The Shadow Game (15 page)

‘Sir, we will be landing in just over five minutes.'

President Meng glanced at the steward, shifting his gaze momentarily from the seemingly endless kilometres of blue-grey water starting to shimmer in the first wash of pre-dawn light.

The Boeing 747 had been flying for four and a half hours through the dark. For the past hour, two J-11D fighter jets had flanked the presidential plane.

Now they were nearing their destination, the most extraordinary landing strip ever built, a testament to Chinese ingenuity, and the latest and boldest declaration of the nation's growing confidence.

For two years, an army of labourers had toiled on rolling 24/7 shifts under strict command. The Spratly Islands in the South China Sea were alive with the activity of a budding superpower and Beijing had issued a terse warning to any would-be intruders: stay clear.

The 747 dipped into a mild headwind as the crew prepared to land on a bed of concrete and steel that had transformed this isolated atoll into a fortress.

The landing was perfect, the plane decelerating smoothly before taxiing towards a hangar that had been completed just days earlier.

The captain's voice came over the intercom.

‘Mr President, welcome to Mischief Reef.'

Pride and exhilaration surged through Meng as he prepared to disembark, but he would be careful to avoid any outward signs of hubris. Today's ceremony would mark just the start of a critical phase for China.

Not since the liberation of Tibet in 1949 had China been so successful in reclaiming its ancient lands, but even Meng acknowledged, if only to himself, that the expansion was a high-risk play. Beijing faced constant allegations that its ‘creeping invasion' was the most provocative action by a nation since Germany's expansion across Europe in the late 1930s.

And Mischief Reef was but one pearl in the necklace being strung across the Pacific. Once it was complete there would be a continuous line of islands enclosing the South China Sea. Each would be declared Chinese territory, with the demand that the rest of the world steer clear of a twelve-mile exclusion zone.

Even while that weak fool Jackson was alive, America had been testing China, sending its warships close to the islands and declaring its right to ‘freedom of navigation through international waters'. It had been a child's game because the Americans knew there was no military hardware stationed on the sites.

That would end today. This landing would show the world the airstrip was operational. Beside the presidential plane on the tarmac were two warplanes, the first of a squadron that would be in place by year's end. Missiles would follow on this and every other island.

The president descended a mobile gangway laid with a red carpet that tumbled down to a group of dignitaries flown in for this momentous event. Meng nodded at some and smiled at others as he made his way to a podium to address the workers standing obediently in ranks.

‘Comrades!' Meng's voice rang unfortunately thin through the PA. ‘As this day dawns so does a new era in China's peaceful rise. Through our ingenuity and hard work the Nansha Islands are being transformed, but no one should misunderstand why it is being done.

‘We are not expanding our borders or taking anything that is not rightfully ours.

‘Three thousand years ago, pearls, shells and turtles from these waters were presented as tribute to the rulers of the Zhou Dynasty. Two-thousand-year-old Han Dynasty pottery shards were found on Taiping Island and we have documents showing China was mapping and patrolling these seas when the Roman Empire was nearing its end.

‘The South China Sea has always belonged to our Middle Kingdom. We are just giving form to that reality. We have as much right to build here as we would to construct a new expressway in Beijing.

‘It is our rights that are being challenged, our land that is claimed by others.'

Meng swept his hand from left to right.

‘All this is being built to defend our core interests of sovereignty and territorial integrity. And make no mistake, we will defend them.'

He paused, looking at the gathered workers and dignitaries. CCTV, the Chinese national broadcaster, was transmitting his speech live to the world. Right now, in capitals across the globe, world leaders would be in no doubt about the gravity of this moment.

His last sentence had been crafted for their ears.

‘Friends and comrades, here we stand on the first parapet of the Great Sea Wall of China.'

As Meng finished to warm applause, a military band played the opening strains of the national anthem. Several hundred Chinese workers and the VIP guests united in full voice.

Arise, ye who refuse to be slaves,

With our flesh and blood let us build our new Great Wall . . .

. . . the Chinese nation faces its greatest danger

For each one the urgent call for action comes forth.

Jack Webster stared at his 42-inch television screen as the last strains of the Chinese national anthem faded.

It was in Mandarin but Webster was familiar with its meaning. He saw this moment as his own ‘urgent call for action'. It was just after 9.30am in the national capital when the Chinese president concluded his extraordinary address. As the cameras pulled back from the podium, the parting shot was of two brand new J-11D fighter jets parked either side of the presidential plane.

The defence chief knew that the image was aimed directly at the specialist spectators in the worldwide audience. He glanced at a line of clocks on his wall: it was 5.30pm on the US east coast.
Heading into the primetime news broadcasts. The Communist leader knew how to pull an audience.

The White House Situation Room would be full. The Pentagon and State Department would have their Sino specialists crawling over every word of this speech; weapons analysts would be magnifying every frame of the final images.

In one sense it wasn't a surprise. The progress of the runway had been part of his intelligence briefings for the past two years. The US had been calling on China to stop terraforming islands in the South China Sea for at least that long and had routinely tested the Beijing-imposed twelve-nautical-mile limits. Even Australia had conducted fly-overs.

But the J-11D show of force proved the Chinese believed the American threat was empty. The once mighty Stars and Stripes had been lowered in the Pacific by a pathetic president who had cut and run in the Taiwan Strait. Now, as the US struggled to come to grips with Earle Jackson's death, China was militarising its artificial islands.

This was Meng's one-finger salute to the West.

Webster grabbed his briefcase and called for his aide de camp. He had a short drive across the lake for a 10am meeting of Cabinet's National Security Committee, one he had advised the prime minister to convene just moments after the Chinese president had begun his Mischief Reef declaration.

Australia's defence chief wanted a robust response from the committee, but was expecting some resistance. That should be manageable, though; with the PM's backing, he was confident of carrying the day.

‘As you know we have long feared this moment.'

Webster's deep voice was calm, but his tone was grave as the group charged with defending the nation listened in respectful silence.

The long, narrow Situation Room was full: Cabinet ministers sat on one side, defence, intelligence and police officials on the other. A microphone rose in front of each committee member and there was a note-taker at each end of the table. Staff sat in dutiful silence, lining the walls behind their bosses.

Two huge video screens ran the length of the room, controlled by technicians in an adjoining suite. As Webster spoke, a still picture of the Chinese president flashed on both.

‘Meng Tao has just radically changed the rules in the South China Sea. Until now his country's declarations about exclusion zones around reclaimed islands have been meaningless. The US has routinely breached the twelve-nautical-mile zone and we have flown over the air-defence bubble. It's been a game: they shout at us, we ignore them.'

Webster paused as he studied the attentive and anxious faces in the room. He was determined to exact every ounce of drama from this presentation.

‘Today the game has become hard reality. We have the president's own words as evidence.'

Webster nodded and the image of Meng stirred, his words translated into English as he spoke.

‘All this is being built to defend our core interests . . .'

Webster put up his hand, pausing the president's speech.

‘When a Chinese leader uses the words “core interests” he is speaking of something he's prepared to wage war over. Once the term was restricted to Taiwan. Several years ago it was expanded to include Tibet and Xinjiang, two provinces with indigenous autonomy movements. From today it includes the South China Sea.'

Webster nodded again and the image pulled back from the podium to show the president's jet and the two warplanes flanking it.

‘The president isn't making empty threats. Take a long, hard look at those fighters. They are next generation warplanes: the Shenyang J-11D. It's a Chinese super weapon and, ladies and gentlemen, this is the first time we have seen an officially sanctioned image. They have been flown in as the show stopper.'

The camera moved in slowly on the menacing wasp-like jet, its undercarriage bristling with advanced weaponry.

‘Our intelligence reveals this plane has state-of-the-art stealth capabilities and vastly improved performance and electronic warfare systems. In short, it is the first Chinese fighter capable of taking on the US-made Raptor and Super Hornet.'

The image pulled out again to show an aerial view of the arrow-shaped island, with an airstrip that ran its entire length.

‘Until today Beijing couldn't contemplate using this kind of jet outside the mainland because it can't be launched from China's sole aircraft carrier. The
Liaoning
is essentially a training ship and its planes wouldn't stand a chance in a shooting war with the US. Building a fleet of carriers that can compete will
take a generation. But China has taken an audacious short-cut. Now advanced fighters, and missiles, can be launched from this unsinkable tarmac.'

The image pulled back further, to one taken from space by a spy satellite. It highlighted a series of dots that formed a ring enclosing most of the South China Sea.

‘This runway is just the first of many. Soon there will be similar bases on all these sites. When they are finished, Chinese warplanes will rule the skies over all the sea lanes to our north.'

Webster studied the now grim figures around him: his words were having the desired effect, but he needed to hammer home the importance of swift action.

‘There is some good news.'

The image zoomed back down to the Mischief Reef airstrip and onto the warplanes.

‘The J-11D is still experimental and an expert analysis of the weapons systems concludes they aren't yet operational. Right now this is just a high-stakes bluff. We still have some time on our side. But it's rapidly running out.'

The image switched to a close-up of President Meng's face as Webster built up to his pitch.

‘Beijing just set us a test. Based on how the world responds it will push harder or, perhaps, retreat. The next move belongs to the US. I understand that President Asta will soon be calling for an alliance of regional nations to send a flotilla into those waters to test China's resolve.'

Webster looked at the line of ministers, slowly engaging each in turn.

‘We need to decide our course of action. Do we stand with our closest ally? Or do we step back, again, and allow China to bully its way across the entire South China Sea?'

The defence chief clasped his hands together as he rested his elbows on the table and leaned towards the microphone.

‘I believe we have no choice. We have to send the strongest possible message that this act of aggression won't be tolerated.'

Webster tapped a single A4 page in front of him that was headed AUSTEO: Australian Eyes Only.

‘I propose two steps: firstly, we send a ship to join the American-led flotilla. Then we send an unequivocal message about where our allegiance lies by permanently basing a nuclear-capable US B-1 bomber at Tindal in the Northern Territory.'

Like any good commander, Webster knew where his enemy lay and wasn't surprised when the attorney-general cleared his throat, signalling his intention to speak.

In Webster's view the South Australian's spine was as weak as his mind. His fixation on holding on to his marginal seat meant he championed ship-building at Osborne in Adelaide, even though he had been forced to publicly concede that the ASC, as the Australian Submarine Corporation had been rebranded, built overpriced and under-performing ships.

‘CDF, we can't do that.' The attorney's voice quavered as he spoke. Webster fixed him with a contemptuous stare to ensure his next few moments would be as uncomfortable as possible.

‘There is no possible advantage in either move and the downsides are enormous. Don't forget that China is our major trading partner and we are trailing in the polls.'

Webster couldn't help himself; he snorted and shook his head at the word ‘polls'. The minister's voice became even more shrill.

‘I'm not saying that China does not pose a strategic threat but we have to be more nuanced in our approach. We need to use diplomacy, to use our influence to get China to recognise that these aggressive steps are not in her best interest.'

Webster theatrically crumpled his brief in his hand and let it roll off his upturned palm onto the conference table.

‘Mr Attorney, you sound like an editorial in
The Age
. Sure, China might pretend to listen, but it will see your calls for dialogue for what they are. Weakness. More empty words. Nothing will make her baulk except the real threat of real force. There is only one power in the world that can halt China's aggression and we can't let America stand alone.'

The room lapsed into silence as all eyes turned to the prime minister.

Scott was studying the brief and frowning. Webster noticed she was fiddling with her wedding ring, a sign she was troubled.

After a moment the prime minister looked across the table and locked eyes with the defence chief.

‘Jack, I value the US alliance but I fear that their much-touted pivot to Asia is all talk and little action. And America is still bogged down in the Middle East – and will be for years. We are exposed here, terribly exposed,' she said.

Webster realised the need to tread carefully.

‘Prime Minister, I don't think this will come to blows, but I don't believe we have a choice. China is testing how far it can
push us. We have to draw a line at some point or there will be no end to it.'

Scott pushed back.

‘And where will America's demands end? Surely China has a point when it says America and Japan want to ring-fence it. It's not in China's interest to stymie regional growth.'

Webster pointed to the video wall which had settled on a map of the region.

‘Not now. But we are talking about what might happen and our long-term strategic interest. Ninety per cent of our trade goes through the South China Sea. We can't allow one country to dictate who sails through those waters.'

Webster's pitch lifted a notch.

‘Need I remind you that Australia no longer refines its own oil. A blockade in those waters would see the bowsers run dry here in fifty days. Imagine the political consequences of that. We have to act.'

Scott shook her head and Webster tried to hide his irritation. He'd expected she would be a staunch ally.

‘Who else is in on this armada?' she asked.

‘The Philippines for sure,' Webster replied. ‘Of course, others like Vietnam and Indonesia will be more wary and some will be swayed by what we do. Prime Minister, if the US can't get Australia to sign up then it will be dead in the water and they will react furiously.'

‘What if China sees it as an act of war?' Scott was fiddling with her ring again.

‘It won't come to that.'

Webster's tone was stern as he held the prime minister's gaze. The next move was hers. Eventually she cleared her throat and spoke.

‘CDF, prepare a detailed analysis on the rationale, the benefits and the risks of sending a frigate to join a US-led flotilla and on basing a B-1 bomber at Tindal. I want every contingency covered. Every last one.'

Then Scott surprised him by turning to another senior official, the Director-General of the Office of National Assessments. The ONA was packed with analysts whose job was to provide independent intelligence advice direct to the prime minister, but in Scott's time she had rarely used it, always deferring to the defence chief.