China Invades Taiwan: What Will the New American President Do About It?

By Dean Clough

Oil is discovered in the East China Sea, and Taiwan’s charismatic leader, David Chu-Yen, declares independence from mainland China in the face of Beijing’s threat to invade. London journalist David Goldman, sent to cover the story, quickly finds that all is not as it first seems on the offshore island. Nuclear weapons pointing at China seem to have been hidden in the mountains by mysterious Asian secret societies. America’s top general, ordered to stop the invasion, has his own secret agenda which stops nothing short of regime change in Beijing. For America’s first lady president, this is the fast-track to Armageddon as she asks, “Just whose finger is on the nuclear button?”

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu Publishing Services
• Release date: Dec 3, 2016
• ISBN: 9781483458700

Book preview

Armageddon.

CHAPTER

1

China the beautiful

THE view took Jing Zhan’s breath away even before he’d got out of the tour bus. There was something about Taroko National Park that never failed to please. He’d spent months poring over satellite pictures of this area of Taiwan. But nothing had prepared him for what he was seeing now with his own eyes. In the distance, the marble cliffs of the mountains rose high above the sea. Below, the stunningly white coral beaches stretched away to the Pacific Ocean. Between the two, the steep mountain sides were clad in a thick canopy of steaming jungle. There could be few places in the world that had such magnificent marble and coral scenery side by side like this. How beautiful China was! No wonder the coach had been full of visitors even for such a tortuous ride over the mountains to get to this isolated place. Right now, everyone was eagerly clambering off the bus to inspect Taiwan’s east coast at its most stunning here on Dragon Valley Sands. All around, children started playing. Only Jing was sad. The game he was about to play was only too real. For when the battle between the Dragon and the Eagle began, the first blood might well be spilled here in this earthly paradise. The forthcoming contest between the United States and the People’s Republic of China for possession of the island of Taiwan had been many years in the making. And it was a war which China, if the ruling communist party was to stay in power, must win.

Jing let his eyes wander across the horizon as he walked slowly along the sands. The plot would be more dramatic than anything he had ever seen in any movie. He thought of it now, the American Eagle soaring over the mountains to confront the Chinese Dragon on these beaches. They would size each other up as they’d done periodically over the decades. Only this time the confrontation wouldn’t stop at that. This time they would fight on and on as the world watched in shock and despair. And it was a fight that Jing was determined China would win. This wasn’t the China of 1950 when her soldiers in Korea had gone into battle armed with what seemed like sticks and stones against the awesome firepower of the Americans. China, too, was now a superpower. The front battle line, if it came to the worst, would be America’s own backyard, her great cities. Atom bombs would rain down on these metropolises, making it a thousand times worse than the bombs that had destroyed Nazi Germany in 1944. The American mainland would be hit by Chinese intercontinental ballistic missiles flying across the Pacific Ocean from Manchuria. Bombs would drop from satellites. Under the deepest oceans, Chinese atomic submarines would launch their nuclear cruise missiles. It would be like a hundred thousand Nine Elevens exploding all at once. Americans would, at last, realise that China had come of age. She would find out that the Dragon, too, could spit fire.

But the Communist High Command knew that America wasn’t stupid. That’s why, when the chips were down, they believed the United States would back off from all-out war after China had invaded Taiwan to reclaim the wayward island that had finally shown the cheek to declare its independence from the motherland.

Jing Zhan recalled how a Chinese general had told a US senator that America would not fight for Taiwan because it was concerned about what would happen to Los Angeles.

Jing snapped out of his daydreams. There was vital work to do and little time left. He raised his binoculars and scanned the cliffs ahead. The mountains came right down to the sea just a short distance away, plunging hundreds of metres sheer into the deep blue of the Pacific Ocean. He looked hard at the thick, tangled vegetation with its mixture of bamboo and camphor trees. It was perfect. In the heat of battle the Americans would never successfully lock onto the railway tunnels, even with their satellite co-ordinates and infra-red drones. Jing lowered his binoculars. He too, at this close distance, was having difficulty locating exactly where the tunnels were. That’s why he had been smuggled into Taiwan by Beijing, as a senior missile specialist, to check the terrain under this dense canopy of vegetation.

A piercing whistle split the air, sending a flock of snow white egrets into flight. Jing looked up and gave a sigh of relief. An express train was emerging from the very tunnel he’d been searching for. It ran a short way along a narrow ledge under the precipitous cliffs before disappearing again into another tunnel in the mountainside.

The People’s Liberation Navy would land special forces from submarines on to the beaches directly below. They would swiftly capture the labyrinth of tunnels that enabled the railway to run through this jungle at the foot of the mountains. Missile launchers would be set up in these tunnels ready to fire out to sea. America might try to stop China’s Taiwan invasion by sending in its giant aircraft carriers, symbol for so long of its military superiority, but they would be sailing into a well-prepared trap. When the American Seventh Fleet swept in from Japan, the missiles would be waiting for them. The winding tunnels were far too deep even for cruise missiles to penetrate. The giant carriers would seek to take advantage of the sea room off Taiwan’s eastern seaboard to manoeuvre and come in close enough for their jets to attack the Chinese mainland. But their every movement would be charted by electronic surveillance from space, hundreds of sonor buoys the size of footballs in the ocean, submarines, and drones both above and beneath the waves. Cruise missiles hidden in these tunnels would be primed and pointing at the carriers. Each carrier would be individually targeted and attacked by hundreds of missiles as well as drone aircraft and drone submarines. The ambush had been practised in miniature hundreds of times on one of China’s huge remote lakes. It would be a bombardment without parallel in the history of warfare. And only one missile need hit its target for the pride of America’s fleet to keel over and sink with its 6,000 crewmen and women. Jing recalled the Praying Mantis, the tiny stick insect that silently waited for its prey to take one step too close. To its adversaries, this delicate looking creature seemed a pushover. But never have appearances been more deceptive. The insect’s compound eyes provided binocular sight that gave 300 degrees of vision. Echolocation hearing could lock on to bats high in the trees. The Praying Mantis changes its colour to resemble surrounding vegetation, or shakes in the wind to imitate a leaf. Patiently, it waits to ambush prey. Then, at the moment of its choosing, two grasping spiked forelegs slash and grip captors. A desperate, vain struggle ensues. Even birds, snakes, and frogs are seized. Fish and mice are not immune from the insect’s silent yet deadly embrace. The victim is caught in a vicelike grip so that it can be torn apart at leisure.

These hidden missiles will be China’s Praying Mantis, tearing apart America’s war machine. Then, hopefully, the Eagle will realise the error of its ways before it is too late. Intervening against China on the mainland would be too high a price to pay. Otherwise, the confrontation would escalate into thermonuclear war against a powerful and cunning adversary…the People’s Republic of China. No president would take the gamble. Especially not the lady President now ruling the White House.

Jing put down his binoculars again and scrambled up an embankment to get a better look. It was a hard climb up this scree of loose rocks. Better not go too far or it might alert the security cameras that were no doubt hidden in the shrubbery. And definitely no photographs! Jing paused to lean on a tree. If anybody stopped him, his story was that he was a bird spotter. He’d brought some books on the subject with him, and anyway it was his hobby so he could speak with authority.

Leave nothing to chance! his handler had warned him.

Just then there was another ear-piercing whistle as a huge express train came thundering out of the opposite tunnel. The suddenness of it made Jing jump once more, but he quickly regained his composure as a goods train appeared heading south. The trains had passed each other opposite where Jing was watching, confirming that both sets of tracks were in operation. There were therefore no obstructions in the tunnels that might have been placed there since Taiwan had declared national mobilisation. There was now no need for Jing to risk being detected by climbing higher. He paused to glance out to sea. Beyond that peaceful horizon, just over 600 kilometres away, lay Okinawa with its massive American air and naval bases. The Pacific Ocean looked magnificent today, but it was bristling with the most deadly weapons of destruction that scientists could devise. There was no time even to pause briefly.

Jing stumbled twice as he slid down the embankment. He was able to confirm what satellite photography had already indicated. He’d get the information off straight away to Beijing, that everything was as hoped. Jing felt proud to be playing his part in the opening chapters of a great historical event. He believed that the technicians at Central Military Planning in Shanghai had even arranged to bring ashore from submarines small motorised carriages that would ride on the rails. Seemingly nothing had been overlooked. The enemy would be reluctant to destroy the railway because troops and vital munitions could be moved along it to China’s invasion landing zone. The missile base would come as a complete surprise to the American carrier crews. It would be the first of many.

CHAPTER

2

WHITESIDE’S office was on the 15th floor of London’s Global Media Express News Incorporated building. Journalist David Goldman took a deep breath as he waited for the lift. He sensed that his meeting with World Editor Leonard Whiteside was going to be a life-changer. He would either get the sack from GMENI or be given the last chance in his journalism career. He would come back down to earth from Whiteside’s lofty office domain walking on air or having, figuratively speaking, been thrown out of the window of Whiteside’s private eyrie.

The huge oak door at the entrance to that eyrie loomed before him. Goldman hesitated a moment then pressed the bell. The great man’s secretary, Avis, opened up and quickly ushered Goldman inside.

It’s three minutes past nine…you’re late. I expect you to come at the right time when called to see me! the World Editor barked.

Avis gave Goldman an enigmatic smile as she closed the magnificent American red oak door softly behind her. Seated behind an imposingly large desk was a prematurely white-haired man wearing a light blue shirt with pink tie which Goldman reckoned made him look ten years older than he really was. The lines on his forehead seemed excessively furrowed and to Goldman, Whiteside seemed to be permanently on edge. Perhaps this was the price the man who edited the world had paid for all his years of crawling to ensure his steady rise to the top.

Whiteside placed his titanium-rimmed glasses on his desk with more than a hint of exasperation: Sit down, David Goldman. This is your last chance to prove that our investment in you was worth the effort!

Whiteside’s darting brown eyes reminded Goldman of some bird of prey as they focussed a remorseless and malignant stare in his direction. He had known instinctively at their first meeting that Whiteside would never like him. The last four months of his six-month job probation had merely confirmed that Whiteside was to be his nemesis.

I must say that you have been the worst trainee that I have ever had pushed upon me, Goldman. Whiteside sat back in his leather chair, clearly relishing those words, as he disdainfully eyed his junior. Goldman recalled to himself how it had been in this very office that he had met Sir Michael Bond, the company’s revered chief executive, at his job interview grilling. Whiteside had been sitting morosely at Bond’s side like some kind of torture chamber ghoul let out of the company dungeon to administer first degree shock treatment.

I would like to work for the company because of its unrivalled network of correspondents in all the important countries of the world, Goldman had told Sir Michael hopefully. It has its finger on the entire world’s pulse.

Yes, well, you could put it like that, Sir Michael replied, beaming. I see that you’ve had plenty of practical experience, David, the chief exec had replied encouragingly. You won that national writing competition when you were 20 and I must say I am impressed by the portfolio of ten internships that you have kindly brought along today. You’ve found time, in your volunteer assignments, to learn how to shoot video professionally as well as do advanced computer programming and graphic design as well as write. You’re recommended by H.R. Very impressive! I’d like to give you a try…have you any questions, Len?

The man who could make or break Goldman’s career screwed up his eyes as he peered through his glasses at this journalistic wanna-be. Yes, only one. What don’t you like about our company, David Goldman? Whiteside had peered at Goldman as though examining bacteria through a microscope.

Goldman restrained himself from replying: You…you sanctimonious little bastard! But he was 25 now, and had spent the last three years since university trying to land a lasting media job. He knew he wasn’t quite the sweet bird of youth any more, and didn’t want to end up on his backside once again, so this time he buttoned his lip.

Goldman and Whiteside were now sitting opposite each other only two weeks before the end of Goldman’s probationary work period, which had been doubled at Whiteside’s suggestion. The old git had retained his flat Northern accent in spite of years of working in London. He fixed his stare on Goldman once more. The titanium frames of his spectacles glinted in the harsh strip lighting, magnifying his malevolence and hate. The gaze reminded Goldman of a colleague’s words to him after they’d both endured a Whiteside bollocking. It’s a news service we’re working on, for Christ’s sake, not a car assembly plant staffed by bloody robots! the colleague had said. Goldman had wanted to repeat that to Whiteside, but he’d never dared. Whiteside’s tentacles were very long, very strong, and jobs like roving Internet reporter for such an august organisation as this only came once in a lifetime, even with excellent networking connections, which Goldman didn’t have.

Whiteside levelled his eyes accusingly at Goldman. They want to send you to Taipei, the Taiwanese capital, to cover this blow-up between America and the Chinese communists over China’s threat to invade the island. It’s a very serious situation, kid, with 26 million people living on a tiny island off China who are threatened with being taken over by the mainland Beijing communists after they dared to declare independence.

Goldman silently whistled between his teeth. This was a big assignment. Yes, I know Mr Whiteside. I’ve followed it on all the television channels, Goldman played up his keenness to impress that he knew all about what was going on over there to try and get on a more even keel with this loathsome reptile in front of him. But it was no good. He knew Whiteside couldn’t handle young, educated Southerners like himself without sounding condescending. And Goldman knew that however much he tried to downgrade this background in his boss’s presence, he still made Whiteside feel inferior. Goldman hadn’t been working for the organisation for long before he realised that the emotional scars on this poisoned dwarf ran more than skin deep. Whiteside seemed to resent the fact that Goldman had got to university. Goldman had been proud of his achievement considering he was an orphan. The fact that he’d had to drop out through lack of money before taking his degree was no fault of his own.

They want to try you out in Taiwan, David Goldman, because they’ve heard that you studied the Cantonese language at university or something and feel that it might come in very handy right now to find out what’s going on from participants out there in their own language.

Goldman nodded enthusiastically. Visiting China, even just an offshore island, would be a dream come true. He didn’t actually speak much Chinese, that had been a bit of CV bull, but China was his passion. To be paid to visit such a unique country to study its culture and literature was an opportunity not to be missed.

Thanks very much, Mr Whiteside, for giving me such a great opportunity. I won’t disappoint…

It wasn’t my decision, Goldman, it was Sir Michael’s. Our regular correspondent, Peter Oliver, will be covering developments from Hong Kong and Beijing-that’s where all his vital contacts are. I want you to file some human interest angles to the crisis. Got it?

Goldman nodded.

Of course, I will expect at least three human interest stories and videos every day you are there-say 300 words apiece.

And I will expect you to brief me twice a day stating where you are and what your intentions are for the coming 24 hours. Okay, kid?

Okay, Mr Whiteside. The head of World News was piling on the pressure, but Goldman wasn’t going to buckle.

And I want you to assist Oliver and his deputies with any fact checking or whatever he needs. Right?

Right, Mr Whiteside. Goldman noticed how deftly Whiteside’s language had changed from they to I

In his enthusiasm, Goldman stood up as if to go. Sit down, Goldman. I haven’t finished…! Flights and accommodation over there are all booked for you and we’ve arranged for you to interview their leader, President David Chu-Yen. At least you’ve no ties Goldman…not even a mother I’d have to write to if you don’t come back. You’re cheap to send. No paperwork see…

Goldman nodded slowly as he sat slumped in his chair. Whiteside always tried to act tough like this. It was his shield to hide from his empty shell of a life outside work: One more thing, Goldman, I’ve got this special personal organiser so that your expenses can be more closely scrutinized. Whiteside started to fish in his desk drawer. He stared menacingly at Goldman as he handed him a little black box.

It reminds me of an aircraft accident flight recorder box, Goldman remarked, carefully taking hold of it.

Just make sure it doesn’t end with your career crashing to earth because this is your last chance. That’s all matey. Good-day!

That was it then, the editor of the world was dismissing him without a word of encouragement. Goldman could sense Whiteside sizing him up as he prepared to leave. He realised that if he messed up some of the crap would stick to Whiteside. There was some consolation in that.

I won’t crash to earth! Goldman replied emphatically. There was only so much flak he was prepared to take from this little shit, job or no job, and the limit was fast approaching.

After all your mistakes, I shall be monitoring your progress-or lack of it- very closely David Goldman. Just watch out!

Goldman nodded truculently then slammed Whiteside’s door as he went out. The full implications of his boss’s words began to sink in as he walked to the lift. He’d have to do impossibly well in this assignment or Whiteside would be preparing his funeral, but there was more to it than that. The crisis in the Far East had been a very real one as it had dramatically unfolded in recent weeks. It was shit-stirring stuff. The Americans had three carrier battle groups in the Western Pacific while David Chu-Yen had spoken publicly how much he was still in favour of Taiwan’s independence. Only a resolution at the United Nations’ Security Council had pulled both sides back from the brink of war.

CHAPTER

3

GRAND Marshall Wu was an anxious man as he opened the door to greet his deputy, Yang Po.

Come quickly. We must get down to business straight away, Wu called to the younger man, ushering him past guards standing with fixed bayonets. General Yang Po looked tired after his long flight from Beijing. The general had taken an indirect route to get to this secret command centre from the Central Military Commission to confuse US spy satellites and informers.

He followed his boss through the single storey wooden building until they came to the Marshall’s private office in which he had prepared his life’s work- the conquest of Taiwan. It was typical of China’s foremost soldier to graciously open the door himself, thought Yang, reflecting on Wu’s old-fashioned courtesy. Such was Wu’s obsession for privacy that only the most essential staff would be present during this meeting. The whole complex of low buildings was covered by bamboo groves and camouflage netting. It had been fitted out as a forward headquarters at breakneck speed after Taiwan had declared independence.

Marshall Wu dismissed his adjutant and invited Yang Po to sit down opposite him at a long camphor wood table. Yang Po took his place with two other senior generals, Li and Sun. At 50, Li was the youngest and most ambitious of the generals. Wu had given him the task of preparing a schedule of embarkation for the thousands of elite soldiers who would provide the spearhead thrust into Taiwan. Li had to oversee the loading of stores and co-ordinate communications. It was a fearsome undertaking for any commander, but Li had risen to the challenge and Wu was more than satisfied at the results of his work. Sun was his able assistant who would be responsible for launching the immense missile bombardment designed to break the will of Taiwan’s troops. The men nodded briefly to Yang Po as the elderly Marshall Wu walked over to the window and stood a moment staring out over the Taiwan Strait in the far distance. With his boss’s back turned, Yang Po took the opportunity to spread the files he’d brought from Beijing. He knew that China’s intercontinental ballistic missile force had been activated with its most powerful nuclear and conventional missiles pointing at key American cities and Japan’s Okinawa island chain. He knew, too, that secret satellites were in position hundreds of kilometres above the earth. Several of these carried A-bombs ready to fall out of the sky on to Los Angeles, Chicago, and New York. Others were packed with electronic counter measures. Still others housed the top secret laser beam weapons designed to destroy US anti-satellite satellites keeping watch in nearby orbits. Millions of human beings could die at the press of a button.

Wu turned around and walked back to the table. He brought across a large map of Taiwan which he unfolded and laid in front of the seated generals. Only now did Wu sit down. He removed a statue of the Goddess of Mercy in her flowing gowns, which he had used as a paperweight, to provide more room on the table. The irony of its removal was not lost on Yang Po. Clearly, there would be no place for mercy in what was about to unfold. There was a pause as Marshall Wu looked at each one of his generals.

When he spoke, his voice was calm and his words chosen carefully: Gentlemen, this will be the last time we meet before war starts. Weather conditions are perfect for the assault on the island and we have finalised battle plans. Wu paused again for each man to take in his words. He studied their reactions, looking for any hint of uncertainty on the faces of the three. The care-lined face of Sun was creased into many wrinkles. This Wu attributed to him spending too much time in the heat on the tropical island of Hainan, off the extreme south coast of mainland China. The moon-faced Yang Po, on the other hand, was from Manchuria at the other end of the country. With the narrowest eyes and the yellowest skin, he looked the archetypal inscrutable Chinese. The ambitious General Li, sitting in the middle, radiated the most confidence with his sharp eagle eyes and determined manner. The stakes were indeed high, for the generals knew that if their invasion failed it would mean the end of the Communist party, their jobs, security for their families, and, quite possibly, their lives. They all stared implacably back at Wu, who spoke again in calm, measured tones.

We have rehearsed for this eventuality many times, he said. It is a great honour for each of us to perform this duty.

The government in Beijing had exhausted peace options. If Taiwan was allowed to keep its independence, other areas of China might follow. Manchuria had practically a government in exile in the United States which had been nurtured among expatriates over many years for such a moment as this. South China and Tibet would rebel and then the People’s Republic would become a fractured nation like Afghanistan, as much a prey to foreigners as it had been to British and French imperialism during the Opium Wars.

Yang Po had never seen his boss look so serious. The liberation of Taiwan province was going to be a sacred undertaking which could easily escalate into nuclear war with America and its allies. But there was no going back now, and Yang Po felt that if anyone could carry it off, it would be Marshall Wu himself. Not for nothing did his surname stand for magician in the local dialect in his part of China. The aging Marshall had been allowed to stay on in his job by the party leadership. With an eye for the tiniest detail, and a brain that could quickly absorb rapid technological change, Wu had done more than anybody to modernise China’s military. He had been made overall commander of the army, navy, and air force. It was a unique role that had been secretly sanctioned to oversee the liberation of the island. No other figure among any of the world’s serious military powers, apart from America’s Karl Wolfgang Schroeder, wielded so much authority. Wu had unrivalled access to the president and enjoyed the complete trust of his long-standing party colleagues. The white-haired old soldier had insisted that if he was to lead the invasion such a post must be created for him otherwise he would decline the offer. Because of his age, he had just turned 70, the Communist Party had agreed to his request. Wu was too old to become a threat politically after a successful invasion, the President of China had concluded privately.

We must strike with the speed of a python, Wu had insisted. One head, one tail, one fang, working in unison to destroy the enemy soldiers before they know what has struck them.

The campaign to conquer Taiwan would without doubt be one of the hardest tasks in military history. The People’s Liberation Army, though much larger than Taiwan’s, did not hold the initiative. Wu knew that the Taiwanese armed forces were a formidable fighting machine. Latest intelligence estimates suggested they now had a standing army of 350,000 men and women with two million more in reserve. Most of these were part-time but they could respond to a call to arms within 24 hours. But all was not lost. The loyalty of some of Taiwan’s officer corps to the Taipei regime could be questioned because promotion opportunities were more limited than in Beijing’s military. Wu had been briefed on the secret overtures and negotiations through third parties that had been held by communist officials with colonels and majors in the Taiwanese air force. He had been told that more than half middle ranking officers in the air force and army would grudgingly accept Beijing with minimal resistance in the event of invasion. This sounded rather on the high side, but even having a few disloyal officers in such a key component of resistance as the air force was an encouraging sign because it was that branch of the three services that had the most important job in defending the island.

There were 150 missile batteries guarding docks, airports, fuel depots, power stations and military bases. Backing these up were 450 heavy AA guns, all of which were fully manned, radar controlled, and waiting; but it was only Taiwan’s jets that could break up the communist invasion while it was still at sea. Apart from the air force being trained and well equipped by America, the island lay 150 kilometres across storm-tossed seas from the mainland. Taiwan’s air force consisted of 700 combat aircraft. Eighty per cent of the fighter and bomber forces were housed in concrete bomb proof shelters. When airfields were rendered useless by communist bombing, the aircraft would use the runways of nearby motorways for landing and take-off. Furthermore, the western invasion beaches were most unsuitable for landing men and machines because of long stretches of mudflats.

A naval blockade of the island had quickly been ruled out by Wu. It would simply be challenging his real enemy (America) at its strongest point, the open ocean. The Americans could easily replace every Taiwanese ship sunk. Furthermore, US submarines would secretly join in the fighting by sinking China’s blockading warships.

So, what was to be done?

The essence of my offensive, gentlemen, will be speed, speed, speed! Coupled with overwhelming force and complete surprise, the invasion will prove a hammer blow.

A low level war by stealth had already been underway for some time. More than 100,000 operators in the General Staff Department had started cyber attacks on America’s communications and those of its allies, South Korea and Japan. Wu tapped the map to emphasise his words as he continued. A priority target in the opening bombardment would be destruction of Taiwan’s early warning and reconnaissance aircraft and naval patrol vessels, every one of which was being plotted 24/7 on radar.

As you all know, several options have been put forward down the decades for the liberation of Taiwan. As China’s offensive weaponry has become more advanced, these plans have been modified accordingly. We have weighed up various suggestions regarding landing sites, targets for our missiles etc. Different plans are in existence outlining these options. This is partly to confuse the Americans, of course. Were they to capture one or more of these plans, they could not be sure which one was the real intention, and which were merely for disinformation purposes.

Wu paused a moment, and looked down at his notes. He cleared his throat before announcing his choice in calm, level tones: Gentlemen, I now announce that the invasion, when the order is given, will be undertaken as set out in Tiger Claw.

Wu paused to study the reactions of his top men as he passed them the relevant papers to sign their concurrence. They all looked intently at their boss, each general acutely aware that Wu’s choice would make or break the Peoples’ Republic of China. Operation Tiger Claw was the most ambitious and daring plan ever hatched in China for the re-conquest of the breakaway island. Its name was well-chosen, taken as it was from the infamous Kung Fu Tiger Claw fighting technique designed to break the nose and blind the eyes of an attacker. It was a lethal, last-ditch technique for a life and death struggle in which the upper hand would land on the opponent’s mouth so that the five fingers could be used to gouge out the enemy’s eyes.

The ancient Emperors had trained their soldiers to hone the technique to perfection in fighting the hordes beyond the Great Wall. An exponent could kill a man twice his size within seconds of the start of combat.

Each finger will represent a landing on Taiwanese soil from the sea. The blow to the throat will represent the capture of Taipei international airport. It will be horrible and bloody, and the key to our victory will be speed and surprise. Wu sounded confident as he paused in his speech to look at his map of Taiwan. They all knew that this was the most dangerous operation because if America intervened, that nation’s huge army would have to be stamped and jumped on, even if it meant nuclear war, until it was battered, lifeless, into the dust.

Wu continued: I believe-unlike many members of our government- that America will intervene against us in strength. That means we must land enough soldiers on the island before significant reinforcements can arrive from the United States. And to be able to do this we must be prepared to sink their three aircraft carrier battle groups assembled off Taiwan and Okinawa. Germany failed in the Second World War because it didn’t have enough fighter planes to attack the allied bomber bases in southern England. We will not make a similar mistake in our war with America.

Wu silently pulled from his folder large colour photographs of the three prize targets. These were the giant nuclear powered aircraft carriers Liberty, New York, and Chicago. The generals knew more about them than most of their crews. Their six decks were crammed with the most sophisticated top secret electronic wizardry the world had never seen.

Yang Po thumbed the photo of the Liberty, studying its main flight deck 20 metres above sea level. He knew that each ship carried a crew of between 5 and 6,000 men and women. At least 700 of them will be female. Eight hundred women…mothers, daughters, wives, sweethearts struggling and gasping for life in the shark-infested ocean. Imagine that! The average complement was of at least 75-100 warplanes for each carrier and flown by the very best US pilots. And Wu was talking of sinking the lot!

Of course, gentlemen, the sight of a dying aircraft carrier will be an unimaginable blow to American prestige. Calls for revenge will echo across the continent. But it is the Central Committee’s view, and mine, that the untried lady President, Karen Evans, will hesitate a moment before taking action. This will give us just enough time to overrun the island and present her with a done deed before American reinforcements arrive.

Wu paused to pick up the photographs. When he spoke again, his voice was grave: If the lady President chooses to fight on, the consequences then indeed will be fatal for both the United States and China. If our two nations cannot somehow live in peace together, then we must surely go to hell together.

How certain are we that Tiger Claw can achieve complete surprise? Yang Po was the first general to interrupt the Field Marshall. The question had sounded almost casual, but secretly Yang Po was greatly troubled about war with America. He’d travelled widely in the United States, and knew its military potential. His beloved Manchuria, with its industrial power, would be an early US air force target.

Wu nodded in Yang Po’s direction as he continued: "Even though the Taiwan army has been on full alert, we can still achieve surprise because, as you know, our agents have sowed many false alarms about invasion and our possible intentions. We have sent in spies all over the island to double check on tunnels, bridges, roads etc. and prepare to sabotage key targets. Most of our actions regarding these moves are of course false, designed to create confusion, and make the enemy divide his resources.

We must show the American lady President that China means business and will stop at nothing once its mind is made up. Taiwan has been mobilised against us, but they are getting careless because of all the false invasion alerts. They don’t know when or where, or even if, we intend to attack. This, gentlemen, is where we can turn a disadvantage into an opportunity.

He paused a moment, looking down at the table. The generals remained in respectful silence before the venerable old man. The American Seventh Fleet will attack our ships heading for the island. America’s best jet fighters-their so called Top Guns- will be intercepting ours within hours of our attack starting. I am prepared to stake my reputation on these predictions, gentlemen. That is why it is so essential to get ashore quickly. We must, however, immediately crush American counter attacks from these carriers and their Okinawa bases.

Here the Marshall scornfully jabbed his hand at Japanese ports where American warships were based. Wu again looked at each man in turn. They all nodded except for Yang Po. The Marshall fixed his gaze on him.

I am still concerned that the Americans might impose an immediate naval blockade around the island, said Yang Po. Our sailors are dedicated, but they are also heavily outnumbered by the Americans. We know the Americans have thousands of Marines already at sea off our shores. They have ten amphibious assault ships equipped with helicopters, tanks, and 2,000 Marines per vessel.

We will fight our way through, the Marshall replied bluntly and without hesitation.

Using long-range cruise missiles against their ships? This was the first-time General Sun had spoken.

Of course, Wu replied.

Sun knew that crippling the Taiwan navy’s 40 key frigates, destroyers, and submarines with missiles from the mainland as proposed by Wu looked far easier on paper than in reality. The vessels were spread out all around the island, yet it was vital that the bulk of this force be put out of combat before the Chinese invasion ships packed with men reached the beaches.

Many of the enemy’s navy’s ships have been fitted with the latest missile jamming electronics flown in from the United States, Sun pointed out. Hitting them first time is not going to be easy.

Wu could see the concern on Sun’s face. Wu knew in his heart that this aspect of the invasion had never satisfactorily been ironed out. The accuracy of Beijing’s missiles often left much to be desired. But there was no time for faint hearts now. He had to re-assure his men: We have assigned 200 missiles and 800 more dummy missiles to target these key warships alone. The vessels will receive multi-wave and multi-directional saturation attacks using Dong Feng 11 and DF 16 missiles where necessary. In addition, we have scores of aircraft which can finish off anything that is left on the island, as well as the 50 or so fast attack craft the enemy are hiding off their eastern shores. If necessary, these numbers can be further increased. We have all China’s industrial capacity at our disposal, gentlemen.

You are not forgetting, sir, the 15 submarines in the Taiwan navy and the unmanned robot submarines we believe the Americans are hiding off Taiwan. We only know where five or so of them currently are, Sun persisted.

That may be true, general, Wu replied, but don’t forget that the invasion route in the Taiwan Strait is in reality too shallow for submarines to operate without detection. If they try and attack our troopships here they may as well sail into battle on the surface. They will be easy targets even underwater, so I remain not too bothered about the submarines.

I am glad we have the undersea tunnel ready, as outlined in Operation Cobra. Yang Po said as if to break the awkwardness.

The other generals nodded in agreement. This made Wu frown slightly as he answered: We may have secretly built a tunnel all the way from the mainland to Taiwan, but we cannot, as military men, rely on this. We must depend on our own resolve to crush the Taiwan regime in case the tunnel is discovered and put out of action.

Yang Po, ignoring the Marshall’s disquiet, expressed his relief at the advantage the tunnel would provide. It is good to know, gentlemen, Yang Po continued, that we have soldiers already hiding in the tunnel practically under the city of Hsinchu on Taiwanese soil, ready to burst through the exit doors as soon as we give the order. Thus, some of our invasion forces are already on the island secretly and right under the noses of the Taiwan soldiers and these can be rapidly reinforced.

Wu was about to express strong reservations against over relying too much on the tunnel when General Li spoke up: Enemy soldiers are continuing to build their own tunnels in mountain caves as we speak. Our intelligence shows that they are hiding some of their most advanced interceptor aircraft in caves, particularly at Chiashan on the far side of the mountains. The bomb proof doors have been strengthened, and the latest American microwave landing system installed along with larger power generators.

What if the aircraft are concealed too deep inside for conventional explosives? Yang Po looked directly at Wu as he asked the question.

If this threatens the success of the invasion I will appeal to the party to destroy the caves with nuclear weapons immediately, Wu shot back as though anyone should doubt his determination. Any air or naval bases, missile or gun positions, or motorway complexes that continue to be a hindrance to our advance will be destroyed with theatre-sized nuclear weapons and these will be employed sooner rather than later.

There was silence as the generals considered the implications of using atom bombs on Chinese soil. The Americans would be shocked at this and it would supposedly make them hesitate further, giving the invasion force more vital hours to consolidate. The generals looked grave as Wu further outlined Tiger Claw. Wu was talking about landing 60,000 spearhead soldiers by air at six points along the west coast using helicopters and Shaanxi Y-9 transport planes. To achieve this would require 1,400 troop-carrying helicopters and 200 transport helicopters. Leading the way would be 200 attack helicopters which would start arriving over the landing zones just 45 minutes after the missile barrage on the mainland had opened up. Overhead, 20,000 paratroopers would be dropping from 160 Y-9 aircraft and planes from China’s commercial fleet. It was likely to cause the biggest aerial traffic jam in history.

Yang Po looked especially worried: I am glad, sir, that you have allocated our most powerful missiles to destroy their Combat Air Command at Kung Kuan. Their high-speed digital computers could play havoc with our air attack.

The Marshall nodded: Kung Kuan will receive our D-9s as will the Combined Operations Centre at Yuanshan, but nevertheless we must expect very heavy losses in the air at cities like Hsinchu, Taichung, and while attacking individual targets such as the National Palace Museum.

Indeed, there is no alternative if we are to capture intact the contents of the National Palace Museum as the Central Committee demands, said General Li, who had been given the task of overseeing the assault on this world-famous museum of Chinese heritage.

We will land on top of the museum to prevent anyone escaping with its gold. No-one will get out. No-one will get in except our soldiers. The enemy will not be able to destroy us without destroying the priceless exhibits, Li added. Li’s son was leading the assault team, but at no time did Li let on that his son’s safety might be affecting his planning of the attack.

In the capital, Taipei, Special Forces would drop from helicopters and fan out to capture the Presidential Building, the Ministry of National Defence, television stations, and the legislative buildings. Resisting them would be the fanatical Military Police Command.

The savageness of the assault on Taiwan would cause outrage in America, but America hadn’t declared national mobilisation. China, on the other hand, had secretly readied her entire military reserves, a task made easier by the state control of her media. There would be no public debate. By the time America was ready to commit a full army, Taiwan will have been overrun and overwhelming defences prepared to deter an American counter-attack. Short of nuclear war, there would be nothing America could do that would alter the balance.

The Marshall nodded as each speaker made a point before he raised both his hands for silence. There was the question of President Karen Evans, the first female leader to occupy the White House. She had unexpectedly taken a firm line over Taiwan by resisting Beijing’s demands. She’d been more stridently anti-Beijing than anyone could have imagined. It was as though she was using the Taiwan crisis to assert herself as America’s first woman president. Wu had detected emotion clouding her judgment, and in this situation emotion was like pouring petrol on a fire.

There are two million soldiers waiting in China for this assault to begin. Marshall Wu continued. We have more than enough missiles targeted on the island. Around its shores, three quarters of our air force and our entire navy are both ready to be thrown into battle.

Wu looked on the map at the great cities that could be in the forefront of US air attack…Shanghai, Hangzhou, Shantou, Fuzhou, and even Hong Kong down in the south. But a quick subjugation of the island would present Karen Evans with a fait accompli, and hopefully avoid continuing slaughter on an unimaginable scale. Every man’s eyes were on Wu: Thus, gentlemen, on the eve of battle we will stick to Operation Tiger Claw for the liberation of Taiwan: We are catching America unaware. That is why our government has accepted fresh talks, to lull our enemies into a sense of false security. We have only 150,000 soldiers and a handful of invasion barges directly opposite Taiwan, but they are all key troops. Once our attack begins, the Americans will be amazed at how quickly more soldiers can be rushed to Taiwan from staging areas inside the vast interior of China. The world will never have seen anything like the speed with which we move our men and all their supplies across such distances. The key to this is not so much getting the spearhead across the sea to Taiwan as quickly as possible- though that is obviously vital. The surprise will be in how fast reinforcements will be brought across the Taiwan Strait in a constant stream from all parts of China. Our enemies would never imagine that we could achieve the logistics on such a scale without us having aircraft carriers and transport ships in huge numbers.

Then Sun spoke up: You still intend to bypass Matsu and the other islands off Taiwan, Marshall?

Yes Sun, there are 50,000 enemy troops on Quemoy and 25,000 on Matsu with enough munitions to last them more than one year. That is 75,000 fewer soldiers for us to have to deal with. We have no need to invade the tiny offshore islands under Taiwan army control when we can achieve what we need against these islands with missiles.

Another concern is the American Special Forces soldiers already secretly in the province of Taiwan, said Li. We are talking about three to 5,000 of them.

Yes, Li, that is so, Wu replied. We must not hesitate to use force against them if they fire on us. But those captured will be quickly repatriated to the United States. That will be made clear. We don’t want to give the warmongers in America any excuses.

The Marshall looked around at his staff one more time. Then he declared the meeting closed and rose from his seat. He walked over to a cabinet and returned with a bottle of the best Scotch whisky and four glasses. That’s enough of that…I would now like to propose a toast, Wu said, handing each man a glass. All three generals dutifully stood facing Wu as he filled their glasses. The traditional drink for toasts had been maotai, a spirit made from sorghum. But Wu quietly reflected on the fact that the military, like everyone else in China, had acquired a strong taste for western alcohol.

To the liberation of Taiwan! the Marshall cried.

To the liberation of Taiwan! They repeated in unison, only no-one smiled. The toast could not ease the seriousness of the occasion as each man wished his comrades well. Then they gathered their papers and made ready to leave, each general departing to his own secret headquarters, uncertain when, or if ever, they would meet again.

Wu saw them to the door in person, shaking each man’s hand one last time. Then he strode back to his private office and locked the door. He poured himself another large scotch and sat down in an easy chair placed next to a window overlooking the Taiwan Strait. He sighed as he drank. He’d expressed confidence about an invasion when speaking to the President of China. The papers had been signed, authorising vast armies to prepare. But in his heart lurked a great misgiving. In his 50 years in the People’s Liberation Army Wu had never seen any active service. Neither, for that matter had any of his subordinates, though they were considerably younger than he was. That lack of real experience was the great unknown factor. No-one knew how good the training of the Chinese soldier would prove when facing the Americans on the battlefield. The question had been discussed many times at strategy meetings. But it was an issue that could never be clarified until put to the test. For their part, the Americans had seen lots of hard fighting in Afghanistan, Iraq, and the conquest of Iran. This was going to be a hi-tech, multi-dimensional war involving the closest co-operation between air, sea, and land forces. Command of the air and sea was going to be absolutely vital if China was to take the island. But air and sea power would be America’s strongest points in this fight. China had only limited experience of air power, and none at all of sea battles in modern times. Not possessing the oil resources of America, China was unable to give its pilots as much training in the air as the enemy could.

It wouldn’t be his fault if China crumpled against the military might of America. But Wu was determined not to let his country down. If needs be, he would go all the way to nuclear war against the great super power. No US air base would be immune from counter attack. That meant no US base anywhere in the world.

Wu was resolute in his determination. His battle plan had been perfected to the finest detail. He went through it again in his mind. The invasion would come simultaneously from different directions. The opening salvo would be the huge missile bombardment of the tiny island, which would begin at 04.50 hours, thirty minutes before sunrise, and just one minute after the Leshan phased array radar site behind Hsinchu was attacked. Seconds later the helicopter assault would start. Hundreds of helicopters would already be well out into the Taiwan Strait when the missile barrage lifted after 10 minutes. Many helicopters will already have covered one fifth of their journey across the straits. By this time, Taiwan’s defenders will be dazed and battered with much of the landing zones covered in huge clouds of smoke and dust which would hopefully clear sufficiently before the airborne assault arrived. The time in Washington DC would be 1700 on a Friday afternoon. The government will have conveniently closed down for the weekend, further delaying American reaction times.

The President of China had agreed with Wu that the attack should be launched on a Friday afternoon when everybody in Washington was escaping from their offices for the weekend. This would add to the confusion. Wu had hoped for a peaceful outcome, but very much doubted that it would be achieved.

The main seaborne landing of troops would be on Taiwan’s western coast near the city of Hsinchu at 08.30, nearly half a day later than Washington time. The attack here would come across the 150 kilometre Taiwan Strait from among the myriad of islands off Fuijan. The second invasion force of ships would seize Wuchi and its airport near the major port city of Taichung starting at 08.45. A third landing would be made on and adjacent to Taipei International Airport by Paratroopers and Marines, and a fourth and fifth at either side of the Tanshui river estuary’s port facilities, just a short distance from the capital, Taipei. The first paratroopers would expect to land on Taiwan International Airport, wearing oxygen masks and goggles, just 15 minutes after the opening missile bombardment. Fires would be raging all around them and dawn would turn to night.

One more thing worried Wu. It was a concern which he had discussed with no-one and involved a key protagonist he would be facing in the coming struggle. The American Defence Secretary was Karl Wolfgang Schroeder, a man whose temperament Beijing had studied carefully. Marshall Wu, for his part, privately feared the worst. Schroeder was a dangerous maverick, a determined general in the mould of Douglas MacArthur, a skilled battlefield tactician and a military man with his eye on the presidency. Wu had been following Schroeder’s career and greatly feared what he saw. He felt that Schroeder would want the strongest possible response to China’s invasion and would stop at nothing to defeat it, even to the point of using nuclear weapons.

Wu expected at any moment to get the call which, for better or worse, would guarantee him a place in the history books. With mixed emotions, he drained his whisky, rose from his seat, and walked over to the window. Fujian’s Plum Rains were late in coming this year. Instead, it was a perfect spring day outside with a calm sea and hardly any cloud in the clear blue sky. Out on the water two boats sailed serenely by, oblivious to the political storm clouds that were gathering.

This wasn’t going to be some war for a small offshore island, but a battle for the very soul of China. It was going to be a moral as well as a military contest in the finest traditions of the Chinese armed forces. Battle orders had all been signed, now they awaited the signal to attack. The poet Du Fu put it best long ago when he wrote about frontier posts running with blood enough to fill an ocean.

Wu gently put his empty glass down on the table and walked off towards the war room.

CHAPTER

4

NEXT morning at 7.40 a.m., Goldman’s taxi was pulling up below the summit of Yangmingshan Mountain. The scenery, like Tiger Hill Hotel itself, was incredible with views over the capital city spread far below. Taipei was a vast, modern metropolis with huge skyscrapers, super highways, and concrete and steel stretching to the horizon. The foothills of the mountain, in contrast, were covered with thick, lush vegetation. After quickly pausing to admire the view, Goldman turned to the hotel. All eight floors were heavily crafted in traditional Chinese architecture. Security led Goldman down a corridor to another room and searched him again. Ten minutes later he was stepping into the luxury top floor Ocean Pearl Suite. For the first-time, he was glad he’d put on his one and only pure pink silk tie that morning to go with his one and only dark suit.

It is a very nice morning so I thought we would do the interview in here, Mr Goldman…security you see. Goldman glanced around to see a chubby-faced middle-aged man walking towards him with outstretched hand.

I am so very glad to meet you Mr Goldman. It is so very good of you to come out all the way from London.

For a second, Goldman was lost for words in front of this extremely accommodating Chinese bourgeois with jet black hair. The man facing him was wearing a traditional Chinese jacket, complete with Mandarin collar and frog buttons. It looked to be of rare golden silk and featured black dragon patterns embroidered across the chest and back. Still, it was nice to be regarded as a human being after Whiteside’s antics. On the jet, Goldman had studied many photographs of the man who’d broken away from China. Now here he was standing before the fiery David Chu-Yen. They stood for a second weighing each other up before shaking hands. Goldman felt like apologising for blinking as he took in Chu-Yen’s steady gaze. The man looked amazing in his oriental get-up as Chu-Yen indicated for Goldman to sit down on a long bamboo settee placed in front of his desk. Goldman took a quick look around the room. There was a large globe, filing cabinets, and a fantastic view of the city and parkland extending beneath them. Turning again to his host, Goldman suddenly noticed an even better view off to his right. A good-looking, oriental woman with a bright earnest face and kindly brown eyes was standing there. She wore a dark long line jacket with matching black trousers and carried a black handbag. Goldman reckoned her to be in her early twenties.

Hi! Goldman said to the girl. Great place we have here? Her only acknowledgement was a polite but rather stiff nod of the head. Goldman nodded back. She was very interesting, but seemed a rather uptight girl. He would like to soften her up a little.

As for Chu-Yen, he appeared very pleased with himself this morning. "Yes, thank you Mr Goldman. We are high