Sea Strike

by James H. Cobb

  Perhaps he would find his piece of the war after all HOTEL MANILA REPUBLIC OF THE PHILIPPINES 0800 HOURS ZONE TIME; AUGUST 6, 2006

  "It's eight o'clock, Mr. Secretary " For a moment, Hamson Van Lynden couldn't remember where he was, a common occupational hazard for those in the profession of jet age statesmanship Then his memory came back on line

  Manila The first day of the crisis-reduction talks "Thank you, Frank I'm awake," he replied, sitting up "Breakfast, sir?" the Secret Service man inquired from the bedroom door

  "Yes My usual in about fifteen minutes "

  "It'll be ready, Mr. Secretary Ms. Sagada will also be up shortly with the morning situation update " ' ' again " The door closed Van Lynden rose from the bed stretching out the last kinks of the previous day's long air journey

  Crossing to the full-length balcony windows, he pulled aside the gold brocade curtains, revealing the glittering gunmetal blue of Manila Bay For security's sake, the Philippine government had elected to house all of the different delegations attending the Chinese crisis reduction talks at a single location, one that could also serve as the site for those talks With a profound sense of either irony or history, they had chosen the Hotel Manila

  The sixteen-story grand dame of the Philippines had served many purposes during its long existence Prior to World War II, it had served as Douglas Macarthur's residence as he had futilely attempted to prepare the old commonwealth for the coming conflict The hotel had seen an invading Japanese army march in to seize its namesake city, and had served as the headquarters for its conquerors Surviving, the hotel had seen another army, this one of liberation, storm Manila Its walls still bore the bullet scars of strafing American fighters Now as he watched the morning traffic build along the waterfront boulevards, he wondered what new chapter would unfold here the ending of a conflict or the beginning of a holocaust

  The bacon and eggs were excellent, and the atypical side dishes--fried rice, guava, and jackfruit--added piquancy to the meal Seated in the suite's living room, the secretary of state divided his attention between his breakfast and the young woman seated on the couch across from him Lucena Sagada, his Embassy liaison, had the honey colored skin and ebon eyes and hair of a Philippine native Her light summer suit had the cut of the Beltway, however After serving her State Department internship in Washington, she had returned to the homeland of her grandparents to make the optimum use of her linguistic and cultural heritage "We finally have a complete delegation listing, Mr. Secretary,"

  she said, looking up from her open laptop "Let's see, that should be Mr.

  Apayo from the Philippines, Keo Moroboshi from Japan, and Mr. Chung Pak from Korea Any word on the Russians and Vietnamese?"

  "Still no word from Hanoi I think they can be safely counted out As for the Russians, we've received official notification that they will not be sending a delegation They do request, however, that a member of their local embassy staff be permitted to sit in as an observer "

  "I don't have any problem with that," Van Lynden re plied

  "We won't have them stirring the water, but at the same time, they'll be kept current on the developing situation Good compromise "

  He speared a final neat slice of jackfruit on the tines of his fork

  "Now, let's get on to the main show Who are we meeting from the Chinas?"

  "Both delegations arrived yesterday evening, sir Within an hour of each other "

  Ms. Sagada removed a recordable compact disc from her briefcase and snapped it into the input slot of her laptop Rising, she crossed the room and set the little computer on the coffee table beside Van Lynden's breakfast tray

  "The CIA Station Chief at the Embassy had a video crew out there covering the arrivals," she said, tapping the actuation key "Here are the Nationalist and the United Democratic Forces representatives arriving They flew in together from Taipei "

  On the flatscreen, Van Lynden observed two individuals descending the stairway of a smart looking executive jet

  "I recognize the first man Mr. Duan Xing Hoof the Taiwanese Foreign Ministry I've worked with him a couple of times through the American Institute in Taiwan He's a good international man One of their best I don't recognize this gentleman, though " He indicated the spare, white-haired figure that followed Duan

  "According to the NSA database on the United Democratic Forces of China, he is Professor Djinn Yi. He's a former faculty member of the People's University of Canton, having taught history and political science Currently, he appears to be serving as a kind of ambassador-at-large for the UDFC"

  "What do we have on him?"

  "Not very much, Mr. Secretary Unmarried Native of Guangdong Province Considered academically brilliant At one time, an unimpeachable Party member However, that wasn't enough to protect him when the Red Guard went on their rampage back in 1966 He and his older brother were among the Chinese intellectuals herded into the reeducation camps during the Cultural Revolution Professor Djinn was incarcerated for over eighteen months His brother died, supposedly from a combination of beating and starvation."

  "I imagine that could turn just about anyone."

  The video zoomed in on Djinn, and Van Lynden studied the man, looking past his age-gaunt features and the stiffness of his movements to the alert glitter of his eyes and the calculating way he studied his surroundings. The Chinese Presidium had made a very bad enemy out of this old man.

  The video clip ended and Ms. Sagada reached forward to call up another track.

  "Okay. Here we go with the Communist delegation."

  Two more men descending another aircraft stairway. One, short, heavyset, and wearing an old-style Maoist suit. Haven't seen one of those in a while. What might that indicate, Harry? A throwback of attitude or a statement of policy? The other was tall, soldierly in bearing, and clad in the uniform of the People's Liberation Army.

  "These are the two representatives from the People's Republic," Sagada continued. "Deputy Premier Chang Hui'an and General Ho Chunwa."

  "Very heavy metal indeed. I know Chang only by reputation.

  He's not an international man. I don't think he's ever even been out of the country before. He does carry a lot of Party weight, though.

  "As for Ho," Van Lynden continued, "I've met him. It was years ago, before Tiananmen. Very sharp. Very tough.

  But he thinks. He's open to reason. Who's the senior man of the delegation?"

  "That's ... rather nebulous at the moment, Mr. Secretary.

  The delegation appears to be under a joint leadership."

  Now, that's interesting, Van Lynden thought. The only time the Communists don't work with linear chain of command is when there's a factional confrontation going on between two near-party power groups. A trust breakdown b between the Party and the PLA? Is somebody afraid that somebody else is ready to sell out? Very interesting indeed ... Ms.

  Sagada snapped off the laptop. "That's about all we have new on the delegations, sir. I also have a prospective conference agenda for your consideration and a request from the press corps for a statement from you concerning the goals of the United States in these talks."

  "I'll be pleased to let them know as soon as I'm sure myself" Van Lynden laid his napkin across his plate "What's the latest military update from the Chinese mainland? The short version "

  "Static, but with buildups continuing on all fronts The Nationalists are continuing to land troops within the Amoy beachhead, while the Communists continue to mass forces to the north and west of the city Apparently, they're preparing a major counterattack to drive the Nationalists back into the sea before UDFC can break through to them from the south "

  The young Embassy liaison shook her head "Our military attache says things should blow out there soon Very soon "

  ' ' that battle goes, so may go this conference "

  Van Lynden got to his feet "Is there a secure terminal here in the hotel?"

  "Not yet, sir The communications rooms for the delegations won't be up and running until sometime this a
fter noon "

  "Then we'll need to go across to the Embassy for a while Let me see, the opening session isn't scheduled until ten tomorrow morning Right?"

  "Yes, sir "

  "Very good Until then, from, say, noon today on see if you can dial us in to meet with as many of the other delegates, one on one, as possible Nobody may be willing to talk substance before the first session, but at least we might be able to feel out some attitudes "

  "We, sir?? There was a faint hint of expectancy beyond the professionalism in Lucena Sagada's voice

  Van Lynden paused in donning his suit jacket "You're my liaison officer, aren't you? Part of your job is keeping Ambassador Dickenson fully apprised on the status of these talks As far as I can see, the best way to accomplish that is for you to be directly involved in them Is that amenable to you?"

  The young woman's sobriety momentarily disappeared in the bright flash of her smile

  "I'd like that very much, sir "Fine Start setting us up In the meantime, I've got some people to talk to "

  Van Lynden started for the elevators, his security team deploying around him with the unobtrusive efficiency of the stage ninjas in a kabuki play The secretary of state was already losing himself in what he had learned that morning, adding the scraps of information he had garnered to the matrix of knowledge, instinct, and intuition he was building around the China crisis During his years in the diplomatic service, Van Lynden had developed an entire arsenal of mental mechanisms to help him maintain the clarity of thought and total focus needed for this brand of heavy gauge statesmanship One of them was "tagging applying a descriptive and readily recallable symbol to each of the other involved parties In those video clips today, he had found his tags for the Chinas the planes the opposing delegations had arrived aboard The Nationalists and UDFC had flown in on a gleaming new Taiwanese Air Force Dassault 9000 Sleek compact, and efficient, the little executive jet had more resemblance to a model put together by some painstaking hobbyist than it had to a real aircraft The Communists had arrived on board an aging Boeing 727, its paint stripped by a myriad of hail and rainstorms, its tail cone blackened by years of burning low-grade jet propellant An unmatching aileron and cabin door had indicated where another airframe had been stripped to make this one operational That was the dichotomy The cutting edge of tomorrow, driven by the power of global trade and technology, versus the outworn giant, obsolescent and weary, but not quite ready for the scrap heap ONE QUARTER MILE OFF THE MEIZHOU WAN PENINSULA PEOPLE'S REPUBLIC OF CHINA 0134 HOURS ZONE TIME; AUGUST 8, 2006

  "Closing on point item, Captain Closing Closing Closing And mark'"

  "Very good, Quartermaster Lee helm, all stop on mamengines Helmsman, initiate station keeping on hydrojets "

  "Aye, aye "

  Everyone on the Cunningham's bridge kept his or her voice low All odds were that a normal speaking tone wouldn't have carried across to the shore of the inlet, but their reaction was instinctive to the black, looming presence of the hills that surrounded them on three sides Sweat prickled under the combination flak vest and life jacket Amanda wore, and the Kevlar helmet she had donned over her command headset pinched painfully She ignored the discomfort, and her eyes flicked from repeater to repeater the sweeping low-light televisions, the passive radar detectors, the radio frequency scanners All clear

  "Deployment crew," she spoke into her lip mike "We are on station Get it in the water "

  Sliding out of the captain's chair, she crossed to the starboard side bridge doorway and stepped out onto the bridge wing Below and forward, deckhands worked swiftly in the dim cool glow of light sticks. The VLS's missile handling crane had been deployed and its cable was now linked to a dark lozenge-shaped object the size of a large hot-water tank Now, with the howl of its motor muffled by a blanket, the crane lifted the module from the deck and swung it out over the rail The winch reel reversed and swiftly the object was lowered into the low, oily swells A line was yanked and a shackle released, freeing it It bobbed at the destroyer's side for a few moments as ballast chambers flooded, and then it was gone, sinking from sight

  "Bridge, buoy has been deployed "

  "Very well Secure the deck "

  Amanda crossed back into the wheelhouse ', back us off about fifty yards on the GPU Hydrojets only "

  "Aye, aye, ma'am Translating astern now "

  Impatiently, she waited out the seconds as her ship re versed silently through the shadows

  "Translation complete, Captain "

  ' ' you, helm Resume station keeping Sonar, this is the captain We are clear of the buoy Transmit your test codes Intelligence section, stand by "

  The Cunningham's sonar transducers swept the surrounding waters with a low powered sound beam, a beam that

  carried a carefully modulated binary message for a certain listener A hundred and twenty feet down, on the muddy bottom of the inlet, the listener responded The maritime reconnaissance buoy uncoupled from its sinker weight and unreeled its mooring line, drifting back toward the surface like an inverted spider on a thread Just beneath the waves, it halted its rise and extended a water proof radio antenna

  "Bridge, this is Raven's Roost We have acquired a test signal All buoy systems read green We have a successful deployment "

  "Very good, Raven's Roost Actuate the buoy "

  The maritime reconnaissance buoy conversed with its mother station aboard the Cunningham for a few microseconds more, then retracted its antenna Smoothly it winched itself back down to the midpoint of its tether A technological first cousin to the naval pressure mine, its anechoic sheathed bulk was packed with hydrophones and signal processors in stead of high explosives From its position within the cove, it would passively monitor the comings and goings of all sea traffic that would come near The accumulated information would be electronically stored for a schedule of highspeed data dumps over the next few weeks Ever since her arrival in theater the Duke had been systematically seeding the Chinese coastal waters between Shanghai and Amoy with a network of these remote sensor units This was the last to go down With its successful placing half of the night's tasking program was complete The riskier part was still under way Amanda paced slowly in front of the helm console Around her, in the dimness, the rest of the bridge crew stood or sat, wire nerved and sweating "CIC, this is the bridge Is Raven's Roost seeing any change at all in the local signal environment?"

  She could have called that same data up on one of the repeaters at her elbow, but at the moment she wanted to hear another human voice "Still okay, Captain," Ken Hiro replied reassuringly "Raven's Roost reports all quiet on all frequencies "

  As per their set doctrine, she and Ken traded off positions when the ship was at battle station--one on the bridge, the other in the CIC, or vice versa as required. Thus, no single hit could likely take them both out simultaneously.

  "We still have another fifteen minutes before they're due back aboard,"

  her exec continued.

  "Yeah." She resumed her pacing, driven by tensions akin to those of a mother whose children were out of reach.

  Twenty miles inland, Vince Arkady found this particular insertion sortie getting old fast. The back of his neck was aching from the drag of the heavy night-vision visor mounted on his flight helmet. He was also perforce having to stay totally focused on the Sea Comanche's controls.

  Retainer Zero One was running in full stealth tonight. The snub wings she usually mounted had been unshipped, and the loss of lift was throwing off his feel for the aircraft.

  For the past half hour, he had been snake-dancing the little helicopter along the ridgeline. Hugging each swale and circling each knoll in an airborne version of a combat infantryman's sprint and cover, he had been giving his passenger the opportunity she needed to conduct her survey.

  "Hey, sis, leave us not take all night on this thing. Okay?"

  "Patience, patience," Christine Rendino murmured back over the intercom.

  "I know what I'm looking for. It's just not all that easy to find i
n this neighborhood."

  In Zero One's rear cockpit, the Intel used a joystick controller to track the helo's thermographic sight along the road that ran up the valley floor. She needed a good patch of cover right up alongside that road, preferably the west side.

  The farms down there had probably been first cleared and divided into fields sometime before the birth of Christ. Since then, God knows how many meager harvests had been worked out of those fields by God knows how many generations of peasants. Even the lower hillsides had been ribbed with growing terraces, eking out every last yard of crop space.

  All of the wildness had long since been worn off this land, leaving only the stone fences and thin, tired soil.

  The search wasn't totally hopeless, however. Many of the fields were overgrown and abandoned. This valley was located dead-on between two opposing armies, and with the ingrained survival instincts of the Chinese peasant, most of the locals had gotten the hell out while the getting was good.

  The occasional light in the lonely scattering of villages marked where someone was either too old to run or too weary to give a damn.

  Christine broke off her line of thought as a darker patch began to scroll across the screen, a large irregular bead strung on the pale thread of the roadway.

  "Okay! That's it, boy! At your two o'clock."

  "Rug, sis. I see it. Scanning for threats ... Looks like nobody's around

  ... Going' in."

  Retainer Zero One kicked over into a dive down toward the valley floor.

  It had been a woodlot. Its spindly collection of poplar trees had been harvested off almost at ground level sometime in the recent past, leaving only a low tangle of brush behind.

  The narrow road that ran through it had been oil-paved at one time, indicating a major thoroughfare for this part of the world. Now, though, that paving was breaking down into potholes and muddy gravel.

  The road wasn't the primary concern this night, barring its utility as a landmark. The regional main-trunk telephone cable buried beside it was.

  To conduct modern-day military operations, rapid and extensive communications are both an absolute necessity and a glaring vulnerability. All radio frequencies can be scanned and monitored, and even the tightest microwave transmissions can leak. Even if all messages are encrypted, an alert Signal Intelligence unit can still learn a great deal from direction-finder bearings and traffic volumes.