by Tom Clancy
That had to change.
Now.
“Bob, we need to take another walk around this situation. There has to be something we’ve missed.”
“Such as? We’ve gone over the launch site, the schedule—”
“There must be something in the individuals, their personalities, their past actions that we can use.”
“Sure,” Herbert said. “Say, are you okay?”
“Why?”
“A minute ago you sounded down,” Herbert said. “Now you sound like you’re speeding.”
“It’s a new day and an important one,” Hood explained, rising. He had not intended that to be metaphorical, but it was both literally and figuratively true. “You’re right. We don’t have a plan, and we need one, something better than planting my ass in a concrete bunker and waiting for something to happen.”
Herbert was silent for a moment. “How about this,” he said. “Don’t go to the bunker. Ask to go somewhere else.”
“Where? A representative of the president of the United States will not be given an all-access pass.”
“Will Le’s daughter be there?” Herbert asked.
“Yes.”
“What if you could convince her that the prime minister is in danger?” Herbert asked.
“And use that how?”
“I am isolating potential targets at the launch site for Mike’s team,” Herbert said. “Maybe you can have a look at them as well. Between you and the marines, we can cover more territory.”
“I think Le and his daughter might go for that,” Hood said. “I’ll talk to them when I get there.”
“I like it,” Herbert said. “I’ll send the likeliest sites to your laptop. If you check it en route to the facility, I can talk to Mike about dividing the duties.”
“Absolutely,” Hood told him. “If I have any questions, I’ll give you a shout.”
“I’ll be here,” Herbert assured him. Now the intelligence chief sounded energized as well.
Hood hung up and took a quick shower. The water invigorated his body the way the ideas had invigorated his mind. Both contributed to the much-needed renewal of Hood’s spirit.
At least one thing had not changed over the years: Hood’s capacity to bootstrap himself and those around him. What the old Op-Center team may have lacked in zealousness they made up for in endurance and dedication.
That was not nothing.
At the moment, it could be everything.
FORTY-FIVE
Zhuhai, China Thursday, 7:18 A.M.
Tam Li was dozing at his desk when the intercom came on. He did not start at the sound, because he never slept very deeply. It was a habit soldiers acquired if they wanted to survive. He picked up the phone.
“Go ahead.”
“General, an aircraft is approaching from Beijing,” the orderly reported. “It is carrying Chou Shin of the Guoanbu.”
“How do you know?”
“We advised the pilot that the base is in a lockdown situation because of the maneuvers off Taipei,” the orderly replied. “The pilot insisted that command did not apply to his passenger.”
That was not good. Not at all. “Are they landing?” the general asked.
“They said they will, with or without assistance from the tower,” the orderly informed him.
“Bring them down,” the general said. “Send two security units to meet the aircraft and take them all into custody.”
“Arrest the Guoanbu director?” the orderly asked.
“And everyone with him.”
“Yes, sir,” the orderly said. “The security detachment leader will need to know the charge.”
“Murder,” Tam Li said without hesitation.
“Sir?”
“Chou Shin has committed homicidal acts of terrorism abroad.”
“Yes, sir,” the orderly said. “If there is resistance?”
“Tell the detachment leader to resist back!” the general shouted. He slammed the receiver into the cradle and looked at his watch. He did not need to prove the charges or even make them survive the morning. All he needed was for Chou Shin and the leadership at the launch site to be out of the way for the next few hours. After that, there would be a military crisis that only military leaders could solve.
The general was now completely awake. His olive green jacket was draped on the back of the chair. He got up and put it on. He tugged the hem to remove the wrinkles. He tugged it hard.
The bastard provocateur, he thought angrily. Chou Shin may have thought to confront the general and bully him into aborting his plan. That would not happen. In fact, Chou Shin would not set eyes on Tam Li until a frightened nation had surrendered its will to the military. Not only would a general become the effective leader of one billion Chinese, but Chou’s antiquated Communist ideology would be buried at last and for all time. In a way, his arrival here was timely. Tam Li had planned to tell the prime minister that he was remaining in Zhuhai to watch the Taiwanese deployment in the strait, claiming it was more significant than usual. Now he could add to that the curious arrival of Director Chou, who was also supposed to be at the launch. The general would tell the prime minister that he was analyzing the data with the help of the Guoanbu.
Tam Li left the room with long, bold strides and entered a corridor that connected his office with the rest of the officers’ compound. The morning light was coming over the strait in strong yellow splashes. The pale green carpet of the hallway looked like solid amber. The general did not notice the salutes of his command as he passed. His eyes were on an office ahead, the headquarters of the strategic planning officer, Colonel Hark. He entered without knocking. The tall, lean Hark was standing at an electronic table with four other officers. The men all turned and saluted smartly as the general entered. He returned the salute perfunctorily and stood beside the table. A map of the region was being projected from below. Electronic blips on top showed the position of every commercial plane and ship in the area.
“What is our status?” Tam Li demanded.
“The forward aerial strike force is thirty-five percent deployed,” the colonel replied. “The naval task force is nearly twenty-five percent deployed. Everything is precisely on schedule.”
“I want our forces boosted to fifty percent — full deployment within the hour,” Tam Li ordered.
Hark regarded the general with open surprise. The other officers remained at attention.
“General, the Americans will see it on satellite,” Hark pointed out. “They will suspect we are sending out more than a routine patrol.”
“Thank you, Colonel. That had occurred to me.”
“Sir, with respect, we all agreed that the main deployment should coincide with the situation at the launch—”
“Circumstances have changed significantly,” Tam Li told him. “I want us to be seen.”
There was a short silence. “May I ask why, sir?”
“Chou Shin is on the way to the base. I am going to have him detained. If he suspects what we are doing, he will try to stop us. We need to maneuver events to a point where they cannot be stopped.”
“Even if we are perceived as an aggressor?”
“Taiwan military vessels are in the water, and their warplanes in the skies,” the general replied. “All of them are headed toward our shores. We need no other justification to field a defense force.”
“Perhaps, sir. But we have never responded before in this situation. The attack on the rocket and Taiwan’s opportunistic deployment was going to justify our own sudden and confrontational move—”
“Colonel, what is Directive Two forty-one?”
“ ‘Taiwan is an integral part of China,’ ” the colonel replied.
“Directive Two forty-two?”
“ ‘It is an inviolable mission of the entire Chinese people to reunify the motherland,’ ” recited Hark.
“And Directive Two forty-six?”
“ ‘The sooner we settle the question of Taiwan, the better it is,’ ” the
colonel declared.
“You understand the goal. With that in mind, what command would you issue if our ports and airfields were about to come under attack?” the general asked.
“I would simultaneously move and deploy our equipment, sir.”
“Just so,” Tam Li said. “We are under attack from ideological enemies at home. They may seek to confiscate our assets while they are in one place. We cannot allow that. Get our forces off the ground and out of the docks as soon as possible. They will not engage Taiwan. Not yet. Nothing else has changed. The rocket will be destroyed as planned. Our ships and planes will simply be closer to the enemy than we had planned. In a way, this helps us.”
“How so?”
“Instead of hunting him down later, we will have already arrested the man who was responsible for the destruction of the rocket,” Tam Li told him. “There is one thing more I want.”
“Sir?”
“Have the white unit meet me in Hangar Three,” he said.
FORTY-SIX
Zhuhai, China Thursday, 8:02 A.M.
The standard Boeing 737–800 landed gently on the long military runway. The pilot reversed the engines and turned toward the terminal complex, a series of low-lying gray buildings at the hub of four radial airstrips. A number of aircraft were moving from hangars toward the different jet ways. There was no question about where to go: General Tam Li had dispatched an honor guard.
Chou Shin was not surprised. It had been necessary for them to circle the field before they were given clearance to land. Obviously, the general was doing something here he did not want others to know about. Chou had used his wireless laptop to track the general’s actions as best as he could during the flight. According to on-site and satellite data collected by the Guoanbu, Taiwan had continued its limited deployment while Tam Li had accelerated his. That would have to be stopped, and quickly. The only way to do that was for Chou to witness the commander’s activities firsthand and report them to the prime minister.
The intelligence director went to the front of the plane as it neared the building. The pilot did not so much finish taxiing as stop. There was no staircase or tunnel by which to exit.
Chou Shin waited until the engines had stopped. “Open the door,” the director told his aide.
The young man bowed slightly, then turned and unlocked the cabin door. Chou stood in the oily heat of the open hatch.
“Who is in command here?” the director asked. He spoke softly to show that he was unconcerned and to make them come to him.
A lieutenant stepped up smartly. “I am in charge of these units.”
“Have them bring us a stairwell,” Chou said.
“Our orders are that you shall remain on the aircraft.”
“Orders from whom?”
“The Security Detachment Office,” the lieutenant replied. “The base is under a condition red alert. Your plane should not even have been permitted to land.”
“Why was it, then?”
“The base commander has override authority,” the lieutenant informed him.
“Your orders are treasonous,” Chou informed him. “We will deploy the emergency exit equipment if we must, but I will leave this aircraft, and I will see base commander General Tam Li.”
“Condition red dictates that we stop any member of your party who attempts to leave the aircraft.”
“You would shoot the director of the Guoanbu?” Chou demanded.
“We would detain you by any means necessary.”
Chou turned to the cockpit. The door was open. The pilots were still going through their postflight checklist. “Get me the minister of defense in Beijing,” he said.
“Sir, we tried communicating with the tower when we landed,” the pilot informed him. “Our radio signals are being blocked.”
Chou turned to his aide. “Cellular phones as well?”
The young man was holding his phone. He looked grim. “There are too many satellite dishes at the base. I cannot get a signal.”
“Will the tower be able to block our Internet uplink?”
“That is very unlikely,” the pilot answered. “Our airborne wireless operates on one point nine gigahertz, which is a privately used frequency. Unless the communications center knows exactly what that frequency is, they cannot block it. Not as long as we have direct line-of-sight access to the satellite.”
“Thank you very much, Captain,” the intelligence director said. He looked back through the door. He was perspiring slightly from the heat. Chou asked his aide for water. He did not want anyone to think he was afraid. As he drank, Chou was surprised to notice two men were approaching with a ladder.
“What are you doing?” Chou asked the lieutenant.
“You will close the door,” the officer replied. “Otherwise, we are prepared to close it for you.”
“We will close the door and leave,” Chou decided suddenly. “You will see to our refueling.”
“I will relay your request to the base commander.”
“That was not a request,” Chou informed him.
“I only take orders from the general,” the lieutenant answered predictably.
Chou regarded him but said nothing. “Close the door,” he told his aide.
The director of the Guoanbu returned to his seat. He opened his own laptop and began composing an E-mail to the prime minister’s office. It would be marked Top Priority, National Security. The heading guaranteed that whoever received it would contact the prime minister immediately, wherever he was.
The pilot got on the public address system. “Director Chou, a fuel truck has been sent from the hangar.”
That was a surprise. Obviously, Tam Li did not want them here. He would probably have the aircraft fueled as slowly as possible. He must believe that by the time Chou was in the air, it would be too late to stop him. It was curious that he was not concerned about E-mail. Perhaps he thought his signals would block it. Tam Li often acted with passion rather than sense.
Chou quickly composed his E-mail as the smell of jet fuel filled the cockpit. After several minutes the pilot came back on the speaker.
“Director Chou, please come to the cockpit,” the captain said. “Something is happening outside.”
Chou set his laptop aside and went to the front. He did not hurry. Panic was its own fuel. He stepped inside and looked out the window. He saw three fire trucks moving along the runway in their direction.
“Obviously, Captain, there is a fire somewhere,” Chou said.
“If so, sir, there would be an alarm,” the pilot replied.
The captain was correct.
“How has the refueling proceeded?” Chou asked.
The captain indicated a gauge. “It has not yet begun.”
Chou felt foolish. Not just because he had overlooked the obvious but because he had underestimated General Tam Li.
“Captain, we need to take off,” Chou said. “You have to get us to a commercial airstrip.”
“Sir, the nearest fields are in Hong Kong or Canton, and we have barely enough fuel to reach either—”
“Take off!” Chou ordered.
“Yes, sir.”
“If these trucks try to block us, go around them or over them, but get us out of here,” he added.
The pilot and copilot immediately began preparing the jet for power-up. Chou sat in the seat beside his aide. Both men buckled their seat belts. The plane rattled as the engines were started in tandem.
“Sir, why would the general give us fuel, then use fire trucks to close off the runway?” Chou’s aide asked.
“I do not believe that is what he is doing,” Chou said ominously. He cast a look out the window. The airmen were all watching the back of the aircraft. After a moment, they were given a signal to withdraw.
Chou undid his belt and jumped from his seat.
“Sir?” said the aide.
“The door!” Chou yelled. “Open it and deploy the emergency slide. We have to get out!”
The aide got u
p and went to the hatch. Chou stood behind him.
“Stop the engines,” Chou told the pilots. “We’re leaving—”
There was a whooshing sound from the back of the aircraft, like a gas range being ignited. Chou looked back. That was not far from the case. The windows in the center of the aircraft were suddenly filled with a smoky orange glow.
The orderly pulled open the hatch just as the dull light reached the forward section. The young man cried and stepped back as flames whipped over the foot of the doorway and into the cabin.
That was why the general was not worried about E-mailed messages, Chou thought. He knew they would never be sent.
Perhaps.
While the pilot jumped forward to close the hatch, Chou turned and rushed down the aisle. He reached his seat just as the aircraft lost all structural integrity. The fuel that had been set aflame below the aircraft ignited the fuel that remained in the tanks. The tires exploded first, dropping the aircraft to the tarmac a moment before it disintegrated. The fuselage blew open like a holiday firework. Instead of spraying the air with sparkling light, it threw shards of glass, metal, and quick-melted plastic in every direction. The wings were blown from the fuselage. Weighted down by the engines, one on each wing, they hit the asphalt and skidded several dozen yards from the sides. The tail section simply broke off and fell backwards, allowing a fist of flame to shoot from the back of the cabin.
Because the aircraft fuel tanks had been near empty, the blast was contained to the jet and the surrounding airfield. The three fire trucks that had already been en route arrived immediately after the explosion. Foam punched through the black smoke, hissing as it came into contact with fire and superheated metal. Within several minutes the flames had been extinguished. Men in fire-resistant white suits were beginning to move through the wreckage. They used back-mounted fire extinguishers to kill spot fires and search for survivors.
There were none.
There were not even remains that could be easily spotted, let alone identified.
General Tam Li was given an update about the spill and its aftermath. He thanked the fire captain.
