Sacramento, California
August 22
The Strategic Global Intervention Team, commonly called SGIT, operated under the authority of Colonel Pierson of the DIA, or the Defense Intelligence Agency. SGIT headquarters, affectionately called The Office, was located in a discrete, high-security building in McClellan Business Park at the former Strategic Air Command (SAC) base in Sacramento. The business park was home to a mix of private-sector and military tenants, including the Defense Commissary Agency’s regional office and the Defense Department Microelectronics Center. But the primary reason SGIT was stationed at the McClellan Business Park was to have direct access to the 10,600-foot-long runway and secure hangars to house its specialty aircraft.
Although many teams within the diverse U.S. intelligence agencies were working hard to provide any, and all, new information on the attack that sunk the Izumo, the small and highly capable SGIT team was devoting 100% of their attention to finding answers. Lieutenant Ellen Lacey, Senior Intelligence Analyst, was leading the effort.
With wavy red hair and fair complexion, Lacey was true to her Irish roots. She was widely recognized as one of the most gifted minds in the intelligence community and had a file full of commendations and accolades that was scheduled to remain classified “secret” for at least fifty years.
“We don’t have anything other than the initial reports.” Analyst Mona Stephens made no attempt to hide her frustration, or fatigue. They’d been at it non-stop for close to sixteen hours, and she needed a break. Petite and blond, her attractive looks often led her male counterparts to grossly underestimate her brainpower. In fact, she had proven instrumental in problem solving and quickly rose to be second in charge of the analyst team. Like her boss, she was confident, but not cocky, and brilliant at synthesizing theories based on disparate and seemingly random facts.
“Many of the analysts over at the DIA think the attack may have been a one-hit wonder,” she added.
“You mean a one-trick pony,” this comment from David Sanchez, the junior-most analyst, having been assigned to SGIT only a year ago.
That earned him a glare and sharp rebuke. “No, I meant one-hit wonder. That’s why I said it.”
“That’s enough,” Lacey ordered. “Stay focused. I know we are all tired.” She ran her eyes around the room, taking in her collected team. Stephens and Sanchez sat across from each other at the conference table. Mark Williams and Beth Ross rounded out the team. Including Lacey, five of the best minds at intelligence gathering, interpretation, and problem solving—and they were striking out.
“Okay, people. Take a break. Get some coffee; check your emails. Back here in fifteen.”
“How about some Chinese take-out?” Sanchez asked with a lopsided grin. “I’m starving.”
Stephens looked over her shoulder on her way out of the conference room. “Yeah, it’s been a whole three hours since your last feeding.”
“Hey, I’m a growing boy. I can’t think on an empty stomach.”
“Relax,” Lacey said. “I’ll call the front desk and have Sergeant Wells order in some food.”
s
An hour later and with hunger satiated, Lacey’s team was back at it. The secure conference room had the spicy aroma of ginger and garlic, but at least the faces looking back at her showed a level of vigor that had been lacking for the last several hours. A fresh carafe of steaming hot coffee was on a table at one end of the room. Lacey was filling her mug.
“Do we have any updates yet from the Navy?” she asked to no one in particular.
“Not yet, ma’am,” Beth Ross replied. “Although my last email exchange was earlier this morning. I can ping them again.”
Lacey nodded, and Ross tapped away at the keyboard of her laptop.
“Based on the trajectory analysis from MOTHER, best guess is that the missile was launched from one of the many small islands in the South China Sea. Most likely in this area,” Sanchez had a satellite image projected onto the large color monitor, and he was pointing to a circle overlaid on the geography. SGIT’s super computer—nicknamed MOTHER because it always seemed to have an answer to every question—had crunched the radar data from the Shiloh, Lassen, and McCampbell. Constructed using massive parallel optical processing and rated at 158 petaflops, it seemed no problem was too difficult for MOTHER. And now, with three separate perspectives on the trajectory, MOTHER calculated the probable flight path of the missile and extrapolated back to the likely launch coordinates. Unfortunately, it was still a very large area that encompassed dozens of tiny islands in the Spratly chain—some no more than rocky outcroppings barely large enough for a small flock of seagulls.
Eyes were still focused on the screen when Ross spoke up. “Excuse me, ma’am. Just received an update from Navy.”
“Go on,” Lacey answered.
“It says the USS Pioneer arrived on site at the location of the Izumo, and she has just completed an examination of the wreck using the Navy’s most advanced ROV. The debris field is relatively contained, and the ship did break in two sections, confirming the eyewitness reports. The bow section and stern section are only separated by about 300 yards. Let’s see,” she was leaning close to the computer monitor and summarizing the email as she read. “Looks like the ROV collected video. I have a link so we should be able to put it up on the monitor.” Ross pointed to the large wall-mounted display. “Also, they collected a dozen samples—pieces from deck plates, bulk heads, conduit and electrical cable, and small pipe. Samples have been flown to Okinawa for lab analysis.”
“Let’s take a look at the video,” Lacey said.
Ross entered a few keystrokes. The large monitor flickered and then video of an underwater scene replaced the color map of the Spratly Islands.
The analysts watched in rapt attention as the sharp image revealed first the bow section of the Izumo, then the broken decks, and finally the fractured stern section. The entire video, lasting less than three minutes, had been spliced together to provide a concise visual summary.
Sanchez was the first to react, letting out a soft whistle.
“I’ve never seen such destruction.” It was the first comment from Mark Williams since the team had completed their meal. “But it doesn’t look like it was caused by an explosive warhead.”
Lacey had been studying the video from the far side of the room, near the coffee carafe. She walked to her chair and seated herself, her eyebrows pinched together. “Play it again. And when you get to the broken hull sections, freeze the image so we can take a closer look.”
Ross moved the slider at the bottom of the video to advance to the frames of particular interest, then played the video at one quarter normal speed. “There!” Lacey said, and Ross paused the playback.
Both Williams and Lacey approached the monitor for a closer inspection. Williams shook his head. “The primary damage is largely buckled deck plates and bulkheads.”
“And the damage is not localized,” Lacey added. She pointed with her index finger. “It continues all the way through to the keel. In my opinion, the damage is more consistent with a kinetic penetrator and not an explosive device.”
“I’ve read about such a weapon,” Stephens said. “But I didn’t know any military had actually deployed it. Mark? You seem to be the most familiar with this weaponry.”
Williams returned to his seat and faced Stephens. “Well, there’s not a lot to report. You’re correct. Only the Chinese are believed to have developed an operational version. But Uncle Sam has funded development through the Department of the Navy for almost a decade now. Still, there isn’t much support among the top brass for the weapon system.”
“I’d have to agree,” she replied. “I mean, why go to all the trouble when a thousand pounds of high explosive can do the job equally well?”
“Or a well-placed torpedo,” Sanchez added.
Lacey leaned back. “The Chinese call it the ship killer. It’s a key part of their strategic plan to forcibly retake Taiwan, if it ever comes to that.”
“I still don’t get it. Like I said, place a Mark 48 torpedo against a ship’s hull, or detonate the warhead under the keel, and even the largest warship is in serious trouble.”
Mark Williams had folded his hands, listening intently to the discussion. East Asia was his specialty, and lately that meant he stayed very busy. “It’s a simple doctrine, when you think about it. China knows they must have a standoff weapon system that neutralizes our carrier strike groups. They accept that they will never win a prolonged naval conflict with the United States, and they don’t have the patience to build a blue-water navy that does pose a formidable threat to the Pacific Fleet. Furthermore, they can’t risk using tactical nuclear weapons, even in a limited theater dominated by open ocean.”
Sanchez waved his hand in objection. “You haven’t answered the question. Why deploy a weapon system as complicated as a ballistic missile when a cruise missile or torpedo can do the job equally well, maybe better?”
“The answer should be self-evident.” Williams cast a curious glance at Sanchez. “Standoff distance. A theater ballistic missile has range that cannot be met—not even close—with anti-ship missiles and torpedoes. A plus is that the weapon may be fired from fortified positions, or from mobile launchers, within mainland China.”
“And as we all know,” Stephens said, “if a ballistic missile is not intercepted in the boost phase, the probability of taking it out during reentry is very low.”
Lacey pointed to Williams. “You take point on this Mark. You’ve studied Chinese military doctrine longer than anyone in the group, and probably longer than any analyst at the DIA. I want every theory you can come up with, or have ever heard about, put forward. And then arguments for and against. You have the entire team at your disposal.”
Williams returned a curt nod.
“Okay people. Let’s get to it. I want answers!”