Dancing with the Dragon (2002) (20 page)

"Don't get me started."

"The Chicoms pay top dollar for information about our most advanced weapons systems. When you're in the service and trying to raise a family on fifteen thousand, say, seventeen thousand a year, two hundred thousand dollars in cash can be very attractive."

"No doubt. And you think Sergeant Wang--"

"Wong."

"--Wong is working with the Chinese?"

"Well, he is in a position to hear and know a great deal of information."

"That's true."

"I expect to have some news by tomorrow afternoon."

Jackie leaned next to him and Scott put his arm around her. "Let's take the pack off and enjoy the evening," he said. "No more business tonight."

"I second the motion."

They sat quietly and watched the vessels that dotted the Pacific.

On the horizon the stars blended with the lights of the larger ships. "Do you know what causes the stars to twinkle?" Scott asked. "It's caused by atmospheric turbulence."

"Very good--that's why you're an academic whiz." Scott rose from the lounge. "C'mon, you can help me fix dinner."

"Yeah, I think you could use some direct supervision, especially in a kitchen full of sharp utensils."

"Hey, I'm a guy."

After a dinner of salmon sushi salad and minced chicken satay, Jackie and Scott changed into bathing suits, charged their wineglasses, and entered the warm, bubbling spa. They relaxed and watched the bright moon rise high in the clear California sky. Their view of the earth's natural satellite was highlighted by a quartet of traditional Hawaiian torches.

"I could get attached to living like this," Scott said, listening to the soft, melodic music coming from the array of concealed outdoor speakers.

She leaned her head against his shoulder and sighed. "Yeah, let's enjoy it while we can."

He embraced her. "Then again, in my humble opinion, there isn't anything like a full moon over Waikiki."

"Don't tempt me."

"I'm serious--give it some thought."

"I don't need to think about it." She looked up and gave him a beguiling smile. "I can be packed and ready to go in three minutes--maybe less if we don't take anything formal."

"Jackie," Scott said, and then froze, sensing a presence moving toward them. Perhaps it was a sixth sense, a natural intuition, but it was definitely real. Someone, or some thing, had entered the outdoor kitchen and was invading a specific area of Scott's cerebral cortex. He rose on one elbow and focused his attention on the kitchen and garden area. The hair stood up on the back of his neck.

"Scott," she whispered, "what is it?"

He placed a finger to her lips at the same moment he detected movement behind the wide vine-covered lattice screen next to the spa.

"Scott?"

Instinctively, Dalton leapt out of the spa and plunged straight through the screen, slamming headlong into a lean and sinewy man. The violent impact knocked the assailant's 9mm Smith & Wesson to the floor and sent both men sprawling across the wooden deck.

With his heart pounding, Scott repeatedly smashed the smaller man's face and upper torso, missing twice and striking the deck with his knuckles. The searing pain was nullified by rage.

During the struggle, Jackie scrambled out of the spa and sprinted toward the home to get her 9mm Glock.

The horrendous fight on the deck continued as both men landed one devastating blow after another. Scott was gaining the advantage until the small-but-powerful attacker kicked him in the groin.

Reeling in excruciating pain, Scott savagely smashed his fists against both sides of the man's face. A resounding CRACK accompanied the severely broken jaw and teeth.

Desperate and wreathing in agony, the wiry gunman fought like a trapped animal and finally broke free.

Bent over in mind-numbing pain, Scott allowed the intruder to flee through the backyard gate and escape down the circle driveway. Searching for the assailant's weapon, Scott was startled when Jackie turned on the bright outdoor floodlights.

"No!" he protested, realizing it was too late. His night vision was gone for the next few minutes.

"Where is he?"

"He's gone." Scott could feel the blood vessels throbbing in his head. "Turn off the lights."

Jackie flipped the light switch off and backed toward Scott with her weapon locked in both hands. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," he answered, still breathing hard. "I've been in worse shape."

Spying the intruder's firearm at the edge of the deck, Dalton cautiously picked it up to preserve any fingerprints.

Still charged with fear, Jackie looked at Scott. "Should we notify the police or sheriff's department?"

"No, absolutely not. We don't want to get the locals involved." He took a break to catch his breath. "That's the last thing we need."

"Yeah, you're right. That could jeopardize the whole operation."

They walked to the outdoor kitchen and Scott opened a beer while his pulse rate continued to drop. "Would you care for a beer?"

"Sure."

He opened another bottle and handed it to her. After taking a long pull from the cold bottle, he looked at Jackie. "Our attacker . . . was Oriental."

"You're sure?"

"I'm positive." He took another swig. "There was just enough light from the torches to see his face--definitely from a Far Eastern origin."

"What a day," Jackie said, and sipped her beer. "Maybe I should check into that librarian correspondence course."

"Yeah, see if they have a slot for me." Scott set his bottle down. "Our latest attacker has been well trained in the martial arts--probably under the influence of Taoism and Zen."

She stared at him for a moment. "How do you know that?" "Because he was in a mental and spiritual state that I think suspends certain functions of the mind."

"Come again?"

"His mind and body were acting as one unit--a unit that was blocking the pain until I crushed his jaw."

Jackie tilted her head and studied his face. "Ah . . . pardon me, but that sounds like psychobabble."

He shrugged and reached for his beer. "Perhaps so, but I've seen it demonstrated and it made a believer out of me."

"Whatever you say."

Scott surveyed the mangled lattice-covered screen. "From now on we'll have our weapons on us or within easy reach twenty-four hours a day."

"You have my vote. I wonder if the Chinese know that we're going to be flying near the carrier tomorrow night?"

"That has crossed my mind." Scott gently massaged his throbbing right hand. "You may want to reconsider and stay on the ground."

"No way," she said without expression. "We're a team, remember?"

"Yes," Scott said with a smile. "I'm going to contact Hartwell and let him know the latest news. We have a major leak someplace." "That'll make his night."

"I'm sure."

Astonished by the news of the ambush, Hartwell Prost quickly mobilized the proper authorities. Minutes later, FBI agents and members of the CIA were zeroing in on southern California and in particular the beautiful home overlooking the Pacific.

Scott placed his satellite phone on the table. "Well, I suppose we should change into something more appropriate for entertaining."

"True, but we'll at least have security."

"What a way to ruin a perfect evening with a--"

"The night isn't over."

Chapter
14.

MCAS Miramar

During a leisurely lunch at the officers' club, Jackie and Scott recounted the events of the previous evening to Prost. After their meal, the trio left the club and drove to a hangar to meet with the pilot who would be remotely controlling the supersonic drone, a converted F-4S Phantom II.

Wyatt Craine, a laconic former navy fighter pilot, was a friendly man with a quick smile and an acute sense of humor. Prost had briefed Craine about the operation and the need for absolute secrecy. Regardless of the outcome of the mission, Craine could not mention it to anyone, ever.

"Since we're doing this at night," Craine said, "I'm going to have to rely on you to guide me into position near the ships."

"I'll do the best I can. I think we should keep the drone between the ships and our aircraft."

Craine tilted the back of his chair against the wall. "Are you going to fly directly over the ships or set up a pattern around them?" Scott considered the options. "I want to approach from the stern at eight thousand feet about a mile or so from the target." "Are you going to be on the left or right side of me?" "We'll be at your four to five o'clock position."

"So you'll want to come up the starboard side of the ships?" "That's right."

Craine mentally constructed a three-dimensional world of situational awareness that allowed him to project himself into the drone.

"When we're abeam," Scott explained, "I'll call for a shallow left turn to set up a left-hand orbit around the ships."

"How close will you be to my Phantom?"

"About two hundred yards."

"Good. I don't want to midair you if something goes . . ." He paused, innocent eyed.

"Tits up," Jackie offered with a friendly smile.

"Yeah, when we fly these things NOLO, no live operator, there's a ten percent chance that it will be the last flight for that particular Fox-4."

"How many have you lost?" Prost asked.

"Just one."

"Well, you're considered to be the best, so it sounds like you've been doing something right."

"I just hope my luck holds."

They continued the brief, deciding on a time and place to rendezvous in the Whiskey-289 Warning Area in the special-use airspace over the Pacific. When Dalton and Craine were comfortable with their plan of action, the flight crew of an E-2C Hawkeye airborne early warning aircraft joined the meeting.

Like Wyatt Craine, the commanding officer and his crew from the VAW-113 Black Eagles had taken an oath of secrecy about the mission. The carrier-based Hawkeye crew would guide Scott and Jackie to the suspicious cargo ships and provide airborne and surface surveillance. Everyone copied the radio frequencies and call signs they would use and then covered emergency procedures. The final item in the brief included contingencies if an aircraft went into the water.

When the briefing adjourned, Jackie, Scott, and Hartwell sat down alone to discuss what their course of action would be if one of the ships blew the Phantom out of the sky.

Scott finally asked the question that had been on his mind since lunch. "If that happens, how is the president going to respond?" Prost was caught off guard.

"I don't mean any disrespect, sir," Scott said politely, "but is he going to take an aggressive stance toward Beijing, or will he take the appeasement approach?"

Prost had a troubled look on his face. "To tell you the truth, I don't know yet, and I don't think he knows yet. He's talked to me, the chairman of the Joint Chiefs, SecDef, and the secretary of state.

The military side wants to immediately stop the ship and seize it."

Prost paused and contemplated how much information he should divulge. "On the other hand, the State Department doesn't want to confront the Chinese right now, especially with Secretary Shannon on his way to Beijing to assuage President Liu Fan-ding's fragile ego."

"They can't just ignore it," Jackie said. "If the plane is shot down, I mean, that's a blatant attack on the United States."

Prost seemed ill at ease. "Let me bring you up to date. The media people aren't aware of it yet, not even CNN or Fox, but we have some major problems brewing with China."

Scott and Jackie hung on each word.

"Currently, we have no contact with the Chinese military, no engagement at all, and China-U. S. relations are under siege in Beijing. Actually, in the last few hours, our relations with China have become more tenuous than they've been in a long time."

"Worse"--Scott paused--"than they were after we bombed the Chinese Embassy in Belgrade, or the spy-plane flap on Hainan Island?"

"A lot worse." Hartwell removed his glasses. "They've been increasing the number of military troops and equipment at both entrances to the Panama Canal, and they're forward-deploying troops, weapons, and warships in southeastern Fujian Province."

"Directly across from Taiwan," Scott noted.

"Yes. And the Chinese navy is currently conducting missile exercises near Taiwanese waters north of the Strait of Taiwan."

"Do we have any carriers in the Strait?" Jackie asked.

"Not yet, but the Kitty Hawk and Roosevelt battle groups are en route. The Vincennes has departed Yokosuka for the Strait and Seawolf is in the area. Two other attack submarines have left Pearl Harbor for the waters surrounding Taiwan."

"What about Panama?" Scott asked.

"The president is sending a carrier battle group and two amphibious carriers chockful of Marines into the Colombian Basin. He's made it clear to Beijing that we won't tolerate any interruption of traffic in the canal. No debates, no stalling for time, no ambassadors gabbing away, absolutely nothing will be tolerated."