Gomez went to work on the captain, a man named Orlov.
Ignoring the occasional scream belowdecks, Briana remained on the bridge with Cartwright. Just beyond the ship’s bow, the Seahawk rose in the sky on its way to Subic Bay along with Zumwalt’s own helo to take her crew ashore.
“Sure you don’t want to go with them?” Cartwright asked as the two helicopters headed out. “We might be out here a while.”
In order to avoid legal wrangling over the status of the freighter’s crew — plus to cover whatever methods Gomez and his operatives were employing in those cabins — the ship would remain in international waters until the contingent of contractors were through questioning the Nuovoh Arana detainees.
“Got no place to go,” she said. “My ship’s on the bottom. So, if you don’t mind the company, I’d rather see this through.”
Before Cartwright could reply, Gomez walked onto the bridge, his light-blue shirt spotted with small red stains.
As another muted cry crept through the ship, the Filipino tilted his head toward the open hatch and said, “Dirty business.” Then he added, “I need to contact Washington.”
An aide ushered Secretary of State Brad Austin into the office of Ambassador Chang Yu-shan. Like Austin, he was also a former military officer, having retired as a full colonel with the PLA.
A bit shorter and much thinner than Austin, he advanced a few steps toward his guest and then extended a hand, wincing at Austin’s firm grip.
“Please, Mr. Secretary,” the ambassador said with a motion in the direction of a chair opposite a wall displaying four large photos from the ambassador’s military days with the PLA’s 2nd Division in North Vietnam. “Please, have a seat.”
Austin nodded and sat down.
“Would you care for a cup of tea or coffee?” Yu-shan asked as he also sat down, noticing Austin taking the bait. The eyes of the former Marine Corps aviator inexorably drifted to the collage in matching silver frames. Captain Yu-shan had been among the 320,000 Chinese soldiers and pilots operating in the so-called Chinese buffer zones in North Vietnam along the border with China, where the PLA armed the North Vietnamese Army with radar stations, airfields packed with MiGs, anti-aircraft batteries, and ammunition depots — all officially off-limits to American retaliation. The buffer zones were enforced by Chinese officials and also — ironically enough — by Lockheed EC-121 Warning Stars, the predecessor of the Boeing E-3 Sentry AWACS, who monitored the zones to make sure their own American fighters or bombers did not violate them. By 1967, the NVA was firing a combined twenty-five thousand tons of anti-aircraft ammunition and missiles each month at American jets “going downtown,” running Route Pack 6 sorties into the heart of Hanoi. A good portion of those munitions and equipment had been brought in through these buffer zones.
Yu-shan smiled inwardly as Austin recognized the North Vietnamese Army soldiers posing next to him and other PLA officers. He used the historical photos as his subtle way of reminding American visitors, especially those with military backgrounds, such as Austin, that the American military wasn’t infallible.
Austin pointed at one of the photos. “You know, Mr. Ambassador, we used to shut off our IFFs so the Willie Victors couldn’t see us running sorties inside your buffer zones,” he said, referring to the Identification Friendly or Foe system aboard American jets and also using the US Navy nickname for the Warning Star. “We just loved catching those little NVA bastards with their pants down, thinking they were safe.”
This time it was Yu-shan who blinked, but unlike the Chinese diplomat, Austin didn’t hold back a leer.
Deciding that was probably enough sparring, the ambassador took a deep breath and just said, “We have water, if you prefer.”
“No, thank you, Mr. Ambassador,” replied Austin. “And while I’d love to chat more about that ancient conflict, I’m here to address a more recent one: the provocative and dangerous aerial encounter your pilots initiated in international airspace less than twelve hours ago over the Taiwan Strait. They flagrantly endangered our flight crews and almost had a midair collision with one of our Advanced Hawkeye command-and-control aircraft.”
Yu-shan felt the hard stare from the former Marine Corps fighter pilot, and he glared right back at him. “Secretary Austin, I deeply regret the incident happened, and I can assure you that every step is being made to correct the—”
“Spare me the double-talk,” Austin cut him off. “We were under the impression that Beijing had corrected this kind of problem after the disastrous collision in April 2001. And now we have more Chinese fighter pilots endangering our flight crews.” Austin shook his head in disgust. “That kind of behavior demonstrates intentional malice with a total lack of discipline and poor leadership.”
The ambassador held Austin’s gaze, then said, “I do not have the authority to directly deal with these matters.”
“You’re the Chinese ambassador, our direct link to Beijing,” Austin countered with a disappointed voice. “Otherwise what’s the point of you being here? To attend state dinners?”
Yu-shan tightened his jaw and fists but quickly relaxed them. Before he could come up with a reply, Austin added, “This dangerous and deliberate provocation is going to further isolate China from the international community. This unprofessional stunt has caused escalating tensions between our administration and Beijing. One miscalculation by your pilots could lead to a shooting war. Does that possibility concern you? Does it bother you in the least?”
“Yes, of course it bothers me,” the ambassador replied, tension showing in his voice. “I will make some inquiries and see if we can correct the—”
“Mr. Ambassador,” Austin again interrupted, “I don’t think you understand the gravity of the situation. Your fighters were armed, and they locked on to our aircraft with their target acquisition radars. One mistake — just one errant electrical malfunction — and it could have been disastrous for both countries.”
Unaccustomed to being talked to in such a harsh tone, Yu-shan lost face. “Mr. Secretary,” he stammered. “If we had an aircraft carrier off the coast of California, the White House would not be pleased.”
“But see, Mr. Ambassador, you wouldn’t have a reason to be there. You don’t have a defense pact with Canada or Mexico, do you? We are pledged to defend Taiwan, and that’s why we keep a military presence in that part of the world.”
Feeling color coming to his cheeks, and angrier than he could remember, Yu-shan remained silent. He wanted to speak his mind, but he had strict orders to remain professional under any circumstance.
“I can assure you of two things,” Austin said bluntly. “We will continue flying legal missions over international airspace. And we will not be intimidated; that is a direct warning. Your president needs to know that we are not bluffing, and the world community knows your record.”
Yu-shan silently nodded, his jaw clenched tight in anger. These arrogant Americans need to learn their place again, just as we taught them in Vietnam.
“Item number two,” Austin said firmly. “I’m going to personally push congressional members to initiate legislation to impose much tighter controls on technical transfers from the United States to China. Your country has a booming global economy, and China is rapidly modernizing. You have many initial public offerings on our stock exchanges on Wall Street, and your economy will surpass the US economy in the foreseeable future.”
The secretary paused a moment, and then spoke slowly and deliberately. “Do you and your government leaders in Beijing want to jeopardize the future of China with foolish stunts?”