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  Flash Point

  The Defenders, Volume 1

  Kenneth Andrus

  Published by Babylon Books, 2020.

  Flash Point

  Copyright © 2020 Kenneth Andrus

  Published by Babylon Books

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Flash Point (The Defenders, #1)

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Sign up for Kenneth Andrus's Mailing List

  This novel is dedicated to those I had the privilege to serve with while on active duty and those currently serving our country in the armed forces.

  “Organized force alone enables the quiet and the weak to go about their business and sleep securely in their beds, safe from the violent without and within.”

  Alfred Thayer Mahan

  Prologue

  USNS IMPECCABLE T-AGOS-23

  THE SOUTH CHINA SEA

  THURSDAY 12 DECEMBER

  “United States Naval Vessel, you are operating illegally in Chinese territorial waters. You are endangering Chinese fishermen in violation of international law. Take immediate action to clear the area or suffer the consequences.”

  Anthony Carlson, Master of the USNS Impeccable, scowled. Whatever those consequences might be were not yet apparent, but he was in no position to argue the point. He fixed his eyes on the Chinese ships just four hundred yards from his own, considering his options. There weren’t any.

  A People’s Liberation Army-Navy Y-12 patrol plane harassed them for almost an hour the day before. The plane flew as low as his mast top buzzing them like an angry hornet before disappearing over the horizon. He knew it would only be a matter of time before the Chinese ships arrived.

  Sweat inked dark circles on his shirt. The Impeccable drifted in the current making two knots. A PLAN ocean surveillance ship and a Bureau of Maritime Fisheries patrol vessel were keeping station off either beam. Two fishing trawlers were maneuvering to assume a blocking position dead ahead. He felt the eyes of his first mate burning into his back. He ignored him and continued to stare at the Chinese ships, wondering how in hell he would get everyone out of this mess without somebody getting hurt.

  He was more frustrated than angry. Politics had won over common sense. Still he could accept the Pentagon’s approval of his mission, but he couldn’t reconcile the decision and putting his ship and thirty-seven-man crew at risk. The other reality? He would gain nothing by dwelling on events out of his control.

  He turned to his first mate. “Bob, have the guys charge the forward fire hoses. We’ll be needing them shortly.”

  “You think they’re planning on boarding us?”

  “That would be ill-advised.” Carlson picked up the headset of the bridge-to-bridge radio. “We are operating in international waters under the protection of the provisions of the United Nations Conventions on the Law of the Sea.”

  The response cracked over the bridge speaker. “Your actions are a grave contravention of international law. They are unacceptable to the People’s Republic of China.”

  Carlson shrugged. The response confirmed the futility of following his guidance on how to respond if confronted by the Chinese.

  The trawlers closed to within fifty feet, pitching in six-foot seas. A large swell heaved the nearest boat’s bow free of the water, exposing its barnacle-encrusted keel. The Chinese captain wouldn’t be able to control his vessel. The next surge would send it careening into the Impeccable.

  “Are they bluffing, Captain?”

  “Not this time.”

  “How do you think this will play out?”

  Carlson glared at the fishing boats. “We’ll find out soon enough.”

  He knew the Chinese could make a case for their actions. The fact was that, while the Impeccable conducted legitimate hydrographic surveys of the sea floor, she had another task. Equipped with a towed-array acoustic system to detect and track undersea threats, the Impeccable kept tabs on the People’s Liberation Army-Navy’s nuclear-powered attack and ballistic-missile submarines deploying from the Yulin Naval Base seventy miles to the north.

  Their course followed the fiber-optic cable carrying Chinese military communications between their installations scattered across the South China Sea and those on Hainan Island. He didn’t know how the information obtained by mapping the seafloor topography would be used, but he suspected someone planned to tap the cable.

  “Your provocative actions endanger fishermen within the People’s Republic of China’s Exclusive Economic Zone.”

  The Chinese fishing trawlers crossed the Impeccable’s bow.

  “Damn, them. Bob, sound the collision alarm.”

  “Skipper, the —” The blaring of the Impeccable’s klaxon drowned out the rest of the first mate’s sentence.

  Carlson gripped the sill of the bridge window. “Emergency stop. All astern. Brace for impact.”

  The Impeccable’s twin screws bit into the water. The ship shuddered in response, the ocean boiling at her stern. She went dead in the water, her massive hull looming above the fishing boats.

  He shouted over the din. “Wilson, can you see what they’re doing down there?”

  “They’re reading to throw a net over the side.”

  “What?”

  “It’s a fishing net. They’re trying to foul our props.”

  “Knock ’em off their feet.”

  Battered by twin columns of saltwater from the Impeccable’s fire hoses, the Chinese dropped the net and retreated out of range. Once safe, they yelled obscenities and waved Chinese flags in defiance. One of the fishermen expressed his displeasure in another way. He mooned the Americans.

  “Well, that’s a first,” Wilson remarked.

  Carlson nodded. He may have won this round, but their position was untenable. “Yuzheng 311, our intention is to leave the area. Request a safe pass. Over.”

  A burst of dirty-brown smoke from the trawlers’ stacks signaled the Chinese’s next move. Picking up speed, the ships circled around to the Impeccable’s stern. Carlson’s eyes stung from the ac
rid stack gas enveloping the bridge.

  “What are they up to now, Skipper?”

  “Damned if I know.”

  The first mate started to ask another question when the look on Carlson’s face stopped him.

  “Adams? You documenting this?”

  “I’m getting it all on my recorder, Captain.”

  “Wilson, get a couple guys aft. Now. And charge a couple more hoses.”

  The situation was deteriorating and two fire hoses wouldn’t stop the Chinese for long. That would take considerably more persuasive power than his vessel possessed. “What’s the status of the Navy?”

  “The Chung-Hoon just raised us, Captain. She’s making thirty knots.”

  Carlson wondered if the Chinese would appreciate the irony of having a Navy destroyer named after a Chinese-American Admiral charging toward them. What he did know? The Chinese wouldn’t back down. Not this time. He surmised the Chinese commander received his orders directly from the People’s Liberation Army Chief of the General Staff, General Li Xiao, to force the Impeccable out of the area. He had to buy time.

  “Yuzheng 311. You are required under international law to operate with due regard for the rights and safety of other lawful users of the ocean.”

  The Chinese captain ignored him. “American Naval Vessel, your size threatens the safety of our fishing vessels. The cable you are towing could ensnare their propellers. They have been forced to take evasive action.”

  “Threatened my ass,” Carlson muttered. He checked his watch. Twilight in another forty-five minutes. “Where the hell is the Navy?”

  “Sir?”

  “Bob, tell the crew to prepare for an emergency destruct. We need to secure the cryptology gear.”

  “Do you—?”

  Carlson anticipated the question. “Reel in the ‘Fish.’ There’ll be hell to pay if they get their hands on the gear.”

  “Skipper, we just raised the Chun-Hoon. They’ve launched their helicopter. It’s a long shot, but they’re thinking when the Chinese see it, they’ll disengage.”

  “You got a satellite fix?”

  “Yes, sir. Seventeen degrees, eighty-one minutes north. One hundred ten, thirty-nine east.”

  “Get those out.”

  “Captain? This is Wilson. We’ve got a problem. A couple Chinese are swinging grappling hooks. They’re trying for the array cable.”

  “Is the Fish secured?”

  “We’ve got another thirty feet.”

  “Get an ax.”

  “An ax?” Wilson stared uncomprehending at the bridge. “Captain, we should be able to hold them off with the hoses.”

  “You may have to cut the cable.”

  “Oh, got it.”

  “Adams, get back there and settle them down. Bob, get on the horn and alert engineering to stand by. We can’t wait for the Navy. I’ll be needing max revolutions.”

  “What are you planning on doing, captain?”

  “Getting the hell out of here.”

  “But our top end is only twelve knots.”

  “Yeah, that could be a problem.”

  Chapter 1

  THE WHITE HOUSE

  SUNDAY 26 JANUARY

  “I shouldn’t be learning about this from the newspaper.”

  Randall Stuart’s hands tightened around the copy of The Washington Post. “We’ve got enough problems with the Chinese without them trying to hack our computers at Commerce. The Impeccable last month and now this?”

  Stuart was angry. Angry at the winter storm raging outside. Angry at the Chinese. Angry at being caught off guard by the Post’s headline.

  He dropped the newspaper and glared at Dan Lantis, his Chief of Staff. “What do we know?”

  “There’s more than what’s being reported, Mr. President.”

  Stuart’s eyes hardened. “Did they breach our firewalls?”

  “No, sir. Security held.”

  “Then what happened?”

  “The contents of John’s laptop were accessed when he was in Beijing for the G-20 Economic Summit. Cyber Security believes the Chinese used what they downloaded to try and hack Commerce’s system.”

  “We have proof?”

  “The FBI has a trace to the Chinese Academy of Military Sciences in Jinan.”

  Stuart’s shoulders tightened. “Same outfit that penetrated Google’s accounts. How did John let this happen? It violates every tenet of security––”

  “He left his computer unattended in his suite.”

  Stuart snapped. “He did what?”

  “He thought one of his aides would secure it.”

  “Wasn’t it encrypted?”

  Sleet slashed against the bulletproof windows of the Oval Office. The glass protected him against the frigid onslaught. The windows didn’t shield him from this latest assault.

  He grasped his pen and drew a spiral on a notepad. “What do I need to do?”

  “With John or the Chinese?”

  “John.”

  “He’s pretty upset.”

  “At the moment, his feelings aren’t at the top of my list of concerns. I’ll ask for his resignation.”

  “I wouldn’t do anything until the FBI completes their investigation.”

  “Do we know what they were after?”

  “John believes they were targeting information relevant to punitive tariffs.”

  “You’d think Beijing would understand the tariffs are being driven by our friends on The Hill.”

  “I doubt they believe Congress operates without us pulling the strings.”

  “If only.” Stuart tapped his pen on the spiral. “Have we approached their embassy?”

  “Their spokesman said something to the effect of we shouldn’t be so paranoid. They feel any implication against the government of China is guilty of cybercrime is not conductive to fostering mutual trust and friendship between the People’s Republic of China and the United States.”

  “They can’t be serious. Who do they think they’re dealing with? Some banana republic? The sheer arrogance of that statement...”

  “Their response did reflect a certain lack of finesse,” Lantis finished for him.

  “My read is they could care less what we think and that, my friend, is a dangerous position. You think anyone at State would care to explain how all of this fits with their policy of engagement?”

  Lantis had heard all the arguments. Following the mid-air collision between a Chinese fighter jet and a Navy surveillance plane in the first month of Stuart’s administration, the Pentagon had pushed for a containment strategy. The Secretary of State, Richard Valardi, had countered, recommending a policy of engagement as the most pragmatic approach.

  “You didn’t agree with my decision.”

  “Circumstances have changed.”

  “We need to reconsider. Their actions represent a clear and present danger.” Stuart blackened the center of his spiral. “We have to push back.”

  “That should make the Pentagon happy.”

  “This isn’t about the military, although we could take the stance that Beijing’s penetration of Commerce’s computer system could be construed as an act of war.”

  “Pretty extreme,” Lantis said.

  “Perhaps. Their verbal posturing at the Stockholm China Forum suggests they’re positioning to retaliate in kind if we impose tariffs.”

  “They wouldn’t come out very well. Our economies are too interdependent,” Lantis replied. “That, and they’re projected to have their first trade deficit in eight years.”

  “We’re just as vulnerable to rising commodity prices. Pull that National Intelligence Estimate from a couple of months ago, will you? The one addressing the impact of Beijing’s modernization programs.”

  “What’s the connection?”

  “Oil, our trade deficit, international shipping, the flow of hard currency to Beijing. They’re using their currency reserves to buy U.S. Treasury Bonds. These cyberattacks are coordinated and targeted. They’re part of a broader
plan of economic espionage.”

  “So they —”

  “They’re supporting our national debt.”

  “Beijing would intentionally drive us to bankruptcy?”

  Stuart massaged his forehead to ward off a headache. “They could if they chose to.”

  “What’s our next move?”

  “Who’s Richard’s lead at State?”

  “Adrian Clarke, Assistant Secretary for East Asia and Pacific Affairs.”

  “I want his analysis.”

  “I’ll call.”

  “Anything else?”

  “No, sir. That’s it.”

  Stuart thought a moment and managed a wry smile. “Just another day in the office?”

  “I suspect there’s more to come. You going to watch the game?”

  “That’s the plan. So, how about getting out of here? You need to spend some time with your kids before something else happens to screw up our day.”

  Stuart waited until Lantis left before opening the top right drawer of his desk. He felt around for his stash of TUMS. He selected a green one, popped it in his mouth. He glanced at the Rembrandt Peale portrait of George Washington displayed over the fireplace and set to work.

  Ten minutes later, he completed typing several annotations to the prepared remarks he was going to deliver at the State Dinner that evening. He hit the print button and headed for the door of the adjacent office.

  The pile of correspondence overflowing his secretary’s in-basket elicited a pang of guilt. He searched her face, concerned she might not get home for several more hours. She had followed him from Ohio where she served as his personal secretary when he was governor. He considered her to be part of the family. “I made a few changes, Mary Allus.”

  She reached around to pull the speech off the printer. “I was just getting a head start on next week’s work. It won’t take more than a minute to clean this up and close the shop.”

  Her answer eased his conscience. He left Mary Allus to her work and walked to the breezeway connecting the executive offices with the White House residence. Slowing, he turned to the Secret Service agent who had fallen in behind him. “What do you say we call it a day?”

  Their feet crunched on small drifts of salted ice as a gust of wind pushed the men past the dormant rose garden toward the living quarters. Taking the stairs to the central hall of the residence, they saw the Chief Usher approach with a welcoming smile.