It was the most pleasant part of the day in Washington. Evening was just taking the edge off the sauna bath heat, leaving a mellow glow that would hold well into the night. Secretary of State Harrison Van Lynden didn’t have the time to enjoy it, however. His town car swept through the security checkpoint at the gate and wheeled up the curving drive to the south portico of the White House.
Ahead, brake lights flared, marking the arrival of another member of the crisis team. As his own vehicle drew up and came to a halt, Van Lynden recognized Lane Ashley, director of the National Security Agency, disembarking from the limousine ahead. Briefcase in hand, she paused for a moment, waiting for him.
“Good luck, sir,” his Secret Service driver said. “On whatever it is this time.”
“Watch CNN, Frank. They probably know more about it than we do.”
“Where did they catch you this morning?” Ashley inquired as they hurried down the quiet, carpeted corridors of the presidential residence.
“Preparing for a very long day with the Belgian Prime Minister. Possibly one of the ten most boring men in Western Europe.”
“You were lucky,” the tall, graying blonde sighed. “Brian and I were about to fly out to the West Coast for our son’s wedding.”
“None of us are lucky today, Lane. God, what a can of worms!”
They broke off their brief conversation as they approached the security team that flanked the access elevator to the White House briefing room. Even though he had made this passage scores of times during this administration, the Secret Service men carefully compared Van Lynden’s spare, Yankee features with the photograph on his identity badge. Then, with suitably respectful suspicion, they touched an ID wand to the badge’s magnetic tab. The resulting electronic chirp verified that the secretary of state was indeed who he said he was. The process was repeated with the NSA director, then they were cleared through into the elevator and down into the White House’s secured underground level.
“Were you able to get something put together?” Ashley inquired as they began to descend.
“Something. But the Boss still isn’t going to be happy.”
Benton Childress was a middle-aged black man, solidly built and tending toward portliness. His predilection for rather hairy tweed suits and gold-framed glasses gave the classic impression of a college history teacher. Not surprisingly so, for he had once been one. He had also been a Rhodes scholar, the mayor of a major midwestern city, and a lieutenant colonel in the Missouri Air National Guard. Currently, he was the forty-fourth president of the United States.
He was looking over the golden frames of those glasses now, regarding the three members of his assembled crisis team much as he must have a group of recalcitrant students.
“Miss. Lane, gentlemen,” he said. “How in the hell was this allowed to get past us?”
Like another ex-Missouri National Guardsman who had sat in the Oval Office, President Childress had a decided propensity for plain speaking.
“Too many tasking assignments and not enough assets,” Lane Ashley replied, levelly meeting the president’s gaze. Having battered her way up through the old boys’ network within the CIA, she was well capable of doing some plain speaking of her own. “Most of the resources we’ve had deployed on the western Pacific Rim have been focused on what’s been happening inside mainland China. We simply weren’t looking back over our shoulder at Taiwan.”
The current incarnation of the presidential briefing room was done in dark cherry wood, the wall paneling and the massive conference table and chairs surrounding it. Its carpeting was blue, and the only diversions from the room’s Edwardian elegance was the discreet systems workstation in one corner and the single large flatscreen display inset into each wall. The superb air-conditioning and temperature control didn’t even hint at the fact they were twenty feet underground.
“There’s another aspect to that as well, sir,” Van Lynden added. “When the Chinese civil war went hot, the Taiwanese went on a heightened state of military alert. Then, over the past six months, their government has been reporting a series of provocative actions taken by the Reds. Aggressive jamming of communications and early-warning radar. Patrol boats and aircraft fired on. That kind of thing.
“In response, they instituted a partial mobilization of reserves and tied on a series of major readiness exercises and war games. Given the unsettled state of affairs in their neighborhood, these appeared to be reasonable precautions. No doubt they buried a lot of their invasion preparations inside all of this other military activity.”
“That was pretty god damned convenient for certain people,” Sam Hanson said.
With a ramrod spine and a steel-gray brush cut, Presidential Security Adviser Sam Hanson still looked and sounded very much the marine he had been for thirty years. With the advent of the Childress administration, he had stepped directly across from the chairmanship of the Joint Chiefs of Staff to this slot on the president’s cabinet.
“We might want to go back and have another look at some of those ‘actions.’”
“I don’t think that would accomplish very much, Sam,” Ashley said. “We know that many elements of the People’s Liberation Army have rebel sympathizers operating within them. It would have been easy enough to arrange incidents from the inside.”
“Or they could have been genuine,” Van Lynden interjected. “The Red Chinese have a history of attempting to intimidate the Taiwanese. Maybe they were trying to bluff the Nationalists out of an involvement in the war, and it backfired. Either way, I don’t think it makes all that much difference now.”
“Good point, Harry,” Childress said. “I guess Monday morning quarterbacking isn’t going to gain us much ground. Let’s see what’s going on now, then we can decide what we’re going to do about it. Director Ashley, I believe you have a situational update for us.”
“Yes, sir.”
The NSA woman nodded to the systems operator seated at the workstation. “First image, please.”
The conference room’s indirect lighting dimmed. The Large Screen Display at the far end of the room activated, filling with a computer graphics map of mainland China and its environs.
Along the coast south from Shantau to the Vietnamese border and inland to Szechwan Province, the map glowed yellow. Manchuria and north-central China were marked in solid red, as was the major offshore island of Hainan. The western provinces were a swirled mottling of both colors.
“This is our current best estimate of the situation in China as of July fourteenth. We know that the rebels — or United Democratic Forces of China, as they refer to themselves — hold the southeast, with their core power base being the Canton-Hong Kong area. The Communists maintain control of Beijing and the northeast.”
“The old cultural dividing line between the bread eaters and the rice eaters,” Van Lynden commented.
“Essentially so,” Ashley agreed. “In the western provinces, things are more complicated. What has been a more or less straightforward civil war in the east has collapsed into a mass of localized conflicts and insurgencies between a large number of different ethnic factions, political groups, and plain, old-fashioned warlords. Most voice allegiance to one side or the other, but most also are operating with their own agenda.
“We don’t think that even the Chinese know what all’s going on out there. In the Trans-Gobi region, contact has been completely lost with some provinces. Since we’re talking about hundreds of thousands of square miles here, it might take years to get communications reestablished. When we do, we might find we have some entirely new nations to deal with.”
“The ones that we have are more than enough for the moment.” President Childress grunted. “Continue, Ms. Ashley.”
“The overt phase of the Chinese civil war began approximately two years ago with an outbreak of large-scale civil protests in the Canton-Hong Kong area. The point of contention being both the replacement of locally born administrators with northern Chinese and the increasing bleed-off of profits from the Canton Special Economic Zone by the Beijing government.
“When the PLA Local Force units were ordered to suppress the rioting, there was a mass mutiny within the district command, a ‘of the colonels’ that led to most of the troops siding with the rioters. The leadership of the United Democratic Forces of China surfaced shortly thereafter to serve as the ad hoc government of the area in rebellion.
“The revolt spread from there. Most of the Main Force divisions have apparently sided with the Beijing government, as have the majority of the surviving air force and naval units, and the Armed People’s Police. The PLA Local Force elements and the People’s Militia have generally sided with the rebels.
“This has led to a kind of strategic stalemate, with the UDFC’s greater numbers being counterbalanced by the Communists’ superior mobility and firepower. As a result, the battle lines in the eastern provinces have been essentially static for the past six months. That changed last night. First overlay, please.”
The map graphics altered. Now, on the eastern Chinese coast, opposite Taiwan, there was a patch of orange notched into the red zone like an inflamed wound.
“I believe Mr. Hanson has the operational end for us.”
Hanson nodded an acknowledgment and picked up the thread of the briefing.
“The show started during the early-morning hours with multiple air and cruise missile strikes. It was a classic tasking template, laying fire in on airfields, air-defense sites, command-and-control nodes. We’ve got something here that will show how things went down. The recon footage, please.”
A second screen lit off and filled with an almost supernaturally clear video overview of a low, hilly farmland, taken from what looked like about a thousand-foot altitude.
Van Lynden recognized the feel of the area as coastal Asia.
“How was this imaged, Sam?” he inquired.
“A microwave link with one of our Aurora strategic reconnaissance aircraft. We’re flying a relay of them out of Tonopah to supplement our reconsat coverage. At the time this was taken, this flyboy was over Fujian Province at about a hundred and twenty thousand feet. He’s going to be taking a look at the military air base at Fuzhou here in a second.”
The video image panned around smoothly as the aircraft banked and came in on target. Hanson removed a laser pointer from his inside suit pocket. As they began to “drag the line” down the main runway at Fuzhou, he utilized the bright star projected by the pointer to catalog the destruction.
“See those pale streaks running across the runways and taxi ways, the places where it looks like the ground’s boiled up? Runway breaker submunitions dropped from aircraft mounted scatter packs did that. Bet there are some airdropped land mines in there, too … Over there, ‘side the runway, that’s a bomb crater … now. At one time, though, from the look of the wreckage around it, it was an antiaircraft emplacement. Hangars gone … tower and admin buildings gone … Those aircraft revetments didn’t do much good. Barn, barn, barn, a whole squadron of F-8 Finbacks blown away … Probably fragmentation airbursts steered in over target by laser guidance.”
“Night delivery, CBUs, and precision-guided munitions,” President Childress commented. “That’s all state of the art.”
“Yes, sir. High speed and low drag all across the board. We’re identifying late-model ordnance from all over the world. Israeli, Brazilian, South African, as well as some home-brewed Taiwanese stuff we’ve never even seen before.”
“None of those ready-alert fighters looked like they even had the chance to start their engines.”
“They didn’t, Mr. President. Far as we can tell, the PLA’s entire sector air-defense net crashed just as the first Nationalist strike wave crossed the beach. Massive internal sabotage. They had this thing organized!”
The video run ended and the screen returned to the map image.
“At any rate,” the Security Adviser continued, “by first light, the Nationalists had achieved tactical air supremacy over the province. They followed up by putting a full marine division ashore here, at Chinchiang, supported by a series of battalion-scale airborne and airmobile landings and Special Forces paradrops in the Communist rear areas.
“Followup waves are going in across the beach now, with the primary axis of assault trending southward. My guess is that they’re going for the port facilities at Amoy.”
“What were the Reds doing while all of this was going on?”
“They were being taken very by surprise. Fujian was supposed to be a secure rear area for them.”
Ben Childress frowned as he digested the data block.
“What about the rebel factions?” he said abruptly. “How are they involved in this?”
“It’s obvious that the United Democratic Forces and the Nationalists are working hand in glove,” Lane Ashley replied. “Concurrent with the invasion, there was a whole wave of sabotage and guerrilla attacks throughout the province, plus evidence of a number of major defections from within the local Communist defense forces.
“Also, the landing was coordinated with a major UDF ground offensive out of their Hunan stronghold area. They must have been planning and working together on this operation for a long time.”
Van Lynden hadn’t been looking forward to this moment.
President Childress shifted in his chair to face the secretary of state. “What about this, Harry? Every word that’s come across my desk from State has indicated no major connections between Taiwan and the rebels. Supposedly, the UDFC was almost as distrustful of the Nationalists as of the Communists, and the Taiwanese government was losing interest in a mainland involvement. What happened?”
“We were false-flagged, sir. Obviously, the Nationalists and the UDFC have a covert support and planning network in place, one that we never even had a suspicion of. Also, obviously, they’ve developed a mutually compatible political agenda and a close alliance.
“I accept responsibility for this failure within State. I can offer no excuse except for the fact that the Nationalists have probably been putting this structure in place, bit by bit, for the past fifty years, and they’ve done a damn good job of it. As Sam pointed out, they had this thing organized.”
Childress nodded and took off his glasses. Removing a folded white handkerchief from his coat pocket, he began to polish the lenses with great deliberation. Everyone on the staff recognized the action as one of the president’s favorite “thinking stalls.” Finally, he redonned them with a crisp, precise movement. “Well, people,” he said. “Let’s face it. They whipped our ass, and they whipped it damn good. However, I don’t think that recriminations, self or otherwise, will accomplish all that much. We need to shift focus to what’s going to happen next and what’s to be done about it. Any projections?”
“Nothing beyond a major destabilization of the situation,” Lane Ashley sighed. “As we have seen, the Nationalist military is both well trained and well equipped with state of the-art armaments technology. While numerically not as large as the forces fielded by either the Communists or the UDFC, they will provide the rebels with the mechanized ground units and the air and sea power they lack. That, plus a guaranteed source for logistics and high tech weaponry I have to say that this definitely tilts the odds against the Beijing regime.”
“I don’t think anyone at this table will expend too many tears at that eventuality,” the president said dryly.
Sam Hanson straightened slightly in his chair “The question is, sir, what the Reds will be willing to do to tilt things back their way.”
“What options do they have?”
Sam Hanson answered “Barring pro-Communist outside intervention, something about as likely as a hailstorm in hell, there’s only one. Go nuclear.”
The briefing room suddenly became quieter, and somehow cold. In councils such as this, the “N” word was not bandied about lightly.
“General Hanson,” Childress said, reverting to his Security Adviser’s old rank. “I’ve read the theoretical studies that were made back during the dissolution of the USSR on the concept of a nuclear civil war. Frankly, I never put much stock in them. I have a hard time visualizing any national leader sanctioning the use of atomic weapons against his own people.”
“Sir we are talking about an Asian culture here. I know that making cultural judgments is considered politically in correct these days, but this reminds me of a story I heard that came out of the Korean War.
“It seems that some members of the Red Chinese government were concerned about the possibility that the United States might use the atomic bomb against them. When the question was put to the high command of the People’s Liberation Army one of the generals just shrugged his shoulders and said ‘We lose a few million. What of it?’ That could be the kind of mentality we may be facing here.”
“But, damn it all, they’d be blasting their own nation into a radioactive wasteland. What would be the gain?”
“It wouldn’t be a matter of gain Mr. President,” Van Lynden cut in. “It would be a matter of loss. The most basic premise of international statesmanship since 1947 has been that you never back a nuclear power into a corner that they can’t get out of. That may be happening here.”
“How so, Harry?”
“In a civil war situation, you have everything to lose, and nothing to lose. The Red leadership knows that if the rebels come out on top, they have nothing to look forward to, except for exile at best, or a war crimes trial at worst. They could very easily decide that half a country is better than none.”
“God damn.”
This time Childress didn’t bother with his glasses as he paused to contemplate this thought.
“We must assume,” he said finally, “that the Nationalists would have worked this out as well. Knowing the risks, why would they be so willing to go to the wall? They have the options. Why court that kind of obliteration?”
“Maybe they figure they have a kicker,” Hanson replied.
“The only cards strong enough to count in that kind of game would be mega tonnage and throw weight,” Van Lynden said. “MAD — mutual assured destruction.”
Childress shifted his attention to the NSA director. “What about this, Ms. Ashley. Could the Nationalists or the UDFC have nuclear capacity?”
“The exact nuclear status of any of these involved parties is open for debate, Mr. President,” she replied. “Of course, the PRC was a nuclear power long before its civil war. However, we are not certain how much of that arsenal remains in their control, or is operational. For example, we know that all three of Red China’s Xia-class fleet ballistic-missile submarines were laid up last year, apparently for lack of resources to maintain them.
“We also know that on at least two occasions, the UDFC expended considerable effort in trying to seize a portion of the remaining Red atomic arsenal. Major land battles were fought over the PRC’s strategic missile bases at Tongdao and Luoning.”
“What was the outcome?”
“We aren’t certain. We do know that in both instances, the PLA blew up the facilities before retreating and that neither is operational at this time. Our best sitguess is that if the UDFC has managed to seize atomic arms, they’ll probably be in the form of low-yield tactical weapons: artillery shells and mines, free-fall bombs, and warheads for FROG and Scud-type battlefield missiles. Not strategic arms, but big enough to make a considerable mess.”
“About the third side of the equation, the Nationalists?”
At this question from the president, the three advisers exchanged sober glances. “That’s a very good question, sir,” the NSA woman said. “One we’ve been trying to get an answer on for some time.”
“I don’t need that kind of ambiguity, people.”
“That’s all we can give,” Van Lynden replied. “The status of Taiwan as a nuclear power has been one of the great question marks in the arms-control field since at least the late seventies.”
“That’s right, sir,” Hanson added. “They’ve had the reactors, they’ve had the tech, and, God knows, they’ve had the motivation. They’ve also maintained a low-key but very active R-and-D exchange program with Israel and South Africa, both states with known atomic capability. For example, we know that the Nationalists have fielded and used domestically produced variants of the Israeli Jericho battlefield SRBM and Masada cruise missile — both of which, by the way, are nuclear-capable delivery systems.”
“And yet Taiwan has signed the nuclear nonproliferation treaty and has stated repeatedly, both to us and to the U.N., that they do not have nuclear arms. Do you believe they’re lying?”
“I believe that they may be guilty of a polite political sophistry,” Van Lynden replied. “Israel has also repeatedly stated that they do not have nuclear weapons, and technically speaking, that’s the truth. What they do have are component sets that can be assembled into functional weapons in a matter of hours. That could be the case here.”
“Good Christ Almighty,” Childress whispered. “Three different fingers on three different buttons and a high desperation level all the way around. And they thought the Cuban missile crisis was bad.”
“That’s the assessment, sir. The destiny of China for the next century, i. e., for one quarter of the human race, is going to be decided over the next couple of months. Now we need to decide just what part we’re going to play in that decision.”
“You’ve saved me from having to state the obvious, Harry. Now, do you have any suggestions about what part we can play?”
Van Lynden nodded. “Yes, sir, I do. We take advantage of the situation.”
The secretary of state lifted his briefcase to the tabletop.
Opening it, he removed a thin file folder.
“My proposal paper, sir,” he said, placing it in front of President Childress. “I suggest that we take this opportunity to try to initiate a series of crisis-reduction talks with the three primary involved parties. A peace conference to be held on some neutral ground.
“We try to bring in all of the western Pacific Rim states — Japan, the Philippines, Korea, everyone who’d be downwind of a Chinese nuclear exchange. We try to get them to support the peace process by exerting what diplomatic pressure they can on the combatants.”
“If I recall correctly,” Childress replied, “both the Beijing government and the UDFC have responded with outright truculence to outside interference in their conflict. They claim that it’s solely an internal Chinese affair. What makes you think that the Nationalists will be any different, or that anything has changed?”
“Just that the potential for an atomic war is escalating rapidly. Despite Sam’s story, I am pleased to say that atomic war still scares the hell out of a lot of people. Maybe that fear will be the crack we can fit the tip of a crowbar into. If we can just get somebody talking…” Van Lynden let his voice trail off.
The president’s attention shifted around the table. “Ms. Ashley?”
She placed her ops plan beside the secretary of state.
“Staying on top of this situation is going to require a massive retasking of our reconnaissance and intelligence gathering assets, both NSA and military. I’d like State’s assistance in getting us permission to forward-deploy TR-2, Darkstar, and RC-10 assets into Korea, the Philippines, and Singapore.
“I’d like to say Taiwan as well, but that might be imprudent under the current situation. To make up for that, I’d like to see if Seventh Fleet could move any of their available Raven platforms into the South and East China Seas.”
“Sam, what about a military reaction?”
“Low key for the moment,” Hanson replied, sliding his contribution across the table. “Place all of our units in the western Pacific on an increased state of alert. Reenforce the Seventh Fleet with whatever odds and ends we can move out of Pearl. Issue the 366th Composite Wing a flyaway notification for possible deployment to the Far East, and advise CENTCOM that the Chinese theater of operations is now a zone of concern.” Childress nodded in thoughtful agreement.
“One thing further, sir,” Hanson continued. “I’d advise we enhance our nuclear-reaction capacity. I’m not saying that we change our DEFCON status yet, but I suggest we have STRATCOM alter the maintenance and servicing schedules for the Minuteman and Trident forces to maximize system availability for the next few months. Also, Air Combat Command should tie on a series of nuclear-ordnance delivery exercises for the strategic bomber groups.”
“Are you sure that’s necessary, General?”
“Hope it isn’t, Mr. President. But, on the other hand, I’d sure as hell hate for us to be the guy who brought a knife to a gunfight.”
Childress nodded. “Valid point. Thank you all for your input, and for your rapid response on this situation. I think we have the basis for a plan of action here. Now, there’s one thing further you can help me on.”
He gestured toward the three operations files before him.
“When we go active with this, I’m going to have a lineup of isolationist congressmen outside the Oval Office demanding to know why we’re getting involved in another nation’s internal catfight halfway around the world. Any suggestions about what I should tell them?”
There was a moment of general silence. Then Van Lynden said, “Maybe you could point out to them that if the Chinese civil war goes nuclear, we can expect to see at least a couple of dozen old-fashioned, dirty-style atomic bombs detonated in the Earth’s atmosphere within a very short period of time.
“If that happens, every living thing on this planet is going to be involved.”