enough.” He smiled broadly and raised his beer to Scott. “To the mission! Whatever it is!” Scott raised his beer.
“To you, Jason,” he said in a deliberate tone. “May this be the turning point in your life.” Their glasses tapped while their eyes locked together in a moment of respect and hope. Just then a waitress came out of nowhere and wrapped her arms around Jason, causing Scott to pull back in surprise.
“Mr. Jason! Thank you for coming back!” She squealed as he laughed and hugged her back. “I didn’t expect to see you again for a long time!”He untangled himself and looked to Scott who was smiling amusingly.
“Scott Rivers, this is-”
“Tala, Tala Bantilan!” she intercepted, offering her hand. “It is a pleasure, sir.” Scott smiled and straightened his posture, taking her hand gently.
“Tala. What a beautiful name. What does it mean?”
“Morning star in Tagalog.”
“It’s beautiful,” he breathed, still holding her hand. Jason wanted to laugh as he looked at them both, still looking at each other.
“A-HEM!” he coughed purposely, which caused them to release their grasps and look at him. “I think we’re ready to order.” Tala immediately stepped back and pulled out her electronic menu tablet and tapped the number that represented their table. Another tap slid open the menu.
“I’ll take the number four dinner set,” said Jason.
“I’ll take the number eight,” followed Scott. They watched Tala tap the appropriate numbers on the screen.
“Anything else to drink?” she asked.
“Tala, does your bartender have any Hennessy XO?” asked Scott, smiling at Jason.
“Oh, of course!”
“How about a couple of shots, and keep the bottle open for us.” She smiled and nodded.
“Where’s Danilo?” Jason asked.
“He’s off now. Went to the movies with friends. They’ll all be by later to eat, but you both will probably be gone by then.” She leaned over slightly. “Thank you again, Mr. Jason. Thank you for everything.” She bent down and kissed him on the cheek and left for the back. He caught Scott’s eyes following her.
“Are you married, Scott?” he said abruptly.
“Divorced, actually. Why?”
“What do you mean why? Tala! Look at her, she’s hot and she obviously likes you!” Scott laughed it off dismissively.
“Nah! She’s not interested in me. I don’t know what you’re looking at.”
“Here you are!” Tala was suddenly at the table putting down their shots of cognac. “Don’t drink too many of these,” she said, playfully tapping her finger tip on Scott’s nose. “You may not make it home tonight!” She curled her lips into an alluring grin and left.
“Oh man! She hella likes you!” giggled Jason, making Scott’s embarrassed face turn a reddish hue. Jason lifted his shot glass and regarded Scott seriously.
“To new beginnings.”
Scott raised his glass in kind.
“To new beginnings.”
“Ring of Fire”
East China Sea
Northwest of Taiwan
Captain Chen Xiwang ordered his pilots to ascend to 40,000 feet. Already above the clouds, he and his five-plane formation continued westerly to their routine patrol grid where they would search for Chinese aircraft approaching Taiwan from the north. The tranquil night sky was blanketed with stars; wind speed was only 11 knots and at their backs; it was the perfect night to try out Taiwan’s newest shipment of military technology from the U.S.
The first batch of 60 newly modified F-15D Strike Eagle air superiority fighters had arrived from the States as part of the newest Taiwan Defense Treaty. Although somewhat ancient by U.S. standards, the fourth-generation F-15 was the most advanced fighter in the Taiwanese inventory, and in the hands of a skilled pilot could be absolutely lethal. Retooled and upgraded, these planes boosted more speed, an enhanced avionics and countermeasures suite, carried more armament and had an extended combat and ferry range than all previous aircraft he’d flown.
Captain Chen’s 41st Tactical Fighter Group, codenamed “Holy Shield” and home based in Hsinchu, was the first air base to receive the advanced aircraft largely because of him. He had been flying the F-16S Super Falcon, the nation’s top tier fighter, for two years but his missions were evolving and he needed a plane with more power, speed and range. As an elite pilot with more hours of flying against the Chinese than most of his senior staff, Chen defended Taiwan airspace religiously and volunteered for as many sorties as his body would allow. His disdain for Chinese air force was legend, and he devoted himself to pushing them, taunting them and besting them at every opportunity.
No stranger to flying near or into enemy air space, he had a reputation for chasing Chinese jets literally all the way back to their airfields, inviting their coastal air defense batteries and SAM sites to open fire on him on a regular basis. In fact, he had more missiles shot at him than any other Taiwanese pilot in history. His skills were legend, if not foolish. He was reprimanded for his recalcitrant and dangerous aerial stunts on several occasions; and for that, he was passed over for promotion four times.
But privately and within the ranks of the air force, he was venerated as a fearless hero who represented the island nation’s defiant roar in the face of the Chinese lion. He was commended countless times and respected by his fellow aviators and the upper command echelons; and for that, he was given the best planes, the best training, the most flying time and command of a squadron which included pilots of much higher rank. These rewards meant more to him than rank, especially the privilege of flying more advanced American planes.
Chen’s tormenting of China also assisted the overall Pacific theater intelligence efforts. His actions helped the strategic analysis arm of the Taiwan and U.S. Intel communities. Each time he sent the PLA defense forces on alert, either by firing at him or scrambling planes to intercept him, Taiwanese, American and Japanese analysts were able to track and maintain a database on Chinese response times and procedures, force allocations and defense strategies employed. Such Intel could be useful for future decoy or reconnaissance missions.
Any analyst could chart Chen’s gradual intrusion progress and increasing boldness with a map and a calendar. He’d broken Chinese sovereign airspace countless times, crossing territorial waters at 13 miles and spending a few seconds flying over their islands until his radar warning receivers (RWR) picked up SAM sites in reaction mode. As months went by, he’d challenge those sites, their missiles and the local airfields which scrambled jets to intercept him.
With each successive flight he’d go deeper; three miles, five miles, ten miles; flying over villages, cities and industrial complexes. Anticipating the tracking and lock-on procedures of anti-air batteries, he easily escaped missiles using the F-16’s aggressive and crisp maneuverability, advanced radar jammers and electronic countermeasure equipment. He performed these intrusion flights alone, normally peeling off of his formation and flying rogue from there. All this bewildered and infuriated the PLA high command who couldn’t believe that one pilot could repeatedly cross into China in a non-stealth aircraft.
Chen was a pilot who knew the Chinese like no other. His daredevil aggressiveness was equaled and strengthened by his fanatical study of his enemy. He knew the East China Sea and the Chinese coast like it was his backyard, and he flew over it as if it were his personal property; without fear. He knew every island, every landmark and city he flew near or around. He memorized coastal maps, studied satellite imagery and poured over enemy airfield activity reports.
A high-speed video reconnaissance camera was installed under his port wing to record his flights and everything he flew over, which analysts