“Equipment malfunction,” said Blevins.
Macklin nodded, for a moment recalling his own ejection. “It happens. The pilot?”
“Rescued,” the admiral replied. “Though I heard it was pretty hairy business. Had to take out a contingent of Iranian troops shooting at the pilot and the CSAR helo, while Rhinos from Vinson provided air cover. She’s back on the ship and should return to full flight status shortly.”
Macklin slowly nodded again, thinking of his recurrent nightmare. It had been harrowing enough for him to get shot down over enemy territory. He could only start to imagine what must have gone through that naval aviator’s head as she waited for the CSAR helo.
“Glad to hear that,” he finally said. “And Guatemala?” he asked, sipping coffee.
Chalmers said, “Those planes won’t be bothering us anymore, sir. One of our Boomerangs from Whiteman took care of that.”
The president nodded. “Great news,” he said evenly before turning to Austin. “When are we speaking to President Duarte?” he asked, referring to the Guatemalan president.
“Right after this meeting, sir.”
“All right. What’s next?”
Chalmers said, “Day two of working through the list of planned strikes, sir. Primarily in Afghanistan, Syria, Iran, and Yemen.” He spent the next few minutes giving his commander in chief a quick rundown. “In all, forty-three additional known terrorist strongholds are to be hit, plus Mr. Prost has requested that we add the military garrison at Zahedan International Airport in Iran to the list for good measure.”
Macklin turned to his DNI. “I thought we were limiting the strikes to known terrorist enclaves.”
Prost nodded in acknowledgment. “That was our intention, but when they went after our pilot and the CSAR helo, it seemed appropriate that we respond. There are eighteen MiG-29s and twelve Mirage F1s on that base. The cost of harboring terrorists…”
“Well, when you put it that way,” Macklin said, pointing the glasses at Blevins. “What’s the word on our fleet?”
“We’re keeping Lincoln and Vinson in the Mediterranean and the Arabian Sea respectively. Stennis is leaving Singapore as we speak and will head out to cover the South China Sea, while we stretch out Roosevelt’s deployment in the Sea of Japan another month until Reagan replaces it out of San Diego. Although there’s a focus on the Gulf, we still need a strong presence in North Korea, and now the strait.”
“The strait?” Macklin said, frowning. “That’s… new. What’s going on?”
Blevins said, “Our satellites are picking up increased troop deployments along the coast, from Fuzhou to Guangzhou.” He produced a tablet computer and passed it to Macklin.
Balancing his glasses on the tip of his nose, he browsed through the satellite images for a minute or so. Then, looking at Prost over the glasses, asked, “What’s Xi up to? I just spoke to the man, and all was well.”
“Well, our intel says otherwise. So, I recommend we park Stennis there for a couple of weeks.”
Macklin stared at the images again. Sighing, he said, “Fine.”
He returned the tablet to Blevins, who continued for another few minutes, giving him a rundown of naval activities around the world. Then Chalmers updated him on the strikes by the Air Force.
The president finished his first cup of the day and as he stood to get a second one, he pointed his glasses at the Pentagon trio. “I’m assuming we already have proper defenses on our carriers while at port? And I mean all of them, even the ones under construction or repair or at sea trials?”
“Yes, sir,” replied Chalmers. “Six-man crews with shoulder-launched missiles in rotating shifts, twenty-four seven, each led by an officer empowered to make calls on the spot. We won’t get hit like that again, sir. Ever.”
“Good,” he said. He couldn’t afford to lose another carrier.
— 10 —
Captain Marcus Madison, commanding officer of the Nimitz-class carrier, stared at the moon while standing on “vulture’s row,” the viewing gallery on the carrier’s island that provided a clear line of sight over flight-deck ops and the ship’s surroundings.
Strategically located at the mouth of the Malacca Strait, Singapore’s naval base offered one of the few deep-draft piers in the Pacific Ocean big enough to berth a Nimitz-class aircraft carrier. Potential adversaries of the United States considered Changi a de facto US naval base.
Stennis, along with her escorts and Carrier Air Wing 9 (CVW-9), were departing under the cover of darkness.
Madison frowned. The news on Truman had stunned the American military community and had created a heightened level of concern among its personnel for their families back home.
Stennis was escorted by five surface ships, including the Ticonderoga-class cruisers USS Mobile Bay (CG 53) and USS Antietam (CG 54), and beneath the surface, USS North Dakota (SSN 784), a Virginia-class submarine. Together, they formed the John C. Stennis Carrier Strike Group with orders to steam directly to the Taiwan Strait, roughly 1,500 miles away. CVW-9 had eight squadrons of various aircraft, including the F/A-18E Super Hornet and the brand-new F-35C Lightning stealth multi-role fighter. In addition, Stennis hauled a contingent of nine operators from SEAL Team 2 along with their gear.
When the carrier finally moved away from the pier, a Singaporean anti-submarine patrol vessel and a missile corvette accompanied it to the edge of the harbor. Stars filled the sky above.
A deep voice announced flight quarters. It was time to form a protective layer over the carrier strike group. Minutes later, a Seahawk plane-guard rescue helicopter settled into position on the port side of the island, while an SH-60F anti-submarine warfare (ASW) helicopter lifted off the flight deck and made a sweep around the carrier.
The flight-deck personnel were busy preparing to launch Super Hornets from the Strike Fighter Squadron VFA-14 “Tophatters” for CAP duty. The various escort ships, some still rendezvousing with Stennis, were taking up station around it. And just below the surface, North Dakota maneuvered into position to flank the carrier on starboard.
Despite the circumstances, Madison thought it was a beautiful night to head out to sea.
Originally built for a South American republic, K-43, one of the new generation of German Type 212A — class attack submarines, had secretly changed hands three times. First to a drug cartel interested in using it to move its product from Central America to points north, and then to an arms dealer able to provide the cartel with something it wanted more than a sub: M47 Dragon shoulder-fired anti-tank weapons. Then to Omar Al Saud for two hundred million euros.
The revolutionary air-independent, 187-foot Siemens-Permasyn-powered submarine could remain submerged and totally quiet for up to three weeks. High-grade austenitic stainless steel made the pressure hull virtually nonmagnetic.
Hundreds of special items aboard the boat were made as nonmagnetic as possible. Every detail had been considered in making the submarine the quietest hunter-killer in the ocean.
Anti-submarine aircraft and helicopters using infrared, acoustic, dipping sonar, sonobuoys, or magnetic-detection devices would have a difficult time sensing the latest in ultra-quiet diesel boats. Even more true if the Type 212A rested on the bottom of a shallow sea, quietly, as it did tonight.