The Shadow Game (31 page)

They gathered in the shadows of Canberra's most heavily guarded building.

Several of the distinctive red police cars that patrolled the diplomatic precinct were parked in front of a fortified fence.

The Israeli embassy had been chosen because its electronic dead zone stretched across the road into the park where the conspirators were convening. All phone and radio signals were scrambled; they could not be overheard.

Bruce Paxton arrived after walking from the nearby American embassy while Harry Dunkley had been lurking outside the Polish mission. The ringleader turned up in an unmarked car, walked briskly to the meeting place, then drew the others into a huddle.

‘Gentlemen, it's time to launch Operation Icarus,' Martin Toohey said.

‘What's the drill?' Paxton asked.

‘We head to Burra tonight.'

Toohey pointed at the former union strongman. ‘Bruce, you're in charge of the technical side of this operation. We'll need a sparky and someone who can handle telecoms in the dark. Have you been in touch with your building union mates?'

Paxton nodded. ‘Hall's Heroes are ready to roll. Again.'

Toohey pulled a sheet of paper from his jacket.

‘Okay, they'll need to get their heads around this. ASIO's plumbers did good work.'

He turned to Dunkley. ‘You and I will meet at 6pm—'

‘1800, mate,' Paxton interrupted.

‘Whatever floats your boat, comrade. 1800. Harry, bring your phone and make sure it's fully charged. Bruce, leave yours in the caravan.'

Dunkley cut in. ‘How do you know Webster will be there?'

‘Harry, Webster has every eavesdropping device known to science. But I have the oldest and the best: people I trust. He will be there. And, if his plans change, I will hear about it. Right, any questions?'

‘Yes, a fairly significant one,' said Dunkley. ‘What do we do once the gates open?'

‘We go inside.'

‘And then what?'

Toohey smiled.

‘You leave that to me.'

At 1200, the
Liaoning
was alerted to two ships sailing from the Philippines' naval forces facility at Oyster Bay, on Palawan's coast, heading due west.

On the bridge, Admiral Yu Heng studied the Chinese intelligence brief. The vessels were reported to be moving at a steady clip of twenty-five knots. Only two ships in the small Filipino fleet had that capacity: BRP
Gregorio del Pilar
and BRP
Ramon Alcaraz
. Both vessels had been built in the 1960s for the US Coast Guard and refitted multiple times. One was transferred to the Philippine Navy in 2011, the other in 2012. Neither was a match for the
Liaoning
's weaponry.

At their present speed, the US-built Hamilton-class cutters would breach the twelve-nautical-mile limit around Mischief Reef inside five hours.

The commander poked at a light lunch of fish and rice, while scanning through a document that detailed an earlier Chinese clash with BRP
Gregorio del Pilar
.

It was a skirmish over China's lawful right to fish Huangyan Dao, a 150-square-kilometre triangle-shaped chain of reefs and islands surrounding a lagoon. The West mapped it as Scarborough Shoal. Irrespective of its name, China and the Philippines both claimed it.

In April 2012, a Filipino patrol plane had spotted eight Chinese fishing boats anchored in the lagoon. Crew from the BRP
Gregorio del Pilar
had boarded one to find an illegal cargo of coral, giant clams and live sharks. Two Chinese maritime surveillance vessels arrived, sparking what global media would call the ‘Scarborough Shoal Standoff'.

When Chinese reinforcements arrived, the
Gregorio del Pilar
retreated. But the altercation triggered a tit-for-tat exchange of cyber attacks between the two Asian countries.

Yu pushed aside his meal as he read further. Trade sanctions were imposed, followed by protests in Manila and Beijing.

Then China banned Filipino fishing boats from the shoal's waters, provoking President Aquino's first outburst likening the Chinese to the Nazis.

Only American intervention prevented further escalation, both sides agreeing to withdraw. The Philippines complied, but China did not. Yu's brief confirmed Manila's complaint, that Beijing was now laying a giant bed of concrete blocks in the lagoon, intent on turning the shoal into a military base.

Yu closed his briefing notes and gazed out at the calm waters shimmering to the horizon. His orders were to prevent any foreign vessel from entering the twelve-nautical-mile zone around Mischief Reef. And he was authorised to use force.

If either Filipino warship crossed that invisible line, the Scarborough Shoal Standoff would look like a happy memory.

The Falun Gong had packed away their protest banners, driven home by temperatures that had dropped as rapidly as the sun.

At exactly 1800, Harry Dunkley arrived at the Chinese embassy, clad in a black tracksuit and dark woollen beanie. Moments later, Martin Toohey strode down the slight incline from the Hyatt Hotel. He wore jeans and a black leather bomber jacket, and a Special Forces baseball cap pulled down tight over his greying curls.

He was in high spirits.

‘You look like Phillip Adams,' he told Dunkley, laughing.

‘I feel like a dickhead about to be done for break-and-enter.'

‘Well, you nailed the dress code. Did you bring the camera?'

Dunkley pulled a Canon IXUS from his tracksuit jacket.

‘One hundred and twenty-five bucks from Ted's.'

‘With thanks to our friends across the road,' Toohey said, motioning to the Chinese embassy.

The arrival of a pair of white Commonwealth cars interrupted their banter. The late-model Holdens turned into Coronation Drive then pulled up opposite the embassy gates.

Toohey pointed to the lead vehicle. ‘Righto mate, give your mobile to the driver; mine's going in the other one.'

Dunkley nodded as he handed over his phone. The first COMCAR pulled away, turning left into Commonwealth Avenue, heading towards the lake. The second turned right.

‘If anyone's tracking us, then for the next few hours we are wherever those cars are,' Toohey explained.

A horn blast sounded as a well-worn LandCruiser lumbered around the corner and rattled to a stop in front of them. A small woman with brown hair and a cheeky grin jumped from the driver's seat and bowed theatrically.

‘Your chariot awaits, Mr Toohey.' She slapped the bonnet. ‘Picked it up today for two grand. Goes well enough, though.'

‘Thanks, Linda, I left your car outside the Hyatt gym.'

They exchanged keys.

‘Hop in, Harry.'

Dunkley fought with a misbehaving seat belt that locked each time he tried to drag it over his shoulder. As he finally coaxed it towards the buckle he noticed a slight tremble in his hands.

His throat was dry as he looked across to Toohey who adjusted his seat before the engine rumbled to life.

Dunkley marvelled at the vagaries of circumstance that had paired them in a crusade against this vicious killer. As the Toyota
crunched through the gears the journalist feared they were badly outgunned, boys going to war against a man who had spent his life training for it.

It would be a short drive from the bush capital to the enemy's stronghold.

The first warning was issued at 1628 by the Chinese. In English.

‘This is the Chinese navy, this is the Chinese navy. Filipino vessels, you are approaching Chinese sovereign waters. Change course now or we will consider your intentions hostile.'

The BRP
Gregorio del Pilar
and BRP
Ramon Alcaraz
were thirty nautical miles west of Mischief Reef.

The
Liaoning
had used the VHF maritime mobile band, because all vessels monitored its international distress channel.

There was no response. A second warning was issued. Nothing.

Admiral Yu Heng calculated the warships would breach the twelve-nautical-mile zone within thirty minutes. If they crossed that line his orders were explicit: use all necessary force.

The Chinese commander lifted his cap and rubbed his forearm across his brow. The strike group under his command
vastly outgunned the Filipino frigates, but opening fire would be an act of war.

He checked his watch again. The Shenyang J-15 fighter jets could intercept the ships in less than ten minutes. There was still time.

He grabbed the microphone from the radio operator.

‘This is Admiral Yu Heng aboard Chinese aircraft carrier
Liaoning
to Philippine navy vessels. Please respond. If you do not change course immediately we will launch action to defend our territory.'

The radio remained silent. Five minutes later, Yu issued an order to deploy two warplanes. They were instructed to fly towards the Filipino ships, but not to fire unless fired upon.

Yu hoped their radar signal alone would be enough to force a Filipino retreat. As he watched the warplanes scream down the flight deck and off the ski-jump bow, he felt a deep foreboding.

The
Liaoning
's fatal flaw was that it had no catapult to slingshot its warplanes into the air with a full payload. They could carry heavy weapons or a full fuel tank, but not both.

Minutes later, Yu's spirits briefly lifted as the VHF band crackled to life.

‘This is Admiral Frank Vinson, commander of the USS
George Washington
to the
Liaoning
. We are escorting two Philippine navy vessels in a joint exercise on a peaceful mission through international waters. Recall your planes. If you do not, I will assume we are under attack.'

Yu felt the skin on his scalp tighten. He had sailed into a trap.
Frank W Vinson had dropped the flag on Operation Nemesis.

From high above the flight deck, the commander of the USS
George Washington
watched as the most sophisticated and deadly weaponry ever assembled burst into action from the most dangerous work environment in the world.

The roar from vulture's row was deafening as jet engines and steam-driven catapults combined to hurl warplanes skywards from zero to 165 miles an hour in two seconds.

First off the deck were two EA-18G Growlers. Built with the DNA of a fighter, the Growler's trump card was its ability to manipulate the electronic spectrum. Its battlefield was the shadow world of radiation frequencies and it wreaked havoc by firing radio-, infrared- and micro-waves instead of bullets.

The Chinese would be rendered blind, deaf and dumb.

The Growlers were the point guards for the more conventional F/A-18F Super Hornets, surveillance planes and helicopters that would follow in the blackout. This was electronic warfare on afterburners, way beyond anything the Chinese could muster.

Vinson checked his watch.

Within two minutes the Growlers would activate their weapons systems and Yu would lose visibility of the battlespace.

The Chinese pilots would be operating in the dark, unable to even communicate with each other.

The most fateful play in China's recent history would be in their hands.

If they fired, the US admiral had issued a clear instruction. Shoot them down.