Tiger's Claw: A Novel

“I’ve got no air cover anywhere in this entire freakin’ area for eighteen hours?” Sheridan exploded. “We’ve got the most powerful military force in the entire freakin’ world, and a lone Coast Guard cutter is completely alone and helpless in the South China Sea against a Chinese aircraft carrier? The United States of America is actually outnumbered in the South China Sea?” Sheridan ran a hand across his face, trying unsuccessfully to wipe away the frustration—and yes, the fear—he was feeling right now. “Comm, this is the captain, I want you to send a message directly to the Pentagon: tell them to get me some long-range persistent air support out here, and do it now, or you might as well pull me the hell out of here, because I can’t do shit with the assets I have. Send it now, and send it verbatim.”

“Say again that last, sir?”

“I repeat, tell the Pentagon I need some heavy long-range air support out here, or I recommend we withdraw from the South China Sea,” Sheridan said. “I’m not risking the lives of three hundred sailors on my vessel because we don’t want to piss off the locals. Send it in the clear and verbatim. I’m going to lose tactical control of this area because I don’t have long-range control, and that is completely unacceptable. Give me long-range air and sea lane control, or pull me out, because I can’t do squat right now. And keep on warning aircraft to stay out of the area.”

It seemed like an eternity, but soon: “Bridge, Tactical, air search contact on the Jayhawk entering the northern search area.”

“Any other aircraft in the area, Tactical?”

“Negative, Bridge.”

So far so good. Sheridan picked up a telephone receiver and hit a channel button. “Mohawk Zero One, this is Mohawk One. How copy?”

“Loud and clear, sir,” the pilot of the Jayhawk, Lieutenant Ed Coffey, reported.

“Any surface contacts, Ed?”

“Affirmative, sir,” Coffey replied. “Off our nose, about ten miles, very large surface radar return. Probably too big for us to pick up.”

“Survivors or victims are our first priority, Ed, but when you start getting close to bingo fuel, pick up whatever you think you can snag.”

“Roger, Mohawk One.”

“No traffic in your vicinity,” Sheridan said, “but you can expect some company when they start seeing you circle and hover. We’ll keep an eye out for you.”

“Roger.”

FIVE

SOUTH SEA FLEET HEADQUARTERS COMMAND POST, ZHANJIANG, CHINA

THAT SAME TIME

“Sir, our search helicopter is reporting a medium-sized helicopter approaching the crash site near our helicopters,” the controller reported aloud. “The pilot reports that it appears unmanned.”

“Acknowledged,” Vice Admiral Zhen Peng said curtly, stubbing out his cigarette. He was at the commander’s seat in his battle staff room at fleet headquarters on Hainan Island in eastern China, watching an electronic chart of the South China Sea. Thin, with a long angular face, longish jet-black hair, small dark eyes, and jutting cheekbones, Zhen at age sixty appeared to be no older than forty. He had risen quickly through the ranks after graduating from the naval academy in Beijing thirty-five years earlier, serving aboard mostly heavier warships before being given his stars and assigned to the South Sea fleet.

An unmanned helicopter, aboard a simple patrol craft? That was most interesting, Zhen thought. While he struggled every day to find and train helicopter pilots to fly off the aircraft carrier’s big deck—let alone do the much more difficult task of landing on a destroyer’s or frigate’s deck—the Americans were flying unmanned patrol helicopters. China needed to start doing that sort of thing right away. It was yet another reminder of the awesome military might of the United States, particularly its navy. Imagine what sort of weaponry a big-deck ship had if a lowly patrol boat embarked an unmanned patrol aircraft! Even though China was pouring trillions of yuan every year into new weapons systems, it would probably take an entire generation or two to build a force that could match the United States of America.

Which was another reminder of why China could not and should not try to do so, Zhen thought. China needed to think smarter and not just toss money at a losing proposition like trying to match America ship for ship, like the Soviet Union tried to do during the Cold War. It ended up bankrupting the country and left America as the world’s only superpower. China could follow the same path if it was not smarter.

There were other ways of moving the unmovable . . . always other ways.

“Where is the Zhenyuan?” Zhen asked.

“Forty kilometers south of the search helicopters, sir,” the controller responded.

“Tell Captain Zhang of the Zhenyuan to see to it that the American helicopter does not collide with our helicopters,” Zhen said.

“Captain Zhang reports that the American aircraft is very small, and it does not have a transponder that we can interrogate, sir,” the controller said after he made the radio call and received a reply. “He says the radar return is small and intermittent and that separation may not be possible.”

“Tell him I do not want excuses,” Zhen snapped. After a moment, he said, “The American helicopter is posing a serious hazard to our search helicopters. It is unmanned, does not have a transponder, it is beyond radar coverage of its mothership, and cannot look for nearby aircraft. This is clearly unsafe and is not permitted under maritime law.” He picked up a telephone, selected a channel, and waited for the secure satellite link to activate. “Captain Zhang.”

“I read you, sir,” Zhang, the captain of the aircraft carrier Zhenyuan responded.

“Deploy Wusheng Leiting against the unmanned helicopter in the search area,” Zhen ordered.

There was a slight pause on the other end; Zhen couldn’t be sure through the squeaks and pops of the secure satellite link, but it sounded as if Zhang was muttering something. It might be time for that old bastard to be replaced, he thought—how dare he question an order? Finally: “Deploy Wusheng Leiting against the umanned aircraft in the search area, yes, sir. Acknowledged.” Zhen hung up.

A few minutes later: “Sir, our search helicopters are withdrawing from the area,” the controller reported.

“Maintain surveillance,” Zhen said. “I want to know what that unmanned helicopter does.”

Yes, Zhen thought, there were many, many ways to move the unmovable.

U.S. COAST GUARD CUTTER MOHAWK

A SHORT TIME LATER

“Bridge, Tactical,” Fells radioed, “Mohawk Zero-One reports he is retrieving what appears to be a victim. He will RTB immediately after hoist is completed.”

“Thank God they found one,” Sheridan muttered to himself. “Very well,” he replied. “Is the airspace still all clear?”

“Affirmative, sir. We can see into the original southern search box, and we have radar contact with the Eagle Eye. It appears the Chinese helicopters have departed the area.”

“Excellent,” Sheridan said. He was glad they departed, but he immediately became suspicious. Why would aircraft from an aircraft carrier pay any attention to orders from a foreigner aboard a ship a fraction of its size, not even a true warship? “Comm, Bridge, any response from our hails?”

“None from the Chinese, sir,” the communications officer replied. “Commercial vessels and a Filipino frigate