Ghost Recon

TWENTY-ONE

Colonel Xu Dingfa had just spent a few days with his parents, and it had been exceedingly difficult not to tell them they would soon be reunited with their children. All he could say was that he had a great surprise and that they would know more joy than they'd had in many, many years.

His father, well aware of the current escalation of forces between the United States, Taiwan, and China, had warned Xu, "I hope, dear son, you are not talking about war."

Xu had not answered.

He wished he could have shared the Spring Tigers' great plan. He and his colleagues had waited far too long to set the dragon free.

In the days to come the Third and Sixth Destroyer/ Frigate Flotillas would set up a naval blockade of all Taiwan's principal cities, disrupting the flow of food and oil. The Tigers assumed that Washington would not sanction attacking a Chinese man-of-war patrolling in international waters. Moreover, those carrier commanders could not divert screening assets away from their carriers to shadow the Chinese warships, because that would leave antisub, antiair, and antisurf gaps in the screens protecting them. U.S. officials would be enraged, but their own rules of engagement precluded any military response as a viable option.

Once surface elements from the Third and Sixth were in place, air units from the Fourth and Sixth Naval Air Division would carry out surgical strikes on Taiwan's airfields, command and control centers, and those newly erected Patriot missile sites. This one-two punch would sever Taipei's communications with its U.S. protectors and eradicate the island's fledgling missile defense system.

At the same time, Xu's Special Forces already on the ground in Taipei near the Datong District would link up with two more companies of Chinese sleeper-cell forces and continue with direct-action missions to destroy radar facilities and further disrupt command and control as they moved south to capture the presidential office building.

At this juncture the pendulum could swing either way. The Americans could step up or Taipei could step down. Xu envisioned the inhabitants of the Pacific Rim watching, waiting. Only diplomacy could keep the pendulum motionless, but Xu had allowed for even that.

Those four Shang-class nuclear attack submarines from the Twenty-second and Forty-second Submarine Flotilla would, under Vice Admiral Cai's command, assume key positions in the Taiwan Strait, with their primary objective the two U.S. carriers.

Major-General Chen had argued that if those subs could damage or sink just one carrier, the loss would be catastrophic, and the U.S. Navy would have to retaliate with lethal force to save face. The Americans would hunt down the four Shang-class subs, while Major-General Wu ordered the launch of Dong Hai-10 Land Attack Cruise Missiles (LACM) with 900-mile ranges from the NMR into Taiwan, targeting major seaports.

Those LACM's would inflict even greater pressure on Taipei to capitulate while upping the ante on the U.S. to stand and deliver. The U.S. would have to launch a direct attack on mainland China to neutralize Wu's missiles, drawing both countries closer to nuclear confrontation. In his mind, Xu saw the entire world holding its breath.

And if the Tigers wanted their dragon to pounce even harder, they could launch even more missiles at the U.S. Air Force bases in Yokota, Kadena, and Misawa, Japan, as well as those in Kunsan and Osan, South Korea — all five within the Dragon's Lair, a term coined in a Rand Corporation report made several years prior. A translated copy of that report sat on Xu's desk.

Indeed, the U.S. would have to fight an all-out war with China or give up Taiwan.

However, the U.S.'s ongoing war on terror had stretched military personnel and its defense budget to the breaking point. What's more, the American public was still screaming for an all-out withdrawal from the Middle East and continued to be abnormally sensitive about military casualties. Officials seeking reelection would not vote for war.

Thus, the Spring Tigers had concluded that the United States could not afford to be challenged on its promise to defend Taiwan.

And once Pouncing Dragon was completely under way, the Chinese government could not afford to stop it, whether they took credit or not.

Finally, the plan cleverly avoided the use of large-scale amphibious landing forces, which all Tigers had agreed were far too predictable, far too cumbersome, and far too complicated to communicate with and support.

After finishing his tea, Xu left the office and took a drive out to a training field behind the base to see how Fang was doing with their security force, two eight-man squads who would be leaving tomorrow afternoon, bound for the Hakka castle.

The training field included an obstacle course with bridges and barbed wire, wall climbs, and a few other training challenges. At the far end of the field stood several buildings used for close-quarters combat training, and it was there that Xu spotted a circle of men.

As he drove closer, he realized Fang was in the middle of the group, and another man, one of the soldiers, was lying on the ground, head pulled into his chest as Fang struck him repeatedly across the back with his unsheathed sword cane.

Xu parked, climbed down from his Brave Warrior, and approached the group. The soldiers immediately snapped to attention, and Fang glanced up in midswing, then lowered his sword.

"What do we have here, Captain?" asked Xu, flicking his gaze down to the soldier, who chanced a look up at Xu, his face covered in blood.

"We have a discipline problem, sir," answered Fang, trying to catch his breath. "This soldier is not comfortable with my leadership."

"What do you mean?"

"Apparently, and I'm unsure how, a few of them learned that I was born in Taiwan. Sergeant Chung here has already referred to me as a spy."

Xu leaned down and got into the bleeding man's face. "Is that true, soldier?"

"I am sorry, sir."

Frowning, Xu faced the men. "Captain Fang's loyalty is without question. Is there any man who disagrees?"

The men stood, statues dressed in camouflage.

"Excellent. Carry on, Captain. You have less than twenty-four hours to be ready."

"Yes, sir!"

As Xu climbed back into his truck, a chill woke at the base of his spine. Fang Zhi's anger knew no bounds, but he would earn the respect of his new force.

Still, that rage could turn into something uncontrollable. Xu would continue to watch the man.

As Xu left the field, his cell phone rang. One of his smugglers in Pakistan was on the line. Another arms shipment had been successfully sold to the Taliban. Xu congratulated the man. The Tigers had turned their gunrunning operation into a most profitable venture. They used the money to buy the silence and fierce loyalty of many more military commanders within the region, men who, while not part of the group, would do as they were told when the time came.

Buddha stood on the ridge overlooking the castle, watching as Huang ascended the dirt road winding back and forth like a brown snake — or better still, a noodle, the thought of which made Buddha's sagging gut growl.

Buddha's real name was Hsieh Chia-hsien, but over the years he'd actually come to prefer his CIA moniker. He had been working for the agency for more than two decades, recruited at the ripe old age of forty-one. He'd had a full head of hair when the Americans had come calling, and Bill Clinton had been in the White House.

Yes, times had surely changed. Now the agency had paired him up with some college kid. Both the CIA and the DIA had been hiring too many of these Boy Scouts, as the Americans called them, and twice Buddha's cover had nearly been blown by them.

As an expression of his disdain, he'd dubbed his new partner, the baby-faced Chan Chi-yao, as Boy Scout, and that would be his code name, whether he liked it or not.

Boy Scout wore a perpetual scowl that he thought concealed his inexperience. At twenty-four, what he knew about the world could fit in a teacup. But oh, he wasn't afraid to tell you how smart he was, in case you forgot. Poor boy. It might take him fifty years, but he would realize what a young fool he'd been and that he should have had more respect for his elders. This new generation had been raised by wolves.

Buddha fished out his handkerchief and wiped the sweat from his brow, then shoved up his spectacles. The temperature was mild, but that didn't matter. He seemed to sweat no matter what he was doing.

Boy Scout glanced over at him, shaking his head. "Have you considered a diet?"

They spoke in Mandarin, but occasionally Buddha would throw an English phrase at the kid to test him, like he did now: "You wanna play, you pay. That's the way it is, kid. And I'm way too old for a diet."

The kid frowned. Nope, he didn't quite understand that one. But hadn't the kid said he was an expert on American slang? Uh-huh…

Their inside man Huang finally reached the ridge, and Boy Scout gave a slight whistle. The elder moved into the dense stand of trees and nodded to them.

"How did it go?" asked Buddha.

After a slight shrug, Huang answered, "Okay, I guess."

"What you mean, old man?" snapped Boy Scout. "Did you tell them or not?"

"I told them, but they still want to meet you. They don't trust me."

"Quiet for a moment," Buddha ordered the kid. "Huang, all they need to do is stay out of the way. You keep telling them that those men coming tomorrow night are drug smugglers working with the army. You tell them the secret police will be coming to arrest them, and that everyone should remain in their rooms. And when we're finished, I promise you that those men will not bother you or your family ever again."

"I want to believe you."

"Just do as we say. And when you know exactly where each man will be staying, you will call us with that information."

"And if I don't?"

"Then we'll—"

Buddha slapped a palm over Boy Scout's mouth. "Then we'll assume you're dead. If you want to save your village, help us."

"But you are not with the secret police, are you?"

"What makes you say that?"

Huang flicked his glance to Boy Scout. "He is too young and too stupid."

Buddha smiled. "I agree. But the police are desperate these days, and we need anyone we can get."

"Okay, but remember our deal. The man I told you about?"

"Yes, Fang Zhi?" said Buddha.

Huang nodded. "You will kill him."

"Of course. Better go now. Fang will be calling you soon. And so will we."

For a moment, Huang just stood there, looking at them, and Buddha pitied the man. He was just a simple farmer caught up in something far more dangerous than he could possibly imagine.

Fang Zhi was assumably one of the Spring Tiger Group's cronies, a guard or security chief who meant nothing in the grand scheme. His name was not even worth mentioning to the Special Forces team coming ashore, and while Buddha had promised to kill him, that was only to satisfy Huang.

Buddha regarded his partner, then tipped his head toward the path. "Back to the car, little one."

Boy Scout's eyes widened. "You will not say that again."

"I see your parents have been neglectful, and the Americans have poisoned away what was left of your respect. But that is okay. You will do as I say, or I will strangle you until you are blue then white then dead. And then I will communicate the unfortunate accident to Langley." Buddha narrowed his fiery gaze, and Boy Scout withered where he stood.

Then, abruptly, Buddha threw his arm around the kid and chuckled. "We're going to have a lot of fun in the next couple of days. Let me ask you something. Other than in training, have you ever been shot at?"

"No."

"That's not good."

"Why should I be worried? This is an assassination, nice and quiet."

Buddha chuckled again. "My dear boy, when the Americans are involved, nothing is ever quiet."