Brown, Dale - Patrick McLanahan 05 (62 page)

 
          
“See?
There’s where the Shipwreck missile cooked off—blew a hole big enough for four
Greyhound buses to fit in,” Masters went on. “The PRC kicked all the Iranians
off the carrier—they have about three hundred men on board now to take it back
to
China
. Pretty good picture, huh? I came up with this technology before I
turned thirty.” The lady pilot was suitably impressed, and she rested her right
forearm on Masters’s shoulder to admire his work, as she leaned against him for
a better look. Crew members drifted in and out, looking at the images; Masters
and the pilot stayed.

           
“So, what squadron are you with,
Lieutenant?” Masters asked.

           
“VF-103 Sluggers,” she replied.
“F-14A-Plus Tomcat. I’m number two tailhooker in my squadron. I’m gunning for
number one— probably get it this week, too”—she smiled mischievously—“if a
certain someone would get his big toy off our deck so we can do some real
flying. ”

 
          
“Now,
now, Lieutenant,” Masters said, “be nice. This is progress! This is the future
of reconnaissance, maybe even of aerial combat! I’ll bet you still do TARPS
reconnaissance runs in your Tomcat.”

 
          
“I’m
not TARPS qualified yet, but I will be soon.”

 
          
“God,
what a waste!” Masters said with mock exasperation. “With my drones and
satellites, I can get you detailed real-time pictures a hundred times better
than TARPS. Check this out.” Masters pointed again to the monitor as a large
cargo helicopter approached the carrier. “We can even watch this helicopter
come in, watch to see what they bring aboard the carrier, even count how many
crew members they load or unload. Try doing
that
with TARPS. I can even ...”

           
“Looks like you can’t get
anything,” the lady pilot said. Masters looked back at the monitor—it was
blank. As she left the CIC, she added with a smile, “Show’s over, huh, Doc?”

 
          
“What’s
going on?” Masters said quickly, trying unsuccessfully to get her attention
once more. “Must be a satellite relay glitch— sunspots, Martians.” In his head,
he was running through several dozen
real
possibilities why the picture had gone off the air. He reached for his intercom
headset to his technical crew, adding, “Don’t worry, it’ll come back. It’s very
reliable ...”

 
          
But
he really wasn’t that sure: on the intercom, he asked, “Engineering, this is
Ops . . . dammit, Tasker, what’s going on? It looks like the uplink’s being
jammed. Tell the carrier radar officer or whoever that their radars are jamming
my microwave uplink.... Yes, you tell them. We can’t see a damned thing until
they turn off that interference . . . it’s gotta be from the
Lincoln,
Tasker. Who in hell else is
going to be doing it?”

Aboard the aircraft carrier
Khomeini

           
“The microwave jammers are operational,”
the operations officer verified. “All communications are down.”

 
          
“Very
well,” responded Vice Admiral Qu Zhenmou, commander of the East China Sea
Fleet. Admiral Qu had taken personal command of the ex-j
Khomeini,
now renamed the
Mao
Zedong
for its two-month trip back to
China
. “Will the jammers shut down all
transmissions from that American spy aircraft?”

 
          
“We
believe so,” said General Fu Qanyou, Chief of General Logistics, the senior
officer in charge of that night’s secret operation. “The Iranians gave us the
data. The digital data relay between the spy aircraft and its mother ship is
vulnerable to broadband microwave noise interference. If that spy plane is
operating overhead tonight, it will be blind for short periods of time, until
it can rechannel to another frequency. That should be long enough.”

 
          
“Very
well,” Admiral Qu said. “We shall proceed with the transfer.”

 
          
With
incredible speed and precision, two dozen Chinese soldiers, sailors, and
technicians streamed off the rear cargo ramp of the large Zhi-8 transport
helicopter. They were followed immediately by low carts carrying several
missile canisters. A section of the torn-up flight deck was removed, and
several dozen sailors emerged from the hole, carried the missile canisters
belowdecks, and the hole was closed. In less than three minutes, barely long
enough for the rotor blades to stop turning, four carts carrying four missile
canisters each had been unloaded and brought below.

 
          
“Excellent
work,” General Fu said. “How many does that make now, Admiral?”

 
          
“We
now have a half complement, about one hundred, 9M-330 Kinzhal antiaircraft
missiles aboard,” Admiral Qu replied. “In ten days’ time, we will rendezvous
with a supply vessel to transfer the replacement P-700 Granit missiles.”
Admiral Qu smiled. “The carrier will have developed a serious ‘trim problem’
that will require the
Beiyun
large
resupply vessel to assist us. The missiles will be brought aboard then.”

 
          
“But
how will the
Beiyun
be able to carry
the missiles past customs inspectors in
Singapore
and
Indonesia
?” Fu asked. “With all the commotion, the
ship is bound to be inspected.”

 
          
“Six
missiles will be carried by the submarine
Wuhan
,
sir,” Admiral Qu replied with another
smile. “The
Wuhan
can bypass all unfriendly ports of call
with ease—it can stay at sea for up to two months and if necessary can stay
submerged for up to nine continuous days. The transfer can take place whenever
the threat of a surprise inspection is over.”

 
          
“Excellent,
Admiral, excellent,” General Fu said. “Barring any unforeseen problems, it
appears that we can fully repair this carrier by the time it reaches
Victoria
, and perhaps even be fully operational by
the time it enters the
East China Sea
.”

 
          
“If
all goes well, sir, we shall have this carrier operational
before
it reaches
Hong Kong
,”
Admiral Qu said proudly. “In the meantime, we shall continue the masquerade of
making the world think this is just a useless hulk.”

 
          
“And
in just a few short months, we will have one of the most powerful navies in the
world,” said Fu.

 
          
Admiral
Qu could not remember when he had seen the young, powerful commander so
pleased, or for that matter, the Chinese Communist Party, the Chinese
government, and the Chinese military so closely allied, its senior officers so
motivated and energetic. Something was stirring, he decided, and it had to do
with a lot more than just an aircraft carrier, much more than acquiring
overseas bases. “And then, General... ?”

           
“And then, Admiral,” General Fu
Qanyou responded, “China will no longer be the sleeping dragon it has been for
the past two thousand years. And any who might oppose us will feel the might of
our two hundred million teeth....”