Eagle Station

Yang tapped a control on his console, zooming in on the aft section of the leading enemy destroyer. A large, unmarked shipping container was tied down on her helicopter pad. Thick bundles of what looked like power and fiber-optic cables ran across the deck between the container and the ship’s hangar. That was strange. This improvised installation made flight operations by McCampbell’s embarked SH-60 Sea Hawk helicopters impossible. He turned to his chief of staff. “Your evaluation?”

The other man leaned in closer. “I suspect that container is crammed full of intelligence-gathering equipment, Comrade Captain. New devices to spy on us. And the Americans have adopted a crude but effective means of concealing this equipment from our view.”

Yang nodded. That was his own guess as well. Besides humiliating China by steaming unmolested through its territory, the enemy also intended to collect vital information on Yŏngxīng Dăo’s defenses. He frowned. They were probably hoping to taunt him into turning on his surface-to-surface missile tracking and fire control radars or sortieing the Shenyang J-15 fighter-bombers concealed in hardened shelters adjacent to the island’s 2,700-meter-long runway.

If so, that was a game he would not play. At least not without direct orders from those higher up in his chain of command. “Has there been any response from Vice Admiral Zheng?”

“Not yet, sir,” his chief of staff said. He shrugged. “Our data is being relayed in real time to Zhanjiang, though, so the fleet commander must be aware of this situation.”

Aware and quite probably sitting on his immaculately manicured hands, too afraid to make any decision that Beijing might disavow later, Yang thought bitterly. Like too many in the PLA Navy’s upper reaches, Vice Admiral Zheng was more a political animal than a naval strategist or tactician. Having foolishly stripped away the patrolling Chinese warships that were his subordinate’s best hope of dealing with this latest American provocation, Zheng probably saw no benefit in involving himself directly now.

To Yang’s surprise, the command post’s secure phone buzzed sharply.

His chief of staff picked it up. “Yŏngxīng Dăo Command Post, Commander Liu speaking.” He stiffened to attention. “Yes, Admiral! At once.” Eyes wide, he turned to Yang and held out the receiver. “It’s Beijing. Admiral Cao himself is on the line.”

Yang whistled softly. Admiral Cao Jiang was the commander of the whole PLA Navy. What the devil was going on here? Why was naval headquarters in the capital bypassing not only the South Sea Fleet, but also the whole Southern Theater Command? He grabbed the phone. “Captain Commandant Yang Zhi here.”

“Listen carefully, Captain,” Cao said in short, clipped tones. “The orders I am about to give you come from the highest possible authority, from the president himself. You will immediately contact the senior officer aboard those U.S. Navy ships. Once in communication, you will—”

Yang listened to his instructions in mounting astonishment and exultation. Far from catching his country’s leaders off guard, it was clear that this high-handed American incursion into Chinese territory had instead set in motion a carefully prepared and long-planned response.

Aboard USS McCampbell

Minutes Later

“Attention, McCampbell,this is Captain Commandant Yang Zhi of the People’s Liberation Army Navy. Your ships have illegally entered territorial waters of the People’s Republic of China. Accordingly, you are ordered to withdraw immediately, at your best possible speed. Acknowledge the receipt of my transmission and your intention to comply without delay. Over.”

Commander Amanda Dvorsky listened coolly to the strident voice coming over the bridge loudspeakers. The Chinese officer’s English was excellent. Too bad his language skills weren’t matched by a grasp of diplomacy or tact. She keyed her mike. “Captain Commandant Yang, this is USS McCampbell. Your transmission has been received. However, we will not, repeat not, comply with your demands. Under international law, your country has no valid claim to these waters. Nor do you have any right to interfere with our freedom of navigation on the high seas. We are proceeding on course as planned. McCampbell, out.”

Dvorsky ignored the nods and pleased looks from the rest of her bridge crew. Yang’s demand and her refusal were only the opening moves in this confrontation — like the ritual advance of pawns in a chess game… or the first tentative attack and parry in a fencing match. Now they would see what else, if anything, the Chinese had up their sleeves.