“Tien Chien armed, sir.”
The 20 millimeter Phalanx cannon automatically locked on to the incoming missile and fired a long burst of bullets, filling the night sky with tracer rounds. Seconds later and the missile exploded within a mile off the port bow.
A round of applause erupted from the crew.
“Fire one missile,” the OOD demanded with resolve.
Without hesitation, a missile erupted from a midship pylon lighting up the sky as the fire trail faded away from the frigate. Seconds later and the proximity guidance system exploded the Su-33, the explosion a brilliant conflagration of yellows and oranges and reds.
The OOD paced back and forth on the bridge, questioning if he had done the right thing. But what other choice did he have? They were under attack.
Within seconds the ship’s captain rushed through the inner hatch, a look of horror on his face.
5
Jake had a hard time sleeping after that late call from his old friend Alexandra. Eventually, he just got up early, took a quick shower and dove back into the data he had gotten from the Taipei banker.
He had no clear path in Taiwan after the death of the banker. Sure he had been given the bank account information he was seeking, but he had a feeling this data would not be a smoking gun to the indiscretions of Bill Remington. Not to mention his current location. But the information had to be important nonetheless, considering the murder of the banker.
Before leaving for the day, he encrypted the files and bundled them into a zip file before sending a copy to his old friend, Kurt Jenkins, the former CIA Director, asking for him to have a trusted agent translate it from Chinese. Jake knew Kurt would have someone to also analyze the data.
Then Jake downloaded a copy of the files Alexandra had dumped onto his private server. Like every other file on his laptop, he encrypted these files into a folder. At least these he could read, since they were in either German or English. In fifteen minutes Jake could see why Alexandra had been looking into Kreuzwelt Industries. They were not only selling questionably vague dual-use weapons systems to the People’s Republic of China, but they were also getting ready to ship NATO-restricted weapons to the Chinese and a number of Middle East regimes who had no right to western arms. Alexandra wasn’t going to be happy to see this. Just for the hell of it, Jake also sent this encrypted file to Kurt Jenkins, along with a simple question: “Is this shit authorized?”
Finally, Jake packed up his small backpack, slung it over his shoulder, and headed down the elevator to check out of the hotel. When he got down to the front lobby, he felt an immediate level of angst he had not experienced in quite some time. There was a lot of activity for seven in the morning.
He went to the desk and was approached by a beautiful younger woman dressed in a nice brown uniform. But her face seemed full of concern. She was the same woman he had checked in with, and her English was perfect.
Handing her the room card, Jake said, “Are you all right?”
“Yes, sir.” But a tear crept from the corner of her right eye, which she immediately wiped away.
Jake glanced around the lobby and saw that others were outright crying. “What’s going on?”
The woman looked up from her computer. “You don’t know?”
“Afraid not.”
“The incident last night,” she started and glanced back at a manager before continuing. “One of our navy ships was attacked by a Chinese jet.”
“I didn’t hear. What happened?”
“The jet fired a missile but the ship was able to shoot it down before it hit the ship. Then the ship shot down the airplane. Our leaders call it an act of war. China says it was an unprovoked attack of its aircraft in international waters.”
Shit. This could turn quickly from a simple mistake into an all out war within hours. The communist Chinese were looking for any reason to take back Taiwan.
Jake assured the woman at the desk it would be all right. Then he picked up his backpack and wandered out to the street, wondering if he had just lied to that pretty woman from Taipei.
He found a taxi with a driver who spoke decent English, and he had the man drive around the city from temple to temple for the next hour. Jake would get out and take a photo of the outer structure and get back in to move on to the next place. This, of course, was a delay tactic and a ruse. What he was really doing was making sure he wasn’t being followed. Kurt Jenkins had set up a meeting with a trusted agent of his at the Taipei 101 tower for nine a.m. At one time this contact had worked as an officer with the Taiwanese National Security Bureau. Jenkins said the guy had been run out of the bureau on trumped up charges of corruption. He was eventually exonerated, but not before his reputation had taken a major hit. Now the man ran security for the tallest building in Taiwan, with foreign nationals from dozens of countries working in its 101 floors.
Jake had the taxi driver drop him off out front, leaving his backpack in the trunk, and he told the guy to keep the meter running. He didn’t expect to be that long.
Taipei 101 was the world’s tallest building from 2004 until 2010, when the Khalifa Tower in Dubai blew past anything ever conceived. Jake guessed the architects of these monstrosities had a major problem with the size of their Johnsons. Maybe that was why Germany had no really tall buildings. Taipei 101 held everything from Air China to the Taiwan Stock Exchange, along with the obligatory Starbucks in multiple locations.
Jake was given special access by a security officer on the fifth floor to access an elevator that brought him to the 100th floor. All the tourist that came to this building ended up on a highly-controlled indoor observatory on the 98th floor.
He was escorted past banks of communications stations into the office of the security chief by a slight man in his mid-thirties, his only weapon a radio on his right hip.
Alone now, Jake didn’t take a seat. Instead he wandered around observing photographs of his contact with various dignitaries, from American congressmen to South Korean K-Pop stars.
The security chief came in and closed his door behind him. He was taller than most Americans would consider the norm for Chinese, but only looked eye to eye with Jake. Either he was totally bald, or he simply shaved it. If Jake had to guess, the man was a little more than fifty. He had a gut that looked to be nourished by fast food from the building food court on the ground floor.
Jake used his Canadian persona while shaking the man’s hand. Then they both settled into nice leather chairs.
Chan Le crossed his arms over his chest and said, “Jenkins told me to expect you, but he didn’t mention you were a killer. Or Canadian.”
Jake wasn’t sure how to take that. “He didn’t say you’d be bald and fat either.”
Long pause as they stared at each other.
Finally, the security chief smiled and said, “He said you were a son of a bitch. He was right.”
“I can’t help myself,” Jake said. “It’s a compulsion.”
“It’s good to know oneself. Now, Jenkins wanted me to dig up anything I could on Bill Remington. As you probably know, he’s had some dealings in this country.”
With the extended talking, Jake could see a slight drooping on the right side of the man’s face, as if he’d had a small stroke that he had not recovered from fully.
Jake nodded his head. “Yeah, mostly banking as far as I can tell.”
“It’s funny you should mention banking,” Chan Le said. “A banker was found murdered last night at the Shilin Market.”
“Seriously? I thought murder was rare in this city.”
“Oh, it is. But the police think this was done by a foreigner.”
“That would make it easier for the locals,” Jake agreed. He redirected the conversation. “About Remington. Are you sure he isn’t in this country?”