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we know is that she is native Chinese but eventually Taiwanese,” Clark answered, “and that she is remarkably well-connected. And very motivated to see that her adopted country is never taken over by the Chinese communists. She has developed these links over the years and uncovered some kind of internal Chinese power struggle that is clearly the source of all this recent belligerent action. The border skirmishes. Deadly attacks on fishing fleets. The continued claims on seemingly useless specks of land in the region. The mutual defense agreements with poor nations in the region and across the globe. And now, this open attack on Taiwanese territory. The current read is that some hard-liners are making a play to go ahead and finally take Taiwan while some moderates are working against them, mostly for fear it will upset the economic momentum China has been enjoying in the last decade. Then there is the infighting within the Chinese military, angling for more power. Bottom line, it seems to be a very fluid situation and that is about all the info I have.”

The president swirled the ice around his mostly empty glass.

“Why don’t we bring this gal spy in and see how much we can learn about her little network in Beijing?” Smitherman asked.

Admiral Clark squashed that idea immediately.

“With all due respect, Mr. President, that would be a very bad idea. We do not want to risk this pipeline. And besides, she will not work with our normal intelligence agencies. Only the ONI. The Office of Naval Intelligence.”

Osterman finally turned from the screen with a frown.

“Why the hell is that?” he sputtered.

“She hasn’t exactly shared that with us. But I’d guess she doesn’t necessarily trust some of them. Just ONI, and specifically Jon Ward. And a guy named Dillon who works with the CIA and, when needed, other agencies. We absolutely must—especially right now—let her do things her way.”

Smitherman rubbed his chin for a few seconds as he thought. He was especially wary of anyone having the upper hand, regardless of the situation. But he had one other driving force that was even more powerful. Finally, he spoke.

“Harold, y’all have a major Asian voting bloc out there on the West Coast. Chinese. Korean. Japanese. How does this mess play with them?”

Osterman, the previous governor of California, replied, “Stan, you should be aware that ‘face’ is of the utmost importance to the Chinese culture. To most Asians. You need to always appear to be strong in attempting to save face with them. Particularly after that Tarbox fiasco. I recommend we get the Navy over there as a show of strength. We don’t necessarily need to go in with guns blazing. Just a bunch of ships and airplanes to look tough. It’ll raise your favorability among the Asian demographic by ten points, guaranteed.”

Smitherman turned to the left-hand monitor and looked hard at Winking Willie. The general’s eye was blinking furiously.

“General, what is your advice?”

“I don’t advise getting involved in a shooting war over there, Mr. President. Or doing anything that might provoke such. Especially with all the firepower China can rain down on anyone within the ‘first island’ chain. But I do believe that if we use a reasonable show of force, with some very specific rules of engagement for our guys, it could work to defuse the situation. And especially if the moderates within the Politburo are able to hold sway. They do not want war. Neither, I believe, does their president.”

Osterman stood and waved his arms to emphasize his point.

“And it would give you a big boost in the polls, Mister President. Being tough when the cause is righteous. Always works with the voters when you can show some balls.”

“Yes, balls are good,” Secretary Dosetti interjected sarcastically. “Right up until the first body bag with a dead soldier arrives at Dover.” But she was nodding approvingly. She was—as far as President Smitherman knew—planning to run for US Senator from Washington state. Being the cabinet member that preserved the sovereignty of Taiwan would look good on her resume out there in a state she had hardly visited in twenty years. Or anywhere if she ran for some higher office instead.

Smitherman had a slight smile on his face. He always liked projecting the image of being a strong, decisive leader.

“General, Admiral, send everything you have that floats to the South China Sea,” he ordered. “I want the Chinese to see that we stand for peace and freedom. But make damn sure that one of your swash-buckling commanders doesn’t try to start a real shooting war. Understood?”

Willoughby and Clark both displayed a look of concern. And the same immediate thought. The Commander in Chief had just ordered them to send as much of the entire fleet as they could muster into dangerous, hostile waters, where ordnance was already flying. And to do so without clear guidance or a definitive objective. Throughout military history, many eventual disasters had started out with much better planning than this.

But they had their marching orders.

Ψ

As it turned out, Mitch O’Donnell and Bill Bix were sharing a cramped, dank jail cell. Rex Smith was alone in the equally depressing one next to them. The rest of the male crew and technicians from Deep Ocean Explorer were all housed in the same cell block. When a couple of local drunks joined them the first night, they not only learned where the best party on the island was being thrown but also that this was the town’s only cell block and that they were all guests of the Neiafu Constabulary Police. There was no way to know where Sandy McDougall and the female crew were being held. That was a considerable concern, though O’Donnell offered that they should worry less about her and more about whoever her unfortunate jailer was.

The patrol boat had taken the best part of two days to tow Deep Ocean Explorer and the prisoners to the island of Vava’u. Bix had been there before and recognized the winding

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