South African Navy Command, Simon’s Town
November 11, 11:56 P.M.
The generously sized office with its views of the compound and the sea beyond was adorned with memorabilia—pieces of history that Rear Admiral Mary-Anne Pheto had witnessed, even brushed against, but not created.
There were framed photographs of a younger Pheto with Nelson Mandela and Winnie Mandela, and a large framed flag inscribed to her by both. She had a signed photograph of Lieutenant General Gilbert Lebeko Ramano, former chief of the army, who had been a mentor.
There was a cross that had been given to her by Desmond Tutu, Nobel Peace Prize–winning Anglican cleric who had courageously spoken out against apartheid.
The woman had joined the maritime service in 1980 as a volunteer cadet and rose to full-time sailor within a year. She served onboard SAS Galeshewe then SAS Shaka before beginning an officer’s course at the SA Naval College in Gordon’s Bay. She obtained her National Diploma in Tactics and Strategy and was assigned to SAS Adam Kok in 2007. A stint at the Joint Senior Command and Staff Programme at the SA National War College and the Security and Defence Studies Programme landed her a deputy directorship at the Department of Maritime Warfare. It was considered a “shelf” position because there was no maritime warfare. But at least the SAN could crow about having promoted an African woman to a top spot.
Close, always so close to greatness but never quite achieving it herself.
That was the epitaph the fifty-five-year-old rear admiral imagined would adorn her tombstone—in fittingly small letters, so it would all fit. Attaining greatness in her chosen field was not for lack of desire but for lack of opportunity and, until now, lack of support for her outspoken views on absolute, even militant sovereignty.
That stagnation had changed within the past hour. Changed by a gift from a man who had not been on her radar before this morning. Triggered by his call, she had set in motion a military mobilization unprecedented in her tenure. There had never been a mission so swiftly mounted, nor one so fraught with purpose, as that which she was overseeing now.
If Pheto were not so busy, perhaps she would be the one crowing right now.
The existence of Prince Edward as a possible cause of the contagion, and the interest of the Chinese, had been called to her immediate attention directly by no less a figure than General Tobias Krummeck, chief intelligence officer of the South African National Defence Force. He had folded her into his intelligence because, as he had put it, “You have made no secret of your desire to keep the Chinese contained.”
Krummeck did not have the authority to tell her what to do. He did not have to. Nor was it likely that anyone from on high would interfere. However it went, if this action failed, her career would be over. If it succeeded—both militarily and in terms of popular support—high command would take the credit.
That was fine with her. Anything that allowed her to rewrite that albatross of an epitaph was fine.
She was sending the frigate SAS Isandlwana to Prince Edward, along with two Saab JAS 39 Gripen fighters. Flying at Mach 2, the jets would arrive within an hour of taking off. Each was equipped with a 27mm Mauser BK-27 revolver cannon with 120 rounds, four 13.5cm rockets, six AIM-9 Sidewinders, and both laser-guided and cluster bombs. The frigate would take much longer to reach the islands but its armaments did not rely on proximity. These included an Oerlikon 20 mm cannon, eight four-cell launchers, and two eight-cell vertical launchers. The commander of SAS Isandlwana had complete operational discretion. The rear admiral had granted this authority because if anything—and if it were possible—Captain Leon Jordaan disliked Chinese expansionism even more than she.
“Hostile action toward your vessel or our aircraft, or refusal to honor the sovereignty of our lands, will be perceived as aggression and responded to as permitted by international and national rules of engagement.”
Both sets of law stated, explicitly, that unit commanders have the right to defend their troops, vessels, and aircraft from actions by other nations, including attack or imminent attack. South Africa maritime law further qualified such action as not just a right but an obligation.
Pheto and Jordaan had carefully considered the relative strength of the frigate and the Chinese corvette. They had ascertained that the South African vessel would dominate such an encounter, especially with the aid of the fighter jets. They believed the Chinese would back down.
The question of a possible bacteriological agent somehow attached to the region was not something the rear admiral took lightly. And she was surprised that Krummeck had not made mention of it, other than as a potential risk to the mission. It had been a topic around the command center all day, not as a possible bioweapon but as a frightening curiosity.
Perhaps Krummeck was exploring it with other departments and did not want to confuse the matter at hand. Or perhaps he was just being a professional intelligence officer: speaking, by habit, of nothing that did not need to be discussed. In any case, she assured him that the forward team, the pilots, were equipped with hazmat masks and would be flying low so that upper-atmosphere toxins might not be a risk. If the experience of the outpost crew of the Denel AH-2 Rooivalk helicopter and then at Batting Bridge had taught them anything, it was that this microbe seemed to lose potency rather quickly.
Though there were not enough masks to go around on the frigate, gas masks were standard issue. Pheto would trust them to protect the crews. Jordaan would have to use his own on-site discretion where that was concerned.
She doubted he would be backward about moving forward.
The arrangements made, Pheto rose from behind her desk to join her colleagues in the situation room down the hall, watching live video feeds and digital maps on eight wall-mounted monitors. There would be cautions from the director of maritime diplomacy and strategy, who preferred talk to action; the chief of fleet staff and director of fleet force preparation would also be present to offer advice and caution.
But, encouraged by Krummeck, the chief of navy had given this to her, the chance she had wanted her entire life. There was no way she was going to let China cow her. Though there was one thing that puzzled her in Chief Roodt’s verbally delivered orders: she was to ignore the Advanced Hawk training jets that would be flying in the region. They were under direct orders from him and would not be armed.
“They are tasked with observation and reconnaissance,” he assured her.
That was fine. They were supersonic but not as fast as the Gripen fighters. Her jets would get there first.
Pheto fit her hat upon her head and rose, exhaling to calm herself, and left the sunny office for the artificial lights of SR1.