Executive Intent

THREE

MINISTRY OF DEFENSE, BEIJING, PEOPLE’S REPUBLIC OF CHINA

DAYS LATER

The conference table in the office of the minister of defense of the People’s Republic of China was strewn with black-and-white and color photographs attached to larger pieces of cardboard with descriptive notes around the edges. Nothing too terribly important-looking could be discerned in the pictures by themselves, but the minister of defense, Zung Chunxian, a sixty-one-year-old career bureaucrat with thin dark hair, thick glasses, and a thick waistline, stared at them as if he were looking at works of ancient Chinese art.

“Identification?” he asked the military officer before him as he lit a cigarette.

“We believe it was an unmanned reconnaissance vehicle, sir,” General Hua Zhilun, commander of 11th Strategic Rocket Forces of the People’s Liberation Army, replied. Young for a general officer at age fifty-three, Hua was lean, fit, and polished. He, too, wore spectacles, but he put them away as he addressed the minister. Hua was in charge of the newest division of the Strategic Rocket Forces based on Hainan Island: offensive long-range ballistic-missile forces with targets in space and at sea instead of land. “The sensor package has not yet been recovered, but I am confident that is what it is. Most certainly American.”

“Where could it have come from?”

“Most unmanned aerial vehicles today have very long-range and loiter capability, and could have come from thousands of miles away,” Hua replied, “but the shape of this one suggests it was submarine-launched. The Americans and British both employ UAVs that can be launched from submerged missile or torpedo tubes.”

“Ingenious,” Zung said. “But why use such a device over Hainan Island, when they certainly have satellites that can do a better job without fear of being shot down?”

“A satellite’s orbit and position at any given time can be predicted with high accuracy, sir, which can give one time to hide something that one does not want to be photographed,” Hua said. “Unmanned air vehicles such as this can pop up anywhere and anytime.”

“So the attack missiles on Hainan Island have been discovered?”

“We must assume they have, sir,” Hua said. “It is of little consequence.”

“Why do you say that, General?”

“The deterrent effect of the Dong Feng-21 missiles is much greater than their actual demonstrated capabilities, sir.”

“What do you mean?”

“To be quite honest, sir, the DF-21 antisatellite and antiship weapons are mostly for show as of yet,” Hua explained.

The defense minister’s eyes bulged with indignation. “Zhe shi shen-me yi-si? What did you say?”

“They are reliable and effective in their primary role as intermediate-range ballistic land-attack missiles, sir,” Hua explained, “but they have hardly been tested in their new roles. We were able to successfully intercept one satellite in a carefully rehearsed exercise with an absolutely fine-tuned weapon, but it is quite another matter to deploy a cold-soaked missile that has been in a transporter tube in a corrosive marine environment for a long period of time and have it successfully launch, track, and hit its target, even if the target is not maneuvering or dispersing countermeasures.”

“So why have we spent billions of yuan on them?” Zung asked incredulously. “Why would my predecessor agree to such a thing?”

“Because the Americans began deploying their Kingfisher antisatellite and antiballistic-missile weapons,” Hua replied, “and honored Defense Minister Chi wanted to respond in kind and as quickly as possible. We could argue that the Americans have the same problem with their Kingfisher weapon containers-space is far more hostile than salt air or terrestrial weather-but they chose to deploy them as they continue to test and upgrade them, and China had to respond in like manner.”

“So it is an empty force, a hollow threat, and a waste of money?” Zung asked.

“We really do not know for sure, sir, unless we test the systems more often,” Hua said. “But for the kind of tests we require to fully validate the DF-21 system, we need to launch at real satellites from real installations, not merely at simulated targets or on the Lop Nor instrumented test ranges. That means launching targets into orbit. My budget requested twenty million yuan per month for the next fifteen months just to test the antisatellite and antiship versions of the DF-21. It was turned down because the increased test tempo would certainly alert and possibly alarm the Americans.”

“I think that is not a consideration any longer, General, especially now that we know that Washington is stepping up deployment of those weapon satellites and being much more aggressive in surveillance,” Minister Zung said. “It will take some time to resubmit your requested testing funds, but I think this time they will be approved.” He paused for a moment, then said, “But are there other targets on which to test?”

“Other targets, sir?” Hua asked. He paused as well, then shook his head. “I know of no other suitable defunct or out-of-service satellites, sir,” he replied, “except the weather satellite we plan to use for the upcoming sea-launched weapon test. We could possibly inquire of our allies or commercial operators to see if-”

“What about satellites that are not defunct or out of service,” Zung asked, “and do not belong to our allies or ourselves?”

“Sir?” Hua was confused…but only for a moment. His eyes widened in surprise, and Zung thought he noticed the beginnings of a devilish smile on the corners of the young general’s lips. “Sir, are you suggesting…?”

“I am suggesting, General Hua,” Zung said, stubbing out his cigarette, “that if an opportunity would present itself to conduct a very realistic test of our antiship and antisatellite weapons, and if you notified me in a timely manner, I am quite certain both the Central Military Commission and the Military Committee of the Party Central Committee will approve it. Do you understand me, General?”

200 M ILES OFF THE C OAST OF M OGADISHU, S OMALIA

SEVERAL DAYS LATER

“Pan-pan, pan-pan, pan-pan,” the frantic marine radiotelephone message began on Channel 16 and 2182 kilohertz frequencies, “all stations, all stations, all stations, this is the freighter Yutian, People’s Republic of China, two hundred three nautical miles east of Mogadishu, proceeding southwest toward Mumbasa, Kenya, at twelve knots. A small motor vessel is about three miles west of us and we can see men armed with automatic weapons and RPGs on board. We believe they are Somali pirates and they mean to board this vessel. Requesting immediate assistance from any nearby Combined Task Force warships. Over.” The radio operator repeated the message, adding the freighter’s geographical coordiates.

Seventy-six miles to the north, the People’s Liberation Army Navy Luyang-class destroyer Wuhan, part of the multinational Combined Task Force-151 group of over thirty warships and dozens of aircraft from twenty-five nations, responded to the call by launching a Russian-made Kamov Ka-27 antisubmarine warfare helicopter. As part of the CTF-151 tasking, the Ka-27 had a chin-mounted sea radar and was armed with a smoke-rocket launcher on one hardpoint and a 7.62-millimeter machine gun on the other.

Nearly an hour later, the Ka-27 approached the freighter. The helicopter was manned by a pilot and copilot plus two Chinese marines acting as observers. “ Wuhan, this is Patrol Unit Three,” the pilot radioed, “we are approaching the Yutian, and we have the suspect vessel in sight. It is a ten-meter open-hull motor vessel with two armed persons aboard. There is a rope ladder on the Yutian’s port side midships at the low-ramp gunwale and the suspect vessel appears to be tied to the Yutian. Four suspects are holding about a dozen crewmembers at gunpoint near the bow. We are fifteen minutes until bingo fuel. Request instructions.”

“Patrol Three, this is Wuhan, you are authorized to fire warning smoke at the suspect vessel,” came the reply. “Remain well clear of hostile fire. We are dispatching another patrol helicopter and are under way toward your position.”

“Acknowledged,” the pilot responded. On intercom he said, “Prepare for smoke-rocket launches from the port launcher, crew.” Flying about a half mile from the freighter, the pilot armed his weapon panel, pedal-turned slightly right, and pressed the red button atop his control stick three times, firing three forty-millimeter unguided rockets ahead of the freighter’s track.

“ Wuhan, this Patrol Three, I have fired three smoke rockets ahead of the freighter,” the pilot radioed. “It was clearly observed by the suspects. The suspects on the boat are not moving. The suspects holding the hostages are waving their AK-47s at me. They-” He stopped his narration in shock when he saw one of the pirates, who appeared to be no more than a teenager, turn back to the hostages, lower his AK-47 to his hip, and fire, cutting down the first row of hostages. “The pirates are killing hostages!” he screamed on the radio. “They are murdering them!”

“Patrol Three, Patrol Three, remain clear of hostile fire!” the commander of the Wuhan radioed.

But the Ka-27 pilot couldn’t hear him, or ignored him if he did. Instead, he pedal-turned to the right, moved in closer to the freighter, and squeezed the trigger on his control stick. The 7.62-millimeter machine gun on his starboard-side pylon chugged to life. The pilot carefully walked the bullet hits up the side of the freighter and across the deck, killing two of the pirates and scattering the others. “Take that, you murderous bastards!” the pilot shouted. “Take-”

“RPG! RPG!” the copilot shouted. “Break left!”

But it was far too late. A pirate aboard the smaller boat tied to the freighter had immediately raised a rocket-propelled grenade launcher, aimed, and fired, and from about a hundred yards away, he could not miss. The grenade round hit and exploded, and the Ka-27 burst into flames and dove straight down into the Indian Ocean.

OLD PORT DISTRICT, MOGADISHU, SOMALIA

LATE THAT NIGHT

The pirate mother ship, a thirty-meter oceangoing tugboat captured by pirates several months earlier, had returned at flank speed to its berth at the Old Port of Mogadishu, northeast of the new port facility and east of the slums of downtown Mogadishu, after the news came that the crew of one of their pirate ships had shot down the Chinese patrol helicopter. The port’s old piers had not been rebuilt after years of disuse, but had been repaired enough to service the mother ship and its small fleet of pirate assault vessels, including enough roadways and security positions to allow refueling and rearming the vessels and their crews. It was the busiest the Old Port had been in many years. The crew didn’t much care about how well they secured the ship-they tied it off, threw some pieces of corrugated tin and canvas on it to disguise it the best they could, then got away as fast as they could.

Old Port had been the location of several foreign embassies headquartered in the Somali capital, all now closed, when Mogadishu was one of the largest and busiest ports in all of East Africa. Now various warlords and pirate captains occupied the old embassy buildings as their headquarters. The buildings in the Old Port district had been rebuilt and fortified with the millions of dollars of ransom money paid by shipping and insurance companies around the world to have their vessels, crews, and cargo released by the pirates over the years. The nearby Abdiasis district, with its beautiful white-sand beaches, sports facilities, and tree-lined neighborhoods, had been taken over by the pirate captains and the warlords who controlled them, creating a security buffer between themselves, the teeming squalor of the city, and the continuing civil war that kept the government nonexistent, the entire country lawless and fractured, and the economy in shambles for almost a decade. But if a visitor was transported to the area and saw only Old Port and Abdiasis, he might conclude that Mogadishu was an up-and-coming city striving for greatness.

A meeting of the mother ship’s captain, six of their boarding crew-boat captains, and the local warlord was called to discuss the downing of the Chinese patrol helicopter. In the former French embassy building, across the street from the Abdul Rahman Mosque and a large madrassa, they watched news coverage of the incident on satellite TV, but there was not much yet. Discussions centered around where to move the base of operations-it was a given that the Chinese, or someone who belonged to the Combined Task Force antipiracy group, would respond.

Unknown to the Somali pirates, the Chinese response was already under way. An unmanned patrol aircraft that had been launched to assist the Kamov patrol helicopters had been diverted when the mother ship was observed fleeing the area, and the UAV followed it back to the Old Port. It was easy to spot exactly where the mother-ship crew went after disembarking, and the crew of the Wuhan watched as the meeting of the band of pirates commenced. The Wuhan had been moving toward shore, and in ten hours was now within range.

As soon as the meeting started, the captain of the Wuhan ordered the attack to begin, and the ship fired four C-802L cruise missiles toward the Old Port. The C-802s were reverse-engineered French Exocet antiship missiles, modified and improved for land-attack missions with greater range and speed, a larger five-hundred-pound high-explosive warhead, and a GPS satellite navigation system with an infrared terminal guidance seeker. In five minutes, the missiles crossed the remaining distance between the Wuhan and shore and destroyed the old French embassy and the Abdul Rahman Mosque, a suspected pirate haven.

THE KREMLIN, MOSCOW, RUSSIAN FEDERATION

A SHORT TIME LATER

“Premier Zhou, this is President Truznyev calling,” Igor Truznyev, the president of the Russian Federation, said on the secure telephone connection to Beijing. The former head of the Federal Security Bureau, the new name of the defunct Komitet Gosudarstvennoy Bezopasnosti, or KGB, Truznyev at age sixty-eight was much older than most of his recent predecessors, but was in excellent health and took great care of his body and mind. Tall, loud-voiced, and imposing, with a mane of thick silver hair, thick bushy eyebrows, and thick legs, Truznyev often walked the streets of cities, towns, villages, factories, and farms throughout Russia even in the worst weather, greeting citizens with a hearty handshake, accompanied by an impressively small and remarkably inconspicuous security detail.

Truznyev was unabashedly “old school” and a fierce nationalist, strongly believing that Russia had to be governed by a strong central government willing to do whatever it took to run the vast country and secure its mostly indefensible borders. Most Russians embraced the very same ideals and voted overwhelmingly for him, securing his second term with 82 percent of the popular vote-even without his networks of internal security officers squelching all signs of dissent or opposition anywhere in the country, Truznyev would have won the election by an overwhelming majority.

“Good evening to you, sir,” Truznyev went on; then, without waiting for a response, he continued, “What in bloody hell do you think you’re up to in Somalia?”

“Good evening to you as well, Mr. President,” Chinese premier Zhou Qiang replied in Russian, without the need of a translator. “It is exactly as you perceive, sir: a punitive action against Somali murderers. The people of China are tired of their killing and hijackings, and they demanded retribution against those that ordered the slaughter of our sailors.”

“A simple phone call before the attack was in order, sir,” Truznyev said. “We are fellow members of the antipiracy task force, and we have sailors in those waters. An accident or misidentification would have been most unfortunate.”

“Your sailors were in no danger, Mr. President,” Zhou said. “Our naval forces may not be the equal of Russia, but they know how to distinguish a pirate ship from a warship.”

“Meaning no disrespect to the skill and determination of your sailors, Premier, but a call or message would have been welcome. After the attack on your freighter and helicopter, nerves are on a knife’s edge out there.”

“My apologies, Mr. President,” Zhou said. “Perhaps you are correct: A message to our friends and allies in the area would have been wise. But these days it is hard to accurately determine who are China ’s allies or friends.”

“ Russia is certainly no enemy of China, Premier,” Truznyev said. “Our foreign ministers and embassies have long discussed the many ways our countries should be working together. We should be putting ideology aside and joining forces for our mutual benefit and support.” He paused for a moment; then: “I trust you did not notify the Americans of your attack on Mogadishu ahead of time?”

“ Washington would have been the last capital I would have notified,” Zhou spat. “If I had done so, I would not have been surprised if the letch Joseph Gardner would have notified a dozen neighboring nations, told us to warn the citizenry so as to minimize innocent casualties, and had television cameras on hand to document the attack. And all that would be after trying to talk us out of attacking.”

“Their history in Somalia has certainly not been pleasant,” Truznyev said. “I am happy to hear that we have similar attitudes about Washington and Joseph Gardner.”

“I think our interests have been drawing closer and closer in recent years,” Zhou said, “especially since the return of Kevin Martindale and the establishment of the American military outpost in space.”

“I wholeheartedly agree, Premier,” Truznyev said. “The Armstrong Space Station is a dangerous, destabilizing monstrosity, especially since the addition of their weapon satellites. They claim they are defensive in nature, but that is obviously not so, as they have recently demonstrated in Pakistan. The entire world is their target now.”

“ China will never stand by and become a target of American weapons, from the sea, from space, or anywhere else on the planet,” Zhou said, his Russian momentarily becoming strained and garbled as he grew more and more irritated. “ China ’s rights will be respected.”

“As well they should, Premier,” Truznyev said. “ Russia is not sitting idly by while the Americans deploy their weapon satellites.”

“Oh? What is Russia doing about them?”

“Just because they are hundreds of kilometers in space does not mean they are invulnerable to attack,” Truznyev said. “While you build more and more antisatellite missiles, our scientists and computer engineers are discovering other, subtler ways to disrupt them.”

“You must share these ways with China, Mr. President.”

“Perhaps so, if they prove to be effective,” Truznyev said. “So. What more of poor Somalia?”

“When we finish pounding the pirates’ hideouts into the sand, we will return home.”

“Oh? They will only return, perhaps with revenge on their minds,” Truznyev said. He waited a few heartbeats to hear if Zhou would or would not remain adamant; when he did not, Truznyev went on: “The Americans have a massive base in Djibouti from which they control the entire southern access to the Suez Canal. They once claimed it was a forward operating base for antipiracy operations. Do you think they would depart once you destroy the Somali pirates?”

“What of it? The Americans would not dare restrict access to the Canal or anywhere else.”

“Probably not, but they could do so, and that alone is troubling enough for me,” the Russian president said. “When Russia had access to ports in Yemen and Egypt, we tied up a great many American warships just from our presence. America wanted a ten-to-one ratio of warships in the Gulf of Aden, Red Sea, and Indian Ocean. It was fun just to watch the hapless Americans driving these huge convoys of massive warships around like chickens with their heads cut off just because we sailed a tiny frigate through the area.”

“But they did build the ships, and they fill every ocean with them. What of it, Mr. Truznyev?”

“We will talk more of it at a later time, Premier,” Truznyev said. “But allow me to make a prediction: Once China gets a taste of foreign adventure, it will be hard to stop. Russia once sailed vast fleets and squadrons of bombers all around the world. We stopped after the Soviet Union collapsed and the oligarchs robbed our country blind, and our country lost its pride and hope for the future.

“But when we took control of our government and our resources and resumed showing the flag, even though in vastly smaller numbers, the world sat up and took notice once again, and the Russian people regained hope for the future. We are not yet a superpower again as we once were, but no longer does the United States disregard our rights and wishes.

“ China has always had the reputation for isolation, for staying within its own borders, for closing its ports and its very society when the pressures of the outside world create social and economic stress,” Truznyev said. “You have changed that dynamic tonight, Premier. I suggest you observe the reaction of the world and decide if China might try another direction.”

“What direction, sir?”

“The opposite of isolation: engagement,” Truznyev said. “ China ’s armies outnumber the next three nations’ armies combined. That should be enough to cause any nation, even the United States, to tremble. I am not saying go to war, but make the adversary think you are not contemplating isolation any longer. If you dare take your rightful place, you will find a willing ally in Russia, Premier.”

U.S. AFRICA COMMAND HEADQUARTERS, BOLE INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT, ETHIOPIA

A SHORT TIME LATER

“We just moved this headquarters here from Germany, Mr. Carlyle,” complained U.S. Army General Thomas Greene, commander of U.S. Africa Command, one of the newest unified commands in the U.S. military. Greene, a short, rather heavyset, square-headed, and powerfully built black man in his early fifties, was sweating profusely underneath a full set of ACUs, or Army Combat Uniform. “Nothing is working right, half of my staff is still in Stuttgart and hasn’t arrived yet, and you can fry an egg on the roof of my Humvee. So to answer your question, sir: No, I have not been briefed on the incident in Mogadishu yet.”

“Well, what can you tell us about the situation out there, General?” the president’s national security adviser asked from his office in the West Wing of the White House.

“Not much regarding the attack last night, sir,” Greene replied. “I get a briefing on the Combined Task Force antipiracy operation every day, and I meet with the task-force commander and senior officers at Camp Lemonier in Djibouti every two to three weeks depending on how active things get.”

“What about the Chinese, General?” Carlyle asked impatiently.

“The Chinese have five ships as part of the task force-the destroyer Wuhan is definitely one of them, along with another destroyer, a frigate, and two supply ships,” Greene said. “They operate mostly out of Aden, Yemen. Two warships are on patrol at a time, with a replacement coming in every two weeks to relieve one of them; the supply ships rotate with each other every week. Every four months another group of five ships comes in, they do a little drill package together for a couple days, and they’re back at it again. They keep up a pretty good ops tempo. I’ve met the Chinese commander in charge-he seems like a regular guy.”

“You had no indication they were going to attack Mogadishu, General?”

“None at all, sir,” Greene replied. “The Chinese keep a very low profile. As far as I know, they haven’t been in Somalia and have had only one or two other run-ins with Somali pirates over the years. I don’t think they’ve visited Djibouti or been briefed by the Joint Task Force-Horn of Africa, and I don’t know about any other East African nations.”

“You said they were based out of Yemen? Why not Djibouti, with the rest of the task force?”

“The Chinese seem to prefer to stay by themselves and not get crowded in with a lot of other foreign vessels,” Greene said. “I’m told they don’t really like the Yemenis, and vice versa, but it’s a convenient port for resupply-the Chinese can’t sustain blue-water ops as well as most Western navies can, so they want a pretty short supply line. Yemen works for them, and of course the Yemenis will be most happy to take China ’s cash for fuel, food, and other goods.”

“So what are the Chinese up to now, General?” Carlyle asked.

“Back to business as usual, sir,” Greene replied. “We’ve just received word that they’ve got a big convoy of three container vessels and one or two Ro-Ros heading for Tanzania next week, so they’re setting up for that.”

“‘Ro-Ros’?”

“Roll-On, Roll-Off ships-you just drive vehicles in one end and drive them off at destination out the other end,” Greene explained. “They’ll take a dozen tractor trailers loaded with goods on one ship. Pretty impressive. The Chinese prefer to escort their own ships through the region; they say it keeps up morale. That’s fine with us. Most skippers prefer to see their own flags surrounding them.”

“Okay, General Greene,” Carlyle said. “We’re hoping things will calm down now that the Chinese have spanked the pirates pretty badly. Thank you for the update, and let us know if you get any more info.”

He hung up before Greene could say “yes, sir,” and the general dropped the phone back on its cradle. “Jeez, where did that come from?” he muttered to his command sergeant major, Frank Nauert, who was in charge of the secure communications facilities along with all of his other duties. “Hasn’t he ever heard of chain of command?”

“That strike must’ve really spooked the White House, sir,” Nauert said.

“I’d definitely say so,” Greene said. “I just wished it was us who kicked Somali ass, not the Chinese.”

“Roger that, sir.”

“Well, if the White House is calling me directly, we need to have more info for them the next time they call,” Greene said.

“Teleconference the staff together and build me a situation-and-force status report. Quick as you can.”

“Roger that, sir,” Nauert said, reaching for the phone. But just before he picked it up, it buzzed with the distinct encryption ring of a secure call. Nauert picked up the receiver, heard the unlock tones, read the unlock routine code on the phone’s display, looked up his reply code, and punched it in. “ Nauert, U.S. AFRICOM, secure, go ahead, over,” he said when the encryption routine was authenticated and locked in.

“Raydon, Air Force Space Defense Force, secure,” Kai Raydon responded. “How are you, Sergeant Major?”

“Who is this, sir?”

“Brigadier General Raydon, aboard Armstrong Space Station. I have a couple questions for your traffic management officer if he has a moment.”

“Absolutely, sir,” Nauert said. “We haven’t stood up this headquarters quite yet, so I’m the TMO today and for the foreseeable future.” Even though Nauert was a dedicated veteran infantry soldier, he had always been fascinated by space technology, especially these days when it seemed to be advancing in vast leaps and bounds-he definitely saw himself as one of those Robert Heinlein “Starship Troopers,” dropping from orbit in delivery capsules to fight on planet Earth. He saw Greene’s quizzical expression and nodded assuredly. “What can I do for you?”

“We have been tracking a large convoy of Chinese cargo vessels heading your way,” Kai said. “I assume you’re familiar with the convoy?”

“Yes, sir, the Chinese Ministry of Trade gave the Combined Task Force their manifest and transit plan as requested. Destination Dar es Salaam, Tanzania; part of a twice-annual aid shipment to its friends and allies in Africa. Pretty standard convoy.”

“But the port call in Karachi was delayed a week?”

“Yes, sir, I believe that’s correct.”

“Any reason given?”

“Not that I’m aware, sir,” Nauert said. “Could be any number of reasons. We usually don’t get concerned about delays unless it affects the flow of traffic going through the Suez Canal or ports in East Africa-we don’t want too many ships anchoring wait for passage or berths because that complicates our patrol activities-or if traffic transiting our ops area increases to the point where we can’t provide enough security. In wintertime, traffic is usually less, so delays usually don’t create bottlenecks.”

“I see.”

“Why do you ask, sir?”

“No particular reason, Sergeant Major,” Kai said. “We collect a lot of data up here, mountains of it every hour, so in order to help sift through it, we look for trends and anomalies. If we see a broken sailing plan, we look for obvious reasons like weather, accidents, or civil disturbances, and if we don’t see any obvious reasons, we start asking around.”

“Sorry we don’t have that info for you, sir,” Nauert said. “I’ll pass your concerns to Stuttgart and they’ll take a look and report back. You may have to contact them directly for the latest info until we’re fully set up here.”

“Thanks, Sergeant Major, I will. If we see anything else from up here, we’ll pass it along. How do you like Ethiopia so far?”

“Nice place, good facilities, decent weather, friendly locals-a lot different than Afghanistan or Camp Lemonier. And how are things in space, sir?”

“Pretty routine, like being in a submarine, I guess, looking for trouble and hoping like hell you don’t find any,” Kai said. “Anytime you’d like to take a trip up here to look around, we’d love to have you stop by for a visit.”

“That’s definitely on my ‘bucket list,’ sir,” Nauert said. “Anything else I can do for you, sir?”

“Not right now. Nice to talk to you, Sergeant Major.”

“Same here, sir. AFRICOM clear.”

“That was the space-station guy?” Greene asked after Nauert terminated the call.

“Yes, sir. BG Raydon himself, asking about that convoy of Chinese ships headed our way.”

“What about it?”

“They were delayed for about a week in Pakistan. Raydon wanted to know why.”

“Shit, he’s the reason why the Pakistanis don’t tell us stuff anymore,” Greene complained. “If he hadn’t blasted that Pak village all to hell with his space weapon, we’d still be on speaking terms. The Paks aren’t going to tell us nothin’ about anyone’s ship movements until we get back on friendlier terms.”

“I’ll drop an e-mail to TMO at Stuttgart and ask the question.”

“Do that, but I’ll guarantee we won’t get an answer back from the Paks,” Greene said. “If the powers that be really want to know, they’ll probably have to send in the CIA to find out.” He sniffed derisively and shook his head. “Raydon and the Air Force think their space station and fancy space radars are so cool, but we’ll still use plain old-fashioned grunt work-some local in sandals and a turban, getting paid a couple bucks for info and maybe a photo or two-to get the real dope.”

ARMSTRONG SPACE STATION

THAT SAME TIME

“I would sure love to have a look inside those ships,” Kai Raydon said as he closed the secure telephone connection. “I have a bad feeling about those things.”

“Can’t the Coast Guard just pull them over and inspect them?” Boomer Noble asked. “I know the Coast Guard does that all the time, everywhere in the world.”

“Pretty low odds of a Chinese ship in international waters voluntarily agreeing to an inspection, Boomer,” Senior Master Sergeant Valerie “Seeker” Lukas said. “Unless there’s a Memorandum of Understanding between a nation and the Coast Guard, it’s up to the ship’s owner or captain to allow an inspection, and the Chinese aren’t likely to allow it.”

Kai checked the chronometers at his computer console to get the local time in Washington -it was early, but he knew that most career bureaucrats liked to get to work early. “It’d be worth a phone call to the State Department,” he said. Seeker nodded and got to work on her communications console.

“What do you think is in those ships, General?” Boomer asked.

“Another DF-21 emplacement, bound for Tanzania or Zaire -anywhere that has strong mutual defense and cooperation treaties with China,” Kai replied.

“With nukes?”

“Nuclear warheads can be detected without boarding a vessel,” Kai said, “but medium-range missiles like the DF-21 are allowed. If they wanted to put nuclear warheads on the DF-21s, they’d probably fly them in separately.”

“State Department is on the line, sir: Assistant Secretary of State Carlson, China desk, not secure,” Seeker said.

Kai hit a button on his console and readjusted his microphone. “Secretary Carlson? This is General Raydon from Armstrong Space Station, unsecure.”

“You’re on the space station right now, General?” Carlson asked, her voice quickly changing from young but very official to almost childlike. “Are you kidding?”

“Not kidding, Miss Carlson.”

“Call me Debbie, General, please.” Kai thought she was on the verge of a giggle. “Sorry we couldn’t do a secure videoconference, but I don’t know how to work the phone and my assistant’s not in yet. How can I help you today? The senior master sergeant said something about inspecting Chinese ships for medium-range missiles?”

“That’s right, Debbie. And please call me Kai.”

“Okay, Kai.” Her voice quickly switched back to official but friendly. “Here’s the deal: China routinely allows us to inspect vessels bound for U.S. ports, and that’s pretty much it without authority from Beijing, which takes about as long as it takes to sail a ship around the world. China doesn’t even allow inspections of its ships in times of distress, which means the Coast Guard won’t board a Chinese ship in distress unless the captain authorizes it, which in most cases he won’t. And just for clarification? That’s true for U.S.-flagged ships on government business, too.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“No one wants to have foreign inspectors poking around on ships carrying sensitive or classified materials-that’s pretty standard,” Carlson said. “Most nations would rather have such a ship go down rather than have foreigners, even rescuers, board it and discover their secrets.

“Now, you mentioned missiles. That’s covered under a voluntary protocol called the Missile Technology Control Regime, which was set up to try to prevent the proliferation of ballistic missiles and unmanned vehicles around the world. Unfortunately, China is not a signatory to MTCR, although they have several times agreed to abide by its principles. Also, MTCR doesn’t automatically allow foreigners to inspect suspect vessels-that’s still up to the captain, the ship’s owner, or a legal authority representative of the ship’s flag.”

“In other words, Debbie: If China doesn’t want us to inspect those ships, they’re not going to get inspected,” Kai summarized.

“That’s pretty much it, General…I mean, Kai,” Carlson said. “Again, it’s pretty standard all over the world-it’s no different than what we do. Ships on the high seas have always had a special ‘hands-off’ designation-don’t mess with them until they come into your home waters or you observe them doing something illegal.

“Now, China is a signatory to the Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty, which bars countries from distributing nuclear weapons and materials or to induce nonnuclear weapon states from acquiring them,” Carlson went on. “If you knew that those missiles were nuclear, and China was transporting those missiles to a nonnuclear weapon state, and you could convince the International Atomic Energy Agency of this, they could request an inspection of the ship. Not impossible, but extremely unlikely of China cooperating, unless you had a Polaroid of the nukes being unloaded in a nonnuclear weapon state.”

“The ships are bound for Tanzania.”

“ China does a lot of business in sub-Saharan Africa, especially the business of buying oil fields and farms to import energy and food,” Carlson explained. “They bring in a lot of manufactured goods in return. Nothing out of the ordinary yet. Tell me, Kai: What’s going on with these ships?”

“We’ve been monitoring several new Chinese antisatellite and antiship missile sites being constructed all over the world,” Kai explained, “and I think this convoy is carrying another one. Obviously such a site puts us in danger, and I’d like to find out if that’s what we’re looking at here.”

“Perfectly understandable,” Carlson said. “Unfortunately, all we can really do is watch those ships and watch when they start off-loading cargo to see what they’re carrying.”

“What if they were going to transit the Suez Canal? Can you ask Egypt to search the ships?”

“The Constantinople Convention guarantees free access to the Suez Canal to all ships of all nations, even nations at war with Egypt,” Carlson said. “The Suez Canal Authority, which operates the canal, has the right to inspect all vessels using the Canal, but only for specific purposes and in specific locations-the inspections are usually limited to paperwork checks of logbooks, manifests, and crew documents, unless there’s a request by Interpol. Over twenty-one thousand vessels use the Canal every year, and the SCA just doesn’t have the manpower to inspect the holds and spaces of every one. It would take an army of inspectors an entire year to inspect a U.S. aircraft carrier going through the Canal, even if we ever allowed it.”

“I’m impressed by your breadth of knowledge about this stuff, Debbie.”

“Not as impressed as I am talking to a guy in a space station orbiting the Earth, Kai,” Carlson said. “I’m a bureaucrat in a little office in Washington -you’re hundreds of miles above Earth floating in space.”

“Anytime you’d like to come up and check it out, Debbie, you’re welcome.”

“Are you serious?” The schoolgirl voice was back big-time.

“You don’t need to be a NASA-trained astronaut to travel in space these days-just be healthy enough to withstand the trip up here, and be patient until a seat opens up on a spaceplane.”

“How healthy is that, exactly?”

“Do you like roller coasters?”

“Sure.”

“Think you can ride one for ten minutes?”

“Ten minutes?”

“It’s not that much pressure, but it’s on you for a long time,” Kai said. “There’s a lot of noise and shaking, but it’s not too bad. And it’s both positive and negative-you have to put up with the deceleration part, too, for ten minutes during reentry, like when a Metro train is pulling into a station.”

“Doesn’t sound like that much fun anymore.”

“It’s worth it once you get up here. You can’t beat the view, that’s for sure.”

“I’ll think about it, Kai,” Carlson said. “You’ve got me very intrigued.”

“Good. We’d love to have you. And about those Chinese ships…?”

There was a slight pause; then: “Wellll…I can ask around and see if any of my contacts have trusted persons in Dar es Salaam that can give us some firsthand information on what’s in those ships when they start to unload. No guarantees.”

“That sounds fine, Debbie. Thank you.”

“You can really get me a ride up to the space station, Kai?”

“Clear it with your boss, get me an e-mail from your doctor saying you’re in good health, promise your family won’t sue me or the U.S. government if you burn up on reentry, and we’ll set it up.”

“I can’t believe it!”

“Believe it. Space travel is not just for jocks anymore. We’d love to have you.”

“I can’t wait! Thank you! Thank you!” And with squeals of joy still audible, she hung up.

Seeker looked at her boss with extreme skepticism. “You’re giving joyrides and tours of the station now, sir?” she asked.

“To tell the truth, Seeker, I offer folks rides up here all the time,” Kai admitted. “But I always hit them with the ‘burn up on reentry’ line. I figure if they’re still excited after hearing that, they’re ready to fly in space, but I haven’t had any takers yet. Miss Carlson might be the first.”

“Are we going to charge admission?”

“No,” Kai responded with a laugh, “but if you make up T-shirts and coffee mugs, I give you permission to sell them. How’s that?” Kai’s console beeped an urgent message alert, and he called it up immediately, read it-and flushed in surprise. “Seeker, you are not going to believe this,” he muttered, with a curse added in for good measure. “Get the sensors set up right away-this should be one hell of a show.”