War of Eagles o-12

by Tom Clancy

  After talking to the men, Herbert wondered how and why this had become strictly an American situation. There was the involvement of Unexus, but that was an international concern.

  Once again, a global crisis has become Op-Center’s problem, he thought. By extension, the intelligence gathering became his problem. Ordinarily that would be a challenge. At the moment, it was also distracting. Herbert had a sense that he was being graded on his performance. General Carrie’s questions and the fact that new officers tended to make changes had him feeling defensive, insulted, and definitely off his game. He had not even been that paranoid in Beirut, where there was every good reason to be. And apparently, this was Op-Center’s problem alone. Herbert received on-line intelligence summaries twice daily from Homeland Security, part of their IDEA program: intelligence data, external access. The mailings offered headlines from every major division of the CIA and FBI as well as the National Security Agency and the National Reconnaissance Office. No one had the Chinese satellite on their agenda. Even the FBI, which had the Charleston explosion on their active-investigations list, had logged the attack as “having the earmarks of an intranational conflict that happened to fall on American soil.” That was probably true. The FBI had obviously read the report Herbert and his small staff had filed on the IDEA Web site the day before.

  A call from Mike Rodgers lifted Herbert’s mood considerably. The sound of Rodgers’s voice from Beijing held the promise of information. More, it momentarily returned him to a time when the mission itself was more important to him than how it — or he — were perceived.

  Herbert’s soul deflated when he heard that Rodgers was phoning to follow up on a conversation he had just had with General Carrie.

  “She’s giving you command of our field team,” Herbert repeated when Rodgers had briefed him. The intelligence chief could not help but wonder if this was general to general or if Carrie would have given Paul Hood the same access. His instincts told him Hood would not have gotten the team.

  “This is a loan, in case it’s necessary,” Rodgers said.

  “How will they get in?”

  “I have notified my associates to provide entry codes and passes for your people,” Rodgers said. “I have also asked them to identify all access areas to the rocket and the satellite. The NRO will be sending me up-to-date images of the facilities and will also be watching for unusual activity. What I need from you are photographs for the IDs and a patrol pattern our unit can pursue.”

  “You want photographs of our undercover HUMINT personnel,” Herbert said.

  “The Chinese will see their faces anyway—” Rodgers said.

  “But Chinese functionaries will be uploading them into a computer to print badges. They will remain in Chinese computers.”

  “The work roster will list them as on loan from various universities to help with different facets of the countdown,” Rodgers said. “Their real local covers will not be blown.”

  “Mike, you don’t think the Xichang director will check that?”

  “He’s the guy who’s helping me organize this,” Rodgers said. “He will sign off on their credentials. When this is done, the photographs will be deleted.”

  “So he says,” Herbert said. “Your boy may end up looking for a budget increase by turning in spies.”

  “Spies that he allowed in,” Rodgers said. “There is no gain for him. Look, Bob, there are risks in any operation. These are worth it.”

  Mostly to Unexus, Herbert thought. Rodgers may have turned in his uniform, but he was still a gung ho general. He had substituted one team for another and was ready to make any sacrifice for them. Arguing against that was pointless. What Herbert had to do was find a way to minimize the damage.

  “We disagree about that, but if Carrie has given you the okay—”

  “She has.”

  “Then it’s my job to help make it work. I will ask her to let me send you the photographs. You’ve got a secure Ethernet link?”

  “Unexus equipment is more secure than what they’ve got at the DoD,” Rodgers said.

  “I will send you the photographs with no information, not even the names,” Herbert said. “Then I will sit down with Darrell and go over the layout of the facility. We will send a patrol plan ASAP.” McCaskey used to organize and run stakeouts for the FBI. He had a good eye for creating effective zone management.

  “Thanks,” Rodgers said. “I will meet them somewhere outside the facility. I will let you know where. I’m having our HQ send over radios so I can communicate with the team.”

  “And those won’t trigger alarms?” Herbert asked.

  “The Xichang radios all operate between 121.5 and 243, AM frequencies,” Rodgers told him. “We will be running our communications at 336.6, piggybacking on a NORAD signal. Unexus has an arrangement with Cheyenne Mountain to use one of their carrier waves for sensitive operations.”

  “Really? The DoD is okay with that?”

  “We designed the system components that allow NORAD to interface with NATO for quick response in matters pertaining to Homeland Security,” Rodgers said proudly. “The Pentagon actually appreciates having us test that international system from time to time.”

  “I see,” Herbert replied. “Mike, are you sure that’s a good idea?”

  “What?”

  “Having this kind of symbiotic relationship with the military?” the intelligence chief asked.

  “What’s wrong with it?” Rodgers asked. “It benefits everyone. The more Unexus knows about field operations, the better we can protect our personnel. That’s one reason Unexus hired me. No one but me is going to know the specifics of the Op-Center field action. You don’t have to worry about the mission being poisoned by other civilian eyes and ears.”

  “I’m not,” Herbert said.

  That was true. Mike Rodgers knew how to quarantine information. But Rodgers was very wrong about one thing. The plan did indeed trigger a signal, this one in the head of Bob Herbert. The intelligence chief knew that NORAD had changed its mission over the last few years, from watching the skies outside American borders to watching the skies for terrorist threats. To this end, they received a steady flow of data from every airport in the nation. Any significant deviation from a flight path would result in fighters being scrambled and the aircraft destroyed. But Herbert did not know that NORAD had become tight with civilian agencies. He was willing to bet that the firewalls protecting the military from private industry were formidable. But in their desire to land lucrative government contracts, how defensive were companies like Unexus? How tapped in were places like Cheyenne Mountain and other facilities into the nonmilitary world? What kind of access did the DoD have to civilian records, surveillance, other capabilities? Herbert was willing to bet these tendrils were extensive.

  “Bob, do you know what I think?” Rodgers asked.

  “Usually.”

  “In this case, you’re overthinking things as usual,” Rodgers said. “Trust me. This is a controlled, highly focused operation. It’s not like the old days when field ops were jury-rigged. And Bob? I’m glad you’re working on this.”

  “Me, too,” Herbert said. His statement was unenthusiastic, but it was not a lie. With the military presence at Op-Center and what he had just learned about NORAD, a picture was starting to form. An unsettling one.

  Herbert called McCaskey when Rodgers hung up. The FBI liaison had just arrived and said he would be there in a few minutes. While Herbert waited, he went to the files of the field officers to send their pictures. He felt as though he were betraying each one of them. Yes, risk was part of the job. Herbert and his wife had known that when they went to Beirut. But this was different. He was helping to put these people in the line of fire, not for the stated mission but for what he sensed was a larger scenario. A scenario he did not yet understand. Herbert needed to find out what it was. Then he had to decide what the hell to do about it.

  Herbert then phoned General Carrie to get permission for Mike’s request. She gr
anted it, with the implicit warning that Herbert’s credibility was on the line. The intelligence chief was no longer in a slump. Unfortunately, a potential fight with his own people was not the boost he had been hoping for.

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  Zhuhai, China Wednesday, 10:00 P.M.

  General Tam Li sat looking out the open window of the large office. The windows were clean, despite the dust from the constant winds that blew from the strait. He allocated manpower to clean them and to keep the grounds spotless. When American spy satellites looked down on them, he wanted them to know that he ran a very smart, proud installation. That was also the reason every man wore firearms, and they never lounged in public. The Americans had to see that the PLA was constantly alert and ready, as well as strictly disciplined. They were not like the Third World forces Americans had been sparring with since the surrender of Japan.

  The night was clear except for some low, sporadic clouds. They were lit from above by a full moon. The treetops moved gently below the fourth-floor window. Their motion and sound were relaxing. The lights of the office were off. There were no distractions but the view, the trees, and the general’s own thoughts and ambitions. The sky and sea could not compete with those, he thought proudly. He had always had a rule about that. If a man could not dream greater than the things he could see, he was not much of a dreamer. And a man who did not dream was closer to the apes than to the stars.

  The leaders of Taipei, for example. They were short-sighted, narrow-minded, and infallibly predictable.

  The Taiwanese military reacted the way Tam Li knew they would. The commander in chief of the Taiwan Armed Forces put his Air Force and Navy on alert right on schedule, with all the same maneuvers. That was a Taiwanese show of strength as well as their exit strategy. As long as the Navy and Air Force did nothing different, Taipei assumed the Chinese would not perceive it as a threat. Beijing had never responded in kind, so the situation would not escalate.

  Tam Li did not see it as a threat. But what if something happened that made it a threat? What if someone like Chou Shin were seen as wanting to seize this moment to weaken the military by blinding its new eye in the sky? What if Chou shifted the open war between himself and the general from an international staging area to a national one? Beijing would be distracted. Might not Taipei use the disaster as well to make a move against the legitimate Chinese government?

  Of course they might, Tam Li thought. In fact, he was counting on it.

  The sea spread darkly outside the open window. A sea wide and deep with promise, the stage for his dreams to be realized. There would be a temporary setback and a loss of face while the government dealt with Chou Shin’s treason. But Tam Li would seize the moment as well as the spotlight.

  There was a respectful rap at the door.

  “Enter,” the general said without turning from the window.

  There was a click. The door opened. His security director entered.

  “Sir, the enemy has begun moving out,” he said.

  “Is there any change from the normal pattern?” Tam Li asked.

  “None, sir. It is as you said.”

  “What of the yachts?” Tam Li asked.

  “Your associates from Japan have radioed that they are in position,” the security director informed him. “The third target, from Australia, will be at his coordinates in an hour.”

  “You confirmed the escape plans?”

  “The owners will all depart the yachts by helicopter, fearing for their safety, at precisely the time the enemy fleet appears on their radar,” the security officer told him. “The vessels themselves will turn and follow when it becomes clear to them that they are the targets.”

  Tam Li smiled. “The yachts will broadcast one another to that effect?”

  “Immediately, sir.”

  “And we will record and intercept the transmission?”

  “We will.”

  “Thank you,” the general replied. “I will come down to the command center in a few minutes.”

  “I will let them know, General.”

  Tam Li heard the door click. A moment later the moon came out clearly and splashed light on the sea. It was a beautiful sight, but not as arresting as it would be in just a few hours.

  He and his generals were quietly organizing the largest military counterstrike in modern Chinese history. It had been planned in phases so that absolute secrecy could be maintained, even from his own government. Over one hundred PLAAF and PLAN fighter jets were on regular and continuous patrol of the Chinese coast. Shoreline security was the primary function of Chinese military pilots. Long before the Taiwanese aircraft reached their fail-safe lines, before they could double back, eighty Chinese planes would be diverted in a targeted attack on the rearmost Taiwanese aircraft. That would cut the forward squadrons from retreat and allow them to be picked off by a second wave of Chinese aircraft, consisting of the remaining twenty airborne jets as well as another fifty that would immediately be scrambled from bases along the eastern seaboard. At the same time, three of the modern Song-class submarines, already at sea, would maneuver behind the Taiwanese Navy. The escort ships in the battle groups would be sunk and the destroyers surrounded.

  By then, of course, Beijing would have learned what was going on. But it would be too late to recall the attack without losing face. Taipei would protest, saying that the patrol was routine. But the protest would be too little and much too late. Based on information provided by Tam Li, Beijing would argue that the Taiwanese expeditionary force was far from a standard patrol. The enemy intended to launch a surprise attack after the accident they would be suspected of having caused. The general’s suspicions would be sent out at once. The panicked audio recordings from the yachts would also be released. They would make the first impression. It would put Taiwan on the offensive.

  That, too, was a showdown they could not hope to win.

  The Taiwanese sailors would be brought to China and held until the grand gesture of their release could be used for political gain. Chou Shin would be tried, convicted, and executed for masterminding that explosion as well as the blast in the United States. That would rid the general of one nemesis. At the same time, the Taiwanese would suffer a swift and decisive defeat in the strait. Because of their defense pact, the United States would be forced into a confrontation they, too, could not hope to win. The best the Americans could hope for was a standoff. One that would diminish their status and elevate Beijing.

  Tam Li thought very little about the price of the “trigger,” as he called it: the destruction of the satellite. The rocket would blow up on the launch pad, where the blast and the radiation would kill or poison all of the Chinese leaders in attendance. It would distract the government while the military moved against the Taiwanese expeditionary force. In the days to come, Tam Li and his allies would be very visible defenders of the realm. They would be populist heroes.

  They would become the leaders of a new, militarized, and expansive China.

  THIRTY-NINE

  Beijing, China Wednesday, 11:08 P.M.

  Mike Rodgers had the plans for the Xichang space center spread on his bed. The detailed map was nearly the size of the blanket. Satellite photographs of the facility were arrayed on his laptop. Rodgers had printed out blueprints of the rocket and payload. Those were on the floor with a map of the region beside them. The map was marked with public transportation that came virtually to the southeastern gate of the facility. Most of the scientists lived on site for convenience and security.

  The former general stood in the middle of the papers. He was looking down at all of them, his eyes moving from one to the other. Rodgers had always solved problems best by “grazing the options,” as he called it. He would get a first impression from one and move to the next. Those initial ideas were usually the best ones.

  Assuming there was to be an attack on the rocket, he felt comfortable with one of three scenarios. First, that the rocket would be destroyed over a specific target. That would contaminate
the region below with radiation and cause a long-term setback to the use of plutonium-powered satellites. That would be a loss to General Tam Li and would boost his rival Chou Shin in the long term. Second, that the rocket would be destroyed upon takeoff. That would take out a chunk of the Chinese command as well as their capability to launch any kind of rockets, military or domestic. Both men had their eye on power. Both men would gain from a temporary power vacuum. The third possibility was that the satellite itself would be targeted once it was in orbit. That would be a setback for Unexus but not the Chinese military. That, too, would help Chou Shin, who was an advocate of isolationism.

  Any of these were plausible. The question was how to pull it off. Rodgers’s eyes drifted toward the blueprints of the rocket. His technical staff had marked off places where a bomb could do the most damage. Rodgers would have the Chinese science crew inspect them all.

  Paul Hood would have to let him know who showed up and who left early. That would give the team some indication whether an attack would take place at launch. With an explosion of this magnitude, a potential mastermind would want to be a considerable distance away. Even so, Rodgers was planning to be close by to prevent the individual from leaving and supervise the counterattack.

  There was a call from Op-Center. It was Bugs Benet. He gave Rodgers contact information for the leader of the field team.

  “He will come to your hotel in about an hour as a messenger,” Benet said.

  Rodgers thanked him. “How are things going for you?” he asked.

  “Tentative,” Benet answered. “General Carrie will be wanting a military aide. We are pretty lean right now. I’m not sure there is any place she can shift me.”