Besides, the Kilo had fired on them, based only on their active sonar signal. Peacetime rules of engagement would require more positive identification before launching a weapon. For the Chinese sub to have fired with only the information it had, the target would have to be “presumed hostile.”
And by sinking the Kilo, they’d confirmed their presence. They had to assume that every subsequent port would now be heavily guarded, complicating an already difficult task.
But why were the Chinese looking for anything in the first place? Dhankhar had said he was worried about foreign intelligence learning of the plan. It looked like his concerns were justified. If that was the case, how much did they know?
Chakra’s next destination was Ningbo, on the easternmost tip of the Chinese coast. It was the fourth-busiest port in China, and by far the most difficult target on their list. The approach to Ningbo-Zhoushan was treacherous, and even shallower than Hong Kong. It would have taken them less than two days at their earlier twenty-knot transit speed, but Jain had to assume that they were being actively hunted, and they’d had to slow to twelve knots so that their towed array would give them some warning of an enemy’s approach. That turned a forty-hour transit into sixty-five hours, and Jain worried about losing so much of their time margin.
And the Taiwan Strait was an excellent place to set up a barrier of escort vessels. The approach to the strait was largely blocked by the Taiwan Banks, an incredibly shallow patch of water, and patrol ships could be placed to block the deep areas that Chakra would have to use. The Chinese had Type 054 frigates and Type 056 corvettes fitted with passive towed sonar arrays. Patrolling at five knots, the PLA Navy could layer two lines of escorts across the entire strait — more if they were smart about it. Jain couldn’t hope to get through a robust barrier like that.
Blasting a hole in the line wasn’t even an option. Submarines used concealment and guile to stay alive. The last thing he wanted to do was signal his position again with another wreck. His orders explicitly forbade him from looking for naval targets until after the nuclear-armed torpedoes had been laid. Business before pleasure.
That’s why he had planned to get so close to Taiwan, through the Penghu Channel. The Chinese might be searching for him, but they wouldn’t enter newly independent Taiwan’s territorial waters. By hugging the coast, he planned to go around one end of the PLAN sonar fence. And the waters of the Penghu Channel were relatively deep, on the order of one hundred meters. He might even be able to increase speed while he was there, and he was sure Chakra was safe from PLAN searchers.
The display showed surface contacts that had been detected by Chakra’s passive sonar. Ahead and to the left was the Taiwan Strait, one of the most heavily traveled water passages in the world. He could see a dozen ships headed north and south between the Chinese coast to the west and Taiwan to the east. That had been his original plan — just sail due north into the strait, then turn northeast. Adjusting the course to the east to hug the west coast of Taiwan cost him a little distance, but it was definitely safer.
Or had been. Rakash was pointing to several bright lines that marked powerful active sonars. They were all coming from warships ahead of them, along Taiwan’s coast.
“Sonar’s evaluated them all as American low-frequency sets. SQS-26 and SQS-53 sonars,” Rakash reported.
Jain shrugged. “That fits. The Taiwanese navy uses surplus American destroyers and frigates.”
“I tracked them for a while before waking you, sir. I thought after twenty-plus hours in the central post, you should get some rest. A captain at sea may be all-powerful, but he’s not invulnerable.”
“No harm done, Rakash. Plotting their movements is the first thing I would have ordered, and I probably did need the sleep,” Jain admitted.
Rakash sighed. “It’s very unusual. They’ve got four ships patrolling the west coast of the island. They’re staying within their territorial waters and they’re blasting away with active sonar. We can hear them sixty or even ninety miles out, thanks to the convergence zones.”
Jain concluded, “Effectively blocking our passage through Taiwan’s coastal waters.”
Rakash pointed out how the four patrol zones neatly covered most of Taiwan’s west coast. “They’re looking for us. But why?”
Jain pleaded ignorance. “I’m sure they’ve heard about the sub being sunk in Hong Kong. That will be big news everywhere in Asia. But why would they feel threatened? That doesn’t make sense. And I can’t imagine them cooperating with the mainland Chinese.”
Jain calculated the odds of somehow getting through, in spite of the active searchers. Without understanding why they were looking, it would be hard to guess how they’d act if they found him, but he was pretty sure it wouldn’t be to his benefit. It was too much to risk.
The first officer could see his captain considering, calculating. Rakash suggested, “The Chinese towed arrays aren’t that good. If we stick close under a merchant ship it will mask our noise.”
“No. Too obvious. They’ll be delousing with active sonar. It doesn’t take very long. They have enough corvettes to check each merchant as it passes. It doesn’t matter how quiet we are. Besides, we are very limited by the Taiwan Banks. It won’t bother a merchant ship, but we’d have to go around and the Chinese aren’t stupid. They know where the choke points are.” Jain tapped the chart. “We have to go around.”
“Around Taiwan?” Rakash couldn’t hide his surprise. “That will take too long.”
“Not at twenty knots. We’ll be in open ocean and much harder to find. And I’m going to look at the target list again. The admiral gave me some discretion about the targets, if necessary. Now I wish I’d put a second torpedo into Shenzhen Harbor. It was right next to Victoria Harbor, it was on the list, and then we’d only have three weapons to deploy.”
Jain turned toward the helmsman. “Starboard fifteen, new course one one five degrees. Once we’re away from the strait, Rakash, we’ll increase speed to twenty knots and go deep.”
“Contact has turned to starboard. New course is shifting to east-southeast. Speed is still fifteen knots.”
Captain Zhu Heng leaned over the display. “That course will take him south of the island entirely. Sheng, what’s his closest point of approach?”
“Sixty-five hundred meters,” the executive officer reported, “at bearing one eight zero. If we want to maintain contact after he passes us, we should reverse course and head west ourselves, and increase speed above three knots.”
Zhu shook his head sharply. “Absolutely not. We will do nothing that increases the chance of him detecting us. Our orders were to stay completely hidden and report, and I intend to do just that. Keep the boat at ultra quiet and watch this fellow like a hawk. If he continues to head toward the east, then we will break contact and transmit.”
Petty Officer Wang rubbed his eyes and tried hard to focus on his screen; they’d been out looking for the Indian Akula for the last four hours and they hadn’t seen anything other than fishing boats and whales. They had just finished laying their second passive sonobuoy field, and the acoustic data was starting to show up on the processor display. At first, there was nothing. Then a weak line appeared on the waterfall display. After staring at it for a minute, he made the call.