That was typical Douglas. Didn’t matter that I was a billionaire and a client, he was still as plain-spoken with me as he would have been with a soldier under his command. “I’m not asking you to do charity. Ten million dollar advance, fifty million when the fighting’s over. That's just for you personally, of course. The expenses of recruiting and equipping the force will be added on.”
I hesitated for a moment before adding, “They’ve got something special on that island. Maybe it’s the Chinese work ethic mixed with Western freedom. I don’t know exactly, but I do know that if Taiwan falls, there’s not going to be another one anytime soon. And all of our lives will be better with Taiwanese entrepreneurs working freely. They’ve already cured AIDS, mass-produced carbon nanotubes, built quantum computers. They’re dragging the rest of humanity forward. Right now, we have a chance to help them do it. That’s hero shit. Something you can tell your grandkids about.”
Douglas looked at me with a steady poker gaze for a minute. I could see him turning over the idea in his mind. Finally, he said, “That’s a hell of an offer. But I need to talk to my wife about it.”
I leaned back in my chair. “You’ve got four hours to think it over. At that point, I’m flying to London to interview two other ex-SAS soldiers, see if they want the job.”
As I suspected, Douglas sounded a bit offended. “To see if they’ll lead your private war?”
I shrugged. “Someone’s got to do it. If you’re telling me you might not want in on saving the free world and fighting a war completely outside any military hierarchy, I’ll find a commander who does.”
The half-century old Scotsman was no fool. He knew I was playing on his natural competitiveness. But he also knew that I was right. With a bearish grin, Douglas said, “I’ll get back to you in two hours.” He stood up and walked out without another word, leaving me to pick up the check.
Douglas, in fact, needed only an hour before he called my phone. “Alright, I’m in. Mary wasn't happy, not until she heard about the advance anyway. Then it was all ‘oh, I’m proud that you’re helping those poor Taiwanese.’ But that’s third wives for you, eh?” Douglas roared laughter.
I decided not to inquire too deeply into the terms of Douglas’s third marriage. “Beautiful. Suit up and get ready to fly out then. You’re going recruiting.”
“Me? Where the hell are you going to be?”
“Talking the U.S. into letting us into the war.”
Chapter 2
“That’s a hell of a fool idea you’ve got there.” Vice-Admiral Joshua Bainbridge, Assistant to the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, scowled at me from behind his spectacles and beak-like nose. A fourth generation naval officer, Bainbridge looked like he had just stepped off the bridge of the U.S.S. Constitution coming back from battle with the Barbary pirates of the 18th century. Stiff, thin, patrician, and pushing seventy, Bainbridge was in charge of coordinating military activities between the United States armed forces and those of our allies around the world in the war with China.
It had cost me about $600,000 to arrange a meeting with him. Several congressmen’s reelection campaign coffers were just a little bit fuller on that rainy May afternoon in Washington. It was money well spent, however, because I needed Bainbridge’s approval for my war.
Of course, I had no intention of letting the U.S. military dictate my actions, but, at the very least, I needed them to assure me that they would not treat my forces as hostile combatants on the battlefield. Beyond that, a great deal of the utility of my organization would be lost if we couldn't coordinate activities with the U.S. and Taiwanese militaries. Chatting up the Pentagon was also a constructive use of my time while Douglas was rustling up prospects for our little adventure.
Bainbridge was, to say the least, not enthusiastic about the idea. He elaborated on his initial response to my proposal. “Mr. Cortez, the United States can handle this war on its own. We sure as hell don’t need some tycoon’s dream team of mercenaries running around in the war zone complicating the tactical situation for our better-trained, better-equipped soldiers.”
There are not many people for whom I put on a humble act, but senior government officials were often the exceptions, as was the case at that moment. “Pardon my candor, sir, but the U.S. military is no longer the dominant force it once was. I don’t doubt the training—” actually, I did, but it wouldn’t do to say that, “—but we both know that Congress has always cut defense before entitlements when it needed a little more money. The fleet is flying old airplanes off old carriers supported by forty-year-old destroyers and submarines. Our soldiers are still armed with M-16 derivatives that were designed before I was born. Heck, even the Knights were mainly playing around with clever low-tech stuff like Spider grenades. I’ve been in the tech industry my whole life. I’m tight with Taiwanese tech companies and arms suppliers. My people will be armed with stuff so advanced even the Taiwanese haven’t mass-produced it yet. And we’re going to need it to fight the modernized People’s Liberation Army.”
Bainbridge snorted. “The Chinese have a lot of people and a lot of knock-off technology that they’ve bought or stolen from us, the Russians, or the Taiwanese themselves, but they aren’t going to be able to compete with the kind of armada we’re sending to Taiwan.” His scowl turned into a patronizing smile. “We might not have the newest paint on our boats or planes, but our boys are ready to fight. A lot of the senior officers and enlisted men have combat experience in Iraq or Afghanistan. And after the Knights' last fight in Taipei, our boys have fighting spirit. They’ll send the PLA scurrying back to mainland China in no time flat.”
Before I could object, Bainbridge stood up, indicating the meeting was over. “I appreciate your enthusiasm, Mr. Cortez, and I know it wasn’t easy to arrange this meeting. But you’d better sit this one out. We’ll leave the 3D printing business to you. You leave the fighting to us.”
I was just getting up from my chair when Bainbridge’s assistant, a cute thirty-something blonde enlisted woman, threw the door to Bainbridge’s office open. Her face looked pale as she said, “Admiral, you’d better come to the operations center.”
Forgetting that I was still in the room, Bainbridge demanded, “What’s up?”
The secretary eyed me for a moment, then decided that the news was too important to wait. “A battle is brewing in the western Pacific. Task Force 61.”
Bainbridge’s eyes went wide. “I’ll be right there. Go call Captain Phelps and have him come down to the ops center too.”
The secretary gave a perfunctory, “Yes, sir,” and fairly ran out of the room to fulfill the admiral’s order.
Bainbridge seemed momentarily lost in thought. I took the opportunity to consider the situation. Everyone knew the U.S. was going to send a naval armada to Taiwan. The thought process was simple: Despite the lessened funding over the past fifteen years, the United States Navy was still far ahead of any other competitor, including China. While the People’s Republic had ramped up its spending on the People’s Liberation Army Navy, the U.S. still had far more ships.
If the U.S. Navy could secure the Taiwan Strait, China’s invasion force would be isolated and the invasion would be summarily defeated. And what better way to get the U.S. Navy into position to close the Strait than to send over a massive armada comprised of four or five aircraft carrier battle groups. That must have been the Task Force 61 that Bainbridge’s secretary had mentioned.
I quickly concluded that this could be a once-in-a-lifetime chance to see what the United States military was capable of. One thing you learn about having an ungodly amount of money is that opportunities should be taken advantage of without hemming and hawing over the cost.