The Mandarin Code (45 page)

‘Admiral, I'm going to get some coffee, can I get you one?' Lieutenant Jane Marsh was half-shouting to be heard above the jet engines.

‘No thanks, Jane. I'm heading back to the flag bridge in a minute or two. Just wanted to survey this pretty morning out in the open.'

‘Yes sir, it's quite a picture.'

‘It is that.'

The admiral gripped the railing as his gaze turned towards the Chinese mainland, somewhere over the western horizon. He could trace his naval heritage back to before World War I, to a great uncle who'd escaped the tedium of the family's hardware business for a life chasing dreams.

Vinson had never questioned America's role in defending democracy, not even when the fiction of George W Bush's weapons of mass destruction turned public opinion against the US.

But this? Something nagged inside. His knuckles were white, and a small feeling of nausea welled in his stomach. He needed caffeine after all.

He turned one last time to the ocean. An albatross passed close flying north, a flash of white against a golden dawn. The admiral's spirit lifted. An omen, he hoped, that everything would be all right.

Hong Kong

‘Sir, we will be ready to sail at 0700.'

‘Thank you, sailor.'

Yu Heng mentally ticked off the orders he had been given over the preceding few days and contemplated a quick shower. It had been an arduous night, and there were long, difficult hours ahead.

Through the window, first light began to brighten the Ngong Shuen Chau Naval Base, and preparations aboard were almost complete. China's first aircraft carrier, the
Liaoning
, was ready for its mission.

But the rear admiral knew she was not ready for a fight.

He looked along the carrier's flight deck with its distinctive ski-slope bow. The
Liaoning
had been transformed from a rusted former Soviet hulk bought in 1998 under the pretext of it becoming a floating casino.

Deception had always been one of China's weapons.

The first carrier China had bought was Australia's HMAS
Melbourne
. She'd been acquired in 1985, and before being torn apart for scrap was studied by naval engineers. Two more Soviet-era ships had followed before enough was learned to refit the
Liaoning
.

At the same time, elite sailors were trained for the day the People's Republic launched its own carrier.

Yu had been moulded to lead them. Born into a military family, he had enlisted in 1990 and served with the East Sea fleet. His passion for the sea was so great he'd refused to marry until he became captain of a ship. His first command was a frigate, then a guided missile destroyer, before he was sent to the British Joint Services Command and Staff College.

His crew on the
Liaoning
had been drawn from the best of the People's Liberation Army Navy.

But like their ship they were not ready. Three months of trials in the South China Sea had shown just how much they, and the Chinese navy, still had to learn.

An aircraft carrier is useless without aircraft.

The Shenyang J-15 had been purpose-built for this ship. Known as the ‘Flying Shark', the fighter jet was a clone of Russia's Sukhoi Su-33. China's media proudly reported its top speed of Mach 2.4 and range of 3200 kilometres. But at this stage of China's carrier aviation development the aircraft were for show.

More like a flopping fish.

Exhaustive trials had shown the J-15, like most carrier-borne aircraft, could not take off or land if fully fuelled and armed. But this jet's performance was much worse than anyone had expected. So they had a choice: a modest weapons load with almost no fuel; or a full load of fuel with almost no weapons. The compromise struck gave the combat aircraft an effective range of 120 kilometres.

In reality, the
Liaoning
was as yet only a training ship, not a fearsome fighting machine, and half the size of the
George Washington
.

Yu had showered and changed into a crisp white uniform when the call came through at 0625.

‘Admiral Leng Sha for you, sir.'

‘Thank you. I'll take it in my cabin.'

Born in 1945, Leng was Commander-in-Chief of the PLA Navy and had overseen its rise into a modern fighting force. He'd hand-picked Yu, his protégé, to command the
Liaoning.
He was a gifted student who would now carry the hopes of the navy and the nation on this dangerous assignment.

‘Admiral, we will sail as commanded in thirty-five minutes.'

‘Good. Then everything is ready.'

‘Sir, you understand the limitations of our weapon systems. We can launch planes but they are only capable of training sorties. They are not combat ready.'

‘Yes Heng. But your mission is not to engage the adversary.
Liaoning
is our flagship. You are to be seen to stare down the American strike group and make it retreat. Your systems won't be needed if it comes to a fight. Our mainland forces and our submarines can defeat the Americans. And they know it.'

‘As you taught me, sir. The assassin's mace. A smaller force can wound a larger enemy if it is more nimble: with its weapons or its wit.'

‘And the world will be watching. The most important weapon on this mission is the television crew. Is it on board?'

‘It is, Admiral.'

‘Make sure they get pictures of the planes taking off and landing.'

‘Yes sir.'

‘Good. Heng, America's retreat across the Pacific begins today.'

Taiwan Strait

Frank Vinson had changed into khakis. The only sign of his rank was a single silver star on his collar.

The flag bridge was a scene of ordered apprehension as senior staff monitored intelligence and kept watch over a carrier battle group that stretched across more than a hundred miles of sky and sea.

From the first deck of the ship's island, Vinson commanded the nerve centre of the fleet.

Jane Marsh, a naval intelligence officer, traced several lines of intel on her monitor, reading it twice before reporting to Vinson. ‘Sir, the
Liaoning
has put to sea and is heading north. Into the Taiwan Strait. If it maintains its course, we will see her in less than five hours.'

The room fell silent around Vinson as his senior staff weighed the significance of the news.

‘That ship is hardly fit to sail.' Marsh was incredulous. ‘All our intelligence shows it is nowhere near ready to fight.'

The news confirmed Vinson's worst fears. His force was being drawn into a historic and extremely dangerous confrontation.

‘That ship doesn't have to be able to fight. We're off mainland China. There is more than enough muscle to starboard and under us to overwhelm this strike group.'

‘So why put the
Liaoning
to sea?'

The admiral turned to the sloping glass of the flag bridge, staring to the horizon.

‘It's their flagship. It's the David and Goliath image they want. China is making a statement that it is now powerful enough to stare down the world's only superpower. If we sail on we had better be ready to fight. That could end in war. If we retreat the US will be humiliated.'

‘So what will we do?' Marsh spoke for the group.

Vinson looked down at a screen that showed their position in the strait and weighed his options.

‘I intend to complete my mission. But no one said how fast we have to travel. Alert the group, we're going to slow this operation right down. I hope the
Liaoning
commander has the sense to do the same thing. Get me PACOM. The President has to decide how he wants this to end.'

Canberra

The Cardinals had been sent out early. Catriona Bailey's damaged vocal cords restricted her public appearances, so the new prime minister's chorus of allies – all promised plum ministerial jobs – was out in force.

As one they trumpeted regime change and the promise of a turnaround in Labor's fortunes. The ‘Bailey bounce' was already resonating with the television breakfast programs that had seized on suspect polling showing Bailey led the featureless Landry 55 to 15 per cent as preferred prime minister. The rest still liked Elizabeth Scott.

For the last twenty-four hours, the press gallery had been grinding out an endless supply of copy to feed voracious media platforms.

The federation had never witnessed such political carnage: a prime minister and Opposition leader both fed to the sharks within hours of each other.

But the drama in Canberra was dwarfed by the first flashes of a showdown in the Taiwan Strait. The world's superpower was on a collision course with the rising titan of China.

Amid this maelstrom of news, Bruce Paxton decided he would hold a press conference.

Just a few journalists gathered in the Senate courtyard, more out of duty than interest. Several defence correspondents tagged along to see if they could snag a decent quote on China to pad out their copy.

‘Ladies and gentlemen, thanks for coming. As a former Defence Minister, I know better than most that defending this country is the primary job of any government. I have grave fears about Catriona Bailey's capacity to do that job.

‘It was Ms Bailey who green-lighted the new Chinese embassy down by the lake. I now have information that shows that building is a direct threat to national security.

‘A month ago a Chinese national died as he tried to defect. Two other men have been murdered as part of a cover-up.'

Paxton's face was glistening red.

‘I also hold grave fears for the Chinese Ambassador's wife. She was planning to defect last night and she never made it.'

The
West Australian'
s defence writer, Nick Butterly, broke the stunned silence.

‘How do you know the Ambassador's wife was planning to defect?'

‘Because, Nick, she was meant to be meeting me as part of that process.'

‘How do you know her?'

Paxton stalled. His mouth was parched. He fiddled with his tie.

‘We are . . . friends. A relationship was forged many years ago. We have warm feelings for each other.'

‘Hang on, Mr Paxton, were these “warm” feelings going on when you were Defence Minister?' Butterly probed.

‘Yes. But we shared no more than a genuine friendship.'

Nic Stuart from the
Canberra Times
had never trusted Paxton.

‘Sorry, what evidence do you have that two men have been murdered?' he asked.

‘Ms Weng told me. And I believe her.'

Stuart was sceptical. ‘That's it? How can you back up your claim that Bailey has any link to this?'

‘Well, Nic, for that you will have to wait. I will be making a full statement to the Parliament in the next session.'

Butterly stepped in. ‘Mr Paxton, you can't drop a bombshell like this without offering a shred of evidence. If you have anything hard, you should declare it now.'

The MP made moves to abruptly end the press conference. ‘That's it for now. I'll have more to say in the next few weeks. But I do call on the police and Foreign Affairs to investigate the murders at the embassy. And I plead with them to find Weng Meihui.'

As Paxton set off he was pursued by the pack, nearly tripping up a TV cameraman who was giving chase. He ignored the flurry of questions.

But as he slipped into the supposed safety of the parliamentary building, news.com's Lanai Scarr stepped in close. ‘Mr Paxton, were you having an affair with the Chinese ambassador's wife?'

Washington

‘Mr President, two minutes to broadcast.'

Earle Jackson scanned the hard copy a final time. He'd already run through the autocue twice.

The US President was preparing to address the nation and every syllable had to be perfect. It was 8pm, primetime on America's east coast. A woman dabbed powder on his face, eliminating a trace of sweat.

‘Water, sir?'

‘Please.'

His throat was dry. The reality of the fire that he'd fanned was dawning on him. But he could see no way out without a massive loss of face. He had to stare down the Chinese.