“That missile was headed for Taiwan,” she said slowly. “I’m certain of it.” She let her thoughts roam over the probable scenarios, the massive loss of life, the consequences for the Taiwanese people of a return to the control of mainland China. Horrors raced before her eyes, countless atrocities and deprivation. As much as she admired — yes, and even liked — T’ing, she knew what his government was capable of. “And the AWACS and the ship were in international waters. There was no legal justification for attacking them.”
Finally, she transferred her gaze to Brad’s face. He was still waiting, and she saw that he must have an answer. Had to, for his own understanding and peace of mind.
“I will agree to certain additional precautions,” she said slowly. “But not to making this an armed camp. Within what you have in mind, is there a way to accomplish that?”
She saw him immediately relax. He nodded, and said, “I know what you want and I know what I want. Let me give it some thought — I’ll find a compromise that I think you can live with, okay?”
She leaned back in her chair, suddenly weary beyond measure. “I want to see the details before you implement it.”
Brad nodded. He hesitated for moment, and said, “I meant what I said, Sarah. Right now, at this point in time, you are irreplaceable. And if I overstep my bounds occasionally, it’s because I think I have a deeper understanding of that than you do.”
She waved him off. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore. It’s been a long morning, and it promises to be a long week. But let me say this — one of the things I cherish about you is your bluntness. Now go on, get out of here before I change my mind.”
SEVENTEEN
Coyote was in a killing rage. The loss of the AWACS and the defenseless Observation Island ate at him, and the refusal of the National Command Authority to order an immediate retaliation almost drove him over the edge. On an intellectual level, he understood the reasoning. The United States was not prepared to go to war, not now. Forces had to be moved into place, the support of the public garnered, and every diplomatic avenue exhausted. When America fought, it fought with massive numbers of troops and assets, intending to win quickly and decisively, and there was no way the carrier and her escorts could pull that off — not yet.
But Coyote knew what the Chinese intended to do as surely as if he was sitting in on the Chinese staff meetings — and until they made the first move, there wasn’t a damned thing he could do about it. Not actively — but he could get ready for them.
He turned to his operations officer. “Get us in an antiair formation,” he ordered. “And that submarine — that worries the hell out of me.” He pointed at the large symbol displayed on the screen. “Even with old gear, that Taiwanese frigate is the best asset we’ve got. I want her on the outer edge, with full authority to prosecute as her captain sees fit. And tell him I’m giving him two helos in addition to his Sea Sprite. He can use them any way he wants.” Coyote glanced over at Major Ho. “If there are any communication problems, I want you on them immediately. Got it?”
Ho bowed slightly. “Of course, Admiral. There will be no problems.”
A respectful answer, a competent one, but there was something in the Taiwanese Army officer’s eyes that worried Coyote. What was it? Damn, these guys were hard to read sometimes, and it was a bitch getting them to speak up.
Despite his redneck origins, Coyote was an exceptionally astute observer of human nature. He knew that it was the cultural differences that made the Taiwanese officer sometimes seem deferential, when the Taiwanese officer thought he was making himself perfectly clear. He had debated several times on the best way to encourage the officer to speak up, and to make allowances for their lack of understanding, but nothing seemed to penetrate his reserve. Indeed, Coyote had the suspicion that the officer had taken his comments as criticism, rather than a plea for help. Because there was so much that they could do, so much that they could learn from each other. These people knew this water like no one else did, and that frigate — well, he hadn’t seen a sailor do so much with so little since he worked with the Coast Guard on a few situations.
Damn it all, he tried. But the situation was getting too critical for niceties. He turned to Major Ho. “Is there anything on your mind?”
The Taiwanese officer’s eyes were shuttered. “No, Admiral.”
“Anything I have overlooked?” Coyote pressed.
A slight look of horror crossed the man’s face, and quickly disappeared. “Of course not.”
Coyote turned back to study the screen, frustrated at not being able to get the information he wanted. There was something on the Taiwanese officer’s mind, but he couldn’t get at it. Was it something in the formation? Coyote had the feeling the major was offended at something, but how could he possibly be offended at conveying primary responsibility for the submarine prosecution to his nation’s ship, as well as giving the Taiwanese skipper operational control of two additional helicopters? If anything, it was Coyote’s own DESRON Commander who was likely to get his panties in a knot over that.
“Your ship is well inside our antiair umbrella,” he said, turning back to watch the officer’s reaction. “She will be in no danger — or at least, no more than the American ships.”
And now he really stepped on it, he could tell. Why? Had Ho taken it as an accusation of cowardice?
Inwardly, Coyote groaned, wondering how bad he’d screwed up this time with the man.
“I wish you to convey to your captain,” he said to Ho, “my utmost respect and admiration for his abilities in ASW. It is for that reason that I ask them to take command of this problem.”
The Taiwanese major bowed slightly again. “Of course. I’m certain he appreciates the honor.”
Coyote gave up. The frigate’s captain would either understand, or he wouldn’t, and Coyote was betting that the more senior officer had spent more time working with the Americans and could see through any misinterpretations made by this young major.
“If he has any other requirements, please let my staff know immediately.” Coyote gestured at his air operations officer. “Anything within reason.”
Major Ho Kung-Sun picked up the microphone, inwardly raging. The blatant disrespect, for the admiral to refuse to communicate with his captain personally. And to add injury to insult by implying they were worried about an air attack. No, the admiral had tried to gloss it over, but Ho Kung-Sun understood very well what he’d meant. And he would make it plain to Captain Chang Tso-Lin as well.
Captain Chang listened as Major Ho detailed the admiral’s plan. At first, he felt a rush of pride. Certainly it could not be often that a foreign ship was given such a substantial role in protecting the carrier battle group.
But then, as Ho continued, Chang began to frown. The voice coming over the speaker, speaking Mandarin, left no doubt as to Ho Kung-Sun’s conclusions.
“They often refer to us in derogatory terms when they think I am not listening, Captain. Of course, I do not tell them what I hear — I wish for them to continue to think I do not understand, that I am a fool. But it is quite evident from this latest set of orders that they consider us far less capable.” The major’s voice was querulous.