Nothing is so simple that it cannot be misunderstood.
– GYPSEY TEAGUE
THE WHITE HOUSE OVAL OFFICE
THAT EVENING
President Joseph Gardner had his jacket off, his sleeves rolled up, and his tie loosened-to the photographers with their long lenses able to peer through the windows of the Oval Office from across the South Lawn, he looked like he was hard at work late in the evening, an image Gardner never tired of projecting. But he still had his Navy coffee mug, with Puerto Rican rum over ice instead of coffee, handy.
“Chinese forces in Somalia number about five thousand now, sir,” White House Chief of Staff Walter Kordus said, reading from the late edition of “The President’s Daily Brief,” which Gardner liked to have read to him before he retired for the day. “They’ve solidified their position at Mogadishu Airport out beyond mortar range of anything except very large emplacements, which are easier to spot from the air and take out with gunships. They’ve brought in more fighter jets and have begun attacking other towns farther north that are known pirate bases.”
“Premier Zhou’s starting to look like a real badass now, isn’t he?” Gardner asked, taking a sip of rum. “He’s doing the dirty job no one else wanted to do, and he’s kicking butt.”
“The images of the aftermath of his bombing raids are pretty horrific.” Kordus shrugged, then nodded and admitted, “But yes, he’s getting full credit for completely stopping pirate activity in the Indian Ocean. Zhou has said that he intends on withdrawing all Chinese forces from Somalia as soon as his transport ships arrive with their escorts. His aircraft carrier the Zhenyuan is en route with its escorts, replenishment ships, cargo ships for their equipment, and a couple chartered cruise liners for the soldiers. They’ll stop in Yemen for refueling and resupply before meeting up with their ships in Somalia.”
“Bust up the capital city for a couple weeks, then just sail away. How nice,” Gardner said. “But it was a gutsy move, I have to admit. I’d never tell Zhou that, of course. It’s funny: Every other nation considered the pirates a nuisance-we set up the antipirate patrols, but piracy only increased. Folks started to think it was the insurance companies’ problem, part of the cost of doing business. In comes the most unlikely player, China, and bombs the hell out of the Somalis. They attacked several other locations, too, didn’t they?”
“Two more north of Mogadishu and two up in Puntland province,” Kordus said after checking the reports. “They’re using a lot of unmanned aircraft for surveillance, picking off pirate mother ships and teams of fighters on the ground with helicopter gunships. They’re doing it all from the air-ground forces are being used to secure Mogadishu Airport and the docks in New Town only. If there’s a warlord or clan leader they want, they just bomb the hell out of his last known location. If the attacks kill hundreds of civilians, that’s too bad.”
“And no one is saying boo about it except a few human-rights organizations,” the president observed. “If the United States did it, we’d be catching hell from half the known universe, including our own press; China does it, and people are either applauding or too scared to squawk about it.” He took another sip of rum and looked at his watch. “What else do we have?”
“ Russia is sending its Vladimir Putin carrier battle group into the Indian Ocean,” Kordus read. “Brand-new carrier, closer in size and number of embarked aircraft to Western carriers, similar to the Chinese carrier-probably built in the same shipyard-along with seven escorts. The Russian Ministry of Defense says they’re going to drill with the Chinese in resupply, joint-communications, vessel-identification, search-and-rescue, and antipiracy operations.”
“It’s going to get crowded,” Gardner said. “I want a briefing from Conrad on what, if anything, the Chiefs want to do-observe only, ask to play, stay out of the way, whatever. Find out if they want us to participate-that’ll shock ’em.” Kordus nodded and made a note. “So how did the vice president sound out in California?”
“He attended the memorial service, made short and nonpolitical remarks, did all the interviews we set up, did the fund-raiser that evening, gave a rousing speech from what I’ve heard, raised a bunch of money, and stuck to the script,” Kordus said. “He was asked several times about his own presidential aspirations and ducked the questions pretty well. He’s a very good campaigner, that’s for sure.”
“Whom did he meet with?”
“Exactly who he said he was going to meet with as he posted on his agenda,” Kordus said, “with the notable exception of four other invited guests to the memorial service: Ann Page; General Raydon from the space station; Noble, who was the other astronaut involved in that satellite explosion; and none other than Patrick McLanahan.”
“McLanahan? Phoenix met with him? Where? When?”
“In the ride from the memorial to the hotel, maybe thirty minutes max,” Kordus said. “McLanahan had been nominated by Page to head up the accident investigation board on the satellite explosion; Conrad asked me about it, and I advised him to find someone else, knowing how much you and McLanahan like each other’s company.”
“You’re damned right. Christ, that guy can’t stay retired. I thought he’d be done after almost getting himself blown up in Iraq. I almost had a cow when I saw him give that presser with Page the other day.” His brows furrowed in deep thought. “ Phoenix and McLanahan, getting together again, all these years after Iraq? What in hell are they up to?”
“The vice president is interested in military space stuff; he was surrounded by four of the most knowledgeable persons on that very subject,” Kordus said. “You think it’s more than that? Something political?”
“ Phoenix and Page, obviously,” the president said. “Raydon and Noble, those two rocket jockeys…no way. McLanahan?” He thought for a moment, then shook his head. “He’s an aviator, a bomber puke who turned space nerd when Kevin Martindale gave him an almost unlimited budget after the American Holocaust and let him fly in those spaceplanes.” Gardner took a tiny sip of rum, staring at nothing, then said, “McLanahan…a politician?”
“Generals make lousy politicians unless they’ve just helped win a world war,” Kordus said.
“I think the American Holocaust qualifies,” Gardner said worriedly. He looked at Kordus. “Start checking on him, Walter. You can’t run for county dogcatcher without campaign cash, and if McLanahan has got access to any, I want to know from whom and how much.”
PORT OF MA’ALLA, ADEN, REPUBLIC OF YEMEN
THE NEXT DAY
The Jianghu-2-class frigate Wuxi of the People’s Liberation Army Navy, one of seven escort ships of the aircraft carrier Zhenyuan, was the first of the Chinese flotilla to enter the Port of Ma’alla, a modern and bustling port on the west side of the volcanic peninsula on which the city of Aden was located. The Wuxi, first built in the late 1970s and on its very first voyage away from Chinese home waters, was accompanied by two Yemeni tugboats, which would assist the aging single-screw frigate in berthing at its assigned refueling dolphin. It would refuel and take on water and a few supplies, then depart and go back to escort duty while another warship entered the bay and visited the port.
Because of security concerns, they would refuel only during the day, and the flotilla would remain a few miles offshore in the Gulf of Aden; the Zhenyuan itself would not come in for refueling, but would take on fuel and supplies from its two replenishment ships, practicing underway refueling. Resupply helicopters made a steady stream of trips out to the Zhenyuan and other ships that had helicopter decks with food, spare parts, munitions, and mail slung underneath, and returned to Aden International Airport and other supply bases in the port city with garbage, unrepairable equipment, and outgoing mail. Shuttle vessels sailed back and forth between the flotilla and the port, carrying more supplies and equipment as well as a few sailors allowed to visit the city and a few visitors allowed to go out to the ships for meetings.
The Wuxi was almost complete with refueling when a Yemeni patrol boat with the words NAVY PORT PATROL painted on the sides in English and Arabic left a berth on the north side of the harbor and sailed toward the Wuxi at a moderate speed. “Watch, this is Watch Four,” the starboard stern lookout on the Wuxi, accompanying a gunner manning a 12.7-millimeter twin-barreled machine gun, radioed. “Visual contact, Yemeni patrol boat heading south toward us, speed approximately twenty kilometers per minute, range four hundred meters.”
The watch commander stepped out of the bridge to the starboard overhanging deck and got a visual contact on
