Dale Brown - Executive Intent

“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.