The War Planners Series

by Andrew Watts

  The two were quiet for a moment, watching the interrogation going on in the next room, and David went back to looking at the Chinese flight records for the transports taking off and the images taken from the Jimmy Carter off the coast of the Red Cell island.

  “Something doesn’t match up here,” David said to Susan.

  Susan looked at him. “What do you mean?”

  “I’m looking at the records of the Chinese military flights to the Red Cell island. Not all of the planes are actually landing there.”

  The director overheard this. “What do you mean?”

  “Sir, the submarine that’s monitoring the island has been taking pictures of just about every aircraft that lands on that runway. I’ve been comparing them to the Mainland Chinese flight records. Only about a third of the jets are actually landing at the island when they’re supposed to be.”

  Susan’s voice was skeptical. “The submarine probably can’t monitor everything. Maybe some of the aircraft were missed because it had to submerge or something.”

  David shook his head. “I thought about that. But I looked at the timestamps. That can’t be the only explanation. At least two-thirds of these Chinese Air Force transport jets are supposed to be landing at the Red Cell island, but they aren’t.”

  The director asked the obvious. “So if they aren’t landing on the island, but that’s what their flight plan is filed for, then where are they going?”

  David said, “That’s an important question. But what I think we also need to know is…well, I heard you talking about the Chinese leadership denying knowledge of Jinshan’s Red Cell program. But they know that there’s a military buildup there. What I can’t understand is how these aircraft could be landing anywhere else and not alerting Chinese leadership.”

  The director said, “Say more.”

  “Well, sir, at In-Q-Tel, I worked with a lot of military technology from around the world. As I’m sure you know, network-centric warfare has been the big trend since the late nineties. The Chinese are following that trend with all their military equipment modernization. Military leaders want to be able to go to a tactical screen and see every asset they own and where they are at any given moment. In order to accomplish this, the Chinese have always used a system of transponders and GPS antennas.”

  Susan said, “So…you are saying that the Chinese military leaders would have been alerted to their aircraft not going to the Red Cell island.”

  David nodded. “Yes. Military leaders in Beijing should be able to look at a map and see if they have transport aircraft flying to…let’s say, South America.”

  The director said, “Is there any other explanation here?”

  “It’s possible that this is part of another covert operation. But for”—David looked down at his notes—“twenty-two brand-new, massive military cargo jets to disappear without the top generals knowing about it, that seems pretty odd to me. And for that to occur when their destination is Jinshan’s Red Cell island—that seems like too big a coincidence.”

  The director said, “How do we find out where these aircraft are going? And how they are hiding it?”

  Susan said, “Give me a few hours. I think I know who might be able to help.”

  David and Susan sat in a windowless meeting room at the NSA Headquarters in Fort Meade, Maryland. David remembered the man sitting across from them as Diaz, the NSA person who had briefed them at Langley.

  Diaz said, “So I was able to look into what you asked.”

  Susan raised an eyebrow. “And?”

  “Actually, I found something quite interesting. But first let me explain. Chinese military aircraft—as well as many of their other assets, like ships and submarines—all use encryption for their communications.”

  David said, “What about location information? Do their military assets broadcast their location to each other?”

  “Eh. Some of them. Aircraft all do, sure. That’s called IFF. Identification Friend or Foe. Some ships have transponders of sorts. Submarines don’t. Tanks don’t. Soldiers don’t. At least not normally. The reason is obvious. If your enemy were to gain access to your network, they would be able to locate all your assets. And that would mean they could target you very precisely. It would be a huge advantage. But it’s also important for battlefield commanders to know where their units are, right?”

  “Right.”

  “So, modern military forces encrypt all their data. We often shorten the word encryption to crypto. But we in the signals intelligence world don’t need location-transmitting technology to find your location. We just need you to communicate. If you’re broadcasting any electronic signal, that gives away your position.”

  Susan said, “So if the Chinese are operating a secret army in places that they haven’t told all of their military and political leadership about, you would be able to use their communications broadcasts to prove their whereabouts?”

  Diaz said, “In essence, yes.”

  Susan said, “Well, this is great! Do it.”

  Diaz cracked his knuckles. “Right. Well, two things. One, I’ve already found your secret army. They’re in Ecuador.”

  Susan said, “Ecuador?”

  Diaz held up his hand. “And two—this is the interesting thing that I’ve uncovered—they aren’t using the same crypto that the rest of the Chinese are using. Their communications and location information is hidden, even to the regular Chinese military.”

  David said, “What do you mean?”

  “This secret army of yours is using a different crypto key. A piece of hardware with their codes for encryption. There are a whole slew of Chinese aircraft, ships, and submarines, as well as many land-based units in Ecuador, that are using this unique crypto key. It’s the same technology that the PLA is using. But the codes are separate. I’ve looked at it, and I can tell that it’s being changed every ninety-six hours. But we can’t break it. The technology is state-of-the-art.”

  “So what’s next?”

  Diaz said, “We need one of those crypto keys.”

  Susan said, “What do you mean, we need one? Why?”

  Diaz said, “You told me that you need evidence on what the Chinese are up to, right? Evidence that will prove to the Chinese leadership that there is a rogue element—a secret army—operating without its approval?”

  “That’s the idea, yes,” said Susan.

  “Well, we can’t very well show them our own signals intelligence that they’re operating in Ecuador. But if you get me one of those crypto keys, that’s China’s own technology. It would allow me to show the Chinese hard evidence of their own creation that would be easier for them to understand. Plus, it wouldn’t divulge any of our own closely guarded secrets.”

  David said, “So we need to get one of the crypto keys from the Chinese?”

  Diaz said, “Yes.”

  “That doesn’t sound easy.”

  “I imagine it wouldn’t be. But there’s something else. You know how I said that it operates on a ninety-six-hour reset?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, that’s another obstacle you’re going to have to worry about. It’s a security measure. Every ninety-six hours, they change the codes. So if you steal one of these suckers, the codes it’s holding will only be good for ninety-six hours. After that, it turns into a big, heavy, useless black box.”

  David said, “Oh. Good. So we have to steal one of the Chinese crypto keys, but it’ll expire ninety-six hours after we steal it?”

  “Yes.”

  Susan, David, and the director met with General Schwartz as soon as the interrogation finished.

  “Sir, we hit the jackpot. It appears that the Chinese have been sending transport aircraft to Manta, Ecuador. Air Force reconnaissance drones just confirmed the location, and our friends at the NSA confirmed the method of hiding the military assets. We believe that they’re sending troops and supplies there. Some of the transport jets remain on the Red Cell island. When the aircraft that are headed to Ecuador overfl
y the island, they are changing out their identification, using special crypto keys. These are the pieces of hardware that identify the military asset on the Chinese network. We now believe that the military assets working for Jinshan and Admiral Song have their own unique crypto keys. They can use these to talk with and locate each other, without the rest of the Chinese military leadership knowing about it.”

  The general said, “Why would they do that?”

  “Because they aren’t telling everyone in their chain of command what they’re up to,” the director of the CIA said. “We don’t yet know how many of these Chinese military and intelligence personnel are aware that this is a rogue operation. But it is a rogue operation. We know that Cheng Jinshan and Vice Admiral Song are in on it. They’re not being forthright with their leadership.”

  The general shook his head. “Unbelievable. So what then? We just need proof to show the Chinese president? They’ll execute Jinshan and the admiral tomorrow, right? My God…does this mean that we’re about to go to war with Iran all because of these two men?”

  No one spoke.

  Finally the director said, “We need to get hard evidence to show not just to the Chinese leadership, but also to our own politicians. I’m facing some fierce resistance in our own government whenever I broach the subject of China. There is so much intensity on Iran after the Beltway attacks, it’s hard to sway opinions. So, general, we’d like your help in drawing up plans to get that hard evidence.”

  The general said, “Of course. What do you have in mind?”

  Susan said, “We want to steal one of their new crypto keys from their base in Manta, Ecuador. They must have one there. These crypto keys would have the unique data, which our folks at the NSA can then clone. It would provide irrefutable proof of what they’re up to. It would also provide us a snapshot of where all these Chinese assets really are. We can then show this both to our political leaders, and to the Chinese leadership. If we can do that, our hope is that the Chinese hostilities would cease immediately, and we might even be able to scale back what’s going on with Iran.”

  12

  Two Weeks Later

  USS Farragut, Panama City, Panama

  A loud whistle sounded over the 1MC throughout the ship, followed by, “Liberty call, liberty call. All hands, liberty call.” A muffled cheer could be heard below decks.

  Victoria stood on the fantail, looking out on the pier. Seagulls flew over the vendors’ shops. The vendors were the local salesmen from Panama City who would sell trinkets and cigars to the throngs of sailors about to go out on liberty.

  They had left port shortly after the terrorist attack on the D.C. Beltway, two weeks ago. It was a security precaution, ordered by the Navy. But Victoria agreed that it had been the prudent course of action. But after several months at sea with only a few port calls, everyone was pretty upset that they had only been able to get away for a few hours before being recalled.

  She had given the same speech several times now. We need to be thinking about the lives of the men and women who were just taken from us. Our job is to protect and defend. No one should complain about something as petty as going out on liberty at a time like this. The speech rang true. She could see it in her men’s eyes.

  But after two more weeks at sea, when Big Navy had reset the threat level in Panama, they had been allowed back in for another port stop. The captain had given his own speech about how the crew needed to represent the values of our nation, especially after something like the Beltway attack.

  She wondered what was going on in the world. There were too many “Attacks” lately. The Dubai attacks. The Blackout Attack. Now, the Beltway attack. Was everyone losing their minds?

  Victoria walked through the wardroom and found her pilots already in civilian clothes, chomping at the bit to get into the city. She shot them a crooked smile. “Where the hell do you guys think you’re going?”

  Plug smiled back. “I’m taking Juan here into Panama City. He’s my liberty buddy. And he also happens to be a native Spanish speaker. Might come in handy.”

  Juan rolled his eyes. “I don’t technically think you would call me a native Spanish speaker since I was born in the US, but my mother is Mexican and I can speak Spanish.”

  Plug said, “Did you acquire your Spanish speaking skills at an early age?”

  “Sí.”

  “Are you able to produce fluent, spontaneous discourse in said language?”

  “Sí.”

  “That’s native enough to make sure I don’t get ripped off by the bartenders.”

  “Sí.”

  Victoria chuckled. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

  Plug said, “You sure you don’t want to go out on the town with us, boss?”

  You could hear a pin drop as they waited for her to answer.

  While they had invited her out with them the last time they pulled in, that had been the appropriate thing to do. She had accepted, and the polite “hanging out with her men” box had been checked, even if it had ended early. But she knew that the last thing any of them really wanted was for their boss to be out on liberty with them today. Especially Plug.

  She said, “Well…I could have one of you guys stay here on duty tonight instead of letting you go out, now that I think about it…”

  She looked at the expressions of the four junior officers. She made a face like she was thinking about it, trying to inflict as much pain as possible before declining.

  The four pilots held their breath at the threat of losing the only thing that really mattered to them right now. Liberty was more than a meal and a few beers. On ships with little to no Internet, liberty was often the only time they could speak to their wives, families, and significant others. And that was the fuel that kept spirits alive during military deployments.

  She waved her hand. “Nah…you guys go. I’m going to get some work done.”

  A simultaneous exhale from the group. “Okay, well, we’ll see you tomorrow.” They bolted. She had never seen them go so fast.

  The 1MC speaker announced, “Air Boss, your presence is requested in the captain’s cabin.”

  Hmm. Now it was her turn to try and avoid dinner with her boss. That was a much taller task. Oh, well. She would be the good lieutenant commander and take one for the team.

  She marched down the passageway, turning the corner to the captain’s cabin. She nearly fell down when she saw who was waiting for her.

  The captain had a broad smile on his face, standing behind Victoria’s brother Chase. Chase wore a sly grin, happy to surprise his sister. They embraced, joy in her heart.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” she asked after finally giving him room to breathe.

  His expression didn’t change, but the captain’s did, she noticed. The captain looked serious.

  Chase said, “It’s a work-related trip.”

  She nodded. “I see.” There was another man—a Navy commander—sitting in the captain’s cabin. She didn’t recognize him.

  The captain said, “Air Boss, your brother has a very interesting job. He’s done briefing me, so I’ll let you two catch up. He and his colleague said they’d only be able to stay for a few minutes, so I can’t invite them with us tonight. But when you guys are done talking, come find me. I’m dragging you and the XO out for dinner.”

  She smiled politely. “Yes, sir.”

  She motioned for Chase to follow her. She decided to take him back to the hangar. “Come on, I’ll show you the seventy million dollars in helicopters the taxpayers are trusting me with.”

  “Well, there’s a mistake,” he joked.

  She didn’t bother introducing him to her men, some of whom were in the hangar working on the aircraft. Victoria didn’t want to be rude, but she knew that Chase’s work was very sensitive stuff. And while she knew that she might be fanning some rumors with her wide smile and the good-looking man at her side, she wanted to do her part to protect his privacy.

  “So you can only stay a momen
t?” she asked.

  “Yeah, I’ve got to keep moving.”

  They leaned on the metal railing of the flight deck nets, overlooking the water that fed into the Panama Canal. Passenger jets flew overhead every few minutes, landing at the international airport.

  “How’s David?” she asked.

  “Honestly? He’s been better. You spoke to him, right?”

  “Yeah. I called him a few weeks ago. He sounded scared and frustrated. He couldn’t say too much over the phone.”

  She looked around to make sure they were out of earshot. “Anything you can fill me in on? The last thing I saw was what the news put out—saying the whole thing with them being apprehended on cyberterrorist charges was a misunderstanding at Interpol. Then this shit with Iran started happening and the news didn’t care anymore.”

  Chase looked at his sister. “Can I tell you something that’s going to sound crazy?”

  “Yeah.”

  He whispered, “It’s not Iran that we need to be worried about.”

  Victoria frowned. Half the US Navy was being deployed to the Persian Gulf. Shots had already been fired between Iran and the US. Her father had debarked the USS Truman only days before it had been attacked by Iranian cruise missiles. The news was nonstop coverage about an Iranian terror cell attacking American civilians on the D.C. Beltway. Now the United States was getting ready to put an end to the extremist Iranian regime once and for all. The military buildup in the region was similar to the Iraq wars. Any day now, the balloon would go up, and a US-led invasion into Iran would begin.

  “How is Iran not what we need to be worrying about?”

  He shook his head. “I can’t go into it.”

  “Come on, little brother, you can’t say something like that and not give me any more.”

  He looked at her. “Your captain just got orders—he knows what he needs to do. He’s got a sealed mission brief that he’ll give to you if we need you. Otherwise, I can’t go into it.”

  She crossed her arms. “What the hell are you up to?”

  Chase looked at the helicopters, folded and stuffed in the hangers. He said, “What type of mission are you doing here?”