The beat of the helicopter’s four-bladed rotor filled the humid morning air as the VH-60N White Hawk skimmed low over the thick forest canopy, climbing the gentle slope of the Catoctin Mountains. Although it could carry eleven passengers, there were only two aboard the presidential helicopter for the half-hour trip from the White House to the compound originally called Shangri-La by President Franklin Roosevelt, renamed Camp David by President Eisenhower in honor of his grandson. Christine O’Connor and the president’s senior military aide, Captain Steve Brackman, were approaching the end of their seventy-mile journey, and in a few minutes, Christine would deliver the unwelcome news.
A change in the rotor’s tempo and the feeling of her seat falling away announced the helicopter’s arrival at Camp David. Peering out the starboard window, Christine watched their steady descent toward a small clearing in the dark green forest. A moment later, the White Hawk’s landing wheels touched down onto the concrete tarmac with a gentle bump. Stepping out of the helicopter, Christine and Brackman hurried across the pavement and slipped into the backseat of a waiting black Suburban.
After passing the camp commander’s cabin, the Suburban turned right onto a steep secondary road, immediately pulling to a halt at a security checkpoint. The Marine guard checked the IDs of the driver and both passengers, then waved the Suburban through, and the SUV began winding its way through the heavily wooded 120-acre compound. A few minutes later, Aspen Lodge came into view, sitting atop a three-acre clearing lined with cattails and irises, sloping down to a copse of maple, hickory, and oak trees. Calling the president’s residence a lodge was misleading at best. The four-bedroom ranch-style cabin, constructed with natural oak wall paneling and exposed ceiling beams, was cozy but certainly not elegant.
The Suburban ground to a stop on a narrow gravel driveway and the Marine sentry standing guard near the front door saluted as Christine and Brackman stepped from the SUV, with Brackman returning the salute. After knocking on the door and hearing the president’s acknowledgment, Brackman opened the door for Christine, then followed her into the cabin’s small living room, stopping beside a stone fireplace as the president rose from a couch against the far wall. Through the window behind the president, the late morning sun reflected off the surface of the swimming pool behind the cabin, the bright sparkle contrasting with the president’s dark eyes.
The president waited for Christine to begin.
“Mr. President, China is mobilizing the People’s Liberation Army. Liberty for all military personnel has been canceled and two army groups are being moved toward the coast across from Taiwan. Every warship is being loaded with a full weapon complement, with most of the activity occurring at night.”
“Do they have any war games scheduled?” the president asked.
“Not to our knowledge.”
The president reflected on Christine’s words before replying. “China’s relationship with Taiwan has never been better.”
“The timing points more toward the MAER Accord than their desire to unify the two Chinas. Their mobilization began almost a week ago, right after you signed the accord.”
“Perhaps China is just rattling its sword,” the president offered, “mobilizing their military to pressure us into modifying the accord.”
“Perhaps, Mr. President, but we can’t be sure.”
The president didn’t immediately reply. Finally, he asked, “How do we respond?”
“SecDef recommends we increase Pacific Command’s readiness one level and cancel leave for all warship crews, putting Pacific Fleet on a twenty-four-hour leash. He also recommends we reroute all combatants on deployment in the Western Pacific toward Taiwan, just in case.”
The president nodded his agreement. “I’ll give Jennings the order.” He paused for a moment before continuing. “We need to find out what’s going on and diffuse the situation. I’d send Ross, but she’s on a flight to Moscow for a meeting with her secretary of state counterpart. I don’t want to cancel the meeting and divert her to China, nor do I want to wait another week to address this issue. That means I send someone else.”
He stared at Christine for a moment, then asked, “How’s your Mandarin?”