hand, was more fortunate. He had picked up the line the instant Stuart picked up his receiver. Establishing eye contact with the other two men, he flashed them an ‘Okay’ sign.

  Payne wasn’t convinced. He pulled a copy of his appointment schedule from his suit pocket. He tore out a page and scribbled a note. ‘I don’t trust him. We only have one shot––the clock’s running.’ He leaned over and handed it to Lantis.