Donchez sat up straight in his chair, suddenly realizing why he had been asked to attend a top secret National Security Council meeting. What Kent wants is a submarine, he thought. A nuclear sub could hide in the Go Hai Bay just outside Beijing and intercept UHF radio transmissions from anywhere on the northeastern mainland while sitting there invisible underwater.
“Admiral Donchez can explain this next slide, Mr. President.” Kent looked at Donchez, who rose and walked to the front of the room. Kent clicked the slide to a close-up view of the northern Yellow Sea and the Korea Bay, the sea between the peninsula of Korea and mainland China. At the northern end of the Yellow Sea a finger of land pointing south and one pointing north enclosed the Go Hai Bay. The Go Hai was a triangle of water three hundred miles tall and two hundred miles wide at its base to the south.
At the western point of the triangle’s base was the port of Tianjin, which was a mere seventy miles from Beijing. Donchez looked at the slide, the geography familiar to him from the hours of briefings he had given.
“Mr. President, I believe the director is proposing putting a nuclear-powered fast-attack submarine in the territorial waters of Communist China about right here, a few miles off Tianjin. A patrolling sub here is ideally positioned to perform multi frequency surveillance — eavesdropping, in a word — on Beijing, which from the sea side is less than a hundred miles to the northwest. From this point our submarine will be able to intercept UHF, VHF, HF and other frequencies of radio transmissions from the Red Chinese as well as the White Army. It will know as soon as there is an imminent attack. It will know if Beijing is going to fold. All in real time.”
Dawson looked at Donchez.
“Real time? Don’t you need to decode the transmissions?”
“We use spooks, sir. NSA intelligence specialists. They ride the sub and translate the Chinese transmissions. Decoding may or may not be required. Most of the time they transmit UHF battle comms in the clear without any encryption. The spooks just pick it up and write it all down.”
“But how does the sub do that without surfacing?”
“Sticks the periscope up, sir. All the antennae are in the periscope.”
“Couldn’t it be seen?”
“We stay away from traffic and watch the length of time the scope’s up, sir. Generally it’s not a problem. We do this a lot, sir.”
“What about radar? Wouldn’t a radar see a periscope?”
Donchez was impressed. Not many laymen could come up with that question.
“Sir, ninety-five percent of all radars are trying to find surface ships or aircraft or missiles. A periscope is usually too small. Any return from a periscope would look like a return from a wave. Besides, the new type-20 periscope is packed with RAM, radar absorptive material, the same stuff in the Stealth bombers and fighters. It’s practically invisible.” Unless the Chinese were operating orthogonal-polarization radars, Donchez thought, radars built to find periscopes. They usually found them quickly, too, but certainly that technology wasn’t in Chinese hands … “Well, then,” Dawson said, “it sounds like a no brainer. We need intelligence, and our allies and spies and satellites aren’t getting it. Time to send in the submarine. All right, let’s do it.”
“Sir,” Donchez said, realizing Dawson had never done this before, “you realize you have to sign the Penetration Order.”
“Penetration Order?”
“Yes sir, the authorization for a submarine commander to penetrate the twelve-nautical-mile territorial limit of another sovereign nation. It’s a violation of international law, sir. You’re the only one authorized to order it.”
“I thought you said you do this all the time.”
“We do, sir,” Donchez said.
“And the President always signs the order to penetrate.”
Donchez watched Eve Trachea. If she didn’t object, the mission would soon be underway.
“We can’t,” she said, “violate territorial limits or international law. Admiral. The CIA does this, but now you want to send a shipload of American soldiers into a bathtub outside Beijing and spy on a civil war. If your people get caught it would ruin our integrity internationally. Not to mention what might happen to them. Mr. President,” she said, turning to Dawson, “the State Department opposes this idea. And so I do. I know you’re concerned about a so-called tilting toward the Communists, but reestablishing diplomatic relations with Beijing would at least get this country back into reality.”
“Bobby?” Dawson said, his face a mask.
“We’ve tried everything,” Kent said. “All we’ve done is get our agents killed. I don’t recommend continuing that. I also urge you to allow us to do what we can to gather crucial intelligence. We can’t have surprises coming out of China. This situation is dangerous.”
He looked at Trachea.
“Let me spell out a scenario … Japan is financing the Kuomintang so the Communists decide to dry up the river of yen by launching an air strike on Tokyo. The financial center of Japan is gutted, the computers and banks are destroyed, and because of the connectivity of world markets, the world stock markets plunge overnight. Meanwhile the Communists plow through the White Army, plunging Asia into totalitarian darkness and beginning a new cold war that will make the last one look tame. It would be the worst of 1929 and 1939 all in a day.”
Evidently the President was impressed, holding up a palm to hold back Kent.
“Okay, Bobby, okay, I understand the need for intelligence, but let me ask the admiral — can’t the sub just stay outside the twelve-mile territorial limit?”
Donchez shook his head.
“No, Mr. President. Navigation in a tactical situation like that is difficult enough without having to worry about stepping over an arbitrary line twelve miles from the beach. You would take away maneuvering room should surface traffic come by. And twelve miles further out means fewer intercepted communications. Besides, the submarine is still inside their goddamned bay and besides, the Chinese claim the whole bay as their territorial waters anyway. If they detect us, it won’t matter if we’re one mile out or fifty — we’re still spying in a Chinese lake. Sir, it’s a risk, but the risk of no intelligence seems worse. It’s your decision, but not one of your predecessors had any trouble signing penetration orders.”
Clearly, Dawson was not happy with the decision.
For several moments he sat there, staring at the screen. Finally he spoke.
“Admiral Donchez, send a submarine into the Go Hai Bay. Have the order to penetrate on my desk within the hour. I’ll sign it.”
Steuber and Donchez stood at the base of the large east China chart in the Pentagon, the map towering almost twenty-five feet over their heads. The chart showed the East China Sea, north to the Yellow Sea and on to the Go Hai Bay. To the east the island of Japan had a blue dot flashing into the Pacific, three hundred miles south and east of Tokyo. The blue dot was labeled USS TAMPA SSN-774 SUBMERGED OPERATIONS.
Steuber pointed to the flashing blue dot.
“I’m planning on sending the Tampa. She’s a Los Angeles-class, one of the last built before the Seawolf-class started construction. She’ll do okay on this mission. I just need to get the NSA spooks out to her — maybe a helicopter rendezvous — and in she goes.”
“I don’t know, Marty,” Donchez said, using the name Steuber hated.
“Tampa’s nearly brand new. I’d hate to risk losing a hightech sub if something went wrong. Why not send in one of the old Piranha-class boats? It could do the job.”
“Sir, the old broken-down Piranha-class boats are rust buckets. No way would I want to trust a stealth mission to an old Piranha-class.”