Taiwan could be up to. Right now I’m not sure…however, I am going to make a note to send a warship down there for a proper look around, as soon as possible. And I don’t mean a frigate, I mean a nuclear submarine, which can operate indefinitely and can probe those long, deep waterways…maybe find something real interesting.”
“Sounds reasonable to me,” said the President. “As ever, my short visit was highly instructive. Catch you later, Arnie.”
The big man left, and then Kathy stuck her head in Morgan’s office. “You need anything else, sir? I was wondering if I could go home now.”
“Okay. I’ll put that down to a total lack of interest,” growled the Admiral. “See you in the AM…and don’t be late. If you see Charlie tell him to mark time…I’ll be another hour.”
“YESSIR.”
Arnold Morgan paced the room for another ten minutes, trying to decide if the Kerguelen situation was urgent. He decided it wasn’t. The worst-case scenario was that the Taiwanese were making “a fucking hydrogen bomb” in secret, in order to obliterate China. But he decided that was barely credible. Whatever they were doing was probably going to take years, so he would file a report away in his computer and he would remember to get a nuclear boat down to the Southern Ocean at the first opportunity.
Meanwhile he’d better check with Morris to see if there was any activity in Severodvinsk on the remaining two of China’s seven Russian Kilos. When they moved, the solids were going to crash into the fan, from all directions. “And Rankov is unlikely to be so goddamned dozey this time.”
The Presidential Office Building, which stands imposingly in Taipei’s grassy civic district, east of the Tanshui River, had rarely been under such strict security. Army guards patrolled the main street entrance and foyer of the building. There were Navy guards on each landing and in every corridor. A whole section of Chungching South Road was cordoned off by the police. Traffic in the area was chaotic.
Out-of-town Taiwanese might have been excused for mistaking the date for October 10, National Day, when the civic district is swamped with rallies and military parades. But this was most certainly
It was a big, carpeted room containing two giant portraits of the late father-and-son Presidents, Chiang Kai- shek and Chiang Chingkuo. Below their benevolent gazes sat the current President and his Prime Minister, Mr. Chi- Chen Ku, Head of the Legislature. Surrounding them was the Head of the Ministry for Foreign Affairs, Mr. Chien-Pei Liu; the newly appointed Minister for National Defense, General Jin-Chung Chou; and the Chief of the General Staff, for the Republic of China Navy in Taiwan, Admiral Shi-Ta Yeh.
Essentially these were the men being so vigorously protected. But there were five others in attendance, who were also not without their enemies. There were two senior professors from the National Taiwan University, both nuclear scientists, George Longchen and Liao Lee. Present was one of the biggest construction moguls in Taipei, Mr. Chiang Yi. Plus two military men, one the commander of the Amphibious Regiment attached to the Marine Corps’ Sixty-sixth Division; the other, a submarine captain.
The marine corps commander and the submarine captain had flown up earlier that morning by helicopter from the great Taiwanese Navy Base of Tsoying, Headquarters Fleet Command, Headquarters Naval Aviation, Headquarters Marine Corps, home to the Taiwanese Naval Academy. This is a relatively small, shielded place, standing quietly in the suburban shadows of Taiwan’s second city, Kaohsiung, the fourth largest container port in the world. But to military men, Tsoying stands defiantly, housing the offensive and defensive capability of its motherland, right on the Strait of Taiwan, right on the sloping southwest coastline of this defiant island, which faces China head-on. It is a place so secret, so mysterious, it is not even mentioned in the national guidebooks.
The real reason for the security on this sweltering late June morning was not so much the eminence of the politicians and the senior Commanders, nor even the vast knowledge of the other visitors. It was their combined knowledge, in a city crawling with Chinese spies, in which no restaurant, no barber’s shop, no laundry, no taxi, was free from suspicion.
These ten men, bound together by the greatest national security program in the history of Taiwan, met rarely. Today they were meeting for the first time in two years. Their session would hereinafter be referred to as the June Conference. But only among themselves. No secretary, no assistant, military or otherwise, would be admitted to the privacy of the agenda. The President had chosen his team well. After five years of operations, not one word of their astounding activities had leaked out. At least, not in Taiwan it hadn’t.
The meeting was one hour old, and the forty-six-year-old millionaire builder Chiang Yi was concluding his report about the safety and continued steadiness of the huge network of tunnels his men had dug into the base of the shoreline rock below three-thousand-foot Guynemer Peak, at the sheltered western end of the eight-mile-long Baie du Repos in Kerguelen. The massive concrete columns, two feet in diameter, supporting RSJ’s, were holding up perfectly. They had been made on site, from a concrete mix transported south by submarine.
Through the year-long drilling operation, Chiang had stayed on station, supervising the removal and clearance of thousands of tons of granite rubble, the mechanical diggers dumping it straight over the side, into three hundred feet of water. All power requirements were met from the nuclear reactor on board the 2,600-ton Rubis Class French submarine
Its reactor was still running sweetly, powering with ease the generators in the 180,000-square-yard factory- hotel. It powered its lighting, its heat, its water converters, its air intakes, and all the tunneling machinery. It also powered the electrical systems for the future pressurized water reactor, which would ultimately replace the Rubis itself.
The aging Rubis was the workhorse of the entire project — it powered the fifty big metallic “spinners,” the gas centrifuge systems that over a period of years would slowly, laboriously, breathtakingly expensively separate Uranium-239 from Uranium-235, that most sinister metal, with its highly unstable nucleus…the bedrock of a nuclear warhead.
Chiang had been invaluable to the Taiwan government. When the tunnels were finally completed, and the electricity, air, and waterlines laid down, he returned to the Baie and spent another six months supervising the building of the U-235 plant, the preparation for the PWR itself, and the protection of the workforce from its lethal contents. He actually drove the big mobile concrete mixer himself during the construction of the long jetty. For this he designed a special slate gray, automatic steel curtain, which would cover the docking area when it was not in use. Chiang Yi would not accept one penny for his labor or for the labor of his men. He would, instead, forever have the pick of all government building contracts in Taiwan.
Chiang’s report today pleased everyone in the locked room in Taipei. There were no stress fractures. All systems were operating perfectly, and even the richly carpeted bedrooms for the professors were still in excellent condition. The two Dutch-made submarines that ferried supplies every three months made living bearable if not luxurious. The tours of duty were long, the work slow and difficult, with little time for recreation. No one looked forward to returning for a second eighteen-month spell. But each of the professors was paid a half-million-dollar bonus for their time. No one had ever refused to work for the Taiwan nation, deep inside the deserted island at the end of the world.
In winter, conditions were appalling. It was light for only a short while every day, and the weather was so vicious it was impossible to walk even a short distance on the rare occasions anyone was allowed out. The summer months were slightly better, but it was dangerous to move far from the base because the howling gales could bring raging seventy-mile-per-hour winds screaming up the fjord in moments, and these winds were sometimes accompanied by sleet and even snow. The katabatics, the fluke circular winds that swing off the tops of the surrounding mountains and then “suck under” like a wind tunnel, from an unexpected direction, were able to frighten even experienced ocean navigators operating inshore.
The President of Taiwan, nominally the Commander in Chief of all the Republic of China’s armed forces, now thanked Chiang Yi formally for his report, and spoke to the gathering carefully. He reported that twice in the previous twelve months, the Navy of China had brought warships very close to Taiwanese coastal waters in a gesture which had been perceived by everyone to be threatening in the extreme. There had been two additional live rocket tests, each involving the firing of the lethal HQ-61M surface-to-air missile from a “Jiangwei” Class frigate.
