The first signs of dawn graced the horizon with a pencil-thin line of lavender as Amanda approached Vinson’s stern.
Using fingertip touch on the sidestick and minute power adjustments, she called the ball and followed the LSO’s commands to bring her Lightning onto the dark flight deck.
Snagging the number two wire, she was thrown into her restraining harness. She felt damn lucky — and grateful — to have a carrier to come home to.
But as she idled the engine and raised the canopy of the finest stealth fighter jet ever made, she spotted Cmdr. Kowalski and Capt. Buchelle standing next to Maintenance Master Chief Cardona — all glaring at her under the lights washing the island in a grayish glow.
Now what?
In unison, as the Lightning’s tailhook released the arresting wire, the navy men brought their right hands up, middle fingers grazing their temples.
And in this night of nights, as the smell of jet fuel and burned rubber tingled her nostrils amid the controlled chaos reigning on the busy flight deck, Amanda proudly saluted back.
— 31 —
He had hopped on his Citation X the moment he’d received word that the Americans had killed the JL-2 missiles and nearly sunk Capt. Shubei’s sub.
Deng still had friends on the Politburo Standing Committee, but after tonight he worried about their loyalty. Of course, the story would have been different had he been successful. The PSC — along with Jiechi and his young politicians — would have had no choice but to go along with him or risk the embarrassment of appearing unable to control one general.
So, he had traded Beijing for Hainan Island, vanishing in the confusion of the nation’s massive blackout. He headed to the place where he was king, supreme commander of the PLA — and where he had direct control of the Type 094 ballistic nuclear missile submarines in a naval base that was, by his own design, impregnable. He had trained and indoctrinated every senior officer on that base. And along with the subs, surface vessels, cruise missiles, land-based ballistic missiles, and the assorted jets and bombers — a combined 220 nuclear warheads — it gave him the leverage he would not have in Beijing.
Sitting in the rear of the cabin, Deng stared at the distant waters of the Taiwan Strait at dawn, where long ago that Sidewinder missile had blown him out of the sky. He had fought honorably that day. The battle, though recorded as a failure by historians, had forged him, turning him into one of China’s most respected military leaders and—
The Citation’s twin turbojets suddenly spooled down as the right wing tipped and the nose dropped.
“What is happening?” he asked one of his half dozen bodyguards occupying the forward cabin.
“Don’t know, sir,” he replied, rushing to the cockpit.
Deng followed him, working to keep his balance as the business jet pitched even more. They were about to enter a steep dive while dropping below fifteen thousand feet.
He found the pilot wrestling with the controls and working through the engine restart procedure and the copilot placing SOS calls to the nearest bases along the coast, but no one was responding because of the power outage.
“The engines, General,” the pilot said with fear in his voice. “They are nonresponsive, and we have lost fly-by-wire control!”
“The radios!” the copilot reported as they descended through eight thousand feet. “They’ve stopped working!”
As he said this, the glass cockpit flickered and went dark, just as his nation had suddenly gone dark.
How is this possible? Deng thought, looking about the plane’s interior, aware of the extreme measures with which his people maintained the business jet.
Unless…
It is easier to govern a country than a son.
Deng tightened his jaw as the realization slapped him with the force of a hundred Sidewinders.
Oh, Xi! My son! he thought as the dark waters filled the windshield.
While President Cord Macklin’s urgent telephone call to Chinese President Xi Jiechi made its way through secure channels, the angry chief executive directed General Les Chalmers to place the entire US Pacific Fleet and all military installations in the South and East Asia theaters at DEFCON 1. Included in the alert status were Marine Corps Air Station Miramar in California, Hickam Air Force Base in Hawaii, Kadena AB in Okinawa, and Elmendorf Air Force Base, Alaska.
US warships, along with attack submarines based in San Diego, Guam, and Pearl Harbor, were preparing to get under way. Destination: the Western Pacific Ocean and the South China Sea.
The commanding officers of the Ohio-class ballistic missile submarines homeported in Bangor, Washington, and at sea in the Pacific Ocean were standing by for orders from their commander in chief.
“Sir, I have President Jiechi,” an aide announced as he stepped in the room, where Macklin sat behind his desk, polishing his reading glasses. DNI Hartwell Prost and Secretary of State Brad Austin stood nearby, as did Secretary of Defense Peter Adair. A Chinese interpreter also stood ready, if needed, and a technician to handle the recording of the call.
“Remember, sir,” Prost said. “Based on the intel we extracted from Al Saud, Jiechi didn’t know about the activities of General Xiangsui.”
“Believe me, Hart,” Macklin replied as he reached for the speakerphone. “That’s the only reason I’ve contained myself to a power blackout instead of blowing Beijing off the map.”
“Also, sir,” Prost added. “Remember that the fact that we now have proof of the general’s covert activities provides us with future negotiating leverage — something to keep in our back pocket.”
His anger barely contained, Macklin gave his DNI a brief nod before stabbing the button on the phone and saying, “Xi, I would like you to tell me why I shouldn’t immediately launch a full-scale attack on your country.” Raw anger made Macklin’s voice harsh. “Our ballistic missile defense system destroyed three warheads targeted at the Vinson battle group operating in international waters. We have the capability to do that again and again until you exhaust your entire nuclear arsenal. You do not have that capability. We are on the brink of open warfare — nuclear warfare — and while I’m sure the United States will take its share of licks, you will lose.”
“Mac,” Jiechi replied. “I assure you neither I nor my government authorized the launch of the missiles. One of our generals — how do you say it — went off the reservation. He apparently panicked after… the most peculiar power outage across China early this morning. But you wouldn’t know anything about that?”
“No idea,” Macklin said.
“Estimates of the economic impact are already coming in the neighborhood of eight hundred billion dollars,” Jiechi replied.
“I imagine what the US has suffered in terms of our economy and lives lost is far greater.”
“Yes, of course. On behalf of the Chinese people, please accept our condolences on the loss of life and this barbarous attack on your country.”
“Stow it, Xi.”
“Ah… In any case,” Jiechi continued, “we have ordered a complete stand-down of all of our nuclear forces and have ordered our attack and ballistic submarines to surface and proceed to the nearest port immediately, as well as all surface vessels. We have also started a major recall of coastal forces along the strait. I’m sure your National Reconnaissance Office can confirm this.”
Macklin tilted the glasses at Adair, who signaled an aide to confirm. The aide quickly left to check with General Chalmers and the rest of the Pentagon brass huddled in the Situation Room, waiting for orders to strike.