Authors: Mike Maden
EAST SEA FLEET HEADQUARTERS (PLAN)
NINGBO, ZHEJIANG PROVINCE, CHINA
14 MAY 2017
T
he dimly lit air-conditioned room was filled with computer monitors and handheld tablets along the periphery. In the center of the cavernous space stood a massive digital chart table with two dozen uniformed faces hovering around it, focused intently on the digital ships and aircraft coming into virtual contact on what Pearce assumed was the East China Sea.
Myers could hardly believe her eyes. Three-dimensional aircraft were flying over the table as three-dimensional ships sailed on the virtual sea.
“Holographs. Impressive.” Myers and Pearce stood next to Admiral Ji and Feng on an elevated platform that gave them a bird's-eye view of the chart table. “When did you steal that from DARPA?”
Admiral Ji ignored her insult.
An oversize three-dimensional holographic representation of an oil rig glowed in bright red near a small collection of islands in the center of the map.
Pearce pointed at the oil rig. “The Senkakus.”
“The proper name is the Diaoyu Islands,” Vice Chairman Feng said through clenched teeth. “Unless you prefer the Japanese mispronunciation.”
Pearce counted fifteen ships steaming from the coast of China and saw what appeared to be an American carrier battle group hovering off
the southwestern coast of Japan. Overhead stereo speakers carried what Pearce guessed was chatter between pilots and ships' crews.
“This is live?” Pearce asked.
Ji pointed at a ten-foot-wide 4K HD digital screen on the far wall. A live satellite image popped on. An overhead view of an aircraft carrier and the nearly two dozen support ships that surrounded it in real time.
“Do you recognize it, President Myers?” Ji asked.
“The
George Washington
carrier battle group, stationed out of Japan.”
“Correct.”
The admiral barked an order. The overhead satellite image zoomed in to the deck of the
George Washington
. F/A-18 Hornets and F-35Cs were lined up and taking off in combat launch operations. The detail was incredible. Myers could read the letters on the vests of the multicolored flight-deck crews scrambling on the tarmac. A bloodred target reticle suddenly appeared, centered on the carrier deck.
A junior female PLAN officer at the chart table shouted an order. Another officer answered back, followed by a dozen more.
A missile launch roared in the loudspeakers overhead, drowning out the chattering voices.
On the chart table, a missile rose from a mobile launcher on the coast of China. The missile track arced high above the table. It disappeared into the unlit ceiling. The Americans were mesmerized.
Admiral Ji pointed at the HD digital screen. The
George Washington
image was still live. “Watch the screen, please.”
Suddenly, an explosion ripped into the
George Washington
. The carrier erupted in flames.
“Oh, my god!” Myers shouted.
The holographic
George Washington
on the chart table burned furiously, listing to one side.
The room erupted in cheers and applause. Ji and Feng clapped their hands approvingly at the officers below them as the lights popped on. The chart table went blank and all the holographic images disappeared. But Ji let the burning hulk of the
George Washington
continue to blaze on the HD screen.
“We find that realistic war-gaming exercises between deployments keeps our fighting officers razor sharp,” Admiral Ji said.
“Was that your idea of a joke?” Myers seethed.
“Merely a demonstration of the kinds of exercises we run in this room twenty-four hours a day,” Feng said. “I apologize if it upset you. It was only intended to inform you.”
“Very realistic,” Myers said, calming down.
“We have these kinds of training facilities at every headquarters base now and in every regional military district. Of course, we have even more advanced training facilities in Beijing,” Ji said.
“And that's your proof the Wu-14 actually works?” Pearce said. “A video game?”
“A fourteen-year-old kid with Final Cut Pro and his daddy's laptop could replicate that video,” Myers added.
“But that âkid' wouldn't have access to a live satellite image of the
George Washington
, which you saw with your own eyes,” Feng said.
“Our CGI team superimposed the graphical images of fire and explosions. We find these effects help to add to the realism of the exercise. It gives great satisfaction to our men and women when they make a kill,” Ji said.
“But to answer your question, Mr. Pearce, no, this is not our proof. It is only meant to show you that we have already incorporated the Wu-14 into our battle plans. And now you see the likely outcome of any confrontation with a U.S. carrier group.”
“Then show us the real proof,” Myers said. “Or quit wasting our time.”
She hoped with all of her heart the Chinese were bluffing, but a sick feeling deep in her gut told her to expect the worst.
Unfortunately, her gut was never wrong.
EAST SEA FLEET HEADQUARTERS (PLAN)
NINGBO, ZHEJIANG PROVINCE, CHINA
14 MAY 2017
T
hey all stood inside the massive hangar. Myers and Pearce were kept at a distance from the flat, cone-shaped Wu-14 suspended on a sling hanging from a crane. Its dull black hull made the arrow-headed shape all the more menacing. Several white-coated technicians and blue-uniformed personnel hovered over the Wu-14's open service doors, tablets and notebooks in hand. Ji had explained that as soon as the checklists were completed the Wu-14 would be lifted onto the body of the nearby DF-21D mobile missile and fitted into place where its warhead normally resided.
“That's it?” Myers asked. “Looks like a prop from a
Star Trek
episode.”
“That is the Wu-14.” Feng beamed with pride. “It is a true revolution in military affairs. The end of the era of aircraft carriers. The end of American naval power projection capabilities as we have known it.”
“Don't count your chickens just yet,” Myers said. “It still hasn't been tested in battle.”
“We have concluded seven tests with earlier prototypes, all successful,” Feng said.
“And all of our computer simulations agree. The Wu-14 is completely operational,” Ji said.
“Seeing is believing,” Myers said. She began stepping past one of the scowling navy guards, who gently shoved her back with the stock of his rifle.
Pearce leaped over and slammed two hands into the surprised guard's chest. The guard started to raise his rifle but Pearce was too fast, knocking the barrel aside with his right hand and smashing the man's face with the heel of his left hand. Blood exploded out of the guard's nose like a crimson party favor. The violent confrontation took all of two seconds. Before the guard's knees hit the pavement, five other guards rushed at Pearce, pointing their assault rifles at his chest.
Admiral Ji shouted in Mandarin. The seething guards stepped back, lowered their weapons.
Pearce raced over to Myers. “You all right?”
“Been kicked by horses a lot tougher than he is.” Myers glared at Feng. “Still trying to get me killed, I take it?”
Feng was horrified. “You are an impetuous woman!”
“Better get used to it,” Myers said. “There's a lot more like me where I come from.”
“The Wu-14 is top secret. You're not allowed to approach it,” Admiral Ji said.
Myers grinned. “Try and stop me.”
She stepped past the kneeling guard, blood seeping out of his cupped hands. She patted the top of his head as she walked by. “Get some ice for that, son.”
Admiral Ji whispered violently to Feng. Feng shook his head, whispered back, “Leave her alone.”
Feng, Ji, and Pearce hurried after Myers. Thirty long strides and she was near the Wu-14, but another guard came swiftly forward, accompanied by an officer with a security wand in his hand. Myers saw the dead stare of a killer in the guard's eyes. Halted in front of him.
Myers turned to Feng. “Do I get to take a look or are we going to start World War Three right here in this hangar?”
“I forbid it!” Ji said. Feng shook his head at the admiral.
What can it hurt?
The admiral cursed in Mandarin and looked away, humiliated by the rebuke and the poor manners of the former American president.
“By all means,” Feng said, palm extended toward the Wu-14. “Get as close as you like.”
Admiral Ji nodded at the officer with the wand in his hand, the same kind used for airport security screenings. The wand beeped violently as it waved over Myers's torso. The officer shouted angrily.
“You are carrying spy equipment!” Ji blurted.
“Don't you watch the news?” Feng asked, exasperated. “She has a bionic pancreas system implanted in her body. She's no spy.” Feng stepped closer to Myers. “May I see your phone?”
Myers reluctantly handed him her phone.
“I don't trust phones. Too many interesting things can be done with them,” Feng said. He glanced at the key pad. “Your security code, please?”
“F-R-E-E.”
Feng typed it in using only his thumb. He flipped through the various app icons. Found the bionic pancreas app. Opened it.
“I see it dosed you just three minutes ago.”
“I wouldn't know. But I sure feel terrific.”
“May I keep this until you leave?” Feng asked.
“Of course. Just don't turn it offâunless you're trying to kill me.”
“Wouldn't think of it.” Feng nodded to the guard to let her pass. Myers shouldered past the intimidating hulk and marched over to the Wu-14.
“Wait up,” Pearce said.
The guard blocked his path.
“Not you, Mr. Pearce,” Feng said. “You own a drone company, yes?”
“I'm just a simple businessman.”
“I'm afraid I don't trust you. I must ask that you remain here.”
“And if I don't?”
“Admiral Ji will order the guards to kick your teeth in.”
Pearce glanced around. A dozen guns were pointed at him.
Pearce shook his head, frustrated. “Fine.”
Myers stepped right up to the hypersonic glide vehicle next to one of the technicians, who glanced at her quizzically and backed away, confused. The other scientists and technicians stopped what they were doing
and watched the brazen American woman inspect their country's most top secret missile.
“This is outrageous,” Ji hissed.
“Don't be foolish. This is exactly what we wanted,” Feng whispered.
Pearce didn't speak a word of Mandarin, but he understood the basics of their exchange. Thus was it ever between military men and their civilian leadership.
He wasn't paying attention to the technicians, one of whom was a homely middle-aged woman in a lab coat who was staring at Pearce intently.
A minute later, Myers marched back over to Pearce and the others.
“Satisfied?” Feng asked.
“How many rubber bands does it need to fly?” Pearce asked.
“I'm no aeronautical engineer, but it looks real enough,” Myers said. “God only knows if it actually works.”
Admiral Ji handed her a thumb drive. “All of the test data and video clips are on this. Give it to your best analysts. It will convince them.”
“I'll pass it along,” Myers said, pocketing the thumb drive.
The middle-aged woman who had been scoping out Pearce grabbed Feng by the arm and pulled him off to the side. Myers's eyes tracked the two of them.
“Data can be faked,” Pearce said. He was drawing on his past experience with Jasmine Bath, who not only stole volumes of data, but also planted false and doctored evidence during her cybercrime career.
“Starting tomorrow, you'll know if the data has been faked or not,” Feng said.
“How's that?” Myers asked.
“Tomorrow, China announces a red line around the territorial waters of Mao Island and the surrounding East China Sea. Any ship that dares cross it will suffer the wrath of the Wu-14.”
“If you think we're bluffing, try us,” Admiral Ji said. A broad smile wrinkled the skin around his bulldog eyes.
Myers wanted to slap the smile off of the admiral's face. He was too damn confident.
And confident sons of bitches like him went to war.
She noticed the woman and Feng were in a heated conversation. Feng kept stealing glances at Pearce.
Myers got that feeling in her gut all over again.
Time to get the hell out of Dodge
.
EAST SEA FLEET HEADQUARTERS (PLAN)
NINGBO, ZHEJIANG PROVINCE, CHINA
14 MAY 2017
T
he Red Flag L8 limo coasted to a smooth stop in front of Feng's private Gulfstream jet, along with its armed escort. Soldiers leaped out of their vehicles. Myers and the others climbed out of the limo, Admiral Ji in the lead. Avgas and brine scented the ocean air.
Feng shouted over the Gulfstream's turbines, which were winding up.
“Please convey our message to President Lane. China does not want war with the United States, but neither will we back down from a fight. You are well advised to leave the Japanese to fend for themselves. Why risk your carriers for a fool's errand?”
“I'll be speaking with President Lane as soon as we land. What he decides to do is his business, not mine. I can only give him my opinion.”
“And what is your opinion?” Admiral Ji asked.
“That pride cometh before a fall.”
“What do you mean by that?” Feng asked.
“It's in the Bible. I don't suppose you've read it.”
“Of course I have. I just wasn't sure whose pride you were referring to.”
“Don't say I didn't warn you.” Myers glanced at Pearce. “C'mon. Let's get back.”
“No, not him,” Feng said. He pointed an accusing finger at Pearce.
“What are you talking about?” Myers demanded. Chinese rifles were suddenly leveled at Pearce.
“I have a few questions for Mr. Pearce about his time in Mali.”
“What questions?” Myers asked.
“That's between him and me,” Feng said.
“Don't be ridiculous. You can't detain him. He's an American citizen.”
Feng's eyes narrowed. “You are an arrogant ass, Madame President, which is no crime, but Pearce is an American spy, and he will be detained until further notice!”
Myers got in his face. “I dare you to try and take him.” She jabbed a finger into his chest. “I dare you personally.”
Myers was at least an inch taller than Feng. She wanted him to hit her. Get him to lose his cool, maybe get cashiered right out of government service.
“Get on the plane, Margaret,” Pearce said.
“Not without you.”
A guard's heavy hand landed on Pearce's shoulder.
“Call the embassy,” Pearce said. “They'll straighten this out. You need to go.”
“They wouldn't dareâ”
“Your health, Margaret. Please.”
“What about it?”
“Your health. The doctors still want to monitor you, remember?”
Feng chuckled as he pulled out Myers's iPhone from his pocket.
“Yes, your health.” Feng unlocked the phone. Found the bionic pancreas app. Clicked on it. Graphical sliders for dosing insulin and glucagon appeared. Level indicators pointed to normal glucose levels.
“You will walk onto that plane immediately or else I will have you bound and gagged and thrown onto it like a sack of cabbages,” Feng hissed. “And on your flight back home, you will experience a tragic malfunction of your bionic pancreas, falling into a deep coma and dying before you land.”
It was Admiral Ji's turn to laugh.
Myers regretted not slapping the shit out of him earlier. But Pearce was right. She had to go.
“Fine,” Myers spat. “Just give me my damn phone.” She held out a trembling hand.
Feng slapped it into her palm. “A wise choice. Please give President Lane my warmest regards.”
Myers stepped closer to Feng. The guards shifted nervously.
“Anything happens to Troy, you'll have to answer to me.”
Feng smiled. “Little dog, big bark.”
“Get going, will ya?” Pearce said. “Before this psycho changes his mind.”
Myers's jaw clenched. She fought back tears. She remembered watching Troy spin like a top, blood spurting from his scalp before he hit the tarmac in Algeria. She thought she'd lost him then. She couldn't bear the thought of losing him now. But she had to leave.
“I'll call the president as soon as I land,” Myers said.
“Just let Ian know I won't be home for dinner,” Pearce said.
She nodded, smiled bravely, and jogged up the stairs.
The cabin door slammed shut behind her as she fell into a seat, her face close to the window. She watched three guards force Pearce to his knees and pat him down for weapons as they jammed his hands in a pair of PlastiCuffs behind his broad back, then raised him up and manhandled him into the back of a covered vehicle.
The Gulfstream shuddered as it began to pull away. She watched helplessly as Troy's truck raced away from the tarmac.
She prayed.
God save him. Please
.
She punched the seat next to her.
Or else
.