Dancing with the Dragon

Chapter 13

Located on the sixth floor of the building, the Global Response Center resembled a modern military command post complete with video monitors and high-tech workstations. The antiterrorism center was buzzing with a different kind of activity. Within hours, warnings had been triggered by agents in Panama, Cuba, North Korea, China, and by spy satellites monitoring North Korea, Taiwan, the South China Sea, and the eastern half of China.

The amount of intelligence collection and counterintelligence investigations had increased dramatically since the Islamic radicals destroyed the World Trade Center, damaged the Pentagon, and crashed an airliner in Pennsylvania. China alone was having sixteen territorial disputes with ten different countries. The Middle East was bubbling again and Russia was having an internal hemorrhage.

Secure phones rang as dedicated analysts studied spacecraft photographs of activity at the Chinese-controlled entrances to the Panama Canal. After the giveaway of one of America's most strategic footholds, China, the remaining communist superpower, was now the gatekeeper of the canal. Other specialists monitored a continuous flow of highly classified information about Chinese activities in Cuba.

Computer screens flashed warnings and dispatches as more information surfaced about a forward deployment of Chinese and North Korean forces, suggesting possible attacks on Taiwan and South Korea.

The president of Taiwan had again set off a huge uproar by insisting that Beijing have a dialogue with Taiwan on a state-to-state basis and not as part of China. The Taiwanese president went on to say that China was playing the terror card and that Taipei would not be intimidated.

Beijing's fighting words raised deep concerns in Washington. The South China Morning Post of Hong Kong reported President Liu Fan-ding's warning to Taiwan that the Chinese people would spill their blood and lives to maintain the motherland's territory and sovereignty. The Chinese president had gone on to threaten drastic measures if Taiwan continued to defy Beijing.

The sudden destabilization in Southeast Asia had an adverse effect on stock markets around the world. The markets took a big dive when President Liu Fan-ding threatened to use missiles to virtually close Taiwan's military airfields, civilian airports, shipping ports, power plants, and waterworks.

Shortly after that announcement Liu Fan-ding used blackmail by threatening to launch medium-range missiles to strike the countries that hosted America's forward-deployed bases.

President Macklin had dispatched his secretary of state, Brett Shannon, to have a face-to-face meeting with Liu Fan-ding in Beijing. In the meantime, Macklin and senior members of the State Department had implored the Taiwanese president to offer room for concessions, but he steadfastly refused to back away from his comment.

Macklin promptly dispatched a top State Department envoy and members of his staff to meet with senior Taiwanese government officials to discuss the crisis. The message from the White House was clear and straightforward: Resolve the issue before Taiwan is blown back to the Neolithic Age.

In Beijing a Chinese Foreign Ministry spokeswoman said that Taiwan was taking extremely dangerous steps and that China was prepared to use deadly force. The ruling Chinese Communist Party's flagship newspaper, People's Daily, warned Taipei and the Taiwanese people that a formal declaration of independence would automatically provoke a military attack.

The newspaper went on to say that the president of Taiwan was doomed to failure, and those who followed him should realize they were heading into a blind alley from which there would be no escape.

The China Youth Daily published a front-page report on exercises by the People's Liberation Army in the northern waters of the Taiwan Strait. Another front-page article warned Washington against interfering in China's internal affairs.

Using vitriolic language, Beijing warned the United States and her allies not to interfere in the Taiwan-China dispute. In Washington, the State Department was put on notice by Beijing that America was playing with fire, and any intervention by the U.S. in Chinese-Taiwanese relations would be considered an act of war.

With the Western Pacific unguarded by an aircraft carrier, tensions were mounting at the Pentagon and the White House.

The USS Kitty Hawk and her battle group had been ordered to return to the Strait of Taiwan, the USS Theodore Roosevelt was en route from the Adriatic Sea to the northern region of the South China Sea, and the USS John C. Stennis was hurriedly making preparations to get under way from San Diego, California. Stennis would take up station in the southern area of the Yellow Sea to act as a deterrent to North Korea and China.

Located ten miles north of San Diego and five miles from the Pacific Ocean, Miramar is home to approximately 225 aircraft, including KC-130 Hercules, F/A-18 Hornets, CH-53 Stallions, and CH-46 Sea Knights.

The late afternoon sun was casting long shadows across the air station when Jackie greased the Lear 35A onto the runway.

"Twenty seconds early," she noted with satisfaction. "Make the reservations at the Grant Grill for seven-thirty and bring plenty of money — it's going to be the meal of the millennium."

"Actually, I have another plan."

She lowered her head and looked at him suspiciously. "You're not going to try to weasel out, are you?"

"No way."

"What's your plan? And it had better be good."

"Let's discuss it after we put the plane to bed."

"Don't have a memory-fade on me, hotshot."

"I don't think you'll be disappointed, trust me."

"Don't say trust me," Jackie warned, taxiing off the runway and heading toward a pair of two-seat TAV-8B Harrier trainers. "It always makes me nervous when you say that."

A dozen Marines were working on the attack planes. When Jackie brought the jet to a stop, a young member of Hartwell Prost's staff appeared at the cabin door.

Low key and quiet, Juanita Trujillo greeted Scott and Jackie, then gave them the keys to a rental car. Rooms had been reserved at the bachelor officer quarters and Mr. Prost had requested their presence for lunch at the officers' club at 1200 the following day.

While Jackie and Scott were unloading their luggage and flight gear, Master Chief D. R. Slocum and his men were relieved by a four-man squad from SEAL Team Three based at Coronado Naval Amphibious Base, San Diego. Slocum gave the SEAL leader a thorough briefing about security for the Harriers and the Lear, then approached Dalton and snapped a crisp salute.

Although he was not wearing a cover, Scott returned the courtesy. He warmly thanked Slocum and his SEALs. They chatted with the leader of the new arrivals for a few minutes. Scott exchanged satellite phone numbers with the new chief. While the SEALs went about their duties, Jackie and Scott walked to their car and loaded their gear.

"Where's Ms. Trujillo?" Scott asked, expecting to give her a lift. "She had a ride waiting."

"Okay," Scott said with a grin. "If you don't mind, I'll be the ground captain, since I know where we're going."

"And just where would that be?"

"We're not staying in the BOQ."

"Is that right?"

"Yep."

"Well, out with it."

"I have a friend who has a knockout home overlooking the ocean. Stan's a captain with Continental. He's on a trip, so he has graciously offered us the use of his home."

"No argument from me. However, Captain, we'd better find a supermarket and buy some provisions."

"I've started a list."

"Excellent — be sure to note that you still owe me dinner at the Grant Grill, and I have a very long memory."

"You're unmerciful."

"This is absolutely beautiful, stunning," Jackie said, entering the home's outdoor kitchen overlooking the tranquil Pacific Ocean. "It's like a postcard from paradise."

Complete with a large built-in barbecue and buffet table, refrigerator and ice maker, double sink, fireplace, soft lighting, concealed stereo speakers, and abundant seating, the combination kitchen/shaded patio was designed for entertaining.

"Yeah, you can't beat the view," Scott said, shading his eyes while he looked out to sea. "It's like a setting from some epic movie."

"It's incredible," she went on. "Soft, warm breezes and a view of the ocean and sky. What else could you want?"

"Nothing I can think of at the moment."

"Be sure to thank your friend."

"I already have."

Jackie took in the brightly colored flowers and plants, then inhaled the fresh air. A freestanding trellis next to a fountain and reflecting pool caught her attention. "I always enjoy the sound of burbling water."

"Then I'm sure you'll enjoy the spa." He opened a bottle of wine and partially filled two glasses.

They walked out to the built-in spa on the wooden deck and watched the last spectacular rays of sunlight slide beneath the shimmering Pacific. The soft, diffused twilight painted the sea in subdued pastels.

Jackie turned to Scott. "I'm curious about something."

"And what would that be?"

"You."

Scott chuckled. "What do you want to know — if I'm some kind of weirdo-wacko-psycho trying to masquerade as a normal person?"

"Seriously, after everything we've been through, I realize I don't know much about you. You never say anything about your background or your family — you do have a family, right?"

He quietly laughed. "Yeah, I have a family — a very nice one."

"All I know is that Scott Dalton flew Harriers in the Marine Corps and then went to the CIA."

Scott smiled and looked her in the eye. "Ms. Sullivan, would you like a resume?" he asked good-naturedly.

She ignored him. "I don't even know where you were born."

"Okay, take notes," he said with a smile. "I was born in Nashville, Tennessee, where my family kept a permanent home. I graduated. from Vanderbilt. My father is a retired Marine Corps brigadier general — we get along great. My mother was a navy lieutenant who resigned her commission after they got married, and she's the best of the best. I have one younger sister, and she is completing her internship at Johns Hopkins."

"Impressive. Maybe I'll get to meet your family one day."

"Perhaps."

"Did your sister go to Vanderbilt too?"

"Yeah, she graduated a couple of years ago."

"Interesting — I feel like I'm really getting to know you."

"Okay, that's it for this session."

Jackie eyed him for a moment. "Before we get too cozy, I have to ask you another question."

"I hope this is still personal and not business."

"Sorry, it's business."

"Oh, well," he said with a wink, "I didn't want to get too serious about our personal lives anyway."

"Just humor me for a few minutes, okay?"

"You have the floor." Scott stretched out on a thickly padded chaise lounge and inspected his wineglass.

"How do you think the Chinese are tracking us? You mentioned it in Denver, and I haven't been able to get it off my mind."

"Well, a bright red warning light flashed in my head after the smoke cleared in Denver. That's why I was hogging the Flitefone during the trip out here. I contacted the NCIS and then called a close friend of mine, a counterintelligence ace at the Agency."

"Would that be the Naval Criminal Investigative Support?"

"Yes, indeed."

"And?"

"Do you recall the gunny outside General Grunewald's office?"

"The gunnery sergeant? The Chinese-American sitting at the desk?"

"Yes. His name is Roger Wong, and I'm having him checked out from stem to stern — something just didn't feel right."

"What prompted the feeling?"

Scott slowly sat up and swung his legs over the side of the lounge. "After everyone calmed down in Denver, I thoroughly searched the Lear, every piece of our luggage, all of our flight gear, the SEALs' equipment, and their gear."

"Looking for a tracking device?"

"Right, and I didn't find anything."

"So you figure Sergeant Wong may be associated with the people who tried to take us out?"

"It's a possibility. If he's tied to the Chinese espionage faction, he could've passed our flight information to someone who ordered or directed the attack on us."

"You're talking about a network of Chinese secret agents, an alliance of spies, right?"

"Not just Chinese. It's bigger than that. There are other people involved in the espionage, including nationals from Russia, Israel, India, and U.S. military personnel and. Private citizens."

"After 'Lost' Alamos, I thought the Energy Department and the CIA had cleaned house and everything was sailing along smoothly."

"Not exactly. The Chicoms have more than three thousand seven hundred front companies, from the contiguous United States and Alaska and Hawaii to the far corners of the earth. They attempt to buy or pilfer every conceivable piece of advanced technology the United States has developed."

Scott lifted his wineglass. "This whole thing goes back to the Persian Gulf War. The Chinese were stunned by the enormous gap between U.S. military technology and weapons systems and their meager military capabilities. They realized that our military technology was anywhere from twenty to forty years ahead of their best systems."

Dalton swirled the wine. "Then we began imposing our value systems on other countries, like Kosovo. Beijing became more convinced than ever that we were going to do the same thing to Taiwan."

"I can understand their concerns."

"Because of Beijing's feelings of powerlessness in a world they perceive as ruled by the U.S., their appetite for information and technology has become so enormous that the PRC has been actively recruiting spies. They have openly targeted U.S. sailors and civilian tech reps when their ships make port calls in Hong Kong."

"What?"

"Beijing doesn't rely on the old-fashioned cloak-and-dagger spies. As we discussed before, the Chicoms use subtle espionage methods to gather seemingly innocuous information. They identify certain employees at U.S. labs, invite them to China, and then ask them for assistance with a wide variety of technologies. If the employee has ethnic ties, the recruiters use that to their advantage."

"Just a second," Jackie said. "Go back to the port calls in Hong Kong, the sailors and tech reps."

"The Chinese especially like U.S. military technicians and civilian tech reps who are assigned to ships that have the Aegis weapons system."

Scott paused and glanced at the running lights of a distant sailboat. "You know that the Aegis combat system can simultaneously handle a hundred enemy targets, airplanes, submarines, ships, whatever, while it synchronizes guns, missiles, and the electronic umbrella to protect the fleet."

"Yes, I'm familiar with it."

"Knowing how to defeat the Aegis system, and its ability to track baseball-size targets over a wide range, would come in mighty handy if the People's Republic of China launched a massive invasion to recapture Taiwan — which we know is not farfetched."

Jackie tilted her head. "The way things are going, that could happen at any moment. This recruiting effort in Hong Kong, do you know that to be a fact, or are you speculating?"

"It's true. The Agency, the FBI, and the NCIS have documented proof from several sources in the U.S. and Hong Kong. In fact, special agents from the NCIS even have one of the Chicom's high-dollar prostitutes feeding them information from the Peninsula Hotel in Kowloon. She's a spy recruiter working both sides for big paydays."

"Why hasn't any of this corruption made the mainstream print media or cable news networks?"

"They're keeping a lid on the Hong Kong crew until the Agency and the FBI are ready to launch a sting operation to nab the top dogs."

"How? We don't have any authority in Hong Kong."

"The kingpins in the operation get together in California once a year to check on the operation from that end. The money going to the U.S. informers is funneled through a central clearinghouse in San Francisco and distributed by Chinese-Americans to bank safety deposit boxes in California, Arizona, and Nevada."

Jackie sat down beside Scott. "How deep does this go, the recruiting efforts in Hong Kong?"

"No one knows for sure. It's part of Beijing's new rules of unrestricted warfare on all fronts."

"War with no boundaries," Jackie suggested. "Terrorism, thievery, threats, bribery, illicit campaign financing, whatever it takes, right?"

"That's right. Anything goes, and I mean anything The PRC is currently engaged in recruiting spies at the Pentagon and at installations like NORAD and the Air Force Space Command at Peterson Air Force Base."

"The Pentagon?"

"On a daily basis. They're also recruiting a large number of moles, well-educated Chinese-Americans, to join the U.S. military and infiltrate our most sensitive weapons systems and command sites."

Jackie shook her head. "If they're caught, they should be executed — hanged in public."

"I couldn't agree more." He took a sip of wine. "Unfortunately, our country is so focused on terrorism and the Middle East that most people are chasing the nits and lice while the elephants are running loose."

"Don't get me started."

"The Chicoms pay top dollar for information about our most advanced weapons systems. When you're in the service and trying to raise a family on fifteen thousand, say, seventeen thousand a year, two hundred thousand dollars in cash can be very attractive."

"No doubt. And you think Sergeant Wang—"

"Wong."

"— Wong is working with the Chinese?"

"Well, he is in a position to hear and know a great deal of information."

"That's true."

"I expect to have some news by tomorrow afternoon."

Jackie leaned next to him and Scott put his arm around her. "Let's take the pack off and enjoy the evening," he said. "No more business tonight."

"I second the motion."

They sat quietly and watched the vessels that dotted the Pacific.

On the horizon the stars blended with the lights of the larger ships. "Do you know what causes the stars to twinkle?" Scott asked. "It's caused by atmospheric turbulence."

"Very good — that's why you're an academic whiz." Scott rose from the lounge. "C'mon, you can help me fix dinner."

"Yeah, I think you could use some direct supervision, especially in a kitchen full of sharp utensils."

"Hey, I'm a guy."

After a dinner of salmon sushi salad and minced chicken satay, Jackie and Scott changed into bathing suits, charged their wineglasses, and entered the warm, bubbling spa. They relaxed and watched the bright moon rise high in the clear California sky. Their view of the earth's natural satellite was highlighted by a quartet of traditional Hawaiian torches.

"I could get attached to living like this," Scott said, listening to the soft, melodic music coming from the array of concealed outdoor speakers.

She leaned her head against his shoulder and sighed. "Yeah, let's enjoy it while we can."

He embraced her. "Then again, in my humble opinion, there isn't anything like a full moon over Waikiki."

"Don't tempt me."

"I'm serious — give it some thought."

"I don't need to think about it." She looked up and gave him a beguiling smile. "I can be packed and ready to go in three minutes — maybe less if we don't take anything formal."

"Jackie," Scott said, and then froze, sensing a presence moving toward them. Perhaps it was a sixth sense, a natural intuition, but it was definitely real. Someone, or some thing, had entered the outdoor kitchen and was invading a specific area of Scott's cerebral cortex. He rose on one elbow and focused his attention on the kitchen and garden area. The hair stood up on the back of his neck.

"Scott," she whispered, "what is it?"

He placed a finger to her lips at the same moment he detected movement behind the wide vine-covered lattice screen next to the spa.

"Scott?"

Instinctively, Dalton leapt out of the spa and plunged straight through the screen, slamming headlong into a lean and sinewy man. The violent impact knocked the assailant's 9mm Smith & Wesson to the floor and sent both men sprawling across the wooden deck.

With his heart pounding, Scott repeatedly smashed the smaller man's face and upper torso, missing twice and striking the deck with his knuckles. The searing pain was nullified by rage.

During the struggle, Jackie scrambled out of the spa and sprinted toward the home to get her 9mm Glock.

The horrendous fight on the deck continued as both men landed one devastating blow after another. Scott was gaining the advantage until the small-but-powerful attacker kicked him in the groin.

Reeling in excruciating pain, Scott savagely smashed his fists against both sides of the man's face. A resounding CRACK accompanied the severely broken jaw and teeth.

Desperate and wreathing in agony, the wiry gunman fought like a trapped animal and finally broke free.

Bent over in mind-numbing pain, Scott allowed the intruder to flee through the backyard gate and escape down the circle driveway. Searching for the assailant's weapon, Scott was startled when Jackie turned on the bright outdoor floodlights.

"No!" he protested, realizing it was too late. His night vision was gone for the next few minutes.

"Where is he?"

"He's gone." Scott could feel the blood vessels throbbing in his head. "Turn off the lights."

Jackie flipped the light switch off and backed toward Scott with her weapon locked in both hands. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," he answered, still breathing hard. "I've been in worse shape."

Spying the intruder's firearm at the edge of the deck, Dalton cautiously picked it up to preserve any fingerprints.

Still charged with fear, Jackie looked at Scott. "Should we notify the police or sheriff's department?"

"No, absolutely not. We don't want to get the locals involved." He took a break to catch his breath. "That's the last thing we need."

"Yeah, you're right. That could jeopardize the whole operation."

They walked to the outdoor kitchen and Scott opened a beer while his pulse rate continued to drop. "Would you care for a beer?"

"Sure."

He opened another bottle and handed it to her. After taking a long pull from the cold bottle, he looked at Jackie. "Our attacker… was Oriental."

"You're sure?"

"I'm positive." He took another swig. "There was just enough light from the torches to see his face — definitely from a Far Eastern origin."

"What a day," Jackie said, and sipped her beer. "Maybe I should check into that librarian correspondence course."

"Yeah, see if they have a slot for me." Scott set his bottle down. "Our latest attacker has been well trained in the martial arts — probably under the influence of Taoism and Zen."

She stared at him for a moment. "How do you know that?"

"Because he was in a mental and spiritual state that I think suspends certain functions of the mind."

"Come again?"

"His mind and body were acting as one unit — a unit that was blocking the pain until I crushed his jaw."

Jackie tilted her head and studied his face. "Ah… pardon me, but that sounds like psychobabble."

He shrugged and reached for his beer. "Perhaps so, but I've seen it demonstrated and it made a believer out of me."

"Whatever you say."

Scott surveyed the mangled lattice-covered screen. "From now on we'll have our weapons on us or within easy reach twenty-four hours a day."

"You have my vote. I wonder if the Chinese know that we're going to be flying near the carrier tomorrow night?"

"That has crossed my mind." Scott gently massaged his throbbing right hand. "You may want to reconsider and stay on the ground."

"No way," she said without expression. "We're a team, remember?"

"Yes," Scott said with a smile. "I'm going to contact Hartwell and let him know the latest news. We have a major leak someplace."

"That'll make his night."

"I'm sure."

Astonished by the news of the ambush, Hartwell Prost quickly mobilized the proper authorities. Minutes later, FBI agents and members of the CIA were zeroing in on southern California and in particular the beautiful home overlooking the Pacific.

Scott placed his satellite phone on the table. "Well, I suppose we should change into something more appropriate for entertaining."

"True, but we'll at least have security."

"What a way to ruin a perfect evening with a—"

"The night isn't over."