by Ted Halstead
"Yes, sir," Yang said. "For this operation, what we don't yet know is the importance the American military will attach to the destruction of a handful of SpaceLink satellites out of thousands."
Lin shrugged. "Maybe a risk we'll have to take." Then his eyes narrowed.
"How many GPS satellites do the Americans have?" Lin asked.
Yang replied without looking at his notes. "Thirty-one are operational. Nine are held in reserve, and three are currently being tested."
Lin nodded. "And the GLONASS satellites which serve the same purpose for the Russians?"
"Twenty-four are operational. As far as we know, they have none in reserve," Yang replied promptly.
Now it was Lin's turn to be impressed. Well, global positioning must be critically important for the Air Force.
"And the Beidou satellites which give us our global positioning capability?" Lin asked.
"The third phase of Beidou to provide global coverage was completed in 2020 with the thirtieth satellite launch. Since then, we have launched three more that are kept in reserve," Yang replied.
"Will any of these SpaceLink satellites be a backup to the American GPS satellites?" Lin asked.
And looked at Yang closely while he responded. The other questions had been part curiosity and part an effort to break Yang's focus.
For this question, he needed an honest answer.
"We don't know. But it is possible," Yang replied instantly.
Yes, a truthful answer, Lin thought. And the one he feared.
"I should clarify that my guess is based on our efforts in this direction. All of the dozens of commercial communications satellites we've built that are now in orbit are designed to allow switching to military use in case of emergency," Yang said.
"Including satellites we've sold to other countries?" Lin asked.
"Naturally," Yang replied. "Of course, we would clear that decision through your office."
Lin nodded, but he was actually alarmed. He wasn't surprised that such a "back door" was present. Lin already knew they had been built into many Chinese-manufactured computer and communications systems.
But it was one thing to gather data on foreigners remotely and untraceably. Taking over another country's communications satellite…
Yes. That might be a step too far unless they were engaged in war with the Americans.
Was Lin about to start one?
"Tell me more about how a SpaceLink satellite might back up the American's GPS capability," Lin said.
"First, it's important to recognize that there are major differences between them. GPS satellites orbit at an altitude of about twenty thousand kilometers. SpaceLink satellites orbit far lower, at about five hundred fifty kilometers. GPS satellites weigh over sixteen hundred kilograms, much of it accounted for by sophisticated electronics and transmission capabilities. SpaceLink satellites weigh a bit over two hundred kilos," Yang said.
"Understood. So, despite these differences, SpaceLink satellites could help replace damaged or destroyed GPS satellites?" Lin asked thoughtfully.
"Possibly," Yang said. "It would require combining the capabilities of multiple SpaceLink satellites. It might require changing their orbital positions. The calculations needed would require a supercomputer. Maybe more than one."
Yang paused. "Of course, they have had several years to make at least some of those calculations in advance. Once made, updating them would be much easier and quicker since the position of the GPS and SpaceLink satellites is relatively static within a month or so after launch."
Lin nodded. "And if you were in command of the American Air Force?"
Yang didn't hesitate. "I would do everything I have just described. If the Americans have invested that sort of time and effort over the past few years, I would expect them to react strongly to the destruction of multiple SpaceLink satellites."
"Yes. Well, it may not come to that," Lin said with a shrug. "But we must prepare in case the Americans are unwilling to listen to reason. Send me orders to sign to get your weapon on the next launch. We'll either test it on the satellite you put in orbit last year or on SpaceLink satellites providing uncontrolled Internet access to subversives. One way or the other that is going to stop."
Chapter Five
Beijing, China
Mark Bishop was the station chief at the US Embassy in Beijing, the highest representative of the CIA in country. He looked nothing like spies did in movies. Middle-aged, slim, medium height with brown hair, Bishop wore glasses and clothes that would have made him at home in any office cubicle in America.
There was absolutely nothing remarkable about Bishop.
Of course, Bishop was not on the Embassy's official directory as "CIA," nor was anyone else. However, as the station chief, he was a "declared" agent. That meant the Embassy had notified the Chinese government unofficially that Bishop was the CIA station chief. Just as years earlier, before his promotion, the Embassy had told the Chinese that Bishop was the deputy chief.
Some CIA agents assigned to the Embassy had also been "declared" to the Chinese, though others had not. The Chinese worked hard to find the rest, though Bishop was fairly confident there were always a few they missed.
Naturally, the Chinese Embassy in DC and their many consulates scattered around the US played the same game.
Now Bishop only had a few months left until he was due to be transferred to his new job at CIA headquarters in Langley, Virginia. It was another promotion, but Bishop was dreading the move. He'd joined the CIA to work in the field, not to push papers at a headquarters desk.
Yes, he'd be paid more. Yes, the papers would be important. Yes, he'd tell a lot of people in both Langley and overseas what to do.
It wasn't bad enough to make Bishop think about retiring.
Not seriously, anyway.
As Bishop looked around the empty restaurant, he had to smile. As the lamest of ducks, it had come as a real surprise to receive this lunch invitation from Minister Song, head of the Ministry of State Security (MSS). Keeping an eye on spies was only one of the many jobs on Song's list.
No, if he'd wanted to, Song could easily be seeing the Ambassador instead. So, why Bishop?
Well, Bishop was smiling because one reason might be to make a point. This was the very restaurant where Bishop had met several years ago with a Deputy Director of the Chinese Ministry of Foreign Affairs. By far the highest-ranking official to defect from China. Selecting this restaurant out of literally thousands for their lunch was Song's way of saying he knew Bishop had been involved in that defection.
But that had to be incidental.
There were few others at the Embassy who approached Bishop's level of fluency in Chinese. Certainly not the Ambassador, a political appointee who knew only a few polite phrases.
Bishop shook his head. Song had obtained a university degree in the United States, like many high-ranking Chinese officials. If he were worried about the potential for misunderstanding, Song would just speak in English.
No, only one reason made sense. Deniability. Whatever Bishop said after this meeting would be the word of a spy.
Bishop's smile widened despite himself. The Chinese were adversaries, but you had to admire them. They knew how to play the game.
No sooner had Bishop had that thought than the door opened to admit Song and his security detail. Several other men emerged from corners of the restaurant where they had been hidden from Bishop's view, apparently as an advance guard. At their signal, the men around Song took up positions around the restaurant.
Song walked directly to Bishop's table. Bishop stood and made the short bow required by custom, along with the usual pleasantries in Chinese.
Both men took their seats, and Song looked at Bishop with frank curiosity. Finally, he said in flawless American accented English, "I'd been told your Chinese is good but am still surprised. It's the best I've heard from an American without Chinese parents. In fact, if I'd heard you on the phone, I could have mistaken you for a Chinese
citizen."
Bishop smiled. "Thank you, Minister. I consider that high praise."
Song nodded. "I've taken the liberty of putting us both in the hands of the chef. That will give us more time to talk."
"Of course," Bishop said. "I have to admit to great curiosity about the topic that prompted your invitation. I'm sure you know that, with great regret, I will soon have to leave China."
"Yes," Song said. "But I have an important message to convey before you go."
Then Song paused.
"Though we serve different masters, I believe we both understand that not all information should be shared with the public," Song said.
Bishop nodded but said nothing. Now wasn't the time to debate where to put that information-sharing line.
"We consider the ability to decide which information should be shared with all our citizens a matter of national sovereignty," Song continued.
Bishop again nodded but stayed silent. By using the term, "national sovereignty," Song was making it clear his government considered this a matter of vital national interest.
In other words, the Chinese were very, very serious.
It was also interesting that Song was saying nothing about the accuracy of information shared with the public, a point commonly stressed when China was challenged on censorship.
No, Song was saying that the issue was access to information, true or not.
"I'm sure you're aware that some of our citizens are obtaining access to the Internet through American satellites," Song said flatly.
Bishop did his best to keep his expression impassive, as he thought to himself incredulously, "That's what this is about?"
"Yes, but I understand this is an unintended by-product of making Internet service available to countries bordering China. I've also read that the company providing the service, SpaceLink, regularly discovers and terminates access to unpaid users no matter where they are located," Bishop said.
Song nodded. "I believe all you have said is true. However, the ingenuity of the people providing pirated Internet access appears more than a match for SpaceLink's security measures. The situation has now become intolerable. We believe there is only one solution."
Now we come to the deniable part, Bishop thought. The Chinese knew nobody would like their solution.
"SpaceLink must terminate its Internet service to all countries bordering China. We have been launching satellites designed to provide high-speed Internet service since 2020 and plan to launch more soon. China will take over the task of providing Internet service to all countries on its borders. Naturally, we will provide SpaceLink with fair compensation for the value of its contracts," Song said.
"Is this a matter you have discussed directly with SpaceLink?" Bishop asked.
Song shook his head. "No. We believe they would reject our offer. However, given the importance of American government contracts to SpaceLink and its parent company, we think they would listen to you."
Bishop shrugged. "Of course, I can do no more than convey your proposal. However, I must ask, why do you believe we would be willing to consider it?"
Song nodded. "Your government recently requested that China cease construction on an island in the South China Sea. Are you familiar with the request?"
Bishop was, and nodded. China's latest and most extensive effort to annex a vast swath of ocean territory, including much that was closer to other countries than to China. This was done by dumping thousands of tons of rock and sand on low-lying atolls to manufacture "islands" over which China then claimed sovereignty.
And on which China built military bases, in case any of its neighbors objected.
"If your government can convince SpaceLink to agree to our proposal, we will suspend construction on this island as requested. Further, we will not start construction on any other island in the South China Sea, pending a negotiated settlement agreeable to all countries in the region," Song said.
"Do you speak for President Lin in this matter?" Bishop asked.
The question was a formality, but Bishop had to ask for his report. He could see that Song understood this from his immediate smile.
"Of course," Song said.
A glance from Song to a member of his security detail was all that was necessary to start a procession of waiters bringing one course after another for their lunch.
The food was excellent, but Bishop hardly tasted it.
He couldn't imagine President Hernandez agreeing to the deal Song had just proposed. From what he'd heard of Eli Wade, Bishop doubted he would either.
So, if the answer was no, what would the Chinese do next?
Chapter Six
Near the Chinese-Indian Border
Sergeant Xu was prone as he looked through the scope of his Zijiang M99 sniper rifle at the distant mountain where they thought the Indians had put their observation post.
No movement.
Then Xu swept his scope over the rest of the unofficial no man's land between Chinese and Indian forces.
Nothing.
Xu began backing away from their position, taking care to use movements drilled into him as the least likely to be observed from a distance. This was when the vegetation that had concealed them could if they were careless, betray them instead.
A glance to his side told Xu that his spotter, Corporal Guan, was both keeping up and using the same care with his movements.
Guan was grumbling about moving yet again, but he was careful to keep the volume below the level where Xu would have to take notice.
In some ways, Xu thought Guan had the more challenging job. Guan's 25/40×100 long-range observation binoculars had served the People's Liberation Army (PLA) well for decades. They gave him a better field of view than Xu's scope, which was, after all, the point.
Otherwise, Guan couldn't warn Xu of danger, like soldiers coming to flank them while Xu was focused on a target.
But the binoculars and their tripod made Guan a more visible target and one that couldn't shoot back.
For decades their Indian sniper opponents had been armed with the Russian Dragunov rifle, which had an effective range of about eight hundred meters. That could be a bit more or less, depending on the sniper's skill and the scope fitted to the rifle.
Recently, though, the Indians had been armed with several more advanced sniper rifles. One, produced by the Italian company Beretta, was chambered to fire the .338 Lapua Magnum cartridge and would undoubtedly exceed the Dragunov's range.
But that wasn't the rifle Xu feared.
No. The one that concerned Xu was the American M95 Barrett .50 caliber rifle.
In theory, the Beretta company's rifle could match the Barrett's effective range of nearly two kilometers. His own gun was supposed to be able to do almost as well.
Before his last leave, Xu might have believed what he'd been told in training.
Nobody in his family knew more about Xu's military service than his specialty as a sniper. He certainly hadn't told any of them where he was now stationed.
But when he'd come home for a brief visit, there was his cousin Deshi. He was more like the brother Xu had never had. Thanks to China's old one-child policy, a real brother had never been a possibility for Xu's generation.
At his first opportunity, Deshi had pulled Xu aside and slipped him a USB drive.
With a grin, Deshi had refused to tell Xu what was on it, except that he should watch it alone with the sound off.
And that no, it wasn't pornography.
Soldiers weren't allowed to bring personal electronics with them on a front-line deployment, so Xu's old laptop had been in his bedroom right where he'd left it.
Xu's first thought when he'd walked into the room after everyone else had gone to sleep was how small it now seemed. Next, how long it took his laptop to boot.
Well, Xu thought with a sigh, soldiers loved to complain about military housing and equipment. It was easy to forget what civilians had to put up with unless they were rich.
Very few Chi
nese soldiers came from wealthy families.
As Xu slid the USB drive in place, he remembered just in time to turn down the laptop's volume. Knowing Deshi's sense of humor, the drive's content could easily turn out to be pornography after all.
But no. It had been far more shocking.
They were videos from a Western website blocked in China of the M95 Barrett's performance. And recent news reports from other blocked sites about fighting along the Chinese-Indian border.
Several of those reports said the Indians had purchased thousands of Barretts. And millions of rounds of ammunition.
And the Indians had been sold the technology to manufacture the bullets themselves.
Xu had to watch several of the Barrett videos twice to understand what was happening. These were American civilians! Who were firing the Barrett for…fun?
And they were making shots he knew his Zijiang M99 couldn't equal. Well, Xu thought bitterly, not with him at the trigger anyway.
Xu had plugged in headphones to hear the commentary and calmed a bit as he'd realized many of the men he saw shooting the Barrett were retired soldiers. OK, that made more sense.
Then he'd reached the last video, a news report describing a shot killing an ISIS fighter in Syria fired by a rifle he had never heard of, the McMillian TAC-50. The report said the TAC-50 was used by several military forces, including the American Navy Seals.
But this ISIS fighter had been killed by a Canadian sniper. From a range of over three and a half thousand meters.
Xu had never dreamed such a shot could be possible.
His hands shaking, Xu had deleted every file on the USB drive. Then he'd formatted the drive.
Xu was no computer expert. He had no idea whether any of the files could still be retrieved, but he wasn't going to take any chances.
Using a penknife, Xu pried the USB drive open and then snapped it into small pieces. Each piece went separately into the toilet on two different restroom visits.
The next morning after gulping down breakfast, Xu had pasted a fake smile on his face and told his parents he was going with Deshi to check out a new shop nearby.