by Don Brown
The sub jumped once … then again as she fired the first of four Mark-48 torpedoes that had the Shi Lang’s name written on them.
“All right, these next two are for you, Bloodhound! Fire torps three and four!”
“Fire torps three and four. Aye, sir.”
Two more jolts to the sub. Now four deadly Mark-48 torpedoes raced through the water at the Shi Lang. Just one, accurately placed, would do the job. But Hardison wasn’t taking any chances.
“Time to impact?”
“Thirty seconds, sir!”
Fantail
USS Shiloh
South China Sea
8:30 p.m. local time
Four men were standing, one scrunched behind the next. Lieutenant Brad Lucas was third in line, sandwiched between two petty officers and behind a fireman chief, who was at the front of the line. They hung onto the high-pressure fire hose, spraying pressurized seawater up high into the ship’s superstructure, battling the flames from the latest explosion.
Two other fire crews poured more water on the orange-red flames billowing from the fantail.
Even twenty yards back from the flames, the heat from the burning ship was oppressive. But Lucas would stand his ground. He would die by fire, or he would die by water. But if he was going to die, he would die fighting.
Control Room
USS Boise
South China Sea
depth 30 feet
8:31 p.m. local time
Time to impact … eight seconds …
“Seven seconds …
“Six …
“Five …”
Commander Hardison gripped the guide bars and watched the illuminated aircraft carrier.
“Two seconds …
“One …”
A giant explosion lit the night sky from across the water near the carrier’s bow! Then, a second explosion amidships!
“Bull’s-eye!” Hardison muttered.
Cheering erupted as real-time images of the flaming carrier appeared on control-room screens.
This was followed by a third explosion … and then a fourth!
All four torps had landed on mark! Shi Lang did not stand a chance. She was going down!
“Down scope!” Hardison ordered.
“XO. Notify CINCPAC. USS Boise reports, bull’s-eye times four!”
“Aye, Captain.”
“Helmsman. Dive to two-zero-zero. Set course for two-seven-zero. All ahead full!”
CHAPTER 31
Presidential Palace
Zhongnanhai Compound
Beijing, People’s Republic of China
9:00 p.m. local time
The two men walked together, their spit-polish black shoes clicking down the marble corridor as they approached President Tang’s office. Though the political infighting between the Chinese Army and Navy had often been fierce, these two men had formed a special bond. At least General Shang felt that way.
Perhaps the bond had been forged by a common, yet unspoken, understanding that the two of them, together, represented the only real counterbalance against the man known as the Raging Dragon.
Of course they could never say this, because if such talk were overheard by vicious, backstabbing subordinates anxious to get in Tang’s good graces, they could wind up on the short end of a deadly power play.
Now, together and united, they faced the dreadful responsibility of informing Tang of the single greatest Chinese military disaster in a hundred years.
This loss, in Shang’s opinion, was solely on Tang’s shoulders. He had become too aggressive, too quickly, believing propaganda spewed by the party machine branding him as a “military genius” or, as some said, as the “Chinese Napoleon.”
Tang would never acknowledge his own responsibility in this. His massive ego would not allow it. Shang wondered whether either he or Zou would survive the news they were about to deliver. He should have ordered young Captain Lo Chen to remove Tang’s revolvers from his desk.
Of course, Shang even worried about Lo Chen’s loyalties. Although it had been he—Shang—who had gotten Lo Chen the job with the president, after Tang oddly requested a younger male officer for his attaché, Shang worried that Lo Chen may have fallen too far under Tang’s spell.
“My General,” Admiral Zou said as they approached the entrance to the presidential office, “no matter what happens, I wish to say that it has been an honor to work with you.”
Shang smiled at his friend. “These are my sentiments toward you also, Admiral.”
“Sir,” Zou said, “the Shi Lang was a naval vessel. There is no point in both of us taking the fall. Let me accept responsibility. China needs you to remain at your post.”
The men stopped in front of the door to Tang’s office. Shang put his hand on Zou’s back and lowered his voice to keep out of earshot of the two officers guarding the entrance to the office. “Admiral, I admire your character. But I am minister of national defense. Ultimate military responsibility is mine. I will not, if I can help it, let you take the fall for this.”
Zou nodded.
“Ready, Admiral?”
“As ready as I can be.”
They stepped forward, and one of the officers opened the door. The other announced their arrival.
As the senior officer, Shang stepped in first. Tang was sitting behind his desk. Off to the side, young Captain Lo Chen was pouring some nuts into a bowl. He then began preparing another evening drink for the boss, which was a recipe for a fire-on-gasoline tantrum.
“General. Admiral. Sit!” Tang ordered. “I take it you have good news from the South China Sea. Let me speculate.” He took a swig of liquor. “Our flagship, the Shi Lang, has sunk this American cruiser the Shiloh!”
Shang and Zou exchanged glances. “Sir, our planes have scored a direct hit on the Shiloh. We believe it has sustained considerable damage. However, I must inform you,” Shang said, “of very tragic news.”
“Tragic news?” Tang stood up. “You are not going to tell me that the Americans have recaptured the Emory Land, are you?”
Shang hesitated. “Mister President, the Americans have in fact retaken the Emory Land. But that is the least of our troubles. There is tragic news, sir.”
“Tragic news,” Tang said. He reached into his top drawer and extracted one of the pearl-handled .38-caliber revolvers he kept in his desk, which he had become enamored with when, as a student at Harvard, he saw the movie Patton. “Now then”—Tang blew on the silver barrel of the .38—”what is this tragic news of which you speak?”
“Mister President, I regret to inform you that the Shi Lang has been sunk.”
Showing no emotion, Tang took the gun and pointed it at Shang. “Did you just tell me, General, that the Americans have sunk the flagship of the Chinese fleet? The great capital ship that we spent more than a dozen years building after we purchased it from Ukraine?”
Shang did not flinch. “Sir, I did not say the Americans sunk her. All we know is that she was torpedoed multiple times, the suspected work of a submarine.”
Tang spewed a bloodcurdling scream. “Of course it was the Americans, General. You know that! You are not that stupid!” He pointed the revolver at his own right temple.
“Mister President! Don’t!”
“What do you expect me to do?”
Tang aimed the revolver at the wall and fired. He fired again. Another shot hit the wall. Then a third shot busted a lamp on a side table. The bulb exploded.
The two guards rushed into the office, weapons drawn. “Mister President!”
“It’s okay,” Shang said to the guards. “Stand down and return to your posts outside.”
“Yes, sir.”
The president aimed the revolver at the liquor glass for a final shot. The glass shattered in another deafening explosion.
After the shooting spree, a strange calm overtook Tang. Gently, he laid the revolver in his desk drawer.
“Sometimes,” he said in a soft voice, “this sort of thing is
necessary to deter would-be assassins.”
“Of course, Mister President,” young Lo Chen said, sounding like a dutiful lap dog.
“Surber has made the mistake of attacking our flagship. But Surber should have read the Art of War.” Tang looked at Shang. “General, what would Sun Tzu do if he were here?”
Shang thought for a second. “Mister President, Chinese military philosophy, embodied in Sun Tzu’s classic work Art of War, underscores above all the need for decisiveness in military action.”
“Precisely. And when I wrote that two thousand six hundred years ago in the reign of Emperor Quianlong, it was true then and is true today. Great military minds, such as Napoleon, MacArthur, and Mao, have drawn from my words.”
Shang did not respond.
“Why do you look so incredulous, gentlemen? You do not believe in reincarnation?”
No response.
“Consider yourselves fortunate. Only a few know the truth.” He rose from his chair, towered over them, and declared, “I am Sun Tzu! Tang Quichen and Sun Tzu are one and the same! And I have come to redeem for China what I began twenty-six centuries ago!”
It was as if some spirit had taken over his body. “But the time for my revelation has not yet come. Soon, but not yet. Therefore, I order you to say nothing until I expose this truth to the world!”
“Of course, Mister President.”
“Now then,” Tang’s voice turned chilly cool. “Admiral Zou.”
“Yes, sir.”
“What is the Americans’ largest base on their West Coast?”
“That would be San Diego, sir.”
“And I seem to recall that San Diego is the homeport to several aircraft carriers?”
“Yes, sir,” Zou said. “USS Ronald Reagan, USS John Stennis, and USS Carl Vinson.”
“Admiral, how many of those carriers are in port now?”
“Two, I believe, sir. Stennis and Reagan.”
“Very well. Has my order to arm five DF-31A missiles and have them ready for launch been completed?”
“Yes, sir,” Shang said.
“I want all five targeted on San Diego. Armed with nukes. If they are going to take out our carrier, we are going to take out theirs. I want those missiles launched in one hour.” He looked at his watch. “It is about 6:00 a.m. there now. I think we should treat San Diegans to a rather spectacular sunrise.”
“But Mister President …”
“Do you have a problem, General?”
“No, sir. But I do have a suggestion.”
“Speak, General.”
“Well, sir, in deference to Sun Tzu’s philosophy of decisiveness in military action—”
“That is my philosophy!” Tang screamed. “It is my creation!”
“Yes, sir,” Shang said. “And in deference to your philosophy, rather than limiting the strike to five missiles, which would obliterate San Diego but leave the Americans with a capacity to strike back, I would suggest an all-out barrage with over twenty-five missiles against various civilian and military bases. If we’re going to strike, let us make sure that we cripple them to the point they cannot retaliate.”
“An excellent idea, General Shang!” Tang’s eyes sparkled. “You have studied my philosophies well! But I do not wish a long delay.”
“The delay would not be long, sir. I would need to present a list of targets for your approval, which will take about an hour to assemble, and then we program more missiles for those targets. We can be ready to deliver a fatal blow to the Americans within three hours. This is my recommendation, sir.”
Tang leaned back and grinned. Shang could feel the stare of Admiral Zou.
“Very well!” Tang said. “Meet me back here, General, in one hour with target recommendations.”
“With pleasure, sir!” Shang said. “And I shall make sure Captain Lo prepares lots of tea and food. We are in for a long night, Mister President, but we look forward to a glorious morning for China!”
Presidential Palace
Zhongnanhai Compound
Beijing, People’s Republic of China
10:00 p.m. local time
Once again, for the fourth time in the last twenty-four hours, General Shang was walking down the long hallway leading to the president’s office. But this time he did not have disastrous news to deliver. And this time, he did not have Admiral Zou at his side. No point in having the admiral here. Not yet anyway.
“Is the president in his office?”
“Yes, sir,” the chief guard said. “Shall I announce your arrival, General?”
“Not quite yet,” Shang said to the guard. “I’m waiting on Captain Lo Chen.”
Just then, Lo Chen rounded the corner, carrying a silver tray with hot tea, coffee, sugar, fruits, and pastries.
“Captain, I need to have a word with you. Major, will you take the tray for a moment while I speak with Lo Chen?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Step over here a moment, Lo Chen.”
“Yes, General.”
“I have fabulous news! I am recommending you for promotion to Colonel!”
“Really, sir?”
“Yes, and this will be one of the fastest promotions in the history of the Army! I have spoken with the president and he approves. But I want to do this right now. We want history to record that you bore the rank of colonel at the moment of the great victory that we are about to achieve.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Take this letter to my chief of staff. Right now. We will expedite your promotion before sunrise. I will tell the president where you are.”
“Thank you, General!” The boy-wonder captain shot an enthusiastic salute, then took the letter and hurried down the hall.
Admiral Zou joined the general just as Lo Chen was leaving. “Where is he going?”
“I sent him on an errand. Are you ready, Admiral?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Major, I’ll take the tray. Please announce our presence.”
“Yes, sir.”
The major opened the door to Tang’s office.
“Good evening, Mister President,” Shang said.
“Do you have targeting recommendations?”
“I do, sir. All of our missiles are programmed, but I realized that we targeted only the American mainland. So I sent Lo Chen to deliver orders to target Pearl Harbor also.”
“Excellent!” Tang said. “Excellent!”
“As I recall, you take your tea with one packet of sugar, sir?”
“Yes, and I need a caffeine shot to counteract some of that liquor that Captain Lo was feeding me.” Tang laughed.
“It is going to be a great night for China, sir.” Shang emptied the packet into the president’s tea. “And a great sunrise in the morning! All of our missiles are ready, except the missiles to target Hawaii, and I would like to spend a few minutes going over our targeting options, starting with our West Coast targets and moving east.”
“Excellent.” Tang took a sip of his tea. “I take it that Los Angeles and Seattle will also be targeted this time?”
“Yes, of course, Mister President, as well as San Francisco. San Diego and Seattle represent their largest West Coast naval installations.”
“I … I …” Tang’s eyes began to cross.
“Mister President? Are you feeling okay?”
“I …” Tang slumped over in his chair, then tumbled to the floor.
Admiral Zou stood and started to head over to Tang, but Shang motioned him back. “Stay back, Admiral.”
“But—”
“Admiral, do you suppose he forgot the last words of chapter three that he wrote twenty-six centuries ago? Those words … do you remember?”
“‘If you know neither yourself nor your enemy, you will always endanger yourself.’”
CHAPTER 32
The Situation Room
the White House
11:00 a.m. local time
Mister President, you have a call from Beijing,” Arnie Brubaker
said.
“Is it Tang?”
“No, sir. It’s General Shang Xian, the minister of national defense.”
Douglas Surber looked at the members of his national security team. “That’s odd. Do we know this guy?”
“I’ve met him,” Admiral Jones said. “Seems reasonable enough.”
“Put him on speaker, Arnie.”
“Yes, sir.”
“General Shang, this is President Surber. What can I do for you?”
“President Surber. It is a pleasure. I am calling because China would like to accept your invitation to negotiate with the US and Taiwan, and we are prepared to enter into an immediate cease-fire as a measure of good faith.”
Surber hesitated. Was this a hoax? “I welcome your words, General, but if I may ask, where is your president?”
“Aah. Unfortunately, President Tang is very ill. The doctors tell us he has suffered from an aneurysm and is indefinitely incapacitated. The Chinese military is temporarily in charge of the operations of the government until the People’s Congress can appoint a replacement. But you have my word as an officer that I speak for the government, and we would like to negotiate a quick settlement.”
Surber looked at the secretary of state, who nodded.
“When and where would you like to meet, General?”
“I’ve always wanted to visit Hawaii, Mister President. Perhaps your government would consider hosting an emergency summit there.”
“Tell you what. Let us contact President Lu of Taiwan and we will get back with you.”
“Very well. I look forward to hearing from you, sir.”
CHAPTER 33
Punchbowl National Cemetery
Honolulu, Hawaii
48 hours later
Under rich blue skies and surrounded by luscious greenery, the podium had been erected just in front of the marble statute of Lady Columbia, which had inscribed upon it the immortal words of Abraham Lincoln to Lydia Bixby, who lost all four sons in the American Civil War.
The solemn pride that must be yours,
to have laid so costly a sacrifice upon the altar of Freedom.
President Douglas Surber glanced at the words once more before stepping to the podium, where he was flanked by the Chinese defense minister and the Taiwanese president.