Two Peasants and a President (65 page)

“They are wishing us success,” said Jun as he finished buttoning his uniform shirt and tucked the pistol into its holster.  The people detest Pres
i
dent Li’s regime and hope that we will help put an end to it.”

“OK, team, let’s move,” shouted Jim.  Brett got behind the wheel of
Jun’s
taxi, looking not at all like a Chinese cab driver, but hoping that the police had not had an opportunity to radio in the tag number, thus tying Jun to what had happened here.  The cab would be dropped several streets over where Jun would hopefully be able to retrieve it and his clothes later, a prospect that seemed increasingly unlikely as events unfolded.

With Brett in
Jun’s
cab bringing up the rear, what was undoubtedly the oddest procession on the streets of Beijing that night pulled away from the curb.  Jun, driving the police car, led them out of the area as quickly as po
s
sible, lest a
n
un
sympathetic resident
call the authorities.  They were now, according to Jun, approximately seven miles from the embassy, seven miles filled increasingly with roadblocks, tanks, soldiers and police, all looking for the men who had so angered the president.  They were also, it appeared, almost out of options.

It was at this point they passed something that gave
Rad
an idea.  They circled several blocks away as he explained over the phone.  Then, after dropping
Jun’s
taxi in the parking lot of a small convenience store, Brett piled into the van and the procession turned around.

Eight blocks later, Jun turned into a double driveway, flanked by ‘no parking’ signs.  The red brick building was fronted by two large
,
garage-type doors, each with a revolving light that could be turned on in case of eme
r
gency.  The men inside, who had been playing the Chinese board game, mahjong, looked up at the appearance of a police car.  Jun took his time, pretending to organize his clipboard etc., before exiting the police car and approaching the men seated inside.  By the time he stood before them, four Seals and two Chinese defectors had snuck around the side of the building and, on cue, burst into the garage and covered the men with Kalashnikovs and pistols, quickly herding them into a sleeping area out of sight of the two open doors. 

Stripping and hog-tying police and soldiers had been a pleasure.  Doing it to firefighters was not.  As they did what had to be done, Jun e
x
plained to the men what had happened to Brett’s son and daughter-in-law on their honeymoon and to Brett more recently.  The firefighters were clearly moved and professed that they would make no attempt to escape and alert the authorities, making the Seals task even more difficult.

It is interesting that in a city of 19.6 million people, covering 6,290 square kilometers, there are only 89 fire stations, a testament to the gover
n
ment’s preoccupation with police.  6,553 firefig
hters compared with more than 14
0,000 police officers is a telling statistic and one which helps to e
x
plain the universal antipathy toward the police.  It is not crime that is r
e
sponsible for the disparity,
indeed, crimes against individuals are seldom i
n
vestigated here, at least not without a hefty bribe.  It is ‘crimes’ against the State that the government feels necessitates such a smothering police pre
s
ence. 

Fire Station #69, while by no means the largest in Beijing, nevertheless had two fire trucks, a hook and ladder and a standard pumper truck.  Similar in most respects to other trucks, the Seals encountered no challenges in driving either, however, traversing the distance to the American embassy would soon prove to be an endeavor worthy of their considerable skills.

“Norwood,”

“There’s been a slight change,” said Jim, detecting the sound of the station chief taking a deep breath.  “I need you to do something,” he co
n
tinued.

“Am I to be surprised by this,” quipped Norwood, whose attempt at
humor could not mask an uneasiness at what he knew would likely be the most stressful period of his life. 

“I need you to start a fire,” Jim deliberately deadpanned.

“Excuse me!”

“I need you to start a fire to give us something to practice on,” Jim continued. 

“Which part of the embassy would you like me to burn down?”

“You choose.  I just need some smoke; oh, and the Marine guards prepared to open the front door wide when we show up in our shiny new red trucks.”

“Your flair for the dramatic has just rendered several thousand hairs on my head permanently gray.  Is there anything else you desire?”

“If you’re a praying man, now would be a good time,” said Jim.  “We’re a little more than seven miles from you, according to our faithful guide.  How long it takes to get there depends on how many tanks we have to deal with.”

“Would you like me to call out the air force to help with that?”

“That would be nice,” replied Jim.  “It’s been lovely chatting with you, but we‘ve got a fire to fight.”

“Good luck and God’s speed,” responded Norwood in a more serious tone.

The entire team, save for Jun, was now dressed in firefighting garb.  As expected, the uniforms were ill-fitting, but with the enormous hats, heavy coats and other gear, they could pass for firefighters as long as no one got a close look.  The Seals did not intend to slow down enough to give that to anyone. 

With flashing lights and blaring sirens,
Jun’s
police car led the proce
s
sion out of the fire station.  Five minutes later, they were on the expressway speeding toward the embassy.  For the first two miles, cars and trucks ob
e
diently pulled aside to allow the procession to pass, but in the distance a tank sat on the shoulder with two police cars, lights flashing, funneling the traffic into one lane where a policeman was checking papers.  The newly minted police officer and firefighters held their breaths and sat on their horns as the thousands of pounds of steel upon which they sat rushed forward unabated.

It had been decided that if a lane was totally blocked, Jun would pull his police car to the side and let the heavy fire trucks attempt to ram their way through the blockage, since stopping was not an option.  It the fire trucks were disabled, the heavily armed Seals would hijack any serviceable vehicle they could and continue on.  It was hoped that it would not be necessary to use their weapons, but if capture were imminent, they would not hesitate.

It was becoming clear to those manning the roadblock that the a
p
proaching police car and fire trucks were not slowing as the trucks air horns punctuated their sirens.  The police officer who had been checking papers hastily ordered the motorist off to the side of the road along with two others in order to clear a path for the onrushing procession.  The powerful gust of wind created by the speeding trucks pushed him back on his heels, emphasizing the wisdom of that decision. 

Jun’s
heart was pounding as he cleared the parked police cars by mere inches.  So tight was the opening that one of the fire trucks decorated a car bumper with a streak of red paint.  Those manning the roadblock were sta
r
tled by the unabated speed of the fire trucks but were blissfully unaware that the firefighters were other than what they appeared to be. 

Jim thought for a instant he was peeing his pants when he realized it was his secure satellite phone buzzing. 

“Yeah,”

“They’re looking for a missing jeep,” Norwood said, “I don’t suppose you know anything about that.”

“Depending on which jeep they’re looking for, I might,” answered Jim.  “I think we may have left a little red paint on a roadblock we just blew through.  I don’t think they suspected anything ‘cause they were trying to clear the way for us.”

“I hope you buried the jeep.”

“Unfortunately, we forgot to bring shovels.  It’s probably not going be too long before they find it and when they do, it’s gonna lead them to us right quick.” 

“Where are you?” Norwood asked. 

“We’re on the expressway, less than five miles out and
movin
’ fast.  You ready for us?”

“The Marines weren’t too enthusiastic about pissing off the ambass
a
dor, but after I explained the Seals don’t leave Seals behind part, they got onboard.  They’ve collected some waste baskets in the courtyard, so far without alerting the ambassador and they’re filling ‘
em
with paper and diesel fuel as we speak.  We may even need your firefighting services by the time you get here.”

“What’s it look like outside?”

“Two tanks at a respectful distance and several police cars not far from the entrance, more police cars parked in the area.  Unless they move those tanks to block the entrance, which they’re very definitely not supposed to do, you should have a clear shot.”

“As I recall, there are many things they’re not supposed to do,” replied
Jim.

“True.  Enjoy your scenic trip through Beijing.  We’ll be waiting for you.  Oh, and if you can, let us know when you’re close.  The security doors are designed for just that, not for speedy opening.”

******

“Fighter-bombers in the air and headed this way, Captain.  ETA twelve minutes.”

“All right, let’s get the rest of our birds up.  How close are the d
e
stroyers?”

“Just entering missile range,” answered the XO.

“Communicate to our cruisers and destroyers that if so much as a single missile leaves the rack on any Chinese plane or ship, they are authorized to respond with a massive counter attack.  There will be no sucker punches today, gentlemen.”

In an armored area well below decks aboard the cruiser USS Cowpens (CG 63), the men and women manning the darkened Combat Information Center (CIC) stared with mounting unease at the glowing flat panel screens before them.  Icons representing the Chinese destroyers crept inexorably closer to their ship while those representing the fighter-bombers approached at super-sonic speed.   Sensors aboard the US ships had not detected a radar lock from any Chinese combatant, but few believed that this highly aggressive maneuver was a bluff. 

The first missile or torpedo launched from any Chinese ship or plane would trigger a series of events culminating in a firestorm not seen since World War II.  Within one second of launch, the first layer of counterme
a
sures aboard every US ship would be activated, attempting to jam or decoy the enemy missiles away from their targets.  Simultaneously, a barrage of anti-ship missiles would smother the two destroyers with incoming projectiles so numerous and lethal that their own countermeasures could not hope to parry them.  In the first phase of the battle, the outnumbered Chinese d
e
stroyers would almost certainly be overcome and sunk by the superior US forces. 

Simultaneously, FA-18 Super Hornets would launch a spread of long-range air-to-air missiles that would take down, at the very least, a su
b
stantial number of the Chinese fighter-bombers arrayed against them.  US destroyers would also have launched their anti-submarine weapons against the two Song class submarines, as would the Los Angeles class nuclear attack sub leading the battle group while the USS Hawaii silently monitored events,
looking for other hidden Chinese subs and dealing with them.

A
t
this point, there would be large numbers of Chinese missiles in the air and very probably a minimum of four torpedoes headed toward the battle group, principally toward the carrier.  This would be the first inflection point in the battle, the period of time before it becomes known how many of the enemy projectiles would reach the fleet.  The crews aboard each ship would experience fear unlike anything they had ever dreamed as the battle largely turned into machine against machine with the loud buzzing sound of aut
o
mated point defense Gatling guns being the last sound that some would ever hear. 

In a matter of seconds, men and women would begin to die as tho
u
sands of pounds of warheads pierced their ships.  Like giant blow torches, the explosion of these warheads would incinerate the areas of the ships they struck, triggering automatic firefighting equipment as well as damage control parties who would be expected to enter Hell in order to prevent the ships from being lost.

Some ships would sustain little or no damage while others would be fighting for their lives as seawater poured into their interior spaces and flames neared ammunition magazines.  Those still able to fight would find another barrage of anti-ship missiles headed toward them from the Chinese planes that had not been shot out of the sky by the FA-18 Super Hornets.  These would likely be the final missiles these Chinese planes would ever launch as they were overwhelmed by the remaining missiles from the Hornets as well as dozens of anti-aircraft and ship-killer missiles from the US cruisers and d
e
stroyers.