During a leisurely lunch at the officers' club, Jackie and Scott recounted the events of the previous evening to Prost. After their meal, the trio left the club and drove to a hangar to meet with the pilot who would be remotely controlling the supersonic drone, a converted F-4S Phantom II.
Wyatt Craine, a laconic former navy fighter pilot, was a friendly man with a quick smile and an acute sense of humor. Prost had briefed Craine about the operation and the need for absolute secrecy. Regardless of the outcome of the mission, Craine could not mention it to anyone, ever.
"Since we're doing this at night," Craine said, "I'm going to have to rely on you to guide me into position near the ships."
"I'll do the best I can. I think we should keep the drone between the ships and our aircraft."
Craine tilted the back of his chair against the wall. "Are you going to fly directly over the ships or set up a pattern around them?" Scott considered the options. "I want to approach from the stern at eight thousand feet about a mile or so from the target."
"Are you going to be on the left or right side of me?"
"We'll be at your four to five o'clock position."
"So you'll want to come up the starboard side of the ships?"
"That's right."
Craine mentally constructed a three-dimensional world of situational awareness that allowed him to project himself into the drone.
"When we're abeam," Scott explained, "I'll call for a shallow left turn to set up a left-hand orbit around the ships."
"How close will you be to my Phantom?"
"About two hundred yards."
"Good. I don't want to midair you if something goes…" He paused, innocent eyed.
"Tits up," Jackie offered with a friendly smile.
"Yeah, when we fly these things NOLO, no live operator, there's a ten percent chance that it will be the last flight for that particular Fox-4."
"How many have you lost?" Prost asked.
"Just one."
"Well, you're considered to be the best, so it sounds like you've been doing something right."
"I just hope my luck holds."
They continued the brief, deciding on a time and place to rendezvous in the Whiskey-289 Warning Area in the special-use airspace over the Pacific. When Dalton and Craine were comfortable with their plan of action, the flight crew of an E-2C Hawkeye airborne early warning aircraft joined the meeting.
Like Wyatt Craine, the commanding officer and his crew from the VAW-113 Black Eagles had taken an oath of secrecy about the mission. The carrier-based Hawkeye crew would guide Scott and Jackie to the suspicious cargo ships and provide airborne and surface surveillance. Everyone copied the radio frequencies and call signs they would use and then covered emergency procedures. The final item in the brief included contingencies if an aircraft went into the water.
When the briefing adjourned, Jackie, Scott, and Hartwell sat down alone to discuss what their course of action would be if one of the ships blew the Phantom out of the sky.
Scott finally asked the question that had been on his mind since lunch. "If that happens, how is the president going to respond?" Prost was caught off guard.
"I don't mean any disrespect, sir," Scott said politely, "but is he going to take an aggressive stance toward Beijing, or will he take the appeasement approach?"
Prost had a troubled look on his face. "To tell you the truth, I don't know yet, and I don't think he knows yet. He's talked to me, the chairman of the Joint Chiefs, SecDef, and the secretary of state.
The military side wants to immediately stop the ship and seize it."
Prost paused and contemplated how much information he should divulge. "On the other hand, the State Department doesn't want to confront the Chinese right now, especially with Secretary Shannon on his way to Beijing to assuage President Liu Fan-ding's fragile ego."
"They can't just ignore it," Jackie said. "If the plane is shot down, I mean, that's a blatant attack on the United States."
Prost seemed ill at ease. "Let me bring you up to date. The media people aren't aware of it yet, not even CNN or Fox, but we have some major problems brewing with China."
Scott and Jackie hung on each word.
"Currently, we have no contact with the Chinese military, no engagement at all, and China-U.S. relations are under siege in Beijing. Actually, in the last few hours, our relations with China have become more tenuous than they've been in a long time."
"Worse" — Scott paused—"than they were after we bombed the Chinese Embassy in Belgrade, or the spy-plane flap on Hainan Island?"
"A lot worse." Hartwell removed his glasses. "They've been increasing the number of military troops and equipment at both entrances to the Panama Canal, and they're forward-deploying troops, weapons, and warships in southeastern Fujian Province."
"Directly across from Taiwan," Scott noted.
"Yes. And the Chinese navy is currently conducting missile exercises near Taiwanese waters north of the Strait of Taiwan."
"Do we have any carriers in the Strait?" Jackie asked.
"Not yet, but the Kitty Hawk and Roosevelt battle groups are en route. The Vincennes has departed Yokosuka for the Strait and Seawolf is in the area. Two other attack submarines have left Pearl Harbor for the waters surrounding Taiwan."
"What about Panama?" Scott asked.
"The president is sending a carrier battle group and two amphibious carriers chockful of Marines into the Colombian Basin. He's made it clear to Beijing that we won't tolerate any interruption of traffic in the canal. No debates, no stalling for time, no ambassadors gabbing away, absolutely nothing will be tolerated."
"If the Chinese try something," Jackie asked, "do you think President Macklin will use military force?"
Prost spoke with conviction. "You can bet on it."
A hint of a smile crossed Dalton's face.
"We will retake the canal if the Chinese cause any problems or try to intimidate anyone. Secretary Shannon is going to personally reiterate that message directly to Liu Fan-ding."
"That could be a problem," Scott said. "Especially with the Chinese working so closely with Cuba."
"That's why we've been sending a lot of military assets to bases in the southeast, including Key West. In fact, we've been advertising the move to Cuba and the Chinese."
Prost seemed to derive a sense of pleasure from Macklin's aggressive position. "The president wants the Cubans and the Chinese to think about what's sitting on their doorstep. He would relish an opportunity to turn every military airfield and military installation in Cuba into rubble — it's one of his fondest desires."
"Do we have any ships or subs in the Gulf of Mexico?" Jackie asked.
"They're moving into place as we speak."
"It sounds as if we're spread fairly thin," Scott said.
"Oh, it gets better by the minute," Prost said dryly. "Now that we've removed all of our military personnel from Panama, drug traffickers, Colombian guerrillas, and rightist paramilitary forces have been conducting incursions deep into Panama. They've overpowered most of Panama's meager security forces, and the Chinese are bringing in thousands of ground troops to squelch the invasions."
Jackie looked at Hartwell. "It appears that Beijing has a perfect cover to surround the canal with Chinese forces while claiming their innocence."
"That's why the Washington battle group and the Marines are en route to the Colombian Basin."
Prost shook his head. "On top of everything else, North and South Korea are at it again."
"More clashes on the high seas?" Jackie guessed.
"I'm afraid so. One of our cruisers, Mobile Bay, departed Yokosuka this morning, and the Stennis battle group is headed toward the Yellow Sea. In the meantime, we've sent more AC-130 gunships to southern Korea to patrol the waters off North and South Korea. We've also sent more B-lBs to Osan as a show of force — same with F-117s and F-15Es to Kunsan."
"Ambiguity," Scott said. "Too many flash points."
"What?" Hartwell asked.
"We haven't been standing firm with these countries. I think this drone operation has the potential to escalate into a military clash with the Chinese — we have all the ingredients."
"It's very much on the president's mind." Hartwell remembered Macklin's exact words. "But he's absolutely committed to the operation. He wants tangible evidence so he can confront Beijing and take action to destroy the weapons."
Scott glanced at Jackie before he continued. "Beijing may be attempting to remind the world that it remains a powerful, global military menace in an effort to gain leverage and status."
"Then again," she suggested, "the PRC may have a weapon that they believe can render our military impotent."
"And we're the tip of the spear," Scott said. "Again, what if one of the ships downs the drone?"
"Or us," Jackie interjected.
"And we don't have any proof of what happened?" Scott added.
"Well, the president and I have talked about another option, if one of the Chinese ships attacks the drone, or you, and we don't have proof."
Scott and Jackie patiently waited.
"If the drone is hit or downed, we'll explore the president's idea."
"That's it?" Dalton asked.
"That's it," Prost said in a voice that didn't invite any questions. "One step at a time."
"Okay."
"Try to get some rest." Prost got up and shoved his chair against the table. "I'll be out at the island with Craine."
Prost started for the door, and then turned around and smiled. "By the way, Jim Ebersole is personally overseeing the investigation into the terrorist attack on your Learjet."
His smile grew larger. "As you know, one cannot discuss the details of an ongoing FBI investigation — especially with the media. Jim will sit on this until everyone forgets about it."
"Good," Jackie said with a smile. "We don't need any ink."
"Be careful — don't take any unnecessary risks."
"Oh, we never do that," Jackie said with a smile.
Earlier in the day, after a carpenter had built and erected a new lattice screen at Scott's friend's home, Jackie and Scott had checked into the Miramar bachelor officers' quarters.
The warm afternoon was fading into a pleasant California evening when Jackie donned her flight suit. She picked up the rest of her gear, including a Canon 35mm camera and a Sony camcorder, then left her BOQ room. She walked to his room and quietly knocked on the open door. "Anybody home?"
"Come in."
"Hey, hotshot, ready for the Phantom gig?"
"Just about."
He zipped his flight suit and reached for his boots, then sat down in a chair. "I had a call from my connection at the Agency."
"The counterintelligence guru?"
"Mr. Counterintel," Scott said, slipping his feet into the flight boots. "For the past two years, he's been working on Chinese espionage cases with special agents from the NCIS."
"Did they have anything on Sergeant Wong?"
"They sure did. They'd been keeping an eye on him for about a year and a half. Wong was originally involved in the intel community — I think he was an oh-two-thirty-one intelligence specialist. At any rate, while he was stationed in Okinawa, he made two trips to Hong Kong and one to Beijing."
"I take it they weren't sightseeing trips."
"Hardly."
"Did they have a shadow on him?"
"Yep, but they never caught him in a compromising situation. His PRC recruiters, a man and a woman posing as a husband and wife, were very careful and conducted their business with Wong in a residence with guards at the entrance."
"Military guards?"
"They may have been, but they were wearing business suits."
"So they just continued to keep him under surveillance?"
"That's right, until he finally made a mistake."
"What mistake?"
"When he received orders to report to Camp Pendleton, Wong and his wife bought a very expensive home near Mission Viejo. They paid a hundred thirty thousand dollars down on the home and then paid cash for a new Chevy Tahoe."
Scott chuckled. "This, of course, after living in apartments and rental homes and driving used cars since he joined the Corps."
"They must've had a terrific run in the stock market."
"Or, they were very thrifty with their cash. After his wife was observed leaving one of three California banks known to have safety deposit boxes to distribute money to spies, the NCIS folks arranged to have Wong transferred to Cherry Point."
"Did his wife go with him?"
"No way. She had to stay where the cash was flowing."
Scott rose from the chair. "When Wong arrived in Cherry Point, he was very cautious for a while. He didn't know that an NCIS agent, a former Marine lieutenant disguised as a sergeant, was working with him in the general's office."
"Did the general know?"
"No one knew."
"So, what are they going to do, if anything?"
"They've already taken him into custody. They bluffed him and he started breaking down. When they asked him if he could spell court-martial and Leavenworth, he started singing like a roadhouse honky-tonk band. He gave them the details of the call he made to the Chinese coordinator in San Francisco who arranged the attempt on our lives. The man, who answered directly to ZhengYenTsung, is currently being interrogated along with two of his senior assistants."
Scott reached for his flight gloves. "As you might have guessed, Zheng has obviously placed our names at the top of his hit list."
"Somehow that doesn't come as a surprise. Your friend at the Agency had a very productive day."
"That, he did." Scott reached for his helmet. "I hope we have a productive night."
"I'm sure it'll be memorable."
"Excuse me. Did I just detect a cutting remark — a slam?"
"Let's go, before I come to my senses."
The hundred-thousand-ton supercarrier was steaming slowly 135 nautical miles southwest of San Diego when the ship's skipper received word that the highly classified operation was about to get under way. Only a handful of Lincoln's senior officers knew about the drone mission.
Below the flight deck, the majority of officers and sailors had had dinner and were relaxing or taking care of personal business. After being away from their home port at Everett, Washington, for nearly three weeks, the crew was looking forward to making a port call in San Diego the following morning.
Above the flight deck, in the island containing the navigation bridge, admiral's bridge, flight-deck control, chart room, and primary flight control, planning sessions were being conducted. Proving Chinese involvement in the mysterious plane crashes was paramount in the minds of the senior officers who were aware of the drone mission.
Escorted by the Aegis cruiser USS Princeton and the Aegis destroyer USS Benfold, the Lincoln's air wing was continuing to stand down from night air operations. However, two SH-60B Seahawk helicopters from the HS-4 Black Knights were manned and standing by to launch on short notice. The escort ships also had SH-60Bs ready to assist in a possible search-and-rescue mission.
After flying their Grumman E-2C back from MCAS Miramar, the Hawkeye flight crew had a quiet dinner and manned their aircraft for a pinkie launch just before the sun went to sleep. As the pilots started the turboprop engines and began completing their checklists, there was a sense of uneasiness among the mission systems operators. Not dread or obvious fear, just a definite feeling of concern.
Following hand signals from the yellow-shirted taxi director, the pilot deftly guided the airborne early warning aircraft toward the port catapult at the bow of the ship. In the back of the E-2C a naval flight officer had removed and stowed the ditching hatch in case they went into the water.
The Hawkeye, having been upgraded by the radar modernization program, could track smaller targets and air and surface targets simultaneously. The sensory perception of the E-2C is capable of searching more than three million cubic miles of airspace, plus tracking objects on the surface of the ocean or land.
Once the E-2C was in position on the catapult and the wings were unfolded and locked, the pilot came up on the power. "Engines look good, hydraulics check good, circuit breakers are in; I like what I see."
He turned to the copilot. "How about you?"
"Looks like a winner."
"Are you ready in the back?" the pilot asked over the intercom. "We're ready to go."
The pilot scanned the instruments one more time and then signaled the shooter that Prime Time 602 was ready to fly.
The catapult officer completed his checks, then knelt down on one knee and touched the deck with two of his outstretched fingers. Seconds later, the Hawkeye blasted up the deck in a swirling cloud of steam vapor and began climbing to altitude.
The E-2C would fly a wide pattern around the carrier and coordinate with other reconnaissance aircraft, including an RC-135S Cobra Ball spy plane and three innocent-looking civilian surface vessels. The two reconditioned motor yachts and the trawler were packed with cleverly camouflaged surveillance gear.
One yacht and the trawler were positioned south of the cargo ships Kapitan Zhirnovsky and Chen Ziyang, while the other yacht was trailing twelve miles astern of the Kapitan Zhirnovsky. As soon as the Hawkeye crew pinpointed the cargo ships, they would guide the Harrier and the F-4 drone to the targets.
In geosynchronous orbit twenty-three thousand miles above the earth, an advanced NRO Orion signal intelligence spacecraft would be eavesdropping on communications in the Eastern Pacific. KH-11 and Lacrosse intelligence-gathering spacecraft would work in concert with the Orion to unravel the mystery behind the elusive and deadly unidentified flying objects.