"The reinforcements have been moved into place?"
"Yes, sir. As ordered. We have them trapped."
"It would seem, Comrade General," Li said slowly, "that this gives us the opportunity we have been looking for."
"Indeed. With enemy commandos on our shore, at the same time as we are engaged in peace negotiations with the West, it will be us with whom world opinion stands."
Li swept his hand across the chart on the desk. "We have a number of possible naval targets here. The American carrier elements are still too far at sea for an effective strike, but some of their frigates are already within the strait."
"Is it wise to attack the Americans as well as the Taipei rebels?" Zhang wondered. "If we restrict our strikes to Taiwanese forces, we can more effectively maintain our contention that this is strictly an effort to reunify China."
"We have discussed this, General," Li said, "many times. The Americans came to Taiwan's defense when we began lobbing missiles at Taipei. They deployed a number of fleet elements, including their new Seawolf-class submarine to the strait. We need to demonstrate, without equivocation, that we control the Strait of Formosa. Not Taipei. And not the Americans." Reaching out again, he pointed at a blue symbol drawn on the map, seventy kilometers off the coast near Xiamen— and the rebel stronghold on Kinmen Island. "This ship.
What is it?"
"Sir," an aide said, leaning forward to study the symbol, then checking the notebook in his hand. "That is an American vessel…a Perry-class frigate, the Jarrett. FFG 33. We believe she is performing an antisubmarine sweep ahead of the arrival of the American carriers."
"That ship might also be operating in support of the commando forces ashore," Zhang added. "Providing technical or communications support."
"That, at least, would be a viable claim," Li said. "Comrade General? I suggest that this is your next target."
Zhang considered for a moment, then nodded. "I agree." His eyes strayed south along the coast, to Hong Kong, where another blue symbol had been drawn. "And what of the American submarine Seawolf?"
" Changcheng is already tracking her, in concert with one of our diesel boats. I dispatched her down the Pearl River this afternoon, and she should be in the Hong Kong operations area by now. Her orders are to keep the Seawolf under observation, to follow her if she leaves port… and to be ready to sink her at our command."
Zhang nodded. "Good. This entire operation depends on your submarines, Admiral. The Changcheng, especially… but the diesel boats as well, operating in support. We will need to free the Changcheng from her escort duties in order to use her against the American Seventh Fleet."
"I agree."
"But the American should be sunk in international waters. Not in Victoria Harbor."
"Yes. As of our latest reports, the Seawolf is still at Hong Kong. We expect her to leave momentarily, however. There was an… incident in Kowloon last night, with some of the Seawolf's crew. The American sailors were under arrest. MMI hoped to interrogate them. Unfortunately, the local authorities freed them before MMI personnel could get there. We expect, however, that this will goad the Americans into putting to sea once more. They will not wish to be trapped inside that harbor or its approaches."
"Hmm. Which would be better, then? To sink her at the dock, and screw gwailo opinion? Or retain the semblance of legality, and sink her in international waters?"
"Best, General, would be in the harbor approaches.
The water is shallow, the channel too narrow to allow for maneuvering. She would be an easy target."
"But that would still make us look bad in the world's eyes, Comrade Admiral."
Li shrugged. "General, if war has already broken out — and the sinking of the USS Jarrett will be nothing less than a final and complete declaration of war — what matters it where we sink the Seawolf. If anything, sinking her in one of the Hong Kong approach channels makes recovery work simpler. Imagine what technological and military secrets must be stored aboard her!"
Zhang nodded, thinking about this for another moment. "Very well. Timing is critical, and I do not want to attack the Seawolf while she is tied to the dock. Perhaps we could intern her instead?"
"If they are still at the pier, of course." That would be infinitely preferable. The secrets to be won…
"If not—"
Another knock sounded. "Come!" Li said impatiently.
"Comrade Admiral!" the orderly said, handing Li a message flimsy. "This radio traffic just came in from Hong Kong."
Li read the paper, then smiled. "Our decision has been made, General. The Seawolf left her pier a few minutes ago."
"So, she is still in Chinese waters?"
"Yes. Moving into the east approaches to Hong
Kong."
"Then I suggest we commence the next phase of the operation at once." He looked at Wong. "Colonel. You will give the order to our detachment at Tong'an. Target the American frigate."
"Yes, sir!"
"If I may suggest, as well, General," Li said, "one of the new diesel boats is positioned here, not far from Kinmen. It could serve as backup in the attack."
"An overwhelming attack, from sky and sea." Zhang clasped his hands behind his back, staring down at arcane symbols scrawled on the map. "And so it begins."
"And so it continues, Comrade General. We merely complete what was begun when we swept Chiang from the mainland, fifty-four years ago."
"Patience is an extremely rewarding virtue, Admiral," Zhang said, "if a difficult one to observe. Fifty-four years… "
"The Middle Kingdom has traditionally followed the long, sure path, Comrade General, even if the journey takes a century."
"I wonder where it will lead us?" Zhang asked. "I wonder…. "
"Skipper! Look!"
Morton raised the binoculars to his eyes, looking down into the clearing. The SEALs had made a quick passage across the hills above Tong'an, closing on the sporadic sound of gunfire up ahead. They'd reached a spot overlooking a crossroads in a woods-shrouded meadow and had gone to ground when they saw several PLA troops moving along one of the dusty roads.
With a rumble of heavy engines, two massive vehicles lumbered out from beneath heavy canopies of camouflage netting and woven tree branches. They appeared to be Chinese variants of old Soviet Zil-135 eight-wheeled trucks, carrying forty-foot, two-stage rockets on their beds. Troops were bustling around them, obviously getting them ready to fire. An armored personnel carrier squatted at the edge of the forest, standing guard.
Morton glanced at his watch. It still wasn't time to hear back from SOCOM, even if they still had the sat-com antenna set up. Sixteen SEALs armed with assault rifles — they wouldn't have a chance against those troops down there. They had no antiarmor weapons save for plastic explosives and their laser designator, but you had to get right up to the target to use the plastique, and the laser required someone on hand to deliver the guided force package, an aircraft or a ship capable of firing Copperhead rounds.
Besides, SEALs weren't intended to take part in heavy, stand-up slugfests with an alert and well-armed enemy. It would be suicide to try.
The SEALs could do nothing but watch, helpless, as the PLA soldiers suddenly scattered into the surrounding woods, the missiles elevated slightly, and then with a shrill whoosh one of the weapons hissed off its launch rail on a contrail that filled the meadow with a billowing white fog.