This action caused a traveling wave, which resulted in the seawater in the tube being pumped out the back of the weapon. Sea Ferret was literally pulled through the water at a speed of 33 knots without making any perceptible sound.
"I'm in agreement that we should approach the Americans," Shigezo Takagi said and took in his friend's expression of delight. "Rig the ship for supersilent running and continue on our present course."
Kanjiro showed a moment of hesitation before he mustered the courage to speak. "Sir, do you want to seek permission to attack before we get too close?"
Takagi gave him a look that would freeze salt water. "I am my own authority."
"Yes, sir," Kanjiro replied in his practiced show of cordial respectfulness. One did not question the Captain of a Japanese maritime vessel, especially Commander Shigezo Takagi.
"Load and energize our two Sea Ferrets," Takagi ordered before Kanjiro could turn to leave, "and call the men to battle stations."
"Yes, sir," Kanjiro replied with a determined look on his face.
Alone in his darkened stateroom, Commander Shigezo Takagi sat in quiet meditation and experienced the heightened spiritual awareness and somatic calm of divine revelation. Like the other 10 million Japanese adherents of Zen Buddhism, the submarine commander thrived on experiencing the enlightenment and mental tranquillity that fostered spontaneity and fearlessness.
The practice of Zen gave Takagi a feeling of breaking through the boundaries of ordinary everyday logical thought. The special edge of ecstatic contemplation carried Takagi beyond the limits of divine incomprehensibility into the world of revelation.
He searched the depths of his mind, unraveling the unfathomable mysteries it contained. Revelation, as he had discovered over the years, transcended the categories of reason and rational thought.
At last Takagi turned on the soft, red-filtered light over his small writing desk and reached into the drawer that contained his personal belongings. He retrieved a faded, yellowed picture and stared at the photograph of his parents and late grandparents. His grandparents had died from radiation sickness less than three weeks after their modest home in Hiroshima was destroyed by the first atomic bomb dropped on Japan.
Using the single phone circuit to contact the submarine's control room, Takagi asked Oda Kanjiro to return to his stateroom.
Seconds later the devoted officer gently tapped on the door and entered the cabin. "Yes, sir?"
With total aplomb, Takagi looked up at Kanjiro. "My orders stipulate that I am free to use whatever measures necessary to protect Harushio in the event of a threat."
Beaming with pleasure, Kanjiro nodded in agreement. "I understand, sir."
"We are in a situation that I feel is extremely dangerous — the attack-sub incident and the unexplained explosions — so I have the responsibility to protect my crew."
Kanjiro felt a sense of elation, but he was cautious. "If we attack the Americans, they'll saturate the strait with ASW coverage."
Takagi worked his jaw muscles. "They will have a difficult time because of all the traffic. We will be okay."
"I have no doubt, sir."
"Set both torpedoes," Takagi calmly ordered, "to seek and destroy at a depth of ten-point-two meters. I'm going after their carrier."
Kanjiro swallowed and felt the adrenaline pump through his veins. "Yes, sir," he answered exuberantly. "Seek and destroy at a depth of ten-point-two meters."
From studying the displacements and dimensions of the American warships, the CO knew the depth of the vessel's keels below the waterline. The Kitty Hawk drew close to thirty-seven feet of water, while Chancellorsville and Cow-pens, the Aegis guided-missile cruisers, drew approximately thirty-one feet. Takagi would try to thread the needle and bag a U. S. carrier with the two stealth torpedoes he had been allocated.
"Continue to close on the American task force, but don't go any closer than nine thousand meters," Takagi ordered and glanced at the navigation readout next to his bunk, "then prepare to go to periscope depth."
Kanjiro gave him a nod. "Yes, sir."
"Any questions?"
"No, sir, no questions," Kanjiro said clearly and stepped out of the austere stateroom.
Shigezo Takagi stared at the picture of his parents and grandparents for a few minutes, then turned out his light and rolled into the built-in berth. He rehearsed the attack in his mind. The first order of business is to launch the torpedoes, then we'll quietly sail for the sanctity of the South China Sea. No one will know that we've been here, and I will have fulfilled my command responsibility in a high-threat environment.
A few minutes later, the skipper turned on his side and dozed peacefully.
Chapter 35
Prime Minister Genshiro Koyama stormed out of the sleek Aerospatiale helicopter and marched straight for the Boeing 747–400 VIP transport. Followed by his personal retinue and eight security specialists, Koyama ignored the crowd of well-wishers and journalists as he hurriedly boarded the lustrous jumbo jet.
The powerful turbine engines were spinning to life when Koyama entered the conference area where Foreign Minister Nagumo Katsumoto calmly waited along with one of Koyama's aides. He smiled and shifted in his chair in order to ease the pain in his curved spine.
"How could this possibly happen?" Koyama exclaimed in his raspy voice as he tossed his coat across the end of the table. "How could anyone — especially the commander of an Aegis destroyer — be so stupid?"
The courteous and restrained expert on foreign affairs remained quiet, allowing the agitated Prime Minister to vent his anger and frustration while his aide placed Koyama's coat in the closet.
"Japan is in the middle of an inherently unstable strategic position," Koyama said bitterly, "and an idiot shoots a missile at an American carrier." His taut neck muscles and darkened features reflected his rage. "He will never again step foot on a Japanese military ship."
Katsumoto was aware that Defense Minister Yutaka Isida had relieved the commanding officer of Hayasa of his duties and ordered an investigation into the tragic accident. The former commander of the destroyer and his tactical action officer were being flown to Tokyo for interrogation. The Hayasa's ex-commanding officer would be fortunate if the powers in Tokyo merely threw him out of the military.
Koyama and Katsumoto felt the specially configured government 747 begin to roll as it taxied toward the duty runway. All air traffic bound for Tokyo International would be vectored to distant holding patterns or held in place on the ground until the Prime Minister was safely airborne and out of the local flying area.
Koyama leaned over and stared out the window at the scores of onlookers and media representatives before turning to the Foreign Minister. "The ship — the carrier — is still on fire and the loss of life is staggering."
"It was an accident," Katsumoto responded in his low-key manner. "The Americans must know that. I'm sure they've thought about some of their own embarrassing incidents. They've had their share of blunders over the years."
Koyama was not about to be appeased by the unflappable Foreign Minister. "The newspapers and magazines are full of headlines about the global fears and deep suspicions about our military reinventing itself, and — and" — he sputtered in his grating voice—"and then one of our finest Aegis commanders shoots a missile at an American aircraft carrier — and reminds the world of Japan's violent past."
"He didn't do it on purpose," Katsumoto said in his calm, measured style.
"What difference does it make?" Koyama barked. "The end result makes us look incompetent."