“There,” he said. “I don’t know how many times I could stand to do that on a cruise. That’s the last time I ever take my hand out of your shirt without getting a hell of a lot more physical. You ever try to quit on me again and I’m going to charge you with sexual harassment.”
Tomboy laughed. “I won’t quit on you again, Tombstone. Especially not now. Hell, with what I’ve got to look forward to in a year, I don’t want you flying with anyone else!”
“Then get the hell out of here and let me get some work done,” he snarled in mock ferocity. “And by the way — stop by air ops and see if you can get on the schedule for tomorrow. Among other things, I’m real overdue for five day traps.”
“And we’ll talk about the night traps later,” she said.
“What the hell is this all about?” Third Mate Gringes asked the master of the ship, waving the radio message in his hand. “Since when did we start taking on Navy helicopters?”
“Since they decided one of their people wanted to have a little chitchat with us,” the master replied. “Evidently our complaint about the fly-overs got some attention. And there’s no reason why they couldn’t land here,” he continued, pointing out to the broad, empty expanse of deck. “When we were in the Navy, we had helicopters setting down on a lot smaller deck than that.”
“Guess I’d better dig out that emergency gear,” Gringes replied. “It’s been a while since I was an LSO.”
An hour later, following a hasty FOD walk-down, Gringes saw the helicopter appear on the horizon. The SH-60F made two exploratory circles of the deck, getting a look at the area, and got an update on relative wind from the bridge of the massive RO-RO. Finally satisfied, it settled neatly onto the deck.
One flight-suited crew member hopped out and darted over to the Third Mate.
“Hi! Commander Busby, USS Jefferson,” the man said, offering his hand. “I gather you were expecting us.”
Gringes stifled the reflex to salute. “Yes, sir, we sure were. If you’ll follow me, I’ll take you up to the master — uh, captain.”
“Any chance you could ask him to meet us in your radio room?” the Navy officer said. “It’ll save some time, and things are getting a little urgent out here.”
“Don’t we know it! We’re cranked up to max speed to get away from you people. Guess it didn’t do much good, since you were able to hunt us down so quickly. What’s all this about, anyway? The Navy want to give us a permanent helo detachment?” Gringes asked, his curiosity rising to unbearable levels.
“I’ll brief you in with your master, if he says it’s okay. And, no, we’re not staying. In fact, I’ve got to get back to the carrier as soon as possible. We’re just coming over to ask a little favor, that’s all.”
“I guess we could try to pretend we’re a decoy carrier,” Gringes said over his shoulder as the officer followed him into the skin of the ship. “Don’t know that our owners would like that much, though.”
“Nothing as serious as that. We just want you to send a message out for us.”
“A message? With all the communications gear you’ve got over there, you want us to send a message?”
They paused on a landing between flights of stairs, and Gringes thought he saw a flash of amusement in the other man’s face.
“Let’s just say that the source of this particular message is important,” the officer said finally.
“What kind of message?”
A smile lit Commander Busby’s face. “A weather report.”
CHAPTER 30
The ambassador’s stomach churned uneasily. Even with the president’s words of confidence still ringing in her ears, the thought of the next few hours filled her with an ineluctable dread. She paused for a moment, and the flock of staffers and assistants behind her almost ran her over. She heard a few angry whispers, the almost imperceptible thud of elbows on ribs.
None, save her Chief of Staff, had any inkling of what was about to happen. There were no position papers, no carefully thought out amendments or resolutions. Just her own instincts, honed in years of political maneuvering and international intrigue, to get her — and the nation — through this crisis without irrevocable harm to America’s interests.
She sighed and started forward again. This, as the president had said, was why they paid her the big bucks.
“The ambassador from the United States.” The chairman of the Security Council recognized her. She ignored the puzzled flurry of comments from her own staff behind her.
“Thank you, Mr. Chairman. The United States appreciates your courtesy in allowing us to proceed with our message of support for our valued allies in China.”
T’ing looked up sharply. His features quickly smoothed themselves back into inscrutability. He started to speak, then thought better of it.
“Support?” the chairman said doubtfully.
“Yes, of course. By now each member has probably received reports from their own sources,”—read “spies” here, my esteemed colleagues, she thought, allowing a faint smile to reach her lips—”and are no doubt preparing their own statements. However, we wished to be the first.”
She glanced around the room. Only years of experience allowed her to read the turmoil bubbling within the other delegations. Not an ambassador flinched, nor were there any guarded whispers to their respective staffs. Instead, each one adopted the same expression as T’ing wore on his face, an air of calm knowingness.
She wiped the smile off her face. Be damned hard for them to know anything about it — since it never happened.
“I’m advised by our military staff that at 0600, during joint operations off the coast of Brunei, the People’s Republic of China suffered a tragic accident. While all peace-loving nations of the world understand that such incidents are an unavoidable part of the price of freedom, we nonetheless extend our deepest sympathies to the families of those injured and killed during the incident. The ambassador from China, no doubt not wishing to slow down the work of this important body, will not mention the incident. But I feel compelled to publicly recognize the bravery of the military forces involved.”
She glanced at the faces again. Still no reaction.
“This morning in the South China Sea, operational forces from Vietnam and China were performing joint maneuvers off the coast of Vietnam. According to the Master of the Kawashi Maru, a commercial vessel in the area,” she continued, holding up a message, “winds and seas reached typhoon strength in a matter of hours, completely without warning. Fifty aircraft engaged in training exercises were lost. The United States carrier group on hand in international waters attempted to offer aid in locating the downed airmen and the sailors from the ship. Working together with our allies, a few men were recovered. As soon as practical, they will be repatriated to their respective homelands. In the meantime, the United States regrets that a tragedy of this proportion could occur, and offers its condolences to the families of the men involved.”
T’ing cleared his throat and looked down, as though overcome by emotion. A staffer reached around from behind him, placing a piece of paper before him. T’ing slapped the hand away, glanced at the paper, and then shoved it aside.