The Gotland Deception

Chapter Three: Taiwan Working Group

The six-story office building in Crystal City was a masterpiece of hiding in plain sight. Building 1770 was no different from the other nearby buildings that housed various government offices and the myriad of contracting companies supporting one government agency or another. But that was a facade for the public. Within the building, hidden behind faux storefronts and secret entrances, was a hidden world of classified workspaces and intelligence workings. It was the quintessential example of how Washington’s overt and covert worlds blended seamlessly together.

When Marcus Harrington reached the elevator leading to his workspace, two security guards greeted him — one seated behind a desk, the other standing vigilant near the elevator doors. Marcus nodded, recognizing the tailored suit jackets designed to conceal weapons. Standard procedure in this line of work.

“Evening. Here to access the mainframe?” the seated guard asked, delivering the authentication phrase with practiced neutrality.

“Yes, terminal four, yellow protocol,” Harrington responded, completing the countersign that granted him elevator access.

The guard gave a curt nod. “You have a visitor. Room 412.”

Harrington stepped onto the elevator and pressed the button for the fourth floor, a slight smile crossing his weathered face.

Three years ago, he’d been savoring retirement on Thailand’s Phi Phi Islands, sipping fruity drinks and living the carefree life of a beach bum. After two decades in special forces and ten tense years in the world of private military contracting, he desperately needed to decompress. The PMC work had paid well, but the constant strain of wondering if each day might be his last had worn him to the bone.

Thailand had felt like the natural choice. Having worked closely with the Thai military throughout his career, he appreciated that a few grand a month allowed him a comfortable, stress-free lifestyle. He might still be there if Jim Batista, a former SOF operator and longtime colleague, hadn’t called out of the blue with an offer he couldn’t refuse.

When Batista had become National Security Advisor, he’d offered Marcus a chance to lead what had eventually become the Taiwan Study Group. TSG was a concept they’d discussed for years back on their ODA team: an unconventional approach aligning with the US’s public stance on Taiwan while quietly ensuring the island’s continued independence.

Operating openly as a private military company with the Taiwanese government’s consent, TSG provided scalable support beyond what the Pentagon could easily deliver. Congressional oversight and diplomatic sensitivities made official channels slow and cautious. As a PMC, TSG could act decisively, maintaining enough separation from Washington to give Batista precisely the strategic flexibility he needed Harrington to exploit.

When he arrived at Room 412, with its mahogany conference table, ergonomic chairs, and neutral artwork, it looked like any other executive meeting space — but that was the point. To the trained eye, the door’s thickness and the faint hum of active RF jammers hid its SCIF rating in plain sight. The room was designed to be a bubble of absolute security in a city where walls routinely had ears and spies were everywhere.

When Harrington arrived, Batista was seated at the table, patiently waiting for him. They had known each other a long time, several decades, in fact. They had fought together, bled together, suffered and shared triumphs. It was a friendship built over time through collective sacrifice. While they didn’t always see eye to eye on everything, they were one when it came to protecting this country and ensuring that no matter what happened in the future, it would be America and her allies that came out on top.

“Marcus, good to see you,” Batista said, getting straight to the point. “Sorry for calling you in like this, especially right before the New Year.”

Harrington took a seat opposite him at the table. “It’s fine, Jim. Sorry I couldn’t meet earlier — family commitment. I’m guessing this meeting has something to do with that big EDEP exercise scheduled for spring?”

He paused briefly, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “Call me paranoid, Jim, but having exercises in the South China Sea, North Pacific, Middle East, and Eastern Europe — all at once? You guys at the White House must be chewing glass by now.” Harrington’s gallows humor surfaced predictably, drawing a weary smile from Batista.

“Something like that,” Batista laughed. “With the election over, I was hoping this spring exercise was the only thing we’d have to worry about. Have you seen the size of this thing? We’re talking about the entire Eurasian Defense and Economic Pact flexing at once — Russia and China leading the charge with their junior partners all playing along. Damn, if you thought the REFORGER exercises in the eighties were big — I’m just glad the Europeans finally got serious about rearming a while back. They’re asking if we’d consider running a beefed-up EuroDefender exercise this year. I think it’s doable and the President will likely go for it too.”

“Makes sense, given what EDEP has become,” Harrington nodded. “Four years since Moscow and Beijing signed that pact, and look at them now — free movement of people and capital across member states, integrated supply chains, and a mutual defense clause that makes NATO’s Article 5 look conservative. From what I’ve heard, the Japanese are thinking this exercise might be a decoy for an attempt to seize the Miyako Islands. A few contacts I have in Saudi told me that the crown prince, MBS, thinks the Iranians are going to make a play to further consolidate their control of Iraq or maybe try to reconstitute that Achaemenid Empire the new regime’s been touting since coming to power.”

Harrington leaned forward. “No one in the Middle East is comfortable with the Iranians, Afghanis, and Pakistanis being part of EDEP. Having them backed by Russian military tech and Chinese economic muscle? That’s a nightmare scenario. And don’t get me started on North Korea having free access to Chinese ports and Russian energy. If BRICS and the old Warsaw Pact had a child raised on steroids, it’d be EDEP.”

Batista laughed at the analogy, but his expression quickly sobered. “Yeah, except this version spans from Vladivostok to Tehran, Pyongyang to Islamabad. Hell, with Myanmar, Laos, Cambodia and Sri Lanka signed on, they’ve got the Bay of Bengal practically surrounded. As they say, amateurs talk tactics, professionals talk logistics. For all of our sakes, I’m hoping this exercise is just them testing their new integrated command structure and supply chains, not a lead-up to something more.”

He paused, then added, “But there’s another wrinkle. NSA picked up something interesting — backed up by our friends in Tokyo and Seoul. Looks like Beijing’s planning to propose some kind of new customs inspection regime at the People’s Congress in March.”

“Customs inspection?” Harrington’s eyebrows rose. “What kind of scope are we talking about?”

“That’s the thing — we don’t have all the details yet. From what we can piece together, they’re framing it as a drug enforcement initiative. But, Jim, you and I both know if they implement something like that, Taiwan’s going to be caught in the net.”

“A drug enforcement action that just happens to give them legal cover to board and inspect any vessel they want,” Harrington said slowly. “Including ships bound for Taiwan.”

“Exactly. Until the proposal actually drops or they release more details, we’re operating on fragments. But between this and the EDEP exercises…” Batista shook his head. “That brings me to the reason I called you here. That document we discussed a while back, the one that says ‘break glass in case of emergency’… well, the President considers this an emergency.” Batista slid a folder across the table to him.

Harrington opened it, raising an eyebrow when he saw the letterhead. His eyes quickly read it, noting the language, the monies allocated, and the waivers for ITARS and export-controlled items.

“Unfortunately, recent events have compressed our timeline,” Batista continued. “Between Beijing’s rhetoric, this recent customs announcement, and the ongoing demonstrations on Kinmen and Matsu, it’s increasingly looking like they’re gearing up to do something stupid. We need to be ready for whatever it is.”

Batista pointed to the document. “Marcus, this supersedes your previous authorization. President Ashford has removed any and all procurement restrictions. You now have direct acquisition authority for the full suite of autonomous systems.”

Harrington nodded, continuing to scan the document with practiced efficiency, mentally cataloging the expanded authorities. “The Anduril package is substantial. Fury combat drones, Lattice C2 architecture, autonomous interceptors—”

“Everything,” Batista interjected. “Plus the newest generation of Epirus Leonidas counterdrone systems and Saronic’s coastal defense platforms. Full-spectrum electronic warfare capabilities. The whole arsenal. We can’t go light on this — we have to go all in if we’re going to make it work.”

“Good, and the funding mechanism?”

Batista pulled another folder from the classified bag he’d brought and slid it across the table. “This is your funding document and authorities. You have four-point-eight billion dollars to spend. It’s being channeled through three separate funding vehicles. Defense Production Act authorities have been invoked with the primary contractors on anything we need that we don’t already have on hand or in the production pipeline.”

Marcus whistled softly. “Damn, you know this is a significant escalation from our current footprint of slowly and steadily boiling the frog, right?”

Batista shrugged. “We’re adapting to overcome. The timeline has changed, but not the President’s strategy. He still believes our best weapon is to use economic pressure as our primary leverage against China. But he’s purchasing this insurance policy via TSG in case it fails.” Batista tapped the finding. “Your teams need to expedite the defense in depth strategy that makes Taiwan too costly to invade.”

“Yeah, I can see that. We’ve been doing a lot of that with the ROC Marines and a couple of Army units. We are doing the best we can with the people we have, but right now I’m running everything with just two hundred and thirty-six people. I’ve got a hundred and ninety of them deployed in-country between Penghu and Tamsui as mobile training teams. If you are wanting us to go operational, actually assist the ROC in repelling an attack, two hundred and thirty-six people isn’t going to cut it.”

“Agreed, and we are addressing that.” Batista extracted a USB drive. “The authorization includes recruitment of four hundred additional contractors. Names have been pre-vetted, and the ones still on active duty can be transferred to support TSG via JSOC and the Agency. Everything you need, their backgrounds and documentation are on here.” He passed the drive across the table and Harrington pocketed it.

“And should things go kinetic, are there limits on our involvement or do we have a free hand to operate as we see fit?”

Batista leaned forward, looking Harrington in the eyes. “Marcus, if things go kinetic with the PRC, we’re in trouble. Not just us, but everyone else on our side of the ledger. Publicly, the Taiwan Study Group is a registered private military contractor that’s been hired to provide training and assistance to the armed forces of the Republic of China as they modernize their military. Privately, there are only five people in their government who know TSG has been contracted to fight on behalf of, and alongside, ROC government forces. Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that, but should it, TSG is legally protected.”

“Good, I’m glad we’ve got that covered. Let’s talk about training — it’s going to be an issue. For the past year we’ve been working to build an organic train-the-trainer program within the services. This will eventually allow them to become self-sufficient rather than dependent on us. If our timeline is to have everything in place and ready to go by April — and even that date is pushing it — not only do we need to increase our trainers by a factor of four, but we also need ten times the current number of operators capable of using these various AI and drone platforms. We’re talking about hundreds of autonomous platforms that require specialized operator knowledge, which we have to impart in a very short period of time.”

Batista grimaced, acknowledging the problem. “And this is why you get paid the big bucks, Marcus. To figure things out and solve the problems others can’t. That said, I’m not going to leave you high and dry with no outside help either. For the next ninety days, your training guru, Elena Bell, and her staff will have priority access to the Naval Special Warfare facilities on Guam. This should give you additional help but, more importantly, a secluded place to train specific tactics without the prying eyes of CCP collaborators. I won’t tell you how to run your training, but I’d focus on counterdrone and coastal defense capabilities first. That’s where we’ll get the maximum deterrent effect the fastest and get the best bang for our buck. If the PLA gets a foothold on Taiwan… well, just try and make sure that doesn’t happen.”

For a couple of minutes no one spoke as Harrington finished the documents. It was a lot to take in. The whole purpose of the Taiwan Study Group was to aid the ROC government in utilizing advancements in AI and autonomous weapon platforms to offset the PLA’s obvious across-the-board numerical advantage. This change to their mission was a lot to take in. He effectively had four and a half months to have all the gear, equipment, and personnel ready inside Taiwan to turn TSG into a private military force that could directly fight against the People’s Liberation Army alongside the soldiers and sailors they’d been training.

“This is a big ask, Jim. Do we really have to be operationally ready by April fifteenth or is there a little room on the timeline?” Marcus asked, rising from his chair.

Batista collected the folders, placing them in the classified bag he’d brought before answering. “I’d like to say you have more time, and maybe you will. But in terms of supplies arriving via boat, I think you have to plan on having everything you need in place before April fifteenth. You also need to keep in mind, the last time Russia announced a training exercise of this scale was nearly eleven years ago, when it invaded Ukraine. We fundamentally failed to deter Putin from crossing that Rubicon and unleashing years of devastation. We cannot make that same mistake and fail to disabuse the PLA generals and President Ouyang of this belief that they can militarily seize Taiwan.”

As they exited the conference room, Batista lowered his voice. “Marcus, the President wanted me to tell you something. He wants you to know this isn’t just about Taiwan. This is about replacing the democracies of the West with the digital autocracies of the East. It’s about replacing the old unipolar world order with a multipolar one divided into spheres of influence across Asia, the Middle East, and Europe. This is about who will control the resources to build the technologies of the future. It’s why we see moves being made across Africa. It’s why EDEP includes the Stans, Mongolia, Iran and Afghanistan. If they succeed in subduing Europe and defeating America, there’s nothing left to stop them from securing complete domination over everything. We have to stop them.”

Marcus nodded once. He knew the stakes.

“I’ll contact you through the established channel when the first shipments are underway and send updates as things progress,” he said.

“I know you will, and the President knows it too. Good luck, Marcus, and Godspeed.”