| |
Pennington had a sense of déjà vu as he sat at the conference room table. He had been sitting in this room last April when he had been briefed on the Barbello mission. Pennington was the Director of JIATF South then. Army General Lamont Miller, Commander of SOUTHCOM, was sitting at the head of the table now and led that earlier meeting. Vice Admiral Jennifer Irving, Director of the DIA, had been sitting across the table as she was this morning. Captain Mercier, sitting to his right, was also present at that meeting, where she had introduced Pennington to the upgrades the Coast Guard had made on Kauai.
“Well, Harry, here we are again,” Miller said with a soft southern accent, echoing Pennington’s thoughts. Miller was a tall, solid man at six-foot-four and 220. The only changes between his appearance now and back when he was a middle linebacker for the University of Tennessee were his shaved head and the wrinkles he had gathered from years of standing in the sun in the commander’s cupola of M1A1 Abrams tanks and M2 Bradley fighting vehicles. “I’m coming cap in hand to borrow that nifty little patrol boat of yours.”
“Yes, sir. I thought as much.” Pennington nodded. He had a genuine fondness for Miller, acquired when he worked for the general during his last job. Pennington did not have the same affection for Irving, whom he regarded as a callous and conniving asshole. He turned an icy stare at her. “I presume this is another DIA operation?”
“Correct, Admiral,” Irving replied with an expressionless face. She was an average-sized, graying blond woman in her early fifties. Like most career intelligence officers, she was also nondescript, wearing conservative business clothing rather than her U.S. Navy uniform. “We need the ability to insert and retrieve a team covertly onto foreign territory, and Kauai is our best option.”
“What country?” Pennington asked.
“Haiti.”
“You’re joking,” Pennington scoffed. “The country is an end-to-end basket case. You could land the entire 82nd Airborne in the middle of Port Au Prince with no one noticing.”
“Not all of it is a basket case,” Irving responded. “The island of Ile Ste. Michel, for instance.”
“The one with the Chinese mine?” Pennington asked. “I suppose I would agree with that. As far as we know, the Chinese miners are the only living things on the island. I can see the irritation associated with a Chinese foothold in this hemisphere, but my understanding is that mine has been a bust. Am I in error?”
“Yes and no. You are correct that output is meager, but that is only because the Chinese need it to be. If they wanted, they could produce more out of that location than the rest of the world combined.”
“They are leaving profit on the table? Why would they do that?”
“Admiral, you’ll need some background. I brought my expert, Dr. Gregg Kenan, who can explain exactly why we are in a situation here. Doctor?”
Kenan stood and took a handheld remote control from the table. He was a balding, shorter-than-average man wearing a plain charcoal gray suit with a blue tie—more-or-less the stereotypic image of a college professor. He clicked a button on the remote and said, “Good morning, General, Admiral. I have a PowerPoint briefing prepared if I can direct your attention to the screen. I need to open by stating that this presentation is classified Secret, No Foreign.”
“Understood,” Pennington said.
“Thank you, sir,” Kenan nodded. “I’ll begin with a brief history leading to the current situation.”
Kenan briefed that for most of human history, Ile Ste. Michel had been forty square miles of lifeless, windswept rock north of Cap Haitien on Haiti’s north coast. It had no reliable water sources and thus none of the forests or arable land that many of the islands in the area possessed. There was no indigenous animal life; only mangroves and the hardiest rock-dwelling plants survived on the island. Neither did it have any natural harbors—even the pirates common to the region in the late 17th and early 18th centuries shunned it. It remained nothing more than a hazard to navigation until the late 1970s, when surveys detected one of the richest rare-earth elements deposits known. Even this elicited little interest at the time.
As electronic engineering evolved and the role rare-earths played in the manufacture of innovative technology burgeoned, the potential value of the Ile Ste. Michel deposit grew. Unfortunately, the upfront costs, which included the construction of a port and harbor, roads, housing for the workers, and fuel and water storage, were considerable. Several private corporations in North America and Europe examined and rejected the project as too risky with a government as unstable as Haiti. Government backing and financing were required, and no western government was willing to risk taxpayer funding on an engineering project principally benefitting a private corporation and Haiti.
However, the Chinese were game and made an agreement with the Haitian government to develop the island on a profit-sharing basis as part of their Belt and Road Initiative, or BRI. Western observers were puzzled by the move. China already controlled nearly all the rare-earth mining. Even on a profit-sharing basis, opening a vast new source in Haiti would only drive down the global market and cause significant pain to their suppliers at home. The true motive behind the Chinese move was revealed only after the mining operation opened.
Production from the mine was very low—less than a tenth of what most analysts and mining engineers had predicted, even after the construction was complete and the site was fully staffed. Observers wondered if the deposit was not as rich as initially thought, and they rechecked the surveys and samples but could find no errors. Worry that the mine was a cover for constructing a strategic base by the Chinese military spurred a CIA effort that “acquired” the documentation behind the deal. The terms of the agreement in these documents were astonishing.
The Chinese agreed to loan Haiti the funds required to build the mining facility and all supporting infrastructure in exchange for a thirty-year exclusive lease on Ile Ste. Michel by the Sino-American Mining Corporation. SAMC was one of the many Chinese Communist Party-owned companies working on engineering projects under the BRI aegis. By the lease terms, SAMC would share fifty percent of the profits from the mining activity with the Haitian government after extracting whatever funding was required to service the debt. The Haitian government also agreed to the presence of a small People’s Liberation Army security force and to allow the port to service People’s Liberation Army Navy warships without restrictions or even notification. The only caveats the Haitians insisted upon were that the port could not be used as an advance base for offensive military operations or any other activities contrary to international law. They did not want to get drawn into any wars or diplomatic sanctions.
The agreement was the most ingenious debt-trap diplomacy operation ever devised. Keeping mine production low artificially kept down the global supply of rare-earth elements, maintaining the profitability of China’s domestic industry. It also allowed just enough profit to service Haiti’s loan debt interest, keeping the nation servile in China’s regional efforts. In effect, China had conned Haiti into funding both a mining operation that maintained China’s near-monopoly on rare-earth elements and a Chinese military base on Haitian soil. The Haitian government officials familiar with the agreement’s details either quietly went along in exchange for a generous stipend or suffered an unfortunate death in the endemic violence of the capital.
The details of the Sino-Haitian agreement were a closely guarded secret within U.S. diplomatic circles—the embarrassment of an agreement establishing a Chinese base practically in their backyard was too profound for any public release. Diplomatic efforts to induce Haiti to void the deal came to nothing. Although it proved a terrible bargain for Haiti, it was entirely legal under international law, and there was little incentive within the Haitian government to impose their sovereign rights on the island.
“That concludes my briefing, sirs. Do you have any questions?” Kenan asked.
“Yes,” Pennington replied. “I’m as outraged by this as anyone else, but I cannot see what the U.S. can do about it, much less the Coast Guard. Why am I here?”
“That is outside my purview, sir. I’ll need to refer you to Admiral Irving.”
Pennington turned to Miller. “I have no more questions of the doctor, General.”
“Neither have I. Thank you, Dr. Kenan,” Miller said with a nod. After Kenan returned to his seat, Miller continued, “OK, Jenn. Now, what the hell are we doing here?”
“General, we think we might have the opportunity to show the Haitians the Chinese broke this agreement, which will allow us to come in, pay off the debt and open that mine for real. With that mine operating at full capacity, the breakeven point for the profit to pay off the investment would only be a few years. Then it’s pure goodness: profit for both us and Haiti, removing a strategic threat from our hemisphere, not to mention a blow to the Chinese rare-earth monopoly and their international standing.”
“Sounds fantastic. Exactly how do Harry and I fit into this opportunity?” Miller asked.
“A little more background is in order, General. You recall the last time we gathered together, it was to deal with a threat created by the 252 Syndicate?”
“How could I forget?” Miller answered.
“We have a laptop seized from one of their smuggling vessels.” Irving nodded toward Pennington. “Thanks to the boldness of an officer from the very patrol boat that carried out the last operation, I might add.”
Pennington nodded in return. He had been briefed on the rescue of the sex-trafficked women and the seized laptop.
Irving continued, “Our crypto techs went through it and found evidence of a linkage between that organization and the Chinese. There is nothing we can take to court yet, but the collateral information and metadata have allowed us to penetrate the 252’s communications and data at a pretty high level. We know from these penetrations that a senior member of the 252s will come to Ile Ste. Michel for direct consultation with the Chinese director of mine operations about three days from now. He will fly by private jet into the Holguín airbase in Cuba, then to the Chinese port facility by seaplane. We intend to crash that meeting, grab the 252 man and any documents of the syndicate’s collusion with the Chinese, and get out.”
“Seems a little fishy to me, a higher-up taking that kind of risk when he can send a flunky. Are you sure this isn’t some sort of spoof to embarrass us?” Pennington asked.
Irving nodded. “We thought of that too, but we think the probability is very low. We would see other indicators if that were the case. Why send a boss? They are building a brothel there to service the miners and a depot for arms smuggling. Those facilities were constructed at a sufficient distance from the Chinese port to maintain plausible deniability. The boss wants a look, plus check the feasibility of shipping cargo there by air to avoid our surface patrols, particularly the human cargo. The intercept of their freighter cost them a substantial amount of arms besides twenty-plus sex slaves, and he’s on the hook to fix that supply chain for the next run.”
“OK. I get why you want to grab him at the crime scene, so to speak, but why do you need Kauai?” Pennington asked.
“We can’t use a helo in there without blowing the mission, and the ground is too rough to risk a parachute insertion. The narrow waters and shoals around the island make it too big a risk for a sub, even if we could get one there within three days. Our only chance is to close the coast and insert the team by small boat the night before in a remote cove near the 252 depot and then retrieve them by the same means after the snatch. Kauai can get in closer to shore than any gray hull and not attract any attention, given all the Coast Guard activity in the area.”
Miller leaned forward. “How many do you intend to insert, and what opposition will they have?”
Irving replied, “We will have a team of four. We also have a special operations boat and cradle from Little Creek in the air now. It is a lightweight design that can carry the team plus three to four of your crew without overloading Kauai’s crane. Our best information is that the 252s are running light right now, about a dozen thugs with the usual small arms.”
“And what about the Chinese?”
“One of their reinforced security platoons, about fifty men, supported by two VN-4 light armored personnel carriers. No other vehicles or aircraft that we are aware of.”
“And their sea forces?” Pennington asked.
“A couple of tugs and small service boats and one Shanghai-IV class gunboat.”
Pennington asked, “And what support will Kauai have?”
Irving glanced between Miller and Pennington. “None.”
Pennington’s jaw dropped. “None? Admiral Irving, I presume you know the capabilities of a Shanghai-IV. Do you know what a one-ten, even a souped-up one like Kauai, brings to the fight? One twenty-five-millimeter popgun.” Pennington was familiar with the Chinese Shanghai-IV from his war college days. “The Shanghai-IV is faster and has radar-directed, twin thirty-seven-millimeter mounts fore and aft that can rip Kauai to shreds a mile before she can get in range with her twenty-five.”
“We aren’t sending Kauai into a fight with the Chinese. The operation will be miles from their base, and they are unlikely to rush to the defense of a criminal gang. We evaluate the chance Kauai would encounter Chinese forces as near zero. If we move a large support force down there, we will alert the opposition. We might as well not bother running the op.”
Pennington was having difficulty controlling his fury. “If that’s the level of backup we can expect, maybe we shouldn’t!”
Irving’s eyes narrowed. “I have my orders, Admiral Pennington. Soon, you will too.”
Pennington put his hands on the table and began to stand when Miller reached over and gripped his arm. When Pennington glanced over, Miller shook his head, and he sat.
“Alright, Jenn,” Miller said. “When do your boat and team arrive?”
“Their C-130 should land at Miami International in two hours. The boat is containerized for a tractor-trailer, so offload and hook up will be quick. Figure four hours tops to pier side at Base Miami Beach.”
“Very well. We’ll take it from here,” Miller said.
Irving said, “I think I should be involved in the planning.”
Miller stared back coldly. “I disagree. You delivered your tasking, and your role is at an end.” When she returned the stare, Miller continued, “That will be all, thank you.”
Irving stood and turned toward the door, with Kenan scrambling to his feet to follow. Once they had departed and the conference room door closed, Pennington turned to Miller. “My God, General! She really doesn’t give a damn! I didn’t think a human being could be that cold-blooded. You can’t expect me to dish those kids up with no backup.”
“Harry, I’d send a task group there if I had one, but I don’t. She’s right in that we need to take a shot at this if we can, but I have no intention of sending your folks in with no support.” He pressed a button on his phone. “Chief, I need to talk to General Ryan at Air Combat Command ASAP. Thanks.” He hung up the receiver and turned to Pennington. “Mick Ryan owes me a favor or two, and I’ll get you some electronic attack backup and TACAIR if I can.”
Pennington closed his eyes and shook his head. After a moment, he looked up again and said, “Thank you, sir. Are you going to tell Irving?”
“Are you kidding? Why do you think I booted her ass outta here? This is still my command, and if she wants to rat me out to the bosses, fine. I’ll go out clean.”
“Thank you, sir,” Pennington repeated. “If you can excuse Jane and me, we need to get orders to Kauai to get this goat rodeo set up.”
“Absolutely! Captain, coordinate rendezvous times and locations with my J3 staff as soon as your people have the op sketched out.”
“Will do, General,” Mercier replied.
“Good luck, you guys. You’ve got my number if you need me to knock any heads together.”
“Thank you, General,” Pennington said as he and Mercier got to their feet and shook hands with Miller. As they walked to the car after leaving the office, Pennington asked, “How long before Kauai pulls into BMB?”
Mercier checked her watch and said, “An hour, sir.”
“Pass them a message for the CO, XO, and Ops Chief to report to my office by fourteen hundred. Tell them to bring the DIA team lead with them.”
“Very good, sir.”
Ben watched in deep concern as Kauai’s crane took the load of the special operations boat parked on the trailer next to the ship. It was engineered to be lightweight rather than durable but still weighed about twenty percent more than the cutter boat, medium Kauai customarily shipped. Drake had assured Ben the new crane could easily handle the load, but as XO, he needed to see for himself. The new crane was a significant improvement over Kauai’s original unit, cut in half by a rocket hit at Barbello. They had already installed the boat’s cradle, actually more of an adapter to the existing cutter boat cradle.
The crane groaned slightly as the boat lifted from its trailer and rose to the height of the boat deck. Bondurant was operating the crane, his face frozen in concentration, watching the pivot and swing of the boat as the crane turned to bring it over the cradle. Drake stood behind Bondurant, scanning the crane and hydraulic connections. The boat descended onto the cradle, and Drake turned to give Ben a thumbs-up.
Lee, standing next to Ben throughout the evolution, grunted. “Looks like a real pig, XO.”
“Need a pig to haul around nine guys, Petty Officer Lee.” He turned toward her and added, “Think you can drive her?”
Lee turned toward Ben with a raised eyebrow. “Really, sir? Puleeze!”
Ben nodded. “Just the same, we’ll get you some time on it before the mission to get the feel. Get together with the DIA guys to match pointers as soon as possible.”
“WILCO, XO. Have fun downtown with the grownups.”
“Yes, I’m sure,” Ben said as he turned toward the ship and boarded. A short walk brought him to Haley’s cabin, where she and Frankle conferred. “Special boat is safely aboard and being secured, Captain. There were no problems with the crane.”
“Excellent,” Haley said, then turned to Frankle. “Might as well push off in case there’s traffic or other Miami B.S.”
“Suits me,” Frankle said. He was still wearing his suit and tie, forgoing a change to more casual clothes until after the meeting.
“I’ll grab Chief and meet you at the car,” Ben said, then started toward Hopkins’s stateroom. He knocked on the door and stood as Hopkins emerged. “Ready for the fun, Chief?”
“Semper,” Hopkins replied with a smile. “Lead on, sir.”
It was a short drive to the Brickell Plaza Federal Building housing the Seventh Coast Guard District offices. After a brief delay through the metal detectors at the entrance, the three Coast Guard members and DIA agent made their way to the Chief of Staff’s office to await their meeting with Pennington. Mercier smiled, stood from her desk as she saw them, and said, “Come in, please!” She shook hands with Haley and added, “That was a four-point-oh job with the panga, Haley.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” Haley said, beaming.
Mercier then moved to Frankle. “Agent Frankle, I’m Jane Mercier. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Thank you, Captain,” Frankle replied.
Mercier then turned to Ben and shook his hand, “Ben, seems you’re teamed up with the DIA again.”
“Yes, ma’am. I just updated my next of kin notification and servicemember’s life insurance data.”
She turned to Hopkins with a grin and shook her hand. “Chief, it’s good to see you again. Are you keeping these two on the right path?”
“I’m doing my utmost to rise to the challenge, Captain.”
“The world is in the right hands then. Please take a seat. The boss will be available in a few minutes. So, Agent Frankle, have you briefed them on what’s going on?”
“No, ma’am. I had no orders to do so, and, as you might imagine, we’re a fail-passive organization.”
“Oh, my,” Mercier said with a frown, then looked over at Hopkins. “Chief, could you shut the door, please?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Hopkins replied, then closed the door and returned to her seat.
“Thank you. OK. Ben, that laptop you took off the Miho Dujam gave us a lot of information on the 252 organization and created quite a stir at the highest levels. In short, we’re sending Kauai to the Haitian island of Ile Ste. Michel to seize one of their top guys and transport him here for interrogation. You’ll close on the island, insert the DIA team, then wait offshore until the following night and return to pick them up.”
Haley leaned forward and said, “Captain, I infer from the fact we are meeting with the District Commander that there is more to this than a snatch and grab of some criminal kingpin.”
“Yes. The island is under the control of the Chinese.”
Yikes! Ben thought, then said, “What kind of control, ma’am? Are we looking at a fight?”
“No, Ben.” Mercier shook her head. “We’ll discuss this in more detail in the meeting with the admiral, but our intention and belief are that we can avoid contact with the Chinese forces on the island.” At that point, the phone on her desk buzzed, and she answered. “Yes, sir, they’re here. Yes, sir.” She hung up and said, “OK, we can go in now.”
They all stood, and the four visitors followed Mercier into a conference room where Pennington was already standing. After introductions, they sat at the conference table with Pennington at the head, Haley, Ben, and Hopkins on one side, and Mercier and Frankle on the other.
“Thank you all for coming,” Pennington said. “Agent Frankle, do you go by Arthur?”
“Art, Admiral,” Frankle replied.
“Art it is. OK, folks, I know you’re wondering why this is such a big deal. The fact is, we have an opportunity to not only nip a 252 incursion in this hemisphere in the bud, but maybe root out a Chinese one to boot. I’m not sure how into geopolitics you all are, but Ile Ste. Michel was a real black eye for us. While we were dithering over whether to invest in development and how much the taxpayers should be willing to risk, the Chinese swooped in and got a lock on what is probably the richest rare-earth element source in the world. At the same time, they built a port that could double as a small navy base right in our backyard.
“They have a thirty-year lease on that island they are maintaining using a debt-trap they laid on the Haitian government. The agreement is rock solid legally, but it has a provision we hope to exploit. Namely, the Chinese will not engage in any violations of international law. We have good intelligence that the Chinese are in cahoots with the 252s, at least locally on Ile Ste. Michel. What we need is evidence, and that is why we are having you take Art’s team down there. There’s no way to insert them by air and not enough time to develop the networks and cutouts to go in-country in Haiti to pull this off. So, we will send you down there to blend into the AMIO crowd during the day and insert and retrieve Art’s team at night. This is the type of mission we designed Kauai to do. Any questions of me so far?”
“No, sir,” all three of the Kauai personnel replied.
“Good. OK, Art, I’ll turn it over to you for the next part.”
“Thank you, Admiral,” Frankle said as he stood and grabbed the remote. He clicked a button, and a topographical map of a landmass titled “Ile Ste. Michel” appeared on the large screen. Frankle put the remote down and walked over to the screen. He then hooked his left thumb in his belt and pointed at the far-right edge of the landmass on the screen with his right hand. “The Chinese constructed the port here on this headland. They concentrated all the admin buildings, warehouses, fuel and water storage, and residences in this area. Their method is to erect temporary buildings where they are actively processing to house the heavy equipment. As you can see, all Chinese activity is concentrated on the island’s eastern half right of this ridge.” He pointed to a zone of higher elevation, roughly bisecting the island.
“The 252s, with Chinese help, constructed a second site over here, west of the ridge, with residences, warehouses, water storage, and power generation. The site also includes a barracks serving as a brothel catering to the Chinese miners. Morale has been an enormous problem, and the Chinese are paying the 252s a premium to staff that brothel with European women as a worker perk.” He glanced over at Haley, Ben, and Hopkins. “That group of women you intercepted was the first contingent.
“The Miho Dujam’s loss was a significant hit in terms of prostitution revenue, so the 252s are trying a more secure route by smuggling the women in by air. The 252 boss will pioneer this, flying by private jet into Holguín in Cuba and seaplane to the Chinese port. He plans to stay overnight to inspect the operation, confer with his Chinese counterpart, and return by the same route. We intend to grab him that night.”
Frankle pointed at an indentation near the southwest corner of the island. “There is a small cove here, masked from both facilities by intervening high ground we can use for landing and pickup. You have good water to about two hundred yards from shore—I propose we launch the boat from five hundred just to be safe.” He traced a path northeast on the map with his finger. “We have high-res satellite shots showing this as an optimal path to this high ground west of the 252 site. It has suitable cover for us to observe their pattern of life during the day and close to engage that night. Once we penetrate, we grab the big cheese and anything that looks like documentation and egress. If we're lucky, we can grab one of the SUVs they use to run around the island. If not, we should still have plenty of time to hoof it to the beach before first light.” He turned to the group. “Any questions, Admiral?”
“Yes, Art. What are your rules of engagement?”
“Sir, we will kill any 252 members we meet other than the bigwig. If we run into any Chinese, they will be stunned and sedated, and the only one we take with us is the 252 bigwig. Do you have any other questions, sir?”
“Good here,” Pennington answered.
“I have a question,” Haley said. “What forces do the Chinese have, and what’s the likelihood we will tangle with them?”
“They have a security force of about fifty men, supported by two VN-4 light armored personnel carriers, but no aircraft. The VN-4s have mounted 7.62-millimeter machine guns, but their armor is intended to protect against small arms—armor-piercing rounds from your twenty-five-millimeter will have no problem penetrating. There is a naval threat in the form of a Shanghai-IV class gunboat; its thirty-seven-millimeter guns will do you in before you can even get in range. That’s the bad news. The good news is that we do not see them engaging to protect the 252s. As long as we stay west of the big ridge, we think they will leave us be.”
“And what if they don’t?” Haley asked.
“Um....” Frankle began.
“I’ll take that one,” Pennington interrupted. “SOUTHCOM is arranging for electronic warfare and tactical aircraft to cover your retreat if necessary.”
“I see. Thank you, sir. And what are our rules of engagement?”
“Unless otherwise directed, you will operate independently under the national defense mission code. You will not engage in any other mission activity, even search and rescue, until this mission is complete. You will not engage or fire on any Chinese forces unless fired upon. Do you have any questions about that?”
“Yes, sir. What do we do if the risk of engaging the Chinese elevates during the retrieval phase?”
Pennington looked at her coldly. “You will use your best judgment informed by the principle of calculated risk, and you will not take any action likely to result in engagement with Chinese forces. Is that clear?”
“Very clear, sir.”
Ben watched Haley exchange a glance with Frankle across the table. Pennington had just ordered her to abandon Frankle’s team to their fate if she thought it necessary to avoid contact with the Chinese. The revelation appeared to have no effect on the agent’s countenance. Holy shit, he’s OK with that!
Pennington’s face softened. “I want to emphasize that I have every confidence in you and your crew. I appreciate this is a hairy one, but I would not have agreed to it if I were not convinced you and your people would come back safely.”
“Thank you, sir. To quote my XO, it is one helluva break-in patrol.”
