Gus Frazer
Dawn of the Tiger
To my wife Kate and our daughter Mia
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
A pivotal element of my research involved interviewing Professor Hugh White, a Strategic Defence Advisor with the Australian National University in Canberra. His theories and scenarios have helped to form the (highly) speculative political and military principles in Dawn of the Tiger.
“In peace there’s nothing so becomes a man
As modest stillness and humility;
But when the blast of war blows in our ears,
Then imitate the action of the tiger.”
Chapter 1
He broke through the peaceful air of the wide corridor like a ship through still water. Dressed in a black suit and white shirt, Matt Lang was dishevelled and unshaven, the skin on his face drawn and creased despite his mere 34 years of age. Striding past opulent antique furniture and artworks, his footsteps were muffled by the plush wool carpet. Two burly security guards who were similarly suited flanked Matt. Both guards struggled to keep pace without breaking into a jog. Breathing heavily and muttering to himself, Matt stretched out his hand for the door to the bedroom, knocked once and opened it.
Prime Minister James Hudson was asleep, alone in the enormous dark bedroom. The light from the corridor shone through the open door onto his bed.
‘Sir, you need to get up,’ Matt Lang said with authority as the bedroom lights automatically illuminated the room with a soft yellow glow.
Hudson sat up quickly, confused by the impromptu awakening. ‘What is it, Matt, what’s going on?’ he demanded, rubbing his tanned face, his eyes struggling to open.
Matt, who had walked directly to the chest of drawers containing Hudson’s clothes, stopped and stared at the wall.
‘The Chinese fleet. It’s here…’
‘What?’
‘It’s here.’
Hudson blinked. ‘What the hell are you talking about, Matt?’
‘Sir, we got it wrong. The Chinese are now stationed just off our coast.’
‘Jesus, where exactly off our coast?’ asked Hudson huskily.
‘They’re currently anchored in the Gulf of Carpentaria. Our surveillance picked them up a few hours ago — we thought they were just passing through the Coral Sea…’
‘Well, we predicted they would.’
‘Yes, but as they passed Thursday Island they turned and headed south, right into the Gulf. The entire fleet is there now.’
Hudson moved more quickly now, throwing the sheets off and swinging his feet onto the carpeted floor. ‘Pass me those,’ he motioned to the clothes Matt had assembled.
‘Have we made contact yet?’
‘No, nothing, they’re not responding on any channel.’
‘Has the media got hold of it yet?’
‘Not yet but in about 30 minutes, at sunrise, the locals will wake to see an armada of Chinese warships moored a stone’s throw away.’
‘All right, get the Minister of Defence and the Armed Forces chiefs assembled in Canberra immediately,’ said Hudson, hands trembling slightly as he wrestled with the buttons of his shirt.
‘Yes, sir, will arrange it now. Your helicopter is en route and will be here in less than five minutes. The security detail outside will escort you. I’ll join you at the helipad.’
‘Very good, see you at the chopper,’ replied Hudson, sitting to put his shoes on as Matt left the room.
Five minutes later the sleek Sikorsky S-86D helicopter flew in from the east, with the blood-red horizon behind it. The flight path took it low, over the Botanical Gardens, past the Opera House and down onto the lawn at Kirribilli House. Landing softly, the pilot kept the engine speed high to ensure a quick lift-off once the prime minister was on board.
Hudson, Matt Lang and several other aides were walked out to the waiting helicopter by four armed guards. Looking up, Hudson saw two heavily armed Apache Tomahawk helicopters circling low overhead, waiting to escort them to Canberra. Their role was to protect the prime minister from a ground-based attack. High above them were two F-35 Joint Strike Fighters monitoring the airspace and protecting Hudson from airborne attack. Above them all was a surveillance satellite monitoring every move Hudson, not to mention everyone else within a five-kilometre radius of him, made.
When everyone was on board the pilot quickly lifted off, gracefully dropping the nose of the Sikorsky and, as it started to gain forward momentum, the pilot banked it steeply, turning to the west.
‘General Draven is preparing a full briefing to be ready as soon as you arrive in Canberra, sir,’ said Lang.
‘Good, we need to get to the bottom of this quickly before there’s widespread panic,’ replied Hudson.
‘Absolutely. I’ve spoken to Susan Curry in the Press Department and briefed her on writing a statement.’
‘Good. Christ knows how we’re going to spin this to the public,’ said Hudson, turning to stare out the window as Sydney passed by below. He glanced back, briefly scanning the faces of the other men in the cabin, and then returned his gaze to the window. He wondered what they were thinking — whether they were questioning his ability to cope with an incident of these proportions. With his portfolio, heavy on the finance credentials but feather-light on national defence, he wouldn’t blame them if they were.
Fifteen minutes later the Sikorsky landed in Canberra outside the Government’s top-secret Strategic Operations Facility (SOF). Hudson and Lang were chaperoned from the Sikorsky to inside the austere concrete building, where they immediately stepped into a polished, stainless steel elevator. The doors shut swiftly, instantly cutting off the helicopter noise from outside. As they began to descend, not a word was spoken. The guards stared ahead while Hudson took a moment to gather himself, watching as the numbers above the door lit up. On the eleventh and last subterranean level of the complex, the elevator came to a stop.
The doors opened onto a stark white foyer. The guards walked out first, followed by Hudson and Lang. The moment they stepped out, thousands of biometric readings were silently taken from concealed monitors within the walls. At the other end of the foyer, where there looked to be nothing but a white wall, a door silently slid open to reveal a long, sterile corridor.
‘This place still gives me the creeps,’ said Hudson.
‘Times like this and I’m glad we’ve got this facility,’ replied Lang.
Walking through the door and down the narrow corridor, more security scans were being invisibly conducted. They reached the end of the corridor, where they stepped in front of a silver door that opened automatically. Without saying a word, the guards turned and walked back the way they had come while Hudson and Lang stepped into the smaller anti-microbacteria airlock. A hushed sound filled the air as the chemicals entered the chamber and a vacuum removed any unwanted microbes to ensure nothing foreign was brought into the inner sanctum of the SOF. Finally, the door opened to an expansive room. Here, rows of computer terminals, all manned by experienced operators, could monitor and control the entire country’s armed forces and infrastructure. At this hour of the day, however, all was empty and still. In the centre of the room was a large, glass-walled boardroom, to which Hudson and Lang headed.
Upon their entry to the crowded and tense room, the glass walls frosted over so that no one could see in or out. Hudson immediately noticed the dead feel of the air, due to the sound insulation and the completely separate and independent oxygen supply from the rest of the facility. The boardroom was designed so that, even if the entire SOF complex was engulfed in a raging inferno, the occupants of the boardroom could survive for days.