Stephen Coonts - Combat

“Have you talked to Captain Albright?” Ottmann asked Peters.

“Yes, he’ll be here with his exec. I also told our active-duty instructors to attend. That’s Lieutenants Arliss and Horn plus Lieutenant Commander Cartier from the LSO school.” Peters inclined his head slightly, regarding the New Yorker with amused suspicion. “You’re up to something.”

Ottmann made a small come-hither gesture with two fingers. Though they were alone in the room, Peters stepped closer. “I want the Chinese and everyone else to think that we’re having a last conference here before qualifications begin day after tomorrow. As far as you and anyone else knows, there’ll be a reception until late tonight in my suite. Wei and his students will attend, and I’ve even invited some of the Russians.”

“Okay.”

“While the Santa Cruz ’s captain and exec and the active-duty guys are here, including your LSO, there’s not much chance of anyone thinking the ship’s going to sail, is there?”

Peters’s eyes gleamed in admiration. “You’re a sneaky bas …”

“Thanks. A helo will pick you up here at 2230. Would it be suspicious if you and Robbins both disappeared at that time?”

“Hell, I don’t know, Skip. Are you going to serve booze?”

“All the adult beverages anybody wants to consume. Except your guys, of course. As soon as I get word from you that the ship’s under way, I’ll tell Zack your overhead time. His flight will land aboard, load ordnance, and get the final brief.”

Peters nodded. “Sounds like your plan hasn’t changed much.”

“Now, there’s one more factor in our favor. The harbor pilot is one of our guys, Ben Tolleson. He’s a master mariner and probably could run the ship without much help. Except for flight operations, of course. But you’ll be in full command once you exit the harbor.” Ottmann searched his fellow conspirator’s face. “Are you really sure you can drive that boat?”

“Well, it’s been quite a few years, Tim. I conned Independence before she entered the yard. But yes, I’m sure.”

“Okay. Now, while we still have time, I need to let you know about our inside source.”

“Why tell me? Do I really need to know?”

Ottmann smiled. “Oh yeah, you really need to know. He’s flying in one of the two-seaters tomorrow morning.” Ottmann rapped on the wall of the adjoining bedroom. After a few seconds the door opened and Terry Peters gaped at Mr. Wei Chinglao.

Tim Ottmann invited Wei to take the most comfortable chair while the Americans sat on the couch. Wei produced a cigarette holder and inserted a Camel before lighting up. He blew two near-perfect smoke rings before he began to speak.

“Mr. Peters, I have not been completely truthful with you. However, you will understand the need for security.”

“Certainly, sir.”

The old MiG pilot put down his cigarette. “Mr. Peters, the primary Chinese trait is patience. We take the long view of history, but now, in the twenty-first century by your reckoning, some of us realize that events have accelerated far beyond our accustomed pace. The world economy and global communications have forced a radical change upon us. Unfortunately, most of the venerable leaders in Beijing are unable to grasp that fact. Tiananmen Square was just one example.

“Frankly, various American administrations have made the task of reform-minded Chinese more difficult. Your politicians tried to have things both ways: supposedly opposing the successors of Mao while trying to exploit China’s emerging economy. The hypocrisy of Republican and Democrat administrations has left China convinced that America stands only for profit and expediency. That attitude has, ironically, reinforced the old men’s determination to seize Taiwan. They believe that after an initial flurry of protests, Sino-American relations will return to the status quo ante.”

“Will they, sir?”

Wei looked at Ottmann, who nodded. “Most assuredly. As far as America is concerned, I shall explain the consequences for China. But first, I concede that China has too much influence in your internal affairs to prevent, as you say, business as usual. Too many public figures have accepted illegal contributions; too many are compromised in other fashions.” Wei shook his head. “You would not believe how many people or how many ways.”

Peters felt a small shiver between his shoulder blades.

“Now,” Wei continued, “you ask why my colleagues and I are working with men like Mr. Ottmann. The reason is that we are Chinese patriots. Oh, some of us still believe in Marxism, but that is almost irrelevant. Instead, we look at this Taiwan folly and see unnecessary risks. Therefore, we decided to upset the nuclear blackmail part of the plan. Without the assurance of American capitulation, the operation is too dangerous to proceed. Even if it succeeds, the rest of Asia would unite against us, economically and militarily. We would be forced into the type of military spending that ruined the Soviet Union.”

Peters ingested the revelation, emotionally breathless at the implications. “Mr. Wei, why don’t the Politburo and the Chairman understand these things?”

Wei dismissed the concept with the wave of a hand. “You know of America’s so-called Beltway mentality, Mr. Peters? We have the same thing in Beijing. From there, the world appears logical and orderly, bound to fit the outmoded perceptions of the office holders. Our ‘wise old men’ still view the world through Marxist prisms, even though many of them are political pragmatists. They know their time is running out, and they are determined to cling to their attitudes until the last moment.”

Peters leaned back, rubbing his eyes as if in disbelief of what he had heard. He rolled his shoulders and faced Wei once more. “All right, sir. You convinced me. How do we proceed?”

“Our intention is to have the Santa Cruz at sea without anyone knowing of it here until the last possible moment. Surprise will be important in sinking the Penang Princess , and we must assume that her captain will have some form of communication with agents here at El Toro or in Long Beach.”

“That’s right,” Ottmann added. “Remember the original plan, Terry? We were going to have your instructors qualify in one day and stay aboard that night. Then the Chinese pilots supposedly would fly out the next day with some of the other instructors to begin the main qualification period.”

Peters snapped his fingers. “And we’re going to launch the strike the same day as the instructors’ CarQuals.”

“Exactly, Mr. Peters. However, in our long-range planning we only had a time frame. We knew the best time of year for an invasion of Taiwan, and we knew the decision had been made to insert the nuclear weapons a few days before that date.” He raised his hands in a semihelpless gesture. “Therefore, our planning could not be as precise as we hoped.”

“All right,” Peters replied. “But Mr. Wei, I don’t understand something. You got a promise from me to get you a carrier landing. How does that fit into the plan?”

Wei almost smiled. “I made it known to my pilots that I wanted to share their experience. Now, if they see me in one of your aircraft, they are unlikely to be suspicious. But it also suits our larger purpose. First, your government and my faction wish to emphasize the Chinese participation in this operation while minimizing American involvement. My authority is accepted among the Chinese aboard the ship, and will not be questioned.

“Therefore, in keeping with the Chinese emphasis, we will need PRC pilots. I am one; Mr. Hu will be the other.”

Peters glanced at Ottmann, then back to Wei. “Why Hu? He’s one of those who was almost cut from the program.”