Two Peasants and a President (34 page)

******

South Korean coastal radar suddenly lit up with contacts streaming east out of Tianjin, north from
Qingdao
and as far away as Shanghai. The upper reaches of the Yellow Sea were now churning with Chinese naval and Coast Guard ships of all sizes.  Since there had been no warning of pending naval exercises, an alert was flashed to Seoul.  Calls to the Chinese Embassy went unanswered and there was real concern as to the intentions of the largest naval power in Asia. 

American satellites quickly focused on the Yellow Sea as the Pentagon watched in amazement.  When it was learned that North Korean naval assets were also putting to sea and its army and air force had been put on alert, the entire world turned its attention eastward. 

In the White House, a president already besieged by anti-China factions sat transfixed by the unfolding drama, his advisors unable to provide any explanation whatsoever.  The US relationship with China had become an underpinning of his presidency, and China’s continued investment in Ame
r
ica, a foundation of his much-touted economic recovery.  Now their navy was streaming into the open sea without any apparent reason. 

The White House switchboard was already afire with demands from the media for some explanation.  He simply couldn’t respond that he didn’t know what the nation whose vice-president he would soon be meeting was doing.  It would be a disaster.  The Chinese Embassy was silent. 

Decoded radio intercepts from NSA indicated only that the Chinese were searching for something very important.  Was it possible that a nuclear weapon had gone missing? 
Or a nuclear armed ship had defected?
What else could possibly explain the mass exodus of China’s northern fleet? 

Viet Nam and Japan, nations that had been involved in naval skirmishes with China recently and, in the case of Viet Nam, had suffered significant loss of life, had ordered their naval assets out of port for safety’s sake.  There was mounting fear that in the absence of any explanation on the part of China, a nervous trigger finger could start a war. 

South Korean coastal radar now showed several warships moving at high speed toward its coast and, more alarmingly, aircraft taking off from two Chinese military airfields.  With its own naval assets now potentially threatened, South Korea had no choice but to scramble its own jets to provide an air umbrella for its ships. 

South Korean military leaders were now meeting with their US cou
n
terparts on the Korean peninsula regarding the possibility that a rogue group had stolen a Chinese nuke and that it could be on one of the ships headed east toward its coast.  Since there was as yet no other explanation for the u
n
precedented naval deployment, the intent to start a war could not be di
s
counted.  Therefore, it was imperative that no Chinese vessel be allowed close to the South Korean coastline.  The implication was clear: one or more Chinese ships might have to be sunk. 

******

What had been a speck in the sky become a four-engine propeller driven reconnaissance plane.   Flying out of Shanghai, the Chinese Y-8X maritime patrol craft were familiar sights in the skies over
Shangdong
Pro
v
ince and had been carrying out long-range intelligence missions near the coast of South Korea.  In numerous instances, the South Koreans had scrambled interceptors to meet them.  This was once again the case. 

As the lumbering craft flew low over the
Dawn Flower
, Zhou was startled by the sudden scream of two South Korean jets slashing through the sky overhead.  There was no longer any doubt that both China and North Korea knew they were here.  What they would do about it was the only question.  Zhou thought it likely that there were at least ten other fishing boats in the vicinity; he had seen three in the past two hours alone.  Boarding and searching each would take time.  He hoped the fact that he had already been boarded once would at least place him at the bottom of the list, if not exclude him altogether. 

There was one other problem that Zhou and the captain had discussed.  At the 38
th
parallel, North Korea juts far into the Yellow Sea.  The straighter the line from Tianjin to South Korea, the closer to North Korea.  That the North Koreans were more likely to open fire than open a line of communic
a
tion was a fact no one doubted. 

******

The State Department had finally succeeded in reaching an aide to the ambassador at the Chinese Embassy.  Valerie Waters, the Secretary of State,  had asked to speak to the ambassador himself but was told that he was i
n
disposed at the moment, leaving her no choice but to, in diplomatic speak, ask the aide what the hell was going on.  He at first feigned ignorance of what she was referring to, but with the decibel level of her voice rising steadily, he moved on to the subject they both knew was the reason for her call. 

“Madame Secretary,” he began unctuously, “aside from certain naval training exercises that were planned months in advance, I am unaware of any ship movements that should be of any concern to the United States.” 

“So, let me get this straight,” said Waters, her irritation growing, “you wish me to believe that when China’s entire northern fleet suddenly sorties into
o
pen ocean, it is nothing that should be of any concern to the United States?”

“May I remind you,” he continued in a condescending tone he made no attempt whatsoever to conceal, “that China is on one side of the Earth and the United States is on the other.  Therefore, what goes on in our waters need not concern you.”

“I think it’s time that we discontinue this charade and you put the a
m
bassador on the line,” Waters said curtly. 

“As I said,” Madame Secretary, “he is indisposed.” 

Then the line went dead.  Waters found herself wondering how a once powerful nation had been reduced to a supplicant in the eyes of China and much of the world.  That the United States Secretary of State had not even been afforded the courtesy of speaking with the ambassador was in itself an insult.  But the far greater insult was that there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it.  The current situation was the inevitable result of the actions of a nation whose greed and mismanagement had allowed it to become subse
r
vient to another.  It was hardly unique from a historical perspective, but then few politicians in America knew or cared much about history.  By contrast, China always kept history in mind and, more importantly, China learned from it. 

As the president listened, it quickly became clear from his conversation with the Secretary of State that they were no closer to understanding what was going on than they had been several hours ago.  During the morning press briefing, his press secretary had stood lamely claiming that as far as he knew, there was nothing terribly unusual about the activities in the Yellow Sea.  His assertion was met with open skepticism bordering on revolt by a press corps that was well aware from world-wide sources that virtually China’s entire northern fleet had suddenly
sortied
east and south from their bases.  One media outlet published a cartoon of a sky-full of intercontinental ballistic missiles headed toward the US, while the president’s press secretary e
x
plained that it w
as nothing to be concerned about
. 

Several Republican senators, including of course Virgil Baines, had asked in interviews with various media how it was that the United States seemed so clueless as to the reason for this?  The pressure was mounting on the President and, aside from ascribing the uproar to purely partisan politics, to which he resorted ever more frequently, he was left with few options.  As the clock ticked closer to the meeting with the heir-apparent to the Chinese presidency, his unease mounted.  That he was as facile a speaker as any US president in recent memory did not lessen his dread at having
to tell the country that he had no clue what was going on
. 

******

Captain Davis calculated that they had crossed into South Korean w
a
ters, but any solace that might be derived from that fact was purely theoretical since China would doubtless disregard any such distinction.  The captain was scanning the horizon for any signs of a warship or coast guard cutter when Ping appeared behind him with a cup of tea.

“For our hero,” she said in heavily accented English. 

“Dear lady,” he replied, “it is you who are our hero.”  As Dr. Min translated, Ping smiled and as she did, the captain looked into gentle eyes reaching out from a noble soul that had risen above so much tragedy and pain to help two young Americans. 

“I’m going to do everything in my power to help you and your friends come to the United States, if that is your wish.”  A wide smile answered his question. 

Zhou’s deep voice broke the spell and the captain turned to see his outstretched arm aiming at a point off the stern.  He had seen a glint of sunlight reflected off something, but even with binoculars, it was hard to make out what type of ship it was.  Whatever it was seemed headed in the
direction of two small fishing boats they had passed earlier.  What went u
n
said was that if it was a naval ship, the search was getting closer. 

Holly appeared at the top of the steps with a tray filled with bowls of steaming rice topped with something unrecognizable.  Everyone was hungry and no one questioned what they were eating since it was obviously what they were going to get.  Holly triumphantly held up a spoon like it was treasure from the bottom of the sea.  With it she proceeded to scoop what she assumed was fish and rice into her mouth.  To her surprise it tasted quite good.  Zhou’s grandmother, who had prepared the food, joined them carrying her bowl and chopsticks.  Everyone held his bowl up in a toast to her cooking.  She beamed a toothless smile.  

When they were finished
,
Zhou reached into a locker and held up a bottle of rice wine.  His grandmother disappeared down the steps, returning with a tray of tiny glasses.  The objects of one of the largest manhunts in history looked at each other for what they knew might be the last time and raised their glasses. 

The captain handed his empty glass to Zhou’s grandmother and picked
up
the binoculars again.  Perhaps three miles away, the bow of what appeared to be a warship was aimed squarely at the
Dawn
Flower.

“Trouble,” he said.  It needed no translation.  Zhou took the micr
o
phone off its cradle and handed it to the captain.

“To any South Korean naval vessel, this is Captain Richard J. Davis, United States Navy Retired.  I repeat: To any South Korean naval vessel, this is Captain Richard J. Davis, United States Navy Retired.  We are being pursued by unknown Chinese warship attempting to return us against our wills to Tianjin.  There are three Americans aboard who were kidnapped by Chinese authorities and are attempting to escape.  Please acknowledge.  Out.”

Zhou then broadcast in Chinese the emergency call.  Thirty seconds later he repeated the radio call and an updated position report.
Then he picked up the binoculars again as the captain repeated the distress call in English.  The warship was now close enough to make out its forward gun mount and the red flag atop its mast. 

The radio’s speaker crackled with a response in Chinese:  Dr. Min listened, then confirmed that they were being hailed by a Chinese frigate, ordered to heave to and prepare to be boarded.   Everyone aboard had agreed that they would go as far as they could and if they were overtaken and sunk, so be it.  To a man (and woman) everyone on the
Dawn Flower
preferred death on the high seas to bullet in the neck on the d
irt field outside in Hospital #77
.

The captain repeated his radio call again.  The only response was the howling
sound of a 100mm round as it screamed over the wheelhouse and
geysered
a quarter mile off the bow. 

“Mayday, Mayday,” the captain shouted into the microphone, repeating his distress call.  Everyone ducked reflexively as the next round passed even closer.  This time the geyser was barely two hundred yards in front of them.   As the captain repeated his mayday call, his voice was drowne
d out by the slapping of air that
could only be a helicopter.  It had lifted off the frigate’s stern and was now hovering fifty yards off the starboard bow, a machine gunner sitting in the open door, his weapon trained on the
Dawn Flower
.

The captain yelled to everyone but Zhou to get below decks where they would at least stand a chance of surviving what was now inevitable.  He i
n
tended to continue his mayday call until he was dead.  As he began to speak into the microphone one more time, he could see the machine gunner pull back the charging handle and prepare to fire.  He shoved Zhou to the deck as the first rounds exploded the glass in the wheelhouse.  The heavy steel-clad bullets tore away chunks of the wood which, along with shards of metal and glass, rained down on Zhou and the captain, now flattened on the wheelhouse floor.