“No, they remain in the dark about our surveillance.”
“Okay, let’s run a BOLO on these turkeys, see if we can pick ’em up.”
“Will do, John. I’d also like to beef up our security measures in case they come back.”
“Go ahead.”
Chapter 44
Day 24—Tuesday
“How much time do we have?” asked the president of the People’s Republic of China.
“Maybe a week, perhaps two.” The Chief of Staff of the People’s Liberation Army-Navy faced his boss across an elegant teak desk.
“What can the Americans do?” asked President Chen Shen.
Admiral Soo Xiao squirmed in his seat. “They will likely condemn us in the United Nations and then impose economic sanctions.”
“Military activity?”
“We just don’t see that happening,” Soo said. “They have no solid evidence that directly implicates us.”
“Sinking the oil tanker and blowing up the pipeline—I’d say that’s solid evidence.”
“But our cover story remains intact. All they have or will have are allegations from the Russians.”
President Chen was not sold. “The Americans will believe Kirov.”
“I understand your concern, sir. But please consider that the weapon was obliterated when the Yangzi caught fire and blew up. In fact, we now think that it was the Mark Twelve that detonated, which resulted in the sinking.”
“How could that have happened?” Chen tapped his left foot on the carpet. Over an hour had passed since his last cigarette.
“Kirov might have sabotaged the device.”
“Didn’t our people check it?”
“We don’t know. Kwan Chi claims the zhongdui officer in charge of the operation checked the Mark Twelve after recapturing the ship and told him it was safe.”
“Sounds like something might have been missed.”
“Yes, it does.”
Chen stood up. “I need a break.”
“Of course, sir.”
Admiral Soo followed China’s president through a rear door in the office into a hallway that led to a stairwell. After ascending two flights, the two men stood under a covered roof awning located at the peak of the mid-rise tower. It was a miserable afternoon, sticky hot with no hint of a breeze. Beijing’s world-class smog shrouded the spire, spoiling the view of the sprawling metropolis.
The president lit up, enjoying his fifth Marlboro of the day. Soo endured the stench without comment.
Screened with tinted, bullet-resistant glass panels to prevent snooping eyes from nearby buildings, the smoking palace provided the president with a convenient location to indulge his principal vice half a dozen times each day.
Chen was halfway through the smoke when he said, “Admiral, you may be right about the Americans’ reaction, but what about the Russians?”
“We believe they remain in the dark about Kirov.”
“But Moscow knows something happened. Besides Kirov, they had SVR agents aboard the yacht.”
“Correct. But all they know is that the yacht was involved in an operation directed against the United States—not Russia.”
Chen took a deep drag. “Washington will no doubt blackmail us with this information.”
“That’s possible.”
“It’s what I would do.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Is there any way that we can get to Kirov? Without him, the Americans will have nothing.”
“Guo Wing and his people, along with the Eu Bu, are looking at that option. The FBI has him rat-holed somewhere. It’s unlikely they will find him anytime soon.”
“What about his woman?”
“Despite the initial setback, the operation is still underway.”
The president was privy to the scheme engineered by Guo Wing and his MSS operatives. The money trail would lead to the SVR. The Americans would conclude that Moscow hired the gunmen to kill Laura Newman as revenge for Yuri Kirov’s treason.
President Chen crushed the butt in an ashtray stand. “Let’s hope all of this works, Xiao. We need to string them along to give us time to get ready.”
“So, you have decided to continue with Sea Dragon.”
“Yes.”
* * * *
President Chen returned to his office. Admiral Soo had just departed. Chen poured himself a second cup of coffee, another of his vices. He had fifteen minutes before his next meeting and welcomed the downtime. Doubt consumed Chen as he settled into in his chair. Admiral Soo’s steadfast bearing helped bolster Chen’s apprehension over reauthorization of Operation Sea Dragon. Still, the dread remained. We’re sinking deeper into the abyss each day and I can’t stop it!
Two years earlier, the Standing Committee of the Central Political Bureau of the Communist Party of China, aka the Politburo Standing Committee, mandated that Chen address the American problem. He was the logical choice.
Groomed for high office in the Communist Party due to his father’s influence as a government minister, princeling Chen Shen earned a BA from Cornell and an MBA from Stanford University. The six years he spent in the United States provided him the opportunity to study the enemy’s strengths and weaknesses. Although he led a pampered life as a student and was constantly monitored by the MSS to ensure his protection as well as prevent him from straying, Chen admired America by the time he returned to his homeland. They’re good people—generous people. Chen also respected the freedoms American citizens enjoyed, knowing such liberties were impossible in China under his party’s rule.
Nevertheless, the quality of life in China was improving under authoritarian capitalism. With an expanding middle class powered by a colossal export machine and a burgeoning military, China was on the verge of earning superpower status. One obstacle remained.
Washington continually tries to box us in! They block us on every front—fearing our eventual dominance.
The United States government’s policy toward China could be summarized in one word: containment. They say we don’t trade fair. We trade to win—whatever it takes. That’s in our DNA!
They chastise us on human rights, claiming we abuse our citizens. We are different from the West—our people need strong leadership at the top that extends downward to all levels. We are surrounded by enemies. Our military must be able to protect the homeland and secure our economy.
Several years earlier, the economic forecast authorized under secret decree by the Politburo Standing Committee had cast the first warning. China’s export juggernaut had peaked. The model predicted a steep decline in annual growth with cascading consequences. Tens of thousands of state-run enterprises were identified as in jeopardy. Operated inefficiently for decades and ripe with corruption, the government-owned companies could not compete on a global level without continual renourishment from the central government. But with growth slashed, China’s cashflow also tanked. Severe pushback from the United States on China’s predatory trade practices further aggravated the state of affairs. The once endless gusher of yuan was drying up. President Chen’s and the PSC’s principal worry was jobs. It’s already started! Twenty thousand lost just this week!
No longer able to prop up the SREs that could not compete, Beijing had no choice but to allow the slaughter. The economic model predicted stability if half of the SREs were shut down. But the price was astronomical.
Forty million jobs! How can we ever allow that to happen?
The middle class would take the brunt of retooling China’s economy. With looming massive unemployment, the Communist Party’s days would be numbered. China’s next revolution was already in the making, and that realization struck fear in every member of the Politburo Standing Committee.
We must divert the workers’ attention to provide time to make the transition.
Operation Sea Dragon was the de
signated diversion. The invasion of renegade Taiwan and its return to the homeland would galvanize the populace. Confiscating the island’s assets would bolster China’s wealth. Legions of unemployed mainlanders would take the jobs of the hapless Taiwanese.
The one obstacle to the PSC’s grand scheme was the United States. The original plan would have worked wonders. Let Russia and the USA beat each other’s brains out and then we take Taiwan—a real cakewalk. But not now. Chen and the PSC no longer wondered if the USA would help defend Taiwan. Recent intelligence reports revealed the Americans were about to base military assets on the island.
It can still work, but we must catch them by surprise.
Admiral Soo can do it!
Chapter 45
Day 25—Wednesday
Yuri sat at the Novosibirsk’s wardroom table with Captain Petrovich and Lieutenant Tumanov. Petrovich had called the meeting.
“Well, gentlemen,” Petrovich said, “we’ll be arriving offshore of Qingdao in about ten hours. It will be dark then—twenty-two hundred hours local.” He pointed to the paper navigation chart. “Depending on what we encounter, I plan to release the P-815 in this area.”
Yuri eyed the chart scale and made a quick estimate. “Sir, that’s about twenty-five kilometers out. It was my understanding that we’d have a shorter run.”
“I know, but the situation has changed. Vladivostok just provided an update. The Liaoning returned to its berth in Qingdao along with its escorts.”
Tumanov groaned and Yuri’s spine stiffened. The Liaoning was China’s first aircraft carrier and the pride of the North Fleet. When a warship is at anchor or moored alongside a pier or wharf, it is essentially defenseless—vulnerable to a host of hazards that include aerial attack, underwater sabotage and assault from shore.
Petrovich continued, “With Liaoning and its strike group docked at Qingdao, I think you both know what that means.”
“Harbor defenses will be at maximum,” Tumanov offered.
“Correct. With almost the entire North Fleet beached, you can expect the PLAN will deploy all assets to provide maximum protection.”
Yuri said, “Captain, do we have any idea how long the Liaoning battle group will remain at berth?”
“Fleet estimates a couple of days, and then it’ll head south.”
Yuri turned to face Tumanov. “We’ll really have to watch out for their ASVs.” Yuri referred to autonomous surface vessels—unmanned patrol craft controlled by artificial intelligence software.
“How capable are they?”
“Very. They can swarm and overwhelm a target with multiple units. Similar to what the U.S. Navy uses.”
“Are these the ASW craft for which the Chinese got access to the software?”
‘Yes,” Petrovich said. “It was stolen from the American contractor that developed the AI system for the U.S. Navy.”
“That means it works well.”
“I’m afraid so.”
Yuri picked up one of the aerial photos stacked on the table. He pointed to the image of Qingdao while facing Tumanov. “Lieutenant, perhaps we should make our approach by hugging the eastern shoreline and staying on the industrial side of the harbor. We could then head toward the center of the bay for deployment.”
Petrovich glowered. “You’ll still have a long swim to the sub base—maybe five to six kilometers.”
“I know. That’s about maximum range with a DPV, so we’ll really have to watch power usage.”
“That sounds marginal, Kirov. The entire mission will be blown if any of you end up stranded and captured by the PLAN.”
“I understand, sir.”
“Well, you and Tumanov rethink your plan.” Petrovich stood, signaling the end of the meeting. “Remember that we’ve got to repeat the same process for the East and South Fleets. Our activities cannot be detected at any of the locations.”
Yuri and Tumanov stood and Yuri spoke for both of them. “Understood, sir.”
* * * *
One hundred fifty-two nautical miles northwest of the Novosibirsk, the two-hour briefing at the Qingdao Naval Base concluded. The commanding officers and executive officers for the twenty-two warships based at the People’s Republic of China’s naval base attended the top-secret meeting.
The Heilong’s CO and XO were dining together at the officers’ mess in the naval station’s headquarters building. Less than a year old, the sprawling four-story structure occupied a prime section of waterfront along Jiaozhou Bay. The two men sat at a table in a corner, away from the clamor of the main dining area. Both ordered noodles and steamed bass with green tea.
They continued to decompress from the briefing where they learned the Heilong would soon be heading to the South China Sea along with the majority of the North Sea Fleet to participate in China’s largest maritime exercise.
“The Americans will be watching us during the entire operation,” offered Lieutenant Commander Zheng Qin.
“I’m sure they will—just as we do to them,” Commander Yang Yu said.
“I don’t like it. They want war.”
“I’m not sure about that. We might be pushing a little too hard.”
Zheng looked up from his plate, his brow crumpled. “What do you mean, Captain?”
“Our South China Sea policy. The rest of the world does not see it our way.”
“But they’re wrong. The Nanshas are ours. We discovered the South Sea Islands 2,000 years ago!”
“I know the history, too, Qin. But remember, we lost the case with the Philippines.”
“That tribunal in the Hague—what do those morons in Europe know about our waters?” Zheng boosted his voice. “What gives them the right to judge us?”
“Calm down. You’re too emotional over this.”
Heilong’s executive officer exhaled. “Sorry, sir.”
“Regardless of how you and I may feel about the situation, we have orders and we will carry them out.”
“Yes, sir.”
The Heilong’s first task was to escort the Liaoning battle group to Hainan Island, where the ships would join the rest of the taskforce assembling at the Yulin Naval Base. While the taskforce prepared, the Heilong would remain at sea, sanitizing the war game site near the Spratly Island group.
Commander Yang took a bite of bass before continuing. “As you correctly noted, the taskforce will be watched the entire time by the Americans. They will have at least one submarine shadowing everything we do.”
“We should force them out. Those are our waters. They should not be allowed to spy on us.”
Yang almost rebuked Zheng a second time but contained himself. His young second in command remained brainwashed by Communist doctrine, which limited his ability to see beyond lockstep protocols. To survive in subsea warfare, Yang knew from experience that the commanding officer of an attack submarine must remain flexible in his response to the ever-changing battle environment. Following rules without seeing beyond the “cube” was a pathway to a sinking.
“Consider our task as a blessing, Qin. We will be allowed to seek out and identify any unknown submerged contacts. We can run through the full fire control procedures on a real target. We can’t actually fire but it will force the Americans into countermeasures.”
Zheng smiled, the light turning on. “And we’ll be listening at the same time. We’ll learn much about their evasion maneuvers.”
“Exactly.”
With their meal finished, Yang and Zheng refreshed their mugs. Executive officer Zheng remained fixated on the U.S. Navy.
“Sir, what did you think of the Americans when you observed RIMPAC?”
“Courteous, competent, and very confident.”
Commander Yang had served as an observer aboard a PLAN destroyer that participated in the previous year’s Rim of the Pacific naval exercise. Twenty-two nations, forty-eight
ships, six submarines, over 250 aircraft, and 27,000 personnel participated in the month-long exercise that took place around the Hawaiian Islands and off the California coast. China’s contingent consisted of five ships but no submarines. Beijing declined to send a submarine for fear of spying by the West.
“What did you think of their ASW capabilities?”
“Lethal. Their systems are superior to ours.” Commander Yang’s principal task was to assess antisubmarine warfare tactics employed by the U.S. Navy and its allies. It was a true eye-opener.
Zheng slumped in his seat. “I’ve heard that before, too.”
“The new Boeing platform is particularly concerning. They had several at RIMPAC.” Yang pursed his lips. “Just one of those jets was able to orchestrate the hunt for the target sub in the main exercise—a nuclear powered boat from Great Britain. The Poseidon coordinated with four destroyers and half a dozen helicopters to track and then execute a kill—within just three hours.”
The U.S. Navy’s P-8A Poseidon Sub-Hunter was based on the Boeing 737 airframe.
“Hmmm,” mumbled Zheng. “At least we won’t have to worry about that during the exercise.”
“Not for in-water monitoring. That would be too provocative. But you can be certain the Americans will have aircrafts watching from a distance—possibly a Poseidon.”
Zheng was still agitated. “I suppose they’ll also have one of their new hunter-killers shadowing us.”
Commander Yang nodded. “You can count it. Might even be the same one that followed us into port.”
Yang referred to the U.S. Navy’s Virginia-class fast-attack submarine. Nearly 380 feet long with a beam of thirty-four feet, the $2.7 billion nuclear powered vessel was packed with cutting-edge electronics and weapon systems envied worldwide, especially by the PLAN. The Virginia-class boats could operate in shallow brown-water situations just as well as deep-blue conditions. The Heilong and its sister nukes lacked shallow water maneuvering capability.
Zheng reached into a shirt pocket and removed a pack of cigarettes. He was about to light up when Yang pointed to a nearby wall sign. PLAN bureaucrats recently decided to implement a new program to prohibit smoking in mess areas. Zheng frowned and returned the Furongwang to the pack.
The Faithful Spy Page 18