China Star

by Maurice Medland

  “Jesus,” Matt said. “How did that happen?”

  “You don’t want to know.”

  “I think the CIA will want to know,” Charlie said.

  “It’s not important,” Beth said. “The important thing is, they have it.”

  Matt looked into her eyes. “That was your specialty at MIT, wasn’t it? Laser technology?”

  “Microlaser technology.”

  “And you were in Guangzhou for the last two years doing laser research?” Charlie said.

  “To study ways to kill cancer cells.”

  The three men stared at her.

  “All right, all right. I screwed up, okay? I told them more than I should have.”

  “Like what?” Charlie said.

  Beth sighed. “Liquid lasers can fire a continuous beam but need huge cooling systems. Solid state laser beams are a lot more intense but have to be fired in pulses to keep them from overheating. My ego got in the way. . . . I showed them a way to combine the high-energy density of a solid state laser with the thermal management of a liquid laser. The result was an increase in the emission of radiation into a beam of 10,000 kilowatts, higher intensity laser beams than the world had ever seen before. It was an idiotic thing to do, but, of course, I had no idea what they’d do with the knowledge. I can’t believe I was so-”

  “Ease up on yourself,” Matt said. “It’ll give them a temporary bargaining chip at the table, but it’s not the end of the world. It won’t take long for the U.S. to develop a counter satellite. If you showed the Chinese how, you can show the U.S. how. We’ll come back with one that negates theirs, one that’s bigger and better.”

  “It gets worse,” Beth said. “They’re going to use Raptor.”

  “What do you mean?” Matt said.

  “They’re planning an assault on Taiwan. First, they’re going to knock out every U.S. satellite in the sky to negate the U.S. forces in the Strait.”

  “Every U.S. satellite?” Charlie said.

  “That’s right. They don’t want even cell phones to be available for use.”

  “Are you serious?” Matt said. “That would bring down everything, not just the military. The whole U.S. economy is dependent on satellites.” He squinted at her. “What makes you think they’re going to use it?”

  “It’ll be put into use almost immediately after it goes into orbit.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Trust me, I know.” Beth sighed. “I got suspicious and hid in the test facility. What I saw horrified me. I didn’t go there as a spy, but I had to turn into one to try and undo what I’d done. I know their whole plan.”

  “They wouldn’t-”

  “Wouldn’t they? Remember the failure of the Galaxy IV satellite back in ‘98? It shut down 80 percent of the pagers in the U.S. Within days of that malfunction, the state-run Xinhua News Agency said in an editorial something like, ‘For countries that could never win a war using tanks and planes, attacking the U.S. space system may be an irresistible target.’ Believe me, they’ve been working on this for years. President Xiang’s New Year’s exhortation to the CMC to develop what he called an ‘assassin’s mace’ weapon added the emphasis. I provided the missing link.”

  Assassin’s Mace. That was the term Gray Wolf had used. Here it comes. The great conspiracy theory. Even if it were true, someone else would have to fight that battle. All he wanted to do was return Beth and collect the reward money.

  “Putting a satellite like that in orbit is one thing,” Matt said, “actually using it is another. That would be an act of war.”

  “Call it what you like,” Beth said. “All I know is, they’re going to use it as soon as it’s in orbit.”

  “And when will that be?”

  “The launch is scheduled for June 21.”

  Matt looked at the date on his watch. June 14. “And you’re just now telling us?”

  “I tried to tell you last night, but you wouldn’t let me.”

  “Everyone take a deep breath,” Charlie said. “I’m just a contract player, but I know the CIA has satellites that monitor every missile launch site the Chinese have. Continuously. China can’t just launch something like this without the U.S. knowing about it. I can assure you that someone at CIA knows. And if the CIA knows, the president knows.”

  Beth said, “Do you think the Chinese don’t know that every missile site in China is being monitored? They’re not launching in China.”

  “Then where?” Matt said.

  “I’ll show you where,” Beth said. “Have you got a map of Sumatra?”

  Matt nodded to Sam, who went to the board and pulled down a nautical chart of southeast Asia.

  Beth wet her lips and squinted at the chart.

  “It’s right here,” she said, pressing her finger on a spot east of Sumatra. “The launch site is exactly on the equator at 106 degrees east longitude, roughly midway between Sumatra and Borneo.”

  Matt exchanged glances with Sam and Charlie.

  “There’s nothing out there but water.”

  “Nothing escapes you, does it? Of course, there’s nothing out there but water. It’s a launch at sea. There’s a platform heading for that area as we speak.”

  “What kind of platform?”

  “It’s a converted deep-sea oil-drilling rig. Retrofitted at a shipyard in Indonesia. Named Zephyr.”

  “An oil-drilling rig? And it’s got a rocket on it big enough to put a satellite in orbit?”

  “No, that’s on the CCS, the command and control ship. They call it Zenith.”

  “How do you know all this?”

  “I told you, when I found out what they were doing, I spied on them. It’s a consortium of Chinese, Russian, Swedish, and Lithuanian companies. The first and third stages of the rocket were built in Russia, the second stage was built in Lithuania, and the payload fairing and satellite were built in China at the CAT laboratory on the Pearl River. The command and control ship was built in Sweden, it has a Russian captain and crew. It’s docked there at the CAT lab, waiting to bring it all together.”

  “Cat lab?” Matt said.

  “China Aerospace and Technology. That’s where I worked for two years. They own a 40-percent interest in the consortium. All the components will be assembled on the command and control ship on the way to the launch site.”

  “And our satellites wouldn’t see this?” Charlie said.

  “There’s nothing to see. The command and control ship looks like a merchant ship. The deck is loaded with phony containers, made out of plywood and painted gray. From above, it looks like any of a thousand merchant ships coming and going through the Pearl River delta. The satellite they’re loading aboard looks like crated cargo. Once aboard, there’s an environmentally controlled hangar belowdecks where the payload gets mated up with the booster rocket on the way to the launch site.” Beth stabbed her finger on the map. “And the launch platform looks like an oil-drilling rig headed for the oil-rich area between Sumatra and Borneo. None of those things would get a second look.”

  Matt rubbed his chin. It all sounded like something out of a James Bond movie. He’d heard of small communication satellites for radio and television being launched at sea but doubted that the technology was advanced enough to put a large killer satellite in the higher orbit it would have to attain. The truth was, he didn’t want to believe her. All he wanted to do was get her back to the states, pick up a check from her parents, and be rid of her. She’d just spent three months in a Chinese prison. She’d been knocked around. Matt looked at her head injury.

  “We can talk more later. I think it might be a good idea if you lie down for a while, get some rest, and then-”

  “You think I’m hallucinating from a bump on the head?” she said. “You think I’m making this up?”

  “Of course not.”

  “At least let me radio it in, get word to my father.”

  “We don’t have a radio,” Matt said.

  “Of course, you have a radio. Every ship has a
radio.”

  “Ours doesn’t work.”

  “You’re just stalling because you don’t believe me.”

  “That’s not it,” Matt said. “Our radio really doesn’t work. We had a Chinese boarding party that saw to it.”

  “Doesn’t that tell you something? What are we going to do without a radio? Where are we going?”

  “Back to Kaohsiung.”

  “And then?”

  “Then I’m going to put you on a plane and deliver you to your parents. But maybe there’ll be a way-”

  “My parents?” Beth stared at Matt. “I’m beginning to see what’s going on here. I’m beginning to see my father’s fingerprints all over this. That’s why you’re a civilian. You’re a mercenary. He hired you to get me out of there, and there’s money in it, isn’t there? Knowing my father, it’s a lot. How much? How much is he paying you to bring me back? A million dollars? Ten million?”

  “That’s between your father and me. But whatever it is, I’m taking you back.”

  “Like hell you are. Look, it can’t wait that long. By the time we get back to Taiwan, it’ll be too late. We can’t be that far off the coast. You’ve got to take me back to the mainland, up the Pearl River to Guangzhou. I’ve got friends there. I can contact the U.S. authorities from there and get this stopped.”

  “Back to the mainland? Are you nuts?”

  “All right, then take me to Hong Kong. I’ve got an uncle there who owns half the island. He’ll help me.”

  “Guangzhou or Hong Kong, it won’t make any difference. Half of China will be looking for you. Use your head, damn it. If we fall into Chinese hands, none of us will ever see the light of day again.”

  “If you’re worried about getting caught, just drop me off and keep on going.”

  “It’s not as simple as that.”

  “Oh, that’s right. You want to get paid. COD.”

  Matt felt the heat at the back of his neck. “Now, look-”

  Jason Tyler rapped on the window and stuck his head in the door of the chart room.

  “Helicopter headed this way at high speed, Skipper. Sounds like the Chinese bird that buzzed us before.”

  Matt felt a surge of adrenaline go through him. If it was the same Z-8 helicopter, they wouldn’t be coming to drop someone in his path. This time they’d be coming to sink him and kill everyone on board.

  “Jason, sound all hands, emergency stations. Sam, you and Charlie take Beth below and bring up a couple of Stingers from the engine room.”

  “Aye, aye, Skipper.”

  “I’m staying right here,” Beth said. “If the Chinese are trying to kill us, that’s proof of what I’m telling you.”

  Sam stood frozen, his eyes darting between Beth and Matt.

  Matt glared at Beth. “Bring up the weapons, Sam.”

  “Aye, aye, Skipper. Sam nodded toward Charlie, and they sprinted out the door.

  “Get below,” Matt said. Beth didn’t move. “When you’re aboard my ship you’ll obey my orders.”

  “Don’t want the merchandise bruised?”

  “I don’t have time to argue with you, but when this is over, I’ll put you in the brig if you don’t obey my orders.”

  “Suit yourself, but I’m staying.”

  Matt held up his hand. In the distance, the familiar thump of helicopter rotors pounded the air. He walked out on the bridge wing, adjusted his binoculars, and looked aft. A tiny speck came into focus. Moving fast. He turned and looked to the east, toward the dark storm clouds on the horizon. At a cruising speed of 250 kilometers per hour, the helicopter would be over them in a matter of minutes. No chance for cover. He moved into the pilothouse. Beth hovered behind him.

  “I’ll take the conn, Jason.”

  “Captain has the conn.”

  Matt took the helm and glanced at Beth. “If that helicopter fires on us, the first target will be the bridge. I don’t want them to see you. Now get below, damn it.”

  “You’re not going below.”

  “I’ve got to fight the ship. You don’t. Now, for the last time, get below.”

  “I’m staying with you.”

  “Jason, take cover below and take her with you, by force if necessary.”

  “Aye, aye, Captain.” Jason looked helplessly at Beth. “You heard the captain, miss.”

  Beth folded her arms and shook her head. “No chance.”

  The sound of three turboshafts roared overhead, drowning them out. Machine gun fire tore through the overhead, ripping through chart tables, shattering windows. Matt grabbed Beth and pulled her down along the steel bulkhead, shielding her with his body.

  “They’re trying to kill us,” Beth said. “Now do you believe me?”

  Matt looked up. Jason Tyler lay face down on the deck, a pool of dark red blood spreading out around him. “Jason!” He scrambled across the deck and rolled him over. Jason’s eyes were glassy, staring. Matt felt the side of his neck. He was still alive, but every beat of his heart was pumping blood out of him. He sprang to his feet and pressed the button on the PA system.

  “Doc Miller to the bridge, on the double.”

  “Oh, my God,” Beth said. “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry.”

  Matt ripped his sweatshirt off, threw it down on Jason’s chest and grabbed the ship’s wheel. “See if you can stuff that in the wound, get the bleeding stopped.” He looked out the shattered bridge window and saw the helicopter veer off to the north, fly in a straight line, and begin a sharp U-turn back toward the ship, coming at it broadside. Torpedo.

  The Z-8 carried only one torpedo, usually an American Mark 46. They were designed to take out subs, not surface ships. Shipboard torpedoes had to be armed, but he wasn’t sure about a torpedo launched from a helicopter. If it did require arming, they’d have to set it shallow and arm it early. There was only one thing he could do. Wait until it was in the water, then turn CoMar Explorer hard aport and head straight for it at flank speed. If he could catch it before it was armed, it would glance harmlessly off the hull of the ship. If he couldn’t catch it before it was armed, at least he’d reduce the size of the target. With a little skillful ship handling and a lot of luck, they might at least minimize the damage.

  The torpedo fell from the helicopter in a wavering line and hit the water. Matt spun the wheel hard to port, lining up the bow with the white wake. He rang up All Ahead Flank on the engine-order telegraph, picked up the bridge telephone, and pressed the button for the engine room.

  “All ahead flank. Scootchy, give me everything you can pull out of those diesels.”

  “What the hell kind of mess you got us in now?”

  “Just do it.” Matt slammed down the phone and felt a surge of power. He held down the button on the ship’s loudspeaker system. “Torpedo in the water. Torpedo in the water. Stand away from bulkheads and brace yourselves.”

  The gap closed between the torpedo and ship. He spun the wheel hard to starboard, held it as long as he could without exposing the stern of the ship, then spun back to port. He could see by the wake that the torpedo would miss the bow but would brush by the port side of the ship. He prayed that it wasn’t yet armed.

  “I can’t stop the bleeding,” Beth said, looking up at Matt with anguished eyes.

  Doc Miller burst through the door with a medic kit and dropped down beside her. “Let me have a look.”

  “Brace yourselves,” Matt said. The torpedo passed by the bow and rattled down the port side of the ship. For an instant he thought it wasn’t armed, then he felt the explosion. The stern of CoMar Explorer lifted out of the sea in a spray of white water, knocking him off his feet. He found himself on the deck, scrambling through a pile of arms and legs trying to get up, slipping in Jason’s blood. He pulled himself to his feet and rang up All Stop on the engine-order telegraph. He looked out the window. The helicopter had turned. Having expended its only torpedo, it was coming back for a strafing run. He could see the door gunners hanging from straps through the open doors on both sides,
machine guns at the ready.

  “Where’s Sam with that Stinger?”

  “Right here, Skipper,” Sam said, coming in the door behind him.

  “How does it look aft?”

  “Looks like the port screw might have been hit. They’re shoring up aft. We can probably keep her afloat if they don’t hit us with another torpedo.”

  A burst of machine gun fire rattled through the bridge. Everyone dived for cover.

  “Where’s the Stinger?”

  “Right here, Skipper. Two parts. A reusable launcher and the missile. We only got one launcher, but we got three missiles.”

  “Is it loaded?”

  “Armed and ready.”

  Matt took the hand-held missile out on the bridge wing and positioned himself behind the bulwark. He glanced at the side of the launcher. FIM-92A PROPERTY US ARMY. Stingers weren’t available for export, but he wasn’t surprised that Gray Wolf had them. Sam came up behind him and crouched down to wait.

  The Z-8 banked in a sharp turn and headed back in the direction of CoMar Explorer. Secured by their safety straps, the door gunners looked relaxed, prepared to pound away at an unarmed ship until it caught fire and sank. Crouching behind the bulwark, Matt hoisted the thirty-five-pound missile to his shoulder and tightened his fingers around the gripstock.

  “Okay, Sam, how does this thing work?”

  “Sight through the scope till you see the bird. It’s got a passive infrared seeker that picks up the heat from the exhaust. You’ll hear it lock on. Then just pull the trigger. There’s a small launch rocket that’ll get the missile clear of you before the main engine ignites. It’s fire-and-forget. You can’t miss.”

  He lined the helicopter up in the scope. As soon as he heard the infrared seeker lock on, he pulled the trigger. The concussion knocked his shoulder back. The launch rocket fell away, and the main solid rocket engine ignited. He watched the white trail of the missile spiral upward in a steady line toward the helicopter. He could see the door gunners drop their weapons and scramble to get out of the way. The pilot jerked the helicopter wildly upward to avoid the Stinger, but it was too late. The seeker head of the missile slid into the turboshaft exhaust tubes in slow motion, igniting the explosives behind. The helicopter erupted in a ball of orange flame. The rotors separated from the helicopter and spiraled upward, then began their descent to the sea in a cloud of debris and body parts. He heard cheers go up throughout the ship.