Dancing with the Dragon

Chapter 7

After leaving Prost's estate, Scott skillfully negotiated the heavy traffic on Interstate 95 as they drove south toward Washington, D. C. Glancing at a line of dark thunderstorms, he was anxious to get his glossy red Ferrari back in his garage in Georgetown. An uncommon car, Scott's GTB Spider had made its first public appearance in the original movie version of The Thomas Crown Affair.

With two phone calls, one of which was to President Macklin, Hartwell Prost had set in motion the ingredients to fulfill Scott's special request. It was the foundation for a daring plan to solve the mystery behind the series of deadly crashes.

Scott couldn't wait to return to the Marine Corps Air Station at Cherry Point, North Carolina. Cheerless Point, as it was referred to by many of those individuals stationed there, was the home of VMAT-203, the AV-8B Harrier readiness-transition training squadron. The U.S. Marine Corps had been instructed to requalify former Capt. Scott Dalton in their two-seat TAV-8B Harrier trainers.

Pleasantly surprised by Dalton's bold initiative, the president and Prost endorsed the scheme and imposed two conditions. Only a small coterie of people would know about the operation, and if anything happened to Scott and Jackie, they would be remembered as having disappeared while conducting personal business in South America. To authenticate the cover story for the White House, the Agency would leave a trail leading from Scott and Jackie's home to Venezuela.

As always, regardless of the type of operation, Jackie and Scott would go in sterile. No form of identification or identifying jewelry or clothing. In addition, all articles of clothing and footwear had to be free of identifiable tags or logos. As far as the White House and U.S. government were concerned, Dalton and Sullivan were aviation consultants.

While Scott was requalifying in the TAV-8B, Jackie would be receiving a thorough indoctrination to prepare her to fly in the back-seat of the unique attack aircraft. Also known as the Jump Jet, the Harrier is designed to land and take off vertically like a conventional helicopter, then fly at speeds in excess of six hundred miles per hour.

"I'm having a problem with your plan," Jackie said.

"Would that be the expendable part of the operation?"

"Lucky guess."

"That's why we get anything we want, any support we need, plus a huge infusion to our retirement portfolios."

"If we pull this off without being incinerated."

"We're going to be just fine, trust me."

"Let's see, where have I heard that expression before? Oh, yes, our last operation — when we were involved in two helicopter crashes and an aircraft ditching, in the space of one week."

"Hey, everyone has things go sour now and then."

"Sour? That's your definition of an ongoing disaster?" Scott braced for the inevitable backlash.

"Why didn't you discuss this harebrained idea with me before announcing your plan to Hartwell?"

"It just came to me as we were about to leave."

"Oh, no, no, n000. That didn't just fly out extemporaneously. You had thought it through and decided not to discuss it with me. Why?"

"That's not true."

"I've been laboring under the illusion that we're a team."

"We are a team — a good one. I had thought about the idea, but it didn't really gel until Todd Justice told us he thought his flight leader could have been struck by a laser."

"Come on."

"Jackie, if you'll take the time to think about this, it isn't crazy.

The Pentagon and the CIA are convinced that the Red Chinese, with the help of Soviet scientists, have developed an antisatellite laser that could cripple the U.S. military's orbiting reconnaissance spacecraft."

She nodded. "It's probably like the MIRACL chemical laser — the vintage mid-infrared advanced chemical laser."

"That's right, but the Chicoms may have come up with something much more powerful. Something that can fire a laser beam hundreds of miles into space and obliterate our spies in the sky, the space station, or even a space shuttle — who knows?"

Jackie glanced at him. "If they can do that, it seems like hitting a rocket or an airplane would be relatively easy."

"Sure — look at our breakthrough in directed-energy weapons. The future belongs to DEW, and they're making great strides at the Air Force Research Laboratory at Wright-Patterson and at Lockheed Martin."

"But that's a system using an airborne laser in a radar-like function to foil SAMs and air-to-air missiles — send them off course."

"I'm just looking at the concept," Scott said. "A laser can be pointed down to jam or destroy something as easily as it can be directed upward. If the Chinese do have the capability to hit our re-con satellites and space shuttles, we're facing an eventual war in the heavens. The same with our desire to control the ultimate high ground. When we deploy a whiz-bang weapon to protect our interests in orbit, it will trigger an arms race in space and eventually lead to a war with somebody."

"just like the seventeen hundreds."

He looked at her. "What?"

"We had to form a navy to protect our interests on the high seas. And that led to a number of famous sea battles over the years."

"Yeah, and space will be the battle zone of the future."

"Well, that's the future. At the present time we don't know what the Chinese really have or what they plan to do."

"Correct. That's why we're going to have spacecraft and reconnaissance planes eyeballing everything within a five-hundred-mile radius of our carrier. If there's an airborne laser or surface laser out there, we want evidence of the platform — the mother ship or whatever we find."

"I still don't like the idea."

"Jackie, we're going to be using an unmanned, brightly lighted Fox-4 as a drone — piece of cake."

" That's the upside?"

"What better target than a remotely piloted Phantom to draw fire from whatever it is we're up against?"

Jackie slowly shook her head. "What if it, whatever it is we're trolling for, targets us instead of the drone — blows us out of the sky?"

"Our Harrier is going to be blacked out and offset about two hundred yards. We won't be visible."

"Let me try this again. What if it targets us?"

"That should be obvious. We jump out — jettison the airplane."

"And if we don't have time?"

"Everyone who has witnessed these encounters says the same thing. The 'bogey' plays with the target before any—"

"Before it turns them into crispy critters."

"Jackie, there are a lot of tools of manipulation and deception that make potential enemies hear, see, and believe things that don't actually exist. Our job is to find out what's going on and who's behind it."

He glanced at the dark clouds and turned to her. "I get the distinct impression that you're not uninhibitedly enthusiastic about the Phantom mission."

"What gave you that idea?"

"You know" — he paused and then gave her a sidelong glance "you don't have to do this with me."

"Don't be ridiculous. Who else could you get to operate the camera and video equipment?"

"Well, that could be a problem."

She ignored him. "Besides, after the other dumb things I've seen you get away with, I'm convinced God isn't going to let anything happen to you."

Scott laughed and then maneuvered the Ferrari into traffic on the notorious Capital Beltway. "New subject?"

"Sure."

"Are we positive the man we saw at the Grant Hotel was Chinese?"

"I can't swear he was, but that was my impression."

Scott reflected on the encounter. I glanced at him only once or twice. "You mentioned the passenger," Jackie said quietly. "The Oriental man in the white Mazda."

"Yes."

"Was he Chinese?"

"I don't know," Scott said, trying to remember the details. "He could've been Japanese for all I know."

"What was your first thought?"

"Chinese, but I saw his face for only a split second." They locked eyes momentarily before Scott spoke. "Where are you going with this?"

"I'm just thinking about all these strange encounters. A Hornet goes down off southern California, a Cobra Ball. down in the Bay of Bengal, another Hornet down in the Strait of Taiwan, and a B-2 downed near Guam."

"Do you think the Chicoms or Japanese are behind these encounters?" Scott asked.

"That's always a possibility. Except for the incident off the coast of California, the other planes were lost — attacked is a better description — in an area of the world with a lot of chilly relationships."

"True." A flash of lightning caught his eye. "The steady growth of the Chinese military is an ongoing crisis for Washington — the jitters over the eventual clash between China and Taiwan."

"Yeah, and the prowling dragon isn't going to ask Washington for permission."

"Not on your life."

She hesitated a few seconds. "Do you think China's burgeoning economy might keep Beijing from invading Taiwan?"

"No, unless China breaks out in a flurry of democracy — about as likely as an orangutan piloting the space shuttle."

Scott exited the beltway and turned toward their home in Georgetown. "In the last twelve years, China has increased military spending by more than three hundred percent. That buys a lot, including three Russian-made Sovremmennyy-class destroyers equipped with nuclear-tipped cruise missiles — antiship missiles that travel at twice the speed of sound. That's raising the stakes very high in the Taiwan Strait."

Scott glanced at Jackie. "Wait until Taiwan takes delivery of our Aegis-class destroyers. They could defend the island against China's medium-range missiles."

"Yeah, that could trigger a harsh response."

The entire sky had turned black as Scott watched the first few drops of rain splatter on the Ferrari's freshly waxed hood. "Beijing may think we're too involved in our war against terrorism to respond to a Chinese attack on Taiwan."

A brilliant flash of lightning and a booming clap of thunder signaled the beginning of a downpour.

Jackie watched the rain stream across the window. "Yeah, that's the big one. Under the Taiwan Relations Act, an assault on the island would be tantamount to the Chinese attacking the United States."

She thought about the scenario. "Do you think Beijing would really be crazy enough to test us over a renegade province?"

"Who knows? America and China are at another crossroads in history. In 1992, China's National People's Congress passed a law asserting ownership of the Spratlys, the Senkakus, the Paracels, and Taiwan. The Chicoms may feel like it's time to recover the territories lost during the bainiande ciru."

"The what?"

"The century of shame."

Her voice became flatter. "When I think about it, Beijing has shown an increased willingness to take risks."

"Well, we've been treating the regime with kid gloves, and Beijing just keeps slapping us in the face — like holding twenty-four of our military personnel eleven days after the Chinese pilot slammed into our recon plane. Accommodating the Chinese leaders isn't going to prevent a military clash."

"Bull's-eye." She half turned in her seat to face Scott. "After our past policy of appeasement, I'm afraid we're going to have an armed conflict with China at some point. It just seems inevitable."

"That's the way I view it. Appeasement is not what you want to do with the People's Republic of China. Beijing is trying to convince Japan, South Korea, Taiwan, and the Philippines that we're a declining power that can no longer protect them."

Scott turned onto their street. "They're making steady progress in the Western hemisphere too. From Canada, to Cuba, to Panama, to South America, Beijing is working on eroding U.S. ties to our allies. It's insidious and reaches into every segment of society, whether it's defense contractors, scientists, politicians, or whoever.

"The PLA and the Chinese government have penetrated U.S. capital markets. They're methodically sucking billions of dollars from unsuspecting Americans, and we're letting them get away with it — billions of American dollars to help Beijing build a powerful military to confront us. Incredible — while our politicians just waddle along, blissfully dancing with the dragon."

His jaw became rigid. "Here's the real problem for the Chicoms in Beijing. Time is not on their side."

"In what way?"

"One of these days the boys in Beijing will look around and see the rise of the Chinese middle class, the growing social unrest, America's ever-expanding technological edge, the U.S. military becoming stronger, Taiwan's increasing assertiveness, and conclude that they have to do something drastic. That's what makes the situation so dangerous."

Jackie's satellite phone rang and she answered it.

Scott drove into their driveway.

"Okay, have fun, enjoy yourself, and we'll keep you informed."

"Merrick?"

"Yes. We missed her at the base by ten minutes."

"Where is she?"

"In a hotel near Santa Barbara."

Scott eased the dripping Ferrari inside the garage. "You didn't tell her about Lou Emerson?"

"No, for a reason."

"At this stage, that was probably the right thing to do." Scott got out of the car and double-locked the garage door from the inside. "At least she's in a safe place."

"Let's hope so."

The early morning sky was showing a hint of daylight as Jackie brewed a pot of mint tea and poured fresh orange juice into their glasses. While she fixed breakfast, Scott brought in the Washington Post and USA Today. He checked the weather for the flight to Marine Corps Air Station Cherry Point, North Carolina, filed an instrument flight plan, and called Signature Flight Support at Washington Dulles International Airport.

He instructed the customer service representative to have the fuel tanks on his Beech A36 Bonanza topped off, then sat down to have a light breakfast with Jackie. He was about to pepper his scrambled eggs when he turned to the third page of USA Today and fixed his eyes on the leading headline.

"Here we go again."

"What?" Jackie asked while she poured tea.

"Another mysterious crash."

"Where?"

"The Sea of Japan — a Japanese AWACS." He scanned the article and handed the paper to her. "All military aircraft so far — no civilian airplanes in these crashes."

She folded the paper to look at the headline. "An AWACS isn't a fighter plane or bomber — it isn't a direct threat, so why was it downed?"

"Who knows?"

She studied the article.

"Well," Scott said, "I guess we can eliminate the Japanese from the likely list of suspects."

Finished with the article, she looked up. "I wouldn't be too sure."

"Why not?"

"It could be a ruse to cast doubt elsewhere."

"You have to be kidding."

"No, I'm not kidding — they're very clever people."

Scott chuckled as he reached for his juice. "Almost a half-billion dollars to create a smokescreen?"

"What better way to develop an illusion?"

"How about downing three or four less expensive airplanes?"

"That would look like—"

From the window ledge, Jackie's satellite phone interrupted their conversation. She answered while Scott downed his glass of juice and reached for the Post.

"No, it's perfectly okay," she said to the caller. "I've been up for nearly an hour and a half."

She listened intently.

When he saw Jackie frown, Scott stopped eating and placed his fork on his plate. While he listened to the one-sided conversation, Jackie reached for a pen and a scratch pad. She wrote the name Merrick and shoved the note toward Scott. He glanced at it and then addressed his eggs.

"I understand. Please listen carefully to me. Don't go near your car. Leave it where it is. Go to the hotel lobby and stay there until we can make arrangements to have the FBI pick you up and take you to a safe place."

Jackie switched the phone to her other ear. "Yes, we have the authority — trust me. In fact, I'll be talking to the director of the FBI as soon as we hang up. The closest field office is in Los Angeles, so it may take a while. Pack your belongings and head for the lobby — call us when you're settled in."

After she hung up, Jackie stared at the phone.

"What's going on?"

"Cliff Earlywine is dead."

Scott was stunned. "What?"

"He's been killed."

"How did he die?"

"Merrick saw a report on television about Earlywine dying in a traffic accident last evening near Oceanside, California. The commentator said Cliff was a well-known newspaper reporter who had broken a number of big stories and was apparently working on a major story at the time of his death."

"Where is she, and what's with the FBI?"

"She's at the Rancho Santa Barbara Marriott. After we talked to her yesterday, she met some people who invited her to join them for an afternoon tour of the wineries in the region."

"Were they Orientals?"

"I didn't ask — damn," she said, reaching for Scott's phone directory. "I'll call information."

"Yeah, we need to find out."

"At any rate, when they got back from the tour, they went out for a late dinner. Afterward her friends brought her back to the hotel and she went to bed. She couldn't go to sleep, so around three o'clock she switched on the television to get a news update. When she heard Cliff's name, she sat up in shock, then called us."

"What's her frame of mind now?"

"From the sound of her voice, she seems pretty concerned."

"Good — she needs to stay alert."

Jackie gave him a stern look. "She can take care of herself."

"Okay, okay." He extended his palms toward Jackie. "Lighten up; try relaxing for a change."

"I am relaxed."

"Good," he said with a smile. "How about calling Merrick's hotel, and I'll use my home phone to call Jim Ebersole?"

"Will do."

The director of the FBI answered on the third ring. The urgent request was quickly forwarded to the senior agent in Los Angeles. Scott gave Jackie the high sign and she told Merrick that help was on the way.

"Her friends were not Oriental," Jackie said, placing the satellite phone on the table.

"That's a relief."

"Earlywine didn't have an accident." She pushed her plate aside. "He was killed and we both know it."

"Yes, we'd better ask the FBI to investigate."

"I'll take care of it."

He could see the sadness in her eyes. "I don't know about you, but I've lost my appetite."

"Same here."

Scott folded his napkin and caught her eye. "Let's load the dishwasher and head for the airport."

She rose from her chair. "There's something very wrong with this picture, something sinister."

"Why don't you fly this morning — concentrate on other things."

"Yeah, good therapy."