The War Planners Series

by Andrew Watts

He shook his head. “Fine. I don’t care. XO, you take care of it.” The captain stormed out of the room.

  When he was gone, the XO spoke in a softer tone. “Alright, folks. Everyone, let’s just learn from this. Air Boss, why don’t you have your second crew go get ready to launch? I’ll speak with the captain.”

  She nodded and made the call. The XO kept speaking with the team in combat, going over what they had seen. She called Plug and the senior chief, who were waiting back in the hangar. She told them to get the helicopter ready to fly again, and that they would continue the ASW training in a little while.

  When she was off the phone, the XO called her over. “Sorry about that.” He said it softly enough that no one else heard.

  She shrugged. “Nothing you could really do.”

  He gave her a knowing look. “Yeah. Hey, on another note—I was just going over the tapes with our sonar tech and your AWR1. You got a sec?”

  “Sure.”

  They walked over to the two enlisted men, who were standing next to the ship’s high-tech sonar equipment. The XO said, “Tell her what you guys told me.”

  “Boss, we were looking at the tapes,” AWR1 said. “You know how we had two tracks?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, I had assumed that we just got some bad data back when we were pinging our dipping sonar, but we looked at the replay here. And it looks like the Farragut was getting contact on the two separate tracks as well.”

  Victoria frowned. “What do you mean?”

  The ship’s sonar technician pointed to his screen. “You see this here? This is the Colombian submarine. We know that because it corresponds to the location of the Colombians when they said they sunk us.”

  “Okay. What about that one?” She pointed to the obvious other marking on his screen.

  “That’s what we aren’t so sure about.”

  “The second track we had was going ridiculously fast,” AWR1 said. “Like thirty-five or forty knots fast. I just assumed that was fake. And I think I mixed them up. It was actually the other track—that turned out to be the Colombians—that was going five knots. The one that we were chasing was the second track. And that one really did appear to be going over thirty-five knots.” His face was a mix of worry and skepticism.

  Victoria looked up at the XO. “We don’t have any US nukes around here, do we?”

  He shook his head. “Not that I know of.”

  “What about the acoustic signatures? You get anything?”

  The ship’s sonar technician said, “Almost nothing.”

  “Almost?”

  “Well, there was this one line here…but at that frequency it could have been a couple different types of subs, if it really was a sub.”

  “What types?”

  “Well, it could have been a Los Angeles class. Or…”

  “Or what?”

  “Well, supposedly the Chinese have a new type of nuclear fast attack submarine that just came out that has the same characteristics at that frequency range.”

  “Chinese?”

  “Yeah. But that would be kind of crazy for them to be operating out here, near the Galapagos.”

  Victoria nodded. “Alright. Let’s make sure that we’re looking at this stuff during the next flight. Let’s see if we hear it again.”

  “Roger, ma’am.”

  Victoria remained in the combat information center for the second training flight. It went better than the first one, with Plug’s helicopter and the ship both claiming to have successfully attacked the Colombians.

  And this time, no more suspicious second track.

  That evening, the XO checked with COMSUBPAC and verified that there were no US submarines in the area. It had to be a system error.

  The only other alternative would have been that it was the new Chinese Shang-class attack submarine. That would have been highly unlikely. The Chinese didn’t deploy their submarines to this area of the world. Plus, it would have been near impossible for them to operate out here in the vicinity of the USS Farragut and remain undetected.

  After going over the data with the sonar experts on the ship, the XO and Victoria agreed that the second track must have been a fault in the sonar computer system.

  3

  Red Cell Island

  Lena lay on the infirmary mattress. A window revealed the dark green jungle outside. She looked at her arm in disgust.

  Natesh sat in a chair next to her. “You saw my report?”

  She nodded. “I did. It was well done, as always.” He too was looking at the grotesque burns on her arm and shoulder. Then he must have realized that he was staring and turned away, looking instead at the bare stone wall.

  She hated him for making her feel insecure. It was a very rare emotion for her. The permanent burn scars that traveled up her side were hideous, she knew. But she had never cared about her looks. Or at least that’s what she had thought until they were ruined. She had been beautiful. A fact that she had always taken for granted. But that beauty had been burned off by fire on a Dubai rooftop. Perhaps some of her confidence had been burned off as well. In its place was a growing anger.

  Lena closed her eyes and lay back down on the bed. Her mind still a bit foggy from the pain meds. She would stop taking them today, she decided. A clear mind was needed for her role here on the island.

  She said, “Your conclusion was not optimistic.”

  “When we drew up the plans, we expected six months to a year of preparation.”

  “You sound like you’re complaining.”

  “When a project that is supposed to take six months to a year gets moved up by six months to a year—I think it’s justifiable to complain.”

  “And the projects you worked on in corporate America were always on time? Every part always going to plan?”

  Natesh tilted his head, annoyed at the remark. “Of course not. But it’s one thing to switch to alternate plans. It is quite another to have no alternatives.”

  She opened her eyes and rolled out of bed. She walked over to the window. “Talk me through the problems.”

  “The container ships are not ready. The troops are not trained. Not only that, but we don’t yet have the numbers of troops that I expected. Our initial landing spots in the Americas are just now getting their first infusion of Chinese Special Forces soldiers. And most of those units have no clue why they are really there.”

  He paused until she opened her eyes. He leaned forward to emphasize his words. “And the psychological operations have not yet begun.”

  “In China, you mean?”

  “Yes, Lena. We can plan while we are on this tiny island. We can plan all we want to, but that only gets us so far. You know as well as I do that without the alignment of Chinese leadership, none of this is going to happen. All we have so far are plans.”

  “Look at me.” She pulled her shirtsleeve up her arm so that he could get a better look at the burns. He looked, a pained expression on his face. “Do my scars look like we have been just drawing up plans?”

  “No. I’m sorry. But Jinshan promised that we would have more by now. We need more of everything. More ships, more troops, more aircraft. The wheels need to start moving if he expects the timeline to move up as far as he does. I’ve been following the headlines in China. It’s business as usual. This isn’t what Jinshan said…”

  “I know what Jinshan said.”

  “Well, will he follow through? We’ve identified the fixes needed to finish the network outages. I know that the Chinese military readiness has increased in the south, but everywhere else it’s the same. But if we’re going to stick to the schedule…We need manufacturing to shift from commerce to a wartime footing. I just don’t see Jinshan’s promised results happening on time.”

  Lena said, “He’s asked to speak with us in person.”

  “He has? When?”

  “After the Washington, D.C., operation is executed.”

  Natesh’s stomach turned at the mention of that operation. He had bee
n horrified to learn the details.

  “Alright, so we can speak to him about this.”

  “Yes, in Guangzhou. He has asked us to come to him.”

  “Why?”

  She looked at him, not wanting to reveal anything about Jinshan’s health. “Because he is a busy man.”

  A knock at the door, and then one of the Chinese intelligence officers popped his head through. “It’s time. You asked to be alerted when the Washington, D.C., operation was to begin.”

  Lena looked at the clock. Right on time. “Thank you. We’ll be right there.”

  The man nodded and shut the door. “Natesh, things will work out. Cheng Jinshan has devoted the majority of his life to this cause. I have devoted my entire adult life to this cause. We will not fail. I promise you.”

  He sighed. “Okay.”

  She got up and said, “Alright, let’s go watch the fireworks.”

  4

  Tysons Corner, Virginia

  “So you’ve known about this for how long?”

  David Manning stared at his brother from the passenger seat. They were in heavy traffic on Chain Bridge Road.

  Chase said, “I’m gonna take the Beltway.”

  “Don’t take the Beltway. Traffic will be worse there.”

  “I’ll take it to 66.”

  “They’re both going to be parking lots.”

  Chase drove his Ford Mustang onto the on-ramp of the Beltway. David didn’t say anything.

  “Yes, I’ve known about it for a while. Come on, man.” He took his eyes off the road for a split second, making eye contact with his brother. “You know that with my job…I can’t talk openly about everything.”

  David stared out the window. The Beltway was a sea of red taillights, inching along slower than a person could walk. He looked over at his brother. A former Navy SEAL. Now an elite member of the CIA’s Special Activities Division. But he was still human. Stuck in traffic, like the rest of D.C.

  “I warned you,” he said, looking at the logjam.

  “It’ll give us more time to talk,” Chase said.

  David’s phone vibrated, and he scanned his new text message.

  Lindsay: You on your way home yet?

  David: Yeah in traffic

  Lindsay: How’d it go?

  David: Not bad I’ll tell u more when home

  Lindsay: K Love you

  David: love u 2

  David said, “On the one hand, I’m glad to hear that they’re taking the stuff with China seriously.”

  “But?”

  “When we were in that meeting today…the way a lot of those CIA guys were looking at me…”

  “Relax,” Chase said. “They wouldn’t have asked you to be on the team if they didn’t trust you.”

  “I don’t think they all trust me.”

  Chase shot another look at his brother. “You passed the background check. You’ve had multiple polygraphs with some of the best analysts in the world. Your stories check out. And a lot of good people in the military and intelligence community have vouched for you.”

  “But some people still question whether I intentionally gave information to the Chinese…or if I was just too dumb to realize…”

  “You gotta let it go, man. Forgive yourself. Focus on your new mission. Help save the people on that island. And help make sure our country is protecting itself from any Chinese threat. The director personally gave his approval to have you on the team. David. They believe you.”

  David shook his head. “So why are we still about to go to war with Iran? If they really trusted me, they would listen to my warnings. To your warnings too, for God’s sake.”

  “Because it’s hard to stop the drums of war,” Chase said, “and Iran has killed Americans. Whether it was orchestrated by the Chinese or not, whether they were manipulated or not—they’ve killed Americans.”

  He referred to the Persian Gulf attacks a few weeks earlier. After Lena Chou had assassinated the Iranian politician near Bandar Abbas, Iran had retaliated by conducting a surprise attack on US military assets in the Persian Gulf. While the US Air Force and Navy had made quick work of the attacking parties, hundreds of American lives were lost. A tenuous ceasefire was declared. Things had settled down for now. But while Iran and the United States weren’t technically at war just yet, American forces had been building in the region for weeks. And most of the American public was calling for retribution. War might be only days away.

  David shook his head, looking back out the window. “We’re playing right into Jinshan’s hands.”

  “I don’t disagree.”

  “Then why aren’t you angrier?”

  “Because Iran is a destabilizing force in the region,” Chase said. “They’re the largest state sponsor of terrorism in the world. There are lots of people in Iran who would relish a free and democratic government. Maybe all they need is a little help in getting there.”

  David turned to him. “You mean help from our military?”

  Chase shrugged as he changed lanes. “Sure. Why not.”

  “Come on, Chase. You can’t just bring democracy to countries. It isn’t that simple. You of all people should know that. You’ve seen a lot of the results of that sort of thing.”

  Chase shot his brother a dark look. “You’re right. I have seen a lot of the world. Where the American military has tried to bring democracy to other countries. And you’re right. It is complex. It’s not easy. But every country is different. Iran is not Iraq, and it definitely ain’t Afghanistan. All I’m saying is, it sure would be nice if Iran had a free and open democracy. One where they weren’t ruled by an extremist leader. It might be one of the keys to peace in the Middle East.”

  “Alright, I can appreciate that. But still, this whole Iran situation is a setup. It’s been staged by the Chinese. We both know that.”

  “Right, but we can’t prove it. Not to John Q. Public. And that’s what matters.”

  “So then we just let China get away with it?”

  “No.”

  “Then what?”

  Chase looked at his brother. “That’s what you’re on the team for.”

  David sighed. “You’re saying I need to be patient.”

  “Yes. You still have a lot to be briefed on. Trust me.”

  David said, “Alright.”

  A motorcycle puttered and snarled next to their car as its rider revved its engine, his feet touching the ground as the already-slow traffic came to a full stop.

  Chase shook his head. “I forgot why I don’t want to work an office job. It’s this damn traffic.”

  David looked out ahead. Columns of cars, SUVs, and eighteen-wheelers stood still on the Beltway. David heard a few cracks that sounded like fireworks. He looked at the motorcycle next to them, trying to figure out if it was having some sort of engine trouble.

  Then he saw Chase’s face. His brother placed the Mustang in park and reached under his seat, moving fast. He pulled out a canvas black container about the size of a lunch bag and unzipped it.

  “What is that?”

  Chase didn’t respond, just looked up out the window, scanning the horizon. His hands working the bag, reaching for its contents.

  “Chase. What’s wrong?”

  Chase held up his finger. “Shhh.” Then he removed a Sig Sauer P226 9mm handgun from the black bag.

  “Dude. What are you doing?”

  He was still looking forward, through the windshield. David turned to follow his gaze. An overpass stood about a quarter mile in front of them. A plume of black smoke began to rise up from the highway in front of it.

  David said, “Chase, chill out, man. It must be an accident.”

  But as he watched his brother prepare his weapon, he began to suspect that it wasn’t. Chase had been in war zones all over the world. He wouldn’t have retrieved his weapon unless he knew something was amiss.

  Chase shook his head. “You don’t hear that?”

  “What?”

  “Gunfire.”
<
br />   “Hurry up,” the first man said to the second over the sound of liquid splattering on the ground as he poured gasoline onto the highway. Horns blared at them. They had stopped the minivan in the middle of the Beltway, only a few dozen yards before the overpass.

  “I’m going as fast as I can. It won’t come out any faster.” The two men had started pouring gasoline on either end of the minivan. They walked the streams of pungent liquid in a straight line to either side of the highway. Together, the line of gasoline and the minivan would form the blockade.

  The third man stood with his rifle behind the minivan, out of sight of the jammed traffic. A few cars near them realized something menacing was occurring and screeched around the blockade. Engines revved up as they panicked and zoomed past.

  “Now. Light it, light it!” The gasoline vapors ignited before the flame of the long gas grill lighter made contact with the liquid. The spreading fire engulfed the highway in one long strip, cutting off traffic and filling the air with black smoke.

  “Good luck, brothers,” the first man said as he raised his rifle. Both the retractable doors to the minivan were open. The three men hobbled through the opening and out to the other side, where the traffic stood motionless. They fanned out and began marching through the bumper-to-bumper traffic jam. In unison, they raised their rifles and began firing into the cars.

  There were twelve of them in all. Divided into three groups of four. Three separate attacks conducted simultaneously on different parts of the Beltway. That was what the instructions specified.

  Their leader, Javad, had been in the Iranian Ministry of State Security. The others were mere foot soldiers, chosen for their loyalty and competence. But that was a long time ago.

  They held only loose affiliations to each other. A few prayed at the same mosque, but most didn’t attend anymore. Two of the men were roommates. None were married. None participated in any online activity that might get them flagged.

  In truth, most members of the Iranian sleeper cell enjoyed living in America. The weather was nice. There was good food, and plenty of activities to keep them occupied. They enjoyed themselves. They were just good old Americans, who had been living in the United States for almost a decade.