Hartwell Prost was ushered into the office at the same time the president placed the phone receiver down. Cord Macklin was not a happy man. The president turned to stare morosely out the window for a moment before swiveling to face his closest and most trusted advisers.
"According to some third-tier spokesperson," the president said, brimming with anger, "Liu Fan-ding says he has nothing to discuss with me until we meet at the summit in Bangkok. He has also shunned our State Department emissaries, including Secretary Shannon."
Prost caught Macklin's attention. "Mr. President, we can't wait for his temper tantrums to subside, or for more political and military skirmishes to occur. We must take action in the Taiwan Strait and the Panama Canal or face the deadly consequences of vacillation."
Macklin looked at his secretary of defense. "Pete, give me the bottom line and don't sugarcoat it."
"Sir, the price of poker just went up. We have to call Beijing's bluff and send a very strong message. I recommend sinking the ship that shot down the Hawkeye — for starters."
"Les?"
"Mr. President, we don't have any other choice. The despots, tyrants, dictators, oligarchs, whatever you want to call them, they're still bullies. Bullies never respond to passiveness, only to brute force. If we do anything less, we'll be backpedaling all over the globe and everyone will start taking potshots at us."
Macklin remained quiet for a few moments. "Les, I want you and the joint chiefs to start drawing up plans for possible military action against China in the Taiwan Strait."
Chalmers showed no emotion. "Mr. President, our plans for China are up to date, along with our plans for North Korea. We also have a contingency plan for the Panama Canal."
"Excellent." Macklin turned to his SecDef. "Pete, in your scenario, do we have all of our military assets in place?"
"We're ninety-five percent ready."
Chalmers quickly spoke up. "Mr. President, we'll be ready in the next few hours — six at most."
The president cast his gaze at the briefing folder on his desk. "Gentlemen, let's go with the concept Pete presented this afternoon. I'll deal with Congress later."
The most advanced and lethal submarine ever created, Seawolfis a 353-foot mechanical marvel designed to be exceptionally quiet, extremely fast, and well armed. An advanced multimission attack submarine, Seawolf is capable of rapidly deploying to forward areas of the oceans to destroy enemy submarines and ships, and fire Tomahawk cruise missiles in support of other forces.
Operating as an adjunct to the Kitty Hawk battle group, Seawolf was quietly waiting in the deeper water of the East China Sea as the Chinese ship Deng Ju-shan cleared the Taiwan Strait and set course for the U.S. carrier battle group.
The sun had been up for two hours when the Seawolf's skipper, Capt. Rick Canardi, raised the periscope and scanned the horizon in all directions. The only vessel he saw was a container ship that his sonar specialist had pointed out to him.
"Down scope."
Canardi had just received the latest position report on the Deng Ju-shan, his assigned target. The ship would be visible on the horizon in seven to eight minutes. The message from the Pentagon had been short and unambiguous: Identify and sink the Chinese ship Deng Ju-shan.
"Up scope."
Two minutes passed.
"Down scope," Captain Canardi ordered when he recognized the freighter. "Man battle stations."
All hands quietly rushed to their assigned positions. There was excitement and a twinge of fear in the air. They knew this was the real thing, no drill.
"Officer of the Deck," Canardi said. "Steady on course two-threezero."
The lieutenant read back the instructions while the skipper checked the time. The minutes passed slowly while the crew waited in anticipation. Even the salty veterans seemed tense. This was the first time any Seawolf crew member had ever been on board a submarine about to fire a torpedo with the intention of sinking an enemy ship.
Finally, the captain raised the scope and studied the approaching vessel, and then lowered the periscope. He patiently waited for the ship to pass the submarine so he could positively identify the freighter by the name on the stern. The control room/attack center was quiet while the seconds ticked away.
"Up scope," Canardi said, and then snapped pictures of the Deng Ju-shan. He and the XO confirmed the name and description of the target vessel. There was no question in their minds — they had the enemy positively identified.
"My intentions are to engage this contact," the skipper said out loud, and maneuvered the Seawolf into a position he knew would ensure a kill.
"Shoot on generated bearing."
Canardi watched the ship as two Mark-48 torpedoes raced toward the Deng Ju-shan. The first explosion nearly lifted the seventeen-thousand-ton freighter out of the water. The second torpedo blew the ship in half, leaving the forward third of the vessel pointing up at a thirty-degree angle.
"Down scope," Canardi ordered. He managed to show little emotion, but his adrenaline was pumping.
"Steady course three-three-zero," the skipper ordered. "Chief of Watch, let's stand down from battle stations."
The crew, some with grins plastered on their faces, looked relieved. Others reflected the gravity of the action they had just taken.
"Officer of the Deck, make your depth two hundred fifty feet," Canardi said.
The U.S. navy frigate Samuel B. Roberts remained stranded in the canal after twenty-two hours. The 3,585-ton man-of-war's skipper, Comdr. LeRoy Gartly, had been awake all night. He and his crew were trying to get what little rest they could while remaining at their battle stations.
Via secure communications, Commander Gartly had learned from signals-intelligence intercepts that Chinese troops were massing in the vicinity of his beleaguered ship. He had also received a message that help was on the way.
The Marines, with the assistance of the air force and navy, were preparing to take command of the canal in a matter of minutes. Gartly passed the word to wake everyone when the first hint of daylight appeared on the eastern horizon.
Whether at sea, or trapped in a narrow canal, a warship flying an American flag is U.S. territory. The skipper had the responsibility to defend his ship and his crew. In this case, Gartly had to rely on a limited number of small-caliber weapons. The single 76mm/.62-caliber gun would be difficult to use in such close quarters.
Cloaked in semidarkness, the amphibious assault carriers USS Kearsarge and USS Nassau were standing off the coast of Panama near the Caribbean entrance to the Panama Canal. The two ships were in the process of launching air-cushion landing craft and conventional landing craft filled with Marines.
The ships' crowded flight decks were a study in orchestrated chaos as more Marines boarded CH-53 Sea Stallions and CH-46 Sea Knights, the Marine Corps's principal assault helicopters.
Once the flotilla was headed for shore, the assault helicopters took off for their destinations near the entrance to the canal. Overhead, eight Marine AH-1W Super Cobra helicopter gunships, along with seven AV-8B Harrier attack aircraft, were standing by to provide down-in-the-weeds close air support for their grunts.
Backing the Marine expeditionary units and their own mini air wing were two air force AC-130U Spectre gunships, six air force A-10 Warthog tank killers, and the combined firepower of a large group of air force F-15s, F-16s, and the F-14s and F/A-18s from the USS George Washington battle group.
After the Marines established a beachhead, they would advance on the lock that was purported to be inoperative. As soon as the lock was under the control of the Marines, two former lock operators would be flown in by helicopter to identify and correct the problem, and then open the lock to free the U.S. warship.