“The Russians are inept fools. The blundering idiots have nothing left, according to these reports.” He waved in Minister Dong’s direction.
Lena could see her father’s mind working through a problem.
General Chen said, “The Russians claimed they destroyed those American air and naval bases. But we now know that they did not. Perhaps the Russians are allied with the Americans? Or…” He looked at Lena, and then each member of his inner circle, with suspicion.
Lena realized her father had hit the next stage of crumbling authoritarian leader: paranoia. Although, in this case, he was correct to be distrustful. She and Dong had both been working against him, in their own ways.
Minister Dong said, “My sources tell me that the Russian military — particularly their air and missile forces — have suffered great casualties over the past twelve hours. Respectfully, General, I do not believe the Russians have betrayed us. Perhaps we should engage with them. These new attacks on the Russian military — presumably the work of the Americans — are sure to help our cause.”
Dong was seeing the same suspicion forming in General Chen’s eyes and trying to head it off before it grew worse.
General Chen narrowed his eyes. He nodded slowly. “Perhaps.”
The door opened and the PLA Navy admiral entered. “General Chen, regretfully, one of our two remaining nuclear ballistic missile submarines has been lost. The other, however, is active and able to execute your firing orders.”
General Chen stood, clenching his jaw. Lena felt a chill run down her spine as she looked at him.
He said, “Fire our remaining nuclear weapons at American military targets. We must regain the advantage.”
43
Lena left the conference room shortly after her father had given the order. It wouldn’t be quick. No thirty-minute kill chain, thanks to the American hypersonic strike on Chinese nuclear weapons centers. But the orders had been given, and within a few hours, a Type-094 Jin-class submarine, now hidden off the coast of Florida, would launch its twelve JL-2 nuclear missiles at American military targets.
After giving the order, her father had requested a meal. Plunging the world into nuclear terror had apparently given him an appetite. He was now stuffing his face with gourmet food and a few glasses of wine to ease the tension. Most members of his leadership team ate with him. But not all.
“Minister Dong.” Lena called to him in the aircraft passageway. “Do you have a moment?”
“We all may have only moments.” His stare was deadpan.
She gestured for him to follow, and they slipped into an empty pair of seats in a remote area of the passenger section.
“I’m as concerned as you,” she whispered.
Minister Dong frowned. “Well, it’s a bit late for regrets. Your father is about to launch a nuclear attack on the United States. What do you think will happen next? The world will be our enemy. The Russians won’t defend us. They can’t. They’ve been castrated. Some of our nuclear weapons will be aimed for American military forces in Mexico, where they are in combat with our own troops. That means our nuclear weapons will likely kill hundreds of thousands of our own men. Millions on both sides will die of radiation poisoning.” He paused, holding her stare. “Jinshan never would have approved of this.”
Lena said, “I know this. I want to stop it. And don’t mention Jinshan again.”
“Well your father never would have risen to power if you…”
“Enough. Is there a way to get the coordinates of our nuclear missile submarine?”
Minister Dong realized what she was planning and shot her a disapproving look. “What you speak of is treason,” he whispered.
“It’s a solution…”
“It may be possible.”
“How?”
“According to the admiral, they are using backup communications and codes to initiate the nuclear weapons launch. With all of our communications problems, we could ask them to confirm their orders. It’s non-standard, but it would mean that the missile submarine would send a transmission. The submarine commander would be forced to emit an electronic signal. They wouldn’t outright give their coordinates, but I can probably get that information from the communications specialists.”
“We need to make it happen.”
“Even if you could get those coordinates, any message out of this aircraft will be scrutinized.”
Lena removed a large-screen cell phone from her pocket, showing it to Minister Dong. “I can send a message. But we need to do it soon. Now go get me the coordinates of that submarine.”
David was looking over the various reports flooding in from Central America. Marines aboard the USS Wasp, Green Bay, and Ashland had just executed an amphibious landing, re-capturing the Panama Canal Zone. The daring maneuver had cut off Chinese ground forces in Central America and Mexico from their supply lines. With F-22 and F-35 fighters leading the way, the American Air Force had taken control of the skies.
American cruise missiles and special operations forces were now pummeling Chinese air defenses from Mexico down to Panama. And with the Chinese SAM threat removed, US bombers were now hitting the juiciest targets. Tank convoys. Heavy weapons. Helicopter bases. Troop transports. The level of destruction was simultaneously marvelous and sickening.
One of the CIA officers waved to them from the communications room. “Susan, we just got a flash cable. Highest priority, routed through Japan. You need to see this now.”
“Japan?” Susan stood from her desk and walked into the secure comms room to read the cable.
“Yes, ma’am. It’s got a latitude and longitude, and a timestamp with today’s date. A little less than ninety minutes from now.”
Susan snapped her fingers for David to come over. He wrote down the position and they headed over to a chart.
Susan said, “David, this is from our new agent in Beijing.”
David knew that meant that Tetsuo had received the message from Lena via her new covert communications. The equipment she was using had the ability to send and receive burst transmissions by piggybacking off any nearby Chinese communications signals. But there was a heavy risk of getting caught. So, if she was sending this message, it must be crucial.
David traced his finger along the chart until he came to the location the coordinates were referencing.
“It’s in the ocean. Halfway between Miami and Bimini.”
Susan said, “What would be important about…”
David cursed. “Oh my God. We’ve got one more Chinese boomer unlocated, right?”
Susan’s eyes went wide. She yelled out to her Navy rep on the operations floor, “We need to get these coordinates to the Navy ASAP.”
Victoria was on her fourth flight in the past eighteen hours. Her muscles ached, and her rear end was sore from sitting so long. Overhead, the air battle explosions had slowed considerably. Last night was epic. Victoria and her copilot had witnessed their own private fireworks show. Tens of thousands of feet above them, and probably thirty miles away, the PLA Air Force had met the US Air Force over the Florida Straits.
Victoria was glad for sunrise. Day landings were always easier, and she was so tired it felt like she was drunk. She lined up her MH-60R Seahawk with the churning white water of the USS Michael Monsoor’s wake, the warship’s sharp angles making it look like she was about to land on a futuristic spacecraft.