Larry Bond - Shattered Trident

“My producer wants to do more focused interviews. How soon can you get to New York?”

“What?” asked Mac, dumbfounded.

“He wants us to put together a number of features on the Chinese merchant fleet, the tankers that have been sunk, and the strategy of the Littoral Alliance. And we want you close by in case there are other fast-moving stories. The best way to do that is for you to come to New York.”

“Absolutely not!” answered Mac sternly.

Now it was Laird’s turn to be surprised. “Why not, Mac? We’ll put you up in one of the finest hotels in Manhattan, close to our studios in the Time Warner Center.”

“Christine, I don’t like going into downtown Halifax, let alone a city with a population over ten times that of my entire province! I’m not a fan of concrete!”

“I promise, you won’t have to worry about a thing. I’ll make sure you’re taken care of,” Laird protested.

“And who will keep my blogs updated?”

“You can do that here just as well as from your home. We’ll give you an office with all the IT support you could possibly need,” argued Laird.

Mac took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. He was very tired, and could feel himself getting curmudgeonly. “Young lady, not all of my references are electronic. In fact, I often use hard-copy articles, and these quaint oddities that are called ‘books.’” He emphasized his point by lifting a large volume of Jane’s Merchant Ships .

“We’ll move whatever you need.” Laird was now pleading.

“Hardly,” Mac snickered.

“Mac, please—”

McMurtrie quickly raised his hand, stopping her in mid-sentence.

“Ms. Laird, I’m going to stay here and keep my group’s blogs up to date. It’s what I like to do, and it’s my responsibility. I’m afraid you and your producer will just have to learn to deal with that.”

4 September 2016

2015 Local Time

Oval Office, the White House

Washington, D.C.

Milt Alvarez knocked on the door before opening it. Inside the Oval Office, President Myles and Secretary of State Lloyd were sitting in the easy chairs going over their strategy to confront the Chinese.

“Mr. President, the Chinese ambassador is here.”

“Ah, excellent, Milt. Please show him in,” responded Myles as he stood up.

“Took him long enough,” grumbled Lloyd.

“Be polite, Andy,” whispered Myles, smiling.

The chief of staff returned, opening the door wide, and ushered in the People’s Republic of China’s representative to the United States. Yang Jinping was a short, slightly portly man with a full face that always seemed to have an infectious smile. He was a seasoned diplomat, having served as China’s representative to the United Kingdom and the UN.

“Welcome, Mr. Ambassador. Welcome to the Oval Office,” greeted Myles in Mandarin Chinese.

Yang’s smile grew larger. He stopped, bowed, and said, “It is an honor to be received in my native tongue, Mr. President. I must say your pronunciation is quite good.”

Myles laughed, while shaking his head woefully. “You are being very diplomatic, Mr. Ambassador. But I fear my Mandarin instructor would not share your views. He always complained that my nasal tones sounded like I was about to throw up.”

Yang erupted into a full-blown belly laugh. The ambassador’s laugh sounded genuine; that was what Myles wanted to hear. The conversation he was about to have with Yang was going to get tense enough as it was; the president didn’t want it starting out that way. Coming forward, Yang shook Myles’s and Lloyd’s hands. Gesturing to the chairs, and switching over to English, Myles said, “Please, have a seat. Would you care for some coffee? Or perhaps tea?”

“No, thank you, Mr. President,” Yang said solemnly. “We both know we have a difficult discussion ahead of us, and I’d prefer that we just get to it.”

Myles saw the smile fade from the elderly statesman’s face. He really didn’t want to have this meeting. Perhaps he was uncomfortable with what he had been instructed to say. “I appreciate your candor, Mr. Ambassador. But I prefer to discuss our mutual problem, even if strong words are used.”

Yang’s smile returned briefly. Straightening his coat, he sat upright as he spoke. “I must first apologize for being unavailable, until now. But it was felt necessary by my government that we both have the same information. I trust you watched the announcement by the Littoral Alliance representatives?”

“Yes. Secretary Lloyd and I watched the news conference together.”

“Your impressions?”

“We have a very bad situation on our hands, one that is likely to get much worse if measures aren’t taken to stop the bloodshed.”

Yang’s eyes narrowed, carefully scanning the American president. “If I may, Mr. President, just who are you referring to when you say ‘we’?”

“The world, Mr. Ambassador,” Myles answered bluntly.

“That is very noble of you, Mr. President. But need I remind you we were attacked first,” countered Yang.

“If you mean that the Littoral Alliance fired the first shot, then you are technically correct. However, the Vietnamese would never have mined the Liaoning if you hadn’t already put into motion your plan to seize most of the islands and reefs in the Spratly Islands by force. The plan you are currently executing.”

Yang’s face showed no response. The man was indeed a professional, but he hesitated slightly and Myles pressed on with his prepared plan of attack.

“Yes, Mr. Ambassador, we know quite a bit about Operation Trident. Catchy name, I must admit, three prongs on a trident, and three attack vectors into the Spratlys, one to the north, one in the middle, and one to the south. We didn’t figure it all out at first, but after one of your Type 093 submarines torpedoed Vinaship Sea —”

“Really, Mr. President! I must protest!” interjected Yang indignantly.

“My dear Ambassador,” Myles responded lightheartedly. “One of my nuclear-powered submarines witnessed the whole attack. They’d been trailing your submarine since it left port the day before. We know the Type 093 fired two Yu-6 torpedoes, and we know about the large secondary explosion that followed. I’m willing to provide a copy of the recorded sonar files and fire control plots if you’d like.

“No, Mr. Ambassador, the People’s Republic of China is not an ‘innocent victim’ in this case. The Littoral Alliance may have fired first, but that’s only because they found out about your plan and beat you to the punch.”

“We have suffered terrible losses, Mr. President, far more than the Littoral Alliance. This is unacceptable.”

“That is not true, Mr. Ambassador, and you know it.” Myles heard the ambassador inhale deeply through his nose. He was insulted by Myles’s accusation that he was lying—good. Whether or not the ambassador knew what his countrymen had done was immaterial; the president now had the opportunity he’d been looking for.

“Oh yes, we also know the Fourth Technical Reconnaissance Bureau is responsible for causing the Sanyo Shinkansen tragedy. They hacked into the bullet train’s control circuit and caused the deaths of nearly 2,750 civilians. Your cyber intrusion specialists in the 61419 Unit are very good, so I’m told, but they left behind some electronic fingerprints.”

Yang remained silent at first, and swallowed hard. The American president seemed very well informed, far better than expected. There was no point in trying to fence with Myles given his disadvantaged position.

“What would you like us to do? Surrender?” he sneered.

“No, Mr. Ambassador. But your country is the key to ending this conflict. Withdraw your troops from the islands you invaded, and request a cease-fire. I will fully support it and will put considerable pressure on our allies to accept it. Once the fighting has been stopped, I will propose a mediation plan to resolve the dispute.”