exhausts to blur their heat signatures, and stealth profiles to throw off radar….” She looked at Batman and must have caught something from his expression. “Sorry, sir. Our best strategy is to fly high and watch low. Stealth or no stealth, the Chinese seem to like hiding these bogeys in surface clutter, so that’s the direction they’ll come from. Also, make sure fighter teams stick close together. Solitary aircraft seem to be the preferred targets.”
“Especially if they’re unarmed,” Lab Rat added.
Batman nodded. “All right, let’s make sure the wings of all patrolling aircraft are as dirty as possible. We want everything we put in the air to look like a major threat.”
Abruptly, Bird Dog spoke. “Wait. Wait…”
Everyone turned toward him. For the first time, Batman noticed that the young pilot was clutching a worn paperback book between his hands.
“What are you talking about?” Batman asked.
“Tomboy just reminded us about its stealth characteristics. So I was thinking… this bogey could have shot down that Air Force jet before anyone knew it was there. Same thing with Tomboy and me. The bogey hung behind us for God knows how long before releasing its missile. In other words, both times it was spotted, it seemed
Batman frowned. As rational explanations went, this one ranked right up there with Bird Dog’s earlier claim that the Chinese must have attacked
“Why would the Chinese want us to see their stealthiest plane?” Batman asked. “Why tip their hand that way?”
Bird Dog riffled the pages of his paperback. He didn’t seem to be aware he was doing it. “Politics,” he said finally. “When one nation gains enough of a military technological advantage over another, the second country
“You’re suggesting this bogey was a red herring?” Batman asked, pointing at the photos.
“No. Obviously it’s a viable weapons platform. I’m just suggesting it might not be as viable as we think it is; the Chinese might be using it so sparingly because it has weaknesses they don’t want us to know about. I say we have to factor that into our planning, so we aren’t too conservative out there.”
Batman stared at Bird Dog for a long time, then at Lab Rat. Lab Rat’s expression never changed, but Batman read his eyes and nodded. “All right. Bird Dog, I want you, Tomboy and Lab Rat to come up with a range of battle plans based on facing both UAVs and normal Chinese assets.” He turned back toward the pictures. “Earlier you said the Chinese try to win wars without fighting. If that’s so, I want us to be ready to give them a punch they’ll never forget.”
“Wonder why they didn’t let us outside today?” Tombstone said. He was sitting on the floor, back leaning against the concrete wall of what he and Lobo had come to call “Grand Central,” the large cell in which they were both usually kept. He’d folded one of the blankets that were the room’s only furnishings into a thick cushion beneath him. Lobo sat on a second blanket. A third had been rigged as a privacy screen around the waste bucket.
“Guess they don’t like the rain,” Lobo said, nodding toward the single small window. Nothing was visible beyond it except darkness, but earlier in the day they had been able to see water droplets running down the glass.
“I don’t think that’s it,” Tombstone said. “Now that I’ve had time to think about it, I’m bothered by the fact that they ever
“Because of the satellites?”
“The Chinese aren’t stupid. They know we have spy satellites capable of picking out a particular face from orbit, and they’re bound to assume we have one parked over Hong Kong right now. So, yeah, I have to wonder: Why did they let us wander around outside at all?”
Lobo turned toward him. Although it probably wasn’t possible, her face looked thinner than yesterday, almost gaunt. But her eyes were fierce with calculation. “I’ve been wondering about that, too, and I can only think of two reasons: Either they want Washington to know where we are, for some reason, or else they’re holding us someplace satellites aren’t likely to be watching.”
Tombstone nodded. “Neither one makes me optimistic about our chances of rescue. You?”
“No, but what can we do about it?”
“We can leave,” Tombstone said.
“What is your strategy?” Yeh asked. “Why are you sending so many fighters up in this weather?”
Chin didn’t even turn from the tactical display screen on the wall of the Operations Room. He pointed at an icon. “The American aircraft carrier
Yeh stared at the display, and felt a shiver of dismay at how little of it he could decipher; how far he had fallen behind in matters of warfare. These days, his job was politics and enforcing philosophical rectitude. Still, he knew that Chin was in the process of launching nearly half the SAR’s fighter aircraft into the thundering pre-dawn darkness. “Hong Kong weather warns that this storm could be developing into a typhoon,” he said.
“Our aircraft are all-weather fighters, Comrade. The weather means nothing to them.”
“But why so many?”
“Because the Americans are preparing to attack Hong Kong.”
The skin on Yeh’s back prickled. “You know this for a fact?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“They will have no choice.”
“You’ve warned Beijing?”
“Not yet. ‘He whose generals are able and not interfered with by the sovereign will be victorious.’ ”
“You are a very daring man, Major General Chin. Perhaps too daring for your own good.”
Chin shook his head. “Beijing will question my actions only if we lose.”
“You do realize that an American battle group carries more firepower than — ”
Chin raised a hand. “I know the statistics. They don’t concern me.”
“Why not?”
“Because an aircraft carrier battle group is only as good as its carrier.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying I have some surprises in store for our American friends.”
The Coastal Defense Force patrol boat had seemed large and capable enough in Victoria Harbor, but in the open sea its limitations became obvious. Still, it had been modified for that environment with an extra-heavy keel, sealed doors on all hatches and ports, and a snorkel intake for the engine that helped keep water out. It could be completely submerged without any danger of shipping water and sinking.
That didn’t mean that riding in it in these conditions was a pleasure. But that was all right. Chou and his men were not being paid to have fun.
“Distance?” Chou asked the radar operator.
“One hundred and fifty kilometers.”
“And our ducks?”
“Unless the aircraft carrier alters course, the ducks will converge on the intercept location just before
