The loss of Terrill had been the one low point and since then McDowell had felt as if he was working blind, Jon Carter’s skills particularly missed, the Englishman never once failing to live up to expectations. Sadly, the same couldn’t be said for the D.C. lawyers tasked with his release; frustrated perhaps by their inability to pin something worthwhile on Carter’s associates, the FBI seemed determined to throw the book at him, accessory to murder their main threat, charges of conspiracy and terrorism also possible. The lawyers had access to an emergency account but that would soon run dry and McDowell was impatient for the investigation to be officially abandoned. With the new Administration needing to focus on more immediate problems, that might not happen for a few days yet and even then it might be considered ill-advised to release Carter.
For Yang Kyung-Jae and Neil Ritter the repercussions had proved even more severe. McDowell had little for concern for Ritter, but Yang’s murder had been a shock, McDowell taken aback by his own deep sense of regret. Yang had always treated him with respect, going out on a limb to offer encouragement and support, even persuading the others to let McDowell take charge; Yang had certainly deserved far more than an assassin’s bullet, affluence obviously no guarantee as to future good health.
One immediate concern had been far more selfish in nature, McDowell relieved to discover that his staged payment and hefty bonus had been transferred only hours before Yang had been killed. Only later did he wonder whether the two events were somehow linked, the attack deliberately timed to take place once McDowell had been paid – if so, that suggested both inside knowledge and excellent judgement. Neil Ritter’s murder so soon after could hardly be down to coincidence and the conspiracy was clearly tearing itself apart; with both naïve paymaster and hireling considered expendable, McDowell too would seem to be under threat – but not just yet, his unique set of skills still very much in demand.
McDowell had deliberately been kept isolated from the main American players and his only contact had always been through Ritter or Yang. Now necessity had helped ensure that protective element of separation had finally been abandoned, McDowell offered an unexpected role in the second phase, a first payment ready and waiting.
If there were concerns that McDowell’s continued participation might be influenced by recent events then they were left unsaid. McDowell could be as irrational as the next man in terms of how he defined loyalty and the murder of Yang was unfortunate; however, risking everything in a futile act of vengeance was stretching any such ties a little too far. Even so, he took his time responding: no well-equipped base, no computer expert, a relatively tight schedule – if McDowell was to stand any chance of success, he would need to call in a good few favours while trusting he could still work some sort of miracle. In twenty-four hours Lavergne and Preston were due to go their separate ways, Costa Rica and Mexico the lucky recipients; now McDowell might well need to ask them to hold on to their dollars for a while longer.
McDowell well recognised that the stress of the past few weeks was influencing his ability to think coherently, his decisions suddenly based more on some irrational desire to prove it was all possible than a logical appraisal of the risks. The precise schedule would be governed by factors well beyond his control, McDowell struggling to know how best to replicate Jonathan Carter’s essential skills. Another major worry was the unexpected tenacity of the various agencies arrayed against them and McDowell had anticipated – even been promised – a winding down of the investigation. His FBI source had already started to distance himself, worried that he in turn was under suspicion – a fact duly confirmed by Jon Carter.
Carter might be drugged up to the eyeballs and supposedly watched every minute of the day, but within twenty-four hours of his arrival at Terrill, he had managed to post an online message detailing the facility’s new role and Anderson’s presence there, also warning McDowell not to make contact. It was typical of the man, and despite his outward appearance and willingness to complain, Carter was well able to look after himself. Their one-sided exchange had also convinced McDowell as to his next move, his decision ensuring he would need to correct at least one unfortunate legacy of the past week.
McDowell had little respect for any politician, viewing D.C. as nothing more than a political abyss, made up men and women fully prepared to barter their own integrity in an attempt to justify their existence. If McDowell could subsequently give some of them a few sleepless nights, then that in itself would be worth a little extra risk.
Chapter 5 – Tuesday, November 15th
South China Sea – 13:50 Local Time; 05:50 UTC
In just two decades Fiery Cross Reef had been turned from a barren spit of land into the biggest military base in the Spratly Islands, a squadron of multirole fighters due to be based there within the year, the harbour large and deep enough to accommodate China’s hunter-killer submarines and warships. A hundred and forty kilometres to the east stood Johnson South Reef; fought over in 1988 with Vietnam the loser, Chinese dredgers had remodelled it into an artificial island, the five acres permanently above sea level transformed into a well-defended base with radar tower, anti-aircraft batteries and gun emplacements, it now home to well over a hundred Chinese marines.
Beijing argued that such additions were primarily for civil purposes, aimed at improving navigation and the reliability of weather forecasts, while also helping provide shelter and fishery assistance to ships of every nationality. Even in China that was regarded as little more than a convenient white lie, the public generally supportive of Beijing’s steady advance south, the natural resources of the South China Sea essential to help meet the country’s future demands. The islands might be a thousand kilometres from the Chinese mainland but Beijing was determined to dominate the region, ancient maps used to justify its territorial ambitions.
China’s military forces throughout the Spratly and Paracel Islands were already on a high state of alert, the U.S. deadline having expired almost ten hours earlier. Beijing had chosen to formally reject it, using the United Nations to defend the indefensible, reiterating China’s historical claim to all of the Spratly Group. It was a risky strategy and a slap in the face to the two non-belligerent countries with a permanent presence on at least one rocky outcrop; Taiwan might be considered by Beijing as nothing more than an recalcitrant region of China but Malaysia had been working hard to build a good relationship with its powerful neighbour. China was not just gaining new enemies, it was also in danger of losing its few remaining friends.
With an attack considered imminent, every new satellite image and intercept was high-priority, details fed first to the intelligence analysts in Zhanjiang before being passed on to Beijing. It thus took just six minutes from when the first U.S. Tomahawk missiles were launched for China’s forces in the Spratly Islands to be made aware that they were the likely target. That still gave the defenders a minimum of thirty minutes, a full half-hour in which to deploy their anti-missile systems; for some perhaps it was also a time to pray. The marines well knew the destructive power of the weapons sent against them, pinning their hopes on their own surface-to-air systems: with a maximum range of forty kilometres, they would have less than three minutes to stop the Tomahawks before the close-in air defence system with its Gatling gun became their final hope.
A total of thirty-six cruise missiles were launched from the two U.S. carrier strike groups, a fraction of the number available but enough to send a suitable message. Despite the missiles being the outdated version, they were still a formidable weapon; real-time data was supplied by satellites and aircraft, a random flight element in the final phase of the attack making them less susceptible to countermeasures.
The Tomahawk’s success rate had always proved to be excellent, sometimes close to 99%. China’s own anti-missile systems tended to be based around Russian designs, Chinese expertise in electronics on occasion making their version superior. The defences protecting Fiery Cross and Johnston South Reefs were untested, their operators unprepared f
or such a large-scale attack; yet this could still prove a stern challenge for the ageing Tomahawk, the first time it had come up against state-of-the-art defences based on Russian know-how combined with Chinese guile.
The U.S. Navy planners had studied the Chinese defences, various attack profiles simulated, the unexpectedly heavy losses assessed. Twelve Tomahawks headed towards Johnson South Reef, it calculated that at worst just two would get through, the island’s major structures their prime target.
For once the experts had erred on the side of caution, although it was still a disappointment, with eight of the twelve Tomahawks destroyed by missiles or the CIWS. The others hit within seconds of each other, turning the small island into a blazing concrete ruin, the Chinese marines struggling to hold back the fires sweeping through the main command centre, the top three floors collapsing around them.
The defenders of Fiery Cross Reef were slightly more successful. Of the twenty-four Tomahawk missiles, only six managed to pass through the storm of missiles and cannon shells. The airfield, harbour and command facilities were all hit, the small island finally living up to its name.
The second of Admiral Adams’ options had been predicted to keep casualties to an ‘acceptable’ level – that however now looked to be highly debatable, China already working on its own form of retribution.
Beijing – 16:44 Local Time; 08:44 UTC
General Liang held his impatience in check, thankful that at least his opinion was considered worthy of respect. His detailed analysis of the military situation was an unwelcome shock to many of those around the table but no-one was yet prepared to dispute his findings – the threat to China’s very existence was real and substantial, with virtually all of projected scenarios offering up a set of unpalatable outcomes.
The emergency meeting of the Politburo Standing Committee (PSC) wasn’t the first Liang had attended but it was the only one where he had sensed a desire to accept the need for compromise. A minority of its seven members might be reluctant to fully accept Liang’s conclusions but the Central Military Commission had had no such doubts, the vote eight-to-two in support of his various recommendations; the one abstention had been their Commander-in-Chief, President Zhao unwilling to prejudice the PSC’s later discussions and eventual vote.
Liang well knew that the blame for allowing such a crisis situation to develop in the first place lay squarely on an ageing faction of politicians and the military. Impatient to reclaim China’s birthright, they had deliberately ignored the risks of alienating each and every neighbour, blindly assuming China’s economic and military strength would be enough of a threat to prevent a violent confrontation, especially with the United States. The economies of the U.S and Russia might well be dependent upon China’s electronic exports but such commercial muscle had needed to be wielded with more subtlety, without it looking to be a form of intimidation or blackmail.
Over the past three decades, it had become acceptable for even China’s middle-class to display the visible trappings of prosperity, the country’s wealth seen in every city and shouted out with every new enterprise. The people were rightly proud of China’s stature in the world and would invariably grow restless should it be threatened; the media might be under strict control but there were plenty of ways around such censorship and it wouldn’t be long before people’s concerns drove them out onto the city streets, a ban on demonstrations never having proved that effective in the past. The inevitable confrontations also had a habit of turning bloody and with a realistic threat of war perhaps only days away, Beijing was loath to adopt a conciliatory approach to internal dissent, fearful that it would be interpreted as a sign of weakness or indecision.
Liang certainly wasn’t alone in failing to understand why anyone would risk throwing away the hard-won economic successes of the past, and if some of the area’s vast resources had to be divided up amongst the Philippines, Malaysia and Vietnam, was that really so unacceptable? Many might equate compromise with weakness, but the advantages for China were too significant to be simply ignored as unacceptable.
A month ago such liberal views were not ones that could have easily been shared, many – like Liang – on the fringes of power keeping their opinions to themselves while outwardly following the party line. Although more willing to speak his mind than most, Liang had still been seen as a faithful and efficient servant of the ruling elite, someone who under different circumstances might have even been invited to join the all-powerful PSC.
China’s system of government had served the country well for forty years, power resting with Standing Committee rather than all 25 members of the Politburo. The PSC’s control extended to picking its own successors and in practice, selection was based more on family and influence than ability, with fixed five-year terms and retirement enforced beyond the age of 68. The flaws implicit in such a system were glossed over; those who appeared to abuse it were quickly dealt with, the innocent condemned as often as the guilty, even the strong quickly learning that reliable allies were essential.
Although his route from university to army general was not in itself a barrier to Liang becoming part of the Politburo, not being a member of the right family or having a powerful patron definitely was. For someone with Liang’s background and abilities, then in a couple of years and with no misjudgements – either military or political – he could have hoped to win enough prestige to be given command of one of China’s five combat zones; in twelve he might even be appointed to the Central Military Commission, probably still the youngest of its members at 62. But that would be as far as he could ever hope to reach.
That had all been true a week ago but no longer. For once China’s leaders had cast off their usual inertia, the accelerating crisis encouraging them to act with unaccustomed haste. Three members of the Central Military Commission had been arrested, four more dismissed; they were replaced by a younger and more pragmatic group of officers, among them a newly-promoted Liang. Even the PSC itself hadn’t escaped the cull, two of its number forced to resign. It wasn’t a coup or anything close but it was a palace revolution of sorts, new blood welcomed in the hope they could prevent the collapse of everything the Party has worked so hard for.
President Zhao’s previous attempt to modernise and weed out the inept from amongst the Politburo had merely come up against a brick wall, the old guard still with enough influence and know-how to take advantage of Zhao’s relative inexperience; now the President could promote those of proven ability without fear of compromising his own position, Liang an obvious candidate who had none of the political baggage of certain of his peers. Considered by many of his colleagues as something of an academic, Liang well-fitted the accepted mould, as interested in the great battles of the past as modern military strategy; he was also a chess player of renown and a capable pianist, yet too extrovert to be called a loner.
Liang had closely followed the accession of America’s new president, noting certain similarities to the means by which President Golubeva had crept unseen into the Kremlin. Although he had no reason to believe such parallels were anything other than coincidence, in both cases each new political scandal or terrorist attack had helped move the present incumbent a little closer to the seat of power, and both now seemed keen to test their mettle against a more intransigent obstacle, namely the People’s Republic of China.
Russia and the United States were not yet exactly allies and trust between them was likely to be fragile at best. Perhaps that was a weakness that could be exploited, a minor crack in the unspoken conspiracy to restrain China’s ambitions. The CMC’s priorities were complex, China needing to fend off Russia, America and Vietnam while simultaneously coping with a renewed separatist campaign. Vietnam and the Philippines still threatened the sea route to the south with their exclusion zone, and Taiwan had earlier cancelled all military leave, its diplomats working hard to garner support from Japan and South Korea. The commercial repercussions were mounting with the South China Sea a no-go area for the world’s merchant fleet
s, vessels diverted east of the Philippines with two days added to reach the key market of Japan. Yet almost half of that marine traffic was destined for China, it suffering as much as anyone.
Even when faced with the cold hard facts, China’s leaders found it hard to accept that China’s very survival was under threat and that the country’s military power was inadequate to meet such a challenge. An army of two million-plus was an impressive statistic but it didn’t give the full story, the many internal divisions and shortage of modern equipment glossed over as an irrelevance.
It was the same with regional conflicts, the lack of understanding and prejudices of those in power often making the situation worse, extreme measures the norm. Liang had previously warned that the situation in Xinjiang was becoming increasingly unstable, the region likely to be a target for covert Russian aggression; true to form, his recommendations had been accepted in full then effectively ignored, the various threats dismissed. Like any committee, the CMC had had its favourites, the local commander’s assurances given far too much credence.
Despite the tense border situation and the threat of military conflict, Russia had chosen to maintain the flow of natural gas through Xinjiang’s Altai pipeline, both countries wary of risking such a mutually convenient enterprise. Unfortunately, the region’s Uyghur separatists saw the pipeline less as a resource and more as a tempting target, finally acting to take the decision out of Moscow’s hands. In a series of terrorist attacks carried out over the past three days, they had cut the Altai and West-East pipelines, as well as putting two hydroelectric dams on the Kashgar River out of action. Repairs were likely to take weeks, the effect on China’s energy supplies potentially a worry but not impossible to deal with. Equally concerning was the message that it sent, militant groups in Inner Mongolia and Tibet likely to be encouraged into similar attacks.
The Rule Of The People (Conspiracy Trilogy Book 3) Page 8