The Einstein Papers (33 page)

“Once the marines have established a beachhead and we have control of the Strait, the navy assures me they can run a continuous convoy of supply ships across the one-hundred-mile stretch of open water,” the general replied confidently. “However, it is a somewhat moot point, sir. Taiwan is a rich country. Food for our troops will be readily available on the island. In addition, once we start to capture the Taiwanese military stockpiles, we can use their own weapons against them if we need to.”

“What if the Americans show up?” the prime minister asked.

“The key is to move rapidly and decisively, sir. Our analysts assure us that once we are ashore in force, the Americans will not wish to risk an all-out war to stop us.”

“So the key is rapid deployment,” the prime minister noted.

“The first twelve hours are critical, sir,” the general agreed. “Those hours are the key to success.”

“Then make those first hours count,” the prime minister said.

“We see little chance of difficulties,” the head of the navy replied.

“Please continue with your work. I will return again tomorrow.” The prime minister turned to his left. “Mr. Tao, if we could now meet in my office, I have several matters to discuss.”

Tao followed the prime minister from the planning room. After walking the length of the building, he followed the prime minister into his office.

“I am concerned about the Einstein papers, Sun,” the prime minister said as he sat down behind his desk. “Has the courier made any attempt to contact us?”

“Not since the last call he made to the embassy in Washington,” Tao noted.

“That was three days ago.”

“True. But the courier has instructions to proceed to the embassy in San Francisco if he feels that the dropoff point is not secure. Perhaps he detected the Americans were again on to him and he is traveling to the West Coast.”

“The Americans proved they are already wise to our recovery of the papers. They proved that when they surrounded the embassy in New York. If the papers are not in our possession prior to the assault on Taiwan, our intended threats against them will be meaningless, and they will know this.”

“Not necessarily, sir,” Tao said quietly. “You see, they have no way to know we don’t possess the papers.”

The prime minister leaned back in his chair and sat silently for several minutes. Then he began to chuckle. “That is true, Sun Tao. That is true.”

Chief Petty Officer Mark Ramsey stared into the sonar scope, then twisted a knob and adjusted the image. “This is like shooting ducks in a pond,” he said over his intercom to the pilot of the Navy P-3 Orion that was flying a circular pattern over the Potomac River.

“Like ducks, huh?” the pilot replied.

“Like ducks that are tied together,” Ramsey said.

“Control, this is Spotter. We have a positive identification on the target in the river,” the pilot said.

“Affirmative, Spotter. Drop pingers, a dye marker, and a depth charge, ASAP.”

“Roger that, control,” the pilot said.

The pilot switched his headset to intercom. “Hey, Jerry,” he said to the weapons system operator, “are you ready?”

“You bet,” the WSO said easily. “Once Ramsey tells me, this submarine is toast.”

Passing fifty feet over the surface of the river, the pilot held a steady course upriver.

“We’re getting close,” Ramsey said as he stared intently at the sonar screen. “Stand by. Now!”

The WSO flicked a series of switches on the weapons control panel and launched the package. The depth charge flipped over once before splashing into the water and sinking. The pilot of the P-3 slowed the airplane and loitered over the area awaiting further instructions.

Ho Pei heard the first ping on the hull of his submarine only seconds before the depth charge exploded and rocked the submarine onto its back. He just caught the terror in his wounded navigator’s face before the lights inside the submarine flickered off. The mini-sub was tossed from side to side, then did a complete 360-degree roll. A seam in the underbelly of the small craft split and water began to fill the lower deck. The Plexiglas viewing port cracked and pinpoints of water shot inside the hull. Pei twisted a series of knobs to blow off ballast and allow the submarine to surface.

It was every submariners worst nightmare.

Pei felt the warm liquid flowing from his ears where his eardrums had ruptured and he touched his hands to the wetness. He stared in the black void both inside and outside the submarine.

Then very quietly he began to cry.

Two U.S. Navy fast-attack crafts raced up the Potomac from their base at Norfolk. Dispatched from their base an hour earlier, the boats had hit speeds of ninety miles an hour as they raced north. Passing Rock Point, they slowed as they neared the area where the charges had been dropped. Scanning the water with high-powered searchlights, they found the disabled submarine floundering on the surface.

After the submarine was lashed to the side of one of the fast-attack crafts, a line was dragged underneath and hooked to the conning tower. Using the windlass, the line was tightened until the submarine was pulled right side up. A navy officer began to pound on the hatch so it would be opened from inside. Pei couldn’t hear the pounding, nor could his dying navigator. The concussion from the depth charge had destroyed their eardrums. Ho Pei would never hear again.

The following morning General Benson was shaving in his office bathroom when the phone rang. Dressed in a sleeveless T-shirt and boxer shorts, he brushed past his uniform, neatly pressed and hanging on the door, and lifted the receiver.

“Benson.”

The connection was poor, most likely due to sunspot activity affecting the satellite transmission. “This is Agent Miles, sir. I’m using a secure phone from Israel.”

“I can barely hear you, Agent Miles, please speak louder,” Benson said loudly.

“Very well, sir,” Miles shouted. “Agent Smoot has examined some of the remains from one of the bombs. They were produced using Czechoslovakian Semtex.”

“What else did you discover?” Benson asked.

“They used Chinese-manufactured blasting caps as the detonators.”

“Very interesting,” Benson said. “But that doesn’t prove conclusively the Chinese were behind the attack.”

“Not that one clue alone, sir. But we just uncovered another clue.”

“What is it?” Benson said quickly.

“The threats Israel received were written on a paper that is unavailable in the Middle East,” Miles said.

“Where is the nearest source for the paper?”

“Hong Kong,” Miles noted.

Benson paused. “Good work, Agent Miles. Please congratulate Agent Smoot.”

Hanging up the phone, Benson dressed in his uniform and called downstairs to alert his driver he was ready to leave. Squaring his shoulders, he left from his office for the short drive to the White House.

The Carondelet sat bobbing on the water. The agents watching from shore could see no activity on deck. The only light that was burning inside the ship was inside the pilothouse, where a single crewman was on duty. The lone crewman was assigned to monitor the radio in case the mini-sub ran into difficulties. However, since the submarine was not due back for several hours, the rest of the crew was sleeping. All hands would need to be rested by tomorrow when Carondelet made her way out of Chesapeake Bay and into the Atlantic Ocean.

Just upriver and out of sight from the Carondelet a team of men dressed in black wetsuits and carrying full combat gear rolled over the side of a black inflatable boat. They slipped below the water soundlessly, then met up underwater. The team leader glanced at a small computerized GPS plotter strapped to his wrist. Then he steered his team toward the Carondelet.

The Lar Mark V fully enclosed chest-mounted rebreathers and regulators the team used allowed no bubbles to rise to the surface of the water. Their approach, timed to carry them along with the current, was invisible from the surface of the water. Once the team leader located the stern of the Carondelet he motioned for his men to shed their fins and prepare for the assault.

Two parties, each comprised of two men, would swim to the bow. One party of two would take the port side-the other party the starboard. At the signal from the team leader they would toss grappling hooks over the bow of the ship and hoist themselves on pulleys to the bow deck. Their mission was to secure the pilothouse.

At the same time, eight men would enter the ship from the stern. Spreading out, they would fan through the ship capturing the crew and securing the engine room. Beneath the hull of the Carondelet the teams hung suspended in the water like a feather floating on a breeze. They were waiting for their signal.

At exactly 12:00 a.m. the assault began.

At seven minutes after twelve in the morning, U.S. Navy SEAL Commander Warren Oakes secured his side arm and glanced across the deck of the Carondelet.

“All clear abovedecks,” he shouted.

Chief Petty Officer Rick Chutetski walked on the deck through the pilothouse door.

“All clear belowdecks, sir.”

“Did the crew have time to get off a radio call, Chutes?” Oakes asked.

“Shit no, sir,” Chutetski said easily. “They never knew what hit them.”

“Secure the crew in a hold belowdecks and post guards.”

“What then, sir?”

“We wait for further instructions,” Oakes said.

A cold front blowing in from the north brought freezing rain to the nation’s capital. Inside an office in the West Wing of the White House, the National Security briefing started exactly at nine.

Robert Lakeland rose and addressed the group.

“First to speak today is General Benson of the Special Security Service,” Lakeland announced.

Benson rose from his seat and walked to the podium.

“The Special Security Service division of the National Intelligence Agency believes we have linked the bombings plaguing Israel with the poisoning of the Saudi oil fields by oil-eating microbes stolen from a laboratory in Texas. Our agency is working on a comprehensive report the diplomats can take to the respective embassies listing our proof. The report is being assembled as we speak. We think the report should be completed inside an hour.”

A murmur rose in the room. “Who do you believe is behind all this mayhem?” the president asked.

“The Chinese government,” Benson said.

“They’ve never shown much strategic interest in the Middle East,” Lakeland interjected.

“We believe their actions in the Middle East are tied to their recovery of what has become known as the Einstein papers.”

“What’s the status of these mystery papers?” Lakeland asked.

“One of our agents was shot in a gunfight last night. But we managed to recover the papers.”

“Excellent,” the president said. Then he looked with concern at Benson. “How did your agent fare in the gunfight, Earl?”

“He’s still in surgery, sir, but the doctors believe he’ll pull through. The papers will be forwarded to the Advanced Physics Laboratory in Colorado so the scientists there can attempt to decipher the formula.”

“What reason could the Chinese government have for inciting the trouble in the Middle East?” Robert Lakeland asked.

Canter, the director of the CIA, spoke.

“The NSA has alerted our agency that China has been amassing troops and supplies on their eastern coast. Till now we assumed they were there for the scheduled war games.” Canter scanned the notes in front of him. “Since Hong Kong reverted to the Chinese in 1997, the Chinese government has had a pool of hard currency they never had before. They have been spending the windfall on advanced military hardware. To showcase the new hardware they have been enacting quarterly war games. In addition, China has become more aggressive. We believe it is their goal to assert themselves as the dominant force in Asia as quickly as possible. The fifty-year anniversary of the founding of the Peoples Republic is fast approaching. Our analysts have been bracing for a hostile move from the mainland against Taiwan for some time now.”

The president stopped Canter. “Is it far-fetched to believe that the Chinese wanted the Einstein papers to create a weapon that would allow them to annex all of Asia and the Middle East?”

Benson answered. “That may have been their plan. Once they had an operational weapon, the annexation plan would be possible, sir. However, right now I believe their reason for inciting conflict in the Middle East is somewhat simpler.”

“And what is that, General?”

“I think Mr. Canter is right. The Chinese plan is to draw off our forces from the Asian theater so they can attack Taiwan without fear of American retaliation. Once our armed forces are diverted to the Middle East, the Chinese have the time they need to strengthen their position in Taiwan. Perhaps China attacks Korea or Japan next.”

“If that occurs we could lose the world to Chinese communism,” the president said slowly, “after years of fearing the Russians.”

“Sounds like a distinct possibility, sir,” Benson said.

“When do you expect the Chinese will move against Taiwan?” the president asked Canter.”

“Like I said,” Canter explained, “October 1st, the anniversary date of the formation of the Peoples Republic of China. That would be my guess, sir.”

“That gives us five days to stop the Chinese,” the president said.

The president turned to the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. “I want naval redeployment orders drafted immediately. Split your forces-send half back to Asia, leave half in the Middle East. As soon as that is done, prepare a defense plan for Taiwan if we cannot get a naval force there in time.”

The chairman and his aides rushed from the room.

“Canter, have your agency get me some human intelligence data from inside China. I want to be sure this theory of yours about the date of the attack is correct.”

Canter rose and walked out the door.

“NSA, DIA, NRO-I want all your agencies to go to priority-one gathering. Every agency should share any information they receive about anything that remotely pertains to China.” The heads of the agencies made their way to the door. “I mean anything. I don’t want to go into this thing blind,” the president stressed as the intelligence officers exited.