Sacramento, California
August 24
“He checks out,” Mark Williams reported to Lacey, his voice coming over the speakerphone on Commander Nicolaou’s desk. “Former Navy. Retired with an honorable discharge after twelve years of service. No criminal record in the U.S. Still pays taxes and claims residence in Seattle.”
“Thank you,” Lacey said, relieved there wasn’t any bad news from the background check. She was still conversing with Jim in his office, considering the merits of his theory.
“These ships are designed to erect long sections of drill pipe, which is why the central tower is so tall. I suppose it could be reconfigured to erect a ballistic missile for launching. And by engaging the dynamic-positioning thrusters, both bow and stern, in theory the ship could be a very stable and stationary launching platform.”
“Exactly my thought,” Jim added. “The crane could be used to maneuver sections in place. The weight of the missile and fuel is certainly no problem. But it might be conspicuous during daylight. So, I’d guess they would erect the missile under the cover of darkness, and launch at first light.”
“Why wait until daylight to launch?”
“That exhaust plume would light up the pre-dawn sky and alert everyone within miles that something unusual was happening.”
Jim had been refining his theory ever since speaking by phone with Peter. Until now, the only plausible explanation was that the ballistic missiles had to have been fired from a submarine, either Chinese or North Korean. The hunt for the ballistic missile submarine was still in progress, but this new theory opened intriguing possibilities.
MOTHER was crunching through daily satellite images of the South China Sea going back to the beginning of August. The plan was to locate the Royal Seeker and then track her position daily up to the present time. It was an intensive task, given the thousands of ships that regularly transited the South China Sea.
But the potential payoff was significant. If they could establish the Royal Seeker was in the vicinity of the launch radius of the two missile attacks, their theory would suddenly have credibility—a lot of credibility.
“Those missiles still had to come from either China or North Korea,” Lacey said.
“Perhaps, but India, Pakistan, and Russia also have medium-range ballistic missiles. A group of rogue officers could have arranged to sell a few to a terrorist group. And, unlike operating and navigating a submarine, sailing an oil exploration ship is something a lot of merchant seamen can do. All it takes is money.”
“I don’t think so. The motive is not there to drive the U.S. from the Western Pacific.” Jim considered her observation for a long moment, then nodded.
“That’s why I hired you, Lieutenant.”
s
An hour later, Jim had his entire team of analysts assembled around the conference table. Joining the group were five of his best operators—Magnum, Ghost, Bull, Iceberg, and Homer.
First Sergeant Mark Beaumont, known as Bull for his large physique and brute strength, was the second in command of SGIT. Following in the footsteps of his father and uncle, Bull chose to join the Marine Corps rather than be seduced by the street gangs in his hometown of Oakland, California. He was also the team medic.
Next to Bull sat Staff Sergeant Ryan Moore, who went by the nom de guerre of Ghost. The former SEAL appeared thin next to Bull’s bulk. Just topping six feet in height and weighing every bit of 200 pounds, Ghost moved with fluid grace, a skill he honed to perfection after years of hunting the remote evergreen forests of northeastern Oregon and Western Idaho.
Another former SEAL, Magnum—aka Percival Dexter, or Percy as his friends called him—sat across from Bull. Magnum had joined the Navy at age eighteen to see the world, believing it would be far more attractive and inviting than his neighborhood in South Central Los Angeles. Standing at six feet one inch, he was a hand taller than Commander Nicolaou and, like all of the team members, he was very fit and muscular.
Although all the SGIT operators were expert in a wide range of small arms, Sergeant Jesper Mortensen was considered the most skilled at long range sniping. He favored the .50 caliber M107 semiautomatic rifle, and held the official record for longest and second longest confirmed kill—a record still classified. Jesper, call sign Homer, was also a lady-killer with a ruggedly handsome appearance, hair that was just a shade lighter than coal-black, and cobalt-blue eyes.
Jerry Balvanz was the newest member of the team. Like Homer, he was recruited from the army, Delta Force. Jerry was tall and lanky, yet lightning fast and strong. Prior to signing up, he’d played college basketball for two seasons and still loved to shoot hoops in his down time. With a head of snow-white, curly hair, he’d been given the call sign Iceberg.
With Jim as the squad leader—call sign Boss Man—the team was at mission strength: six highly-trained and extremely lethal special forces operators. Whatever the mission was, or might be, they were ready.
Colonel Pierson was participating via video conferencing, so he could also see the map images that were the focus of the discussion.
Mark Williams zoomed in on a section of the Spratly Island chain as he talked. “Due to the limited data we have from the first attack that sank the Izumo, calculating the initial phase of the trajectory is uncertain. Consequently, the probable launch-location radius is seventy-five miles and centered approximately thirty-five nautical miles south of Alison Reef.
“The missile used in the second attack was tracked for a much longer time by the E-3 Sentry early warning aircraft that was participating in the annual Balikatan exercise. From the flight path, we have worked out a probably launch location here…” Williams pointed to a location on the map very near Sand Cay. “The second missile was fired within a radius of thirty nautical miles of this location.”
“There’s a lot of ocean and a dozen or more islands within those launch locations,” Pierson said. There was no hint of patience in his voice.
“We’ve eliminated the possibility that the missiles were fired from any land mass,” Lacey said. “First, there is nothing in the satellite imagery that suggests launch facilities exist on any island within the probable launch radius of either missile. Second, none of these islands have been improved in any way by China or any other country.”
“Could they have underground facilities?”
“No, sir,” Jim said. He wanted to get the discussion back on track and following his agenda. “As the Lieutenant said, there is no evidence for improvements on any of these islands, and even if somehow our satellites missed it, which is extremely unlikely, the complexity of an underground ballistic missile launch facility on an island about the size of a Walmart parking lot—”
“If that big,” Lacey interrupted.
“Right. Sir, these specks of land range from the size of a tennis court to a large parking lot. Water infiltration and shifting sand and coral would present enormous engineering obstacles. And when you factor in that there is no visible evidence of any hypothetical improvements, well, I think everyone at the table would say it’s impossible.”
“Very well. Continue.”
“At first, we concluded the missiles had to have been fired from one or more submarines. Both North Korea and China have such capability. However, despite laying thousands of sonobuoys in the choke points in and around the Spratly Islands, the Navy reports no contact from submarines of other nationality. And mind you, the North Korean boats are noisy, as are the Chinese missile boats. So it’s unlikely that we simply missed them.”
“My information says the Navy is still laying sonobuoys, Commander.”
“Yes, sir, they are. But as of this time, no contact with foreign boats has been made.”
“And you have an alternative theory?”
“Yes, sir, we do.” Jim motioned to Williams to advance to the next slide. It was a file photo of the Royal Seeker.
“Colonel, this is an oil exploration ship, under ownership of Hua Ho Holdings, a company based in Bandar Seri Begawan.”
“Brunei? You’re not going to suggest that the Sultan of Brunei is attacking U.S. and Japanese naval vessels, are you?”
“No, sir. We have no evidence to support such a hypothesis. But we do think this ship is significant.”
Jim pointed to Williams, who advanced to the next slide. “This is a rendering of how an oil exploration ship might look if it was adapted to fire a missile, such as a medium-range ballistic missile. You can see that the missile would fall short of the towers. And the crane has adequate height to install a customized warhead atop the second-stage rocket engine.”
“Multiple rocket stages and warheads could be easily stored below deck,” Williams added, “and then assembled at the tower prior to launching.”
“Interesting. But why this ship in particular? What does Hua Ho Holdings have to say?”
“We’ve not contacted them officially, not yet.”
“Excuse me? I know you better than that. You have something you’re not telling me, some reason to back your theory that you haven’t shared yet.”
Jim knew Colonel Pierson well, and wasn’t surprised by his deductive reasoning. In some ways, the Colonel was like a father figure to Jim and the entire team. He was protective of the members of SGIT—he felt pride and responsibility in founding the organization and leading the selection of what he considered to be the finest and most talented operators and analysts anywhere. “We stumbled on this, sir. And it may involve the abduction of a member of the Sultan’s extended family. But in the interest of time, if I may, I’d like to stay focused on the missiles.”
“Understood. Continue.”
“The Royal Seeker has been missing, her transponder deactivated.” Jim motioned to Lacey to continue.
“I ran a simple search routine through MOTHER. We analyzed daily satellite imagery going back to the first of August, prior to the deactivation of the ship’s transponder. Once we established that we could identify the ship by its satellite image—we did this by cross-checking the transponder readings from early August with the high-resolution images of the ship—it was easy to track the daily movements of the ship.”
Another map of the Spratly Islands appeared on the monitor, only this one had a red line indicating a course taken by a surface vessel. “This is the movement of the Royal Seeker. The date is indicated next to each position point.”
There was a stir around the conference table as the assembled analysts and operators saw the data for the first time. “As you can see, on the date of each attack, the Royal Seeker was within ninety nautical miles of the probable launch point.”
“Brilliant work,” Pierson said. “But, there’s something more. Something you’re holding back.”
Jim moved his gaze around the room, making a point of connecting with each and every member of the team. Then he nodded to Williams, and the last slide appeared. “The catch is that the Royal Seeker is not the only oil exploration ship sailing these waters. As you can see, MOTHER matched three other ships to the visual profile of the Royal Seeker. By cross referencing the tracking transponder of the three new suspect ships, we’ve obtained an ID on them.”
“How did we get that information?” Bull asked.
“MOTHER. She accessed the databases of every oil exploration company known to be active in these waters.”
Bull let out a low whistle, amazed at the data processing speed of the super computer.
Jim continued, “The daily paths of all four ships are shown by the dashed lines on this map.”
The charted sailing route of each of the four ships, including the one previously labeled as the Royal Seeker, crisscrossed a very large section of water, from the Gulf of Thailand east and north to the Philippine Sea.
“Two of the candidate targets were more than 200 miles away from both launch origins at the time the missiles were fired.” Jim stood before the wall-mounted flat screen and used a stylus to circle the location of the two ships he had referenced. He continued, “For that reason those candidates are eliminated. Mark, erase those traces, please.”
Williams made some keystrokes and two of the four dashed lines disappeared from the map.
“But that means there are two ships that could have been the missile launch platform. One is the Royal Seeker. The other ship is the Panda Star. It’s owned and operated by Sinopec. Both ships are sailing in the South China Sea, within the disputed islands.”
Silence befell the room and Colonel Pierson as the conclusion sank in. Finally, Pierson was the first to speak. “You’re telling me the Panda Star operates under the Chinese flag. That certainly complicates the planning.”
Jim exhaled. “Yes, sir, it does.”
“Excuse me,” Iceberg said. He leaned forward over the edge of the conference table and waited acknowledgement.
When Jim nodded in his direction, he continued, “We can take one target simultaneous with an assault of the other. We’ve trained for this type of mission with the SEALs, a coordinated assault on separate targets.”
“Not this time,” Lacey replied before Jim could explain. “The entire South China Sea is ready to explode. The exchange yesterday between U.S. and Chinese forces very nearly escalated into a much bigger conflict. Fortunately, cooler heads prevailed, and both sides disengaged before it got out of control. But, in order to avoid an accidental war, the President has ordered all U.S. military units to stay out of the South China Sea—for now.”
“What about my team, Colonel?”
“That includes SGIT. The President doesn’t want a war—hell, none of us do.”
“There’s no way Sinopec is going to allow inspection of the Panda Star,” Lacey said.
Jim quickly added. “She’s right, sir. This new theory only serves to further implicate China. It is imperative that we get onboard both ships to conduct an inspection. If missiles have been fired from the deck, there should be observable signs of scorching. And if rocket motors and warheads are onboard, they need to be confiscated.”
“I’m not arguing against your logic, Commander. But I have my orders. Can we learn anything more from satellite imagery? As you said, there will be evidence of heat on the tower and perhaps elsewhere on the surrounding deck if missiles were launched.”
Jim cast a questioning glance to Mark Williams. “We can try, sir, but I’m not optimistic. Sunlight playing across the grid-work of steel in the towers will create a complex pattern of light and dark. Plus, the crew could have applied paint to cover up any evidence of extreme temperature blistering or burning away older paint.”
“So we predict negative results from the satellite data won’t be conclusive, which means it’s a waste of time.”
“Drones?” Colonel Pierson asked.
Lacey shook her head. “Same problem, unless we get them in close, very close. And even then a negative result won’t be conclusive.”
“If I were a crewmember,” Iceberg said, “and a drone came close snapping photos, I’d shoot it down.”
“Wouldn’t that give us confirmation that the ship was up to no good?” Bull asked, speaking for the first time since the meeting began.
“Maybe,” Lacey replied. “But given the tense situation between China and the U.S., flying drones close to a Chinese-flagged ship, even though it is not a military ship, is certain to be viewed as provocative and will only escalate the tension.”
Jim knew that there were limitations to data gathering from machines. Every now and then there was no substitute for having people on the ground, so to speak. Only in this instance, trained people needed to be on each ship in order to determine which one was responsible for sinking two warships. In Jim’s mind, there was no doubt that it had to be either the Royal Seeker or the Panda Star. Knowing the truth would either exonerate China or provide the compelling evidence to declare war. “Colonel, this is exactly the type of mission SGIT was made for. And if anyone can pull it off, it’s the men and women in this room.”
“The administration will have to have plausible deniability. Can you guarantee that?”
Jim swept his eyes from face to face. What he saw was confidence and determination. “Affirmative, sir.”
Silence settled across the conference room as Jim awaited orders.
“Commander. Assemble your team. I want you in the air within ninety minutes, sooner if you can do it. You’re flying to the South China Sea. I’ll get authorization from the President while you’re en route.”