34
Chase and Tetsuo’s aircraft landed at Yokota Air Base outside of Tokyo, Japan, in the early afternoon. If they had any misconceptions that Japan would be a safe refuge from the war, those ideas quickly diminished upon arrival.
During the flight in, Chase could make out towers of black smoke to the east. Fuel depots next to the runway had been hit by missiles. So had the runway. Their aircraft had to land on the first quarter of the runway. A small prop plane like the C-12 could do that — barely. But the jets would be grounded until the holes were fixed.
Once the plane taxied into the flight line and shut down, Chase and Tetsuo headed to the CIA trailer. Tetsuo picked up two CIA-owned encrypted cell phones. Then he got the keys to one of the government cars and drove them both into the city.
They needed to get in touch with Natesh.
“Phones aren’t working.” Tetsuo stared down at the Agency phone he’d taken from the CIA equipment locker next to the trailer. He was driving with one hand, typing keys on the phone with the other, glancing back and forth at traffic.
Chase said, “Either a cyberattack or a missile strike on a telecommunications node.”
“I gave him instructions to follow if anything like this happens. Hopefully he remembers where to go.”
Tetsuo drove through the streets of Tokyo, a surreal experience. The city was normally a galaxy of bright LED screens and mobs of businessmen and women dashing through the streets. Now, the power was off, and red-eyed Japanese citizens ran about in a state of chaos. As in Korea, car crashes were rampant, the drivers likely distracted by missiles, jets, and explosions overhead. The almost-bare aisles of a corner convenience store were being looted, the shopkeeper batting the desperate away with a folded-up newspaper. And a shell-shocked man in a suit stood still in the middle of the road, staring Chase in the eye as he drove by, crowds running and screaming around him.
“This is nuts.”
They pulled up under the roof of an expansive drop-off area outside a luxury hotel. They got out and Tetsuo said, “Wait in the lobby. I need to run across the street.”
Chase gave him a confused look. “What’s the plan?”
Tetsuo nodded up to the hotel. “Natesh should be up there, if he followed the extraction procedure. I need to go to the post office across the street and check the drop box. He should have left the special watch that the NSA had him wearing, and his room number. Once I get that, I’ll meet you back here. Keep an eye out for him or anyone suspicious in the lobby.”
“Got it.” Chase turned and headed in.
Tetsuo came running into the lobby of the hotel. Chase stood in the shadow of a large marble column, scanning the open atrium. The look in Tetsuo’s eyes told him that something was wrong.
“What is it?”
Tetsuo came over to him holding a small white paper, which he stuffed in his jacket pocket. He whispered, “He left me a note and the watch. The note said that he got the location of the merchant ships, and the Chinese carrier fleet that went missing a few days ago. He actually wrote it out and left it in this envelope.” He was shaking his head.
“I thought he wasn’t supposed to look himself. That watch that the NSA gave him was supposed to plant malware, right?”
Tetsuo began walking towards the elevator, scanning the room. “Correct. He wasn’t supposed to do anything himself. If he wasn’t careful, he probably ran through 3PLA tripwires.” Tetsuo stopped walking, turning his head back and forth, stuck between what to do next. He looked towards Chase.
“What, man?”
“I’m trying to decide—”
“Spit it out.”
“The note Natesh left gave precise coordinates of the merchants and the carrier fleet. I need to get this information, and any data that’s on the watch, back to the NSA and Langley guys ASAP. I don’t have time to babysit Natesh. But if he isn’t blown, I want to throw him back in the cooker and keep using him.” The hotel lobby rose up into a towering glass ceiling, wrapping around the glass elevator that rose forty floors high. “Can you babysit?”
“Of course. I’ll stay here with him. It’ll be fine.”
Tetsuo nodded. “Alright. I might be a while. Here’s the room number. It looks like they still have power in this place, so I’d take the elevator. Pretty high up. I’ll be back when I can. And Chase, be careful. If he did tip off Chinese agents that he’s stealing information for us — they’ll be after him.”
“Understood.” Chase patted his concealed sidearm.
35
Victoria shifted in her seat, trying to ease the pain in her back that had flared up from long hours strapped into the bird. They were logging over three hours per flight, and as she was the only aircraft commander on board right now, she was stuck flying back-to-back triple bags. Three flights in a row. The Pacific Fleet’s thirst for surface surveillance was unquenchable with the reduced satellite capability. And while the P-8s out of Australia were supposed to be assisting, it was a lot of area to cover.
She looked over at Spike. His hands flicked a few buttons and manipulated the joystick that controlled the FLIR. On the display in the front of him, she could see his handiwork. The camera locked in on a barely visible speck on the horizon and then zoomed in a few times. The screen finally focused on what looked like another tanker.
“Farragut control, 471, we have another Group 3. Look like it’s seventy miles to your northwest, heading zero-eight-niner at sixteen knots. How copy?”
“471, Farragut control, copy all.”
Juan was getting pretty good. She could tell that his confidence had improved as well. He was much more comfortable over the back of the boat now.
“You think we’re really getting extended, Boss?”
“I think so, yes.” She was done with pretense. “We’re only a few hundred miles from Guam now. If the Navy wasn’t going to extend our deployment, I don’t think they would have sent us out here.”
Victoria took out her pen, which was wedged into the metal spring on her kneeboard, and wrote down the fuel and time. She did some quick math, just like she had every fifteen minutes for the last two hours, and came out with a sufficient fuel burn rate. “If they do extend us, though, they’ll probably give us another port stop.”
AWR1 spoke into his helmet mike from the back of the aircraft, “Come on, Boss. Ain’t no port stop gonna make up for another month of deployment. I just wish they’d tell us.”
Victoria said, “That would take all of the fun out of it.”
A garbled radio call came over the UHF frequency. “Mayday… five miles southeast of… on guard…”
“What the hell was that?” said Spike. “Did he say mayday?”
“Shh,” said Victoria. They were still broadcasting. “Tune it up with the ADF. See if you can get a cut on where its coming from.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
The ship’s controller came over the radio. “471, Farragut control, RTB as soon as possible. We just got new orders.”
Victoria keyed her mike. “Farragut, be advised, we just heard what sounded like a mayday call on guard.”
“471, roger, stand by.” After a moment, the captain’s voice came on the radio and said, “471, understand you heard a mayday call. We have something big going on here. Please make best speed back to us.”
Victoria and Juan exchanged glances. She said, “Roger, returning to Mom.”
Juan got out the checklist. “Landing checks.” His hands flipped through the upper circuit breakers and switches, calling out a few challenge-reply items to the crew.
A moment later, they were on final, Victoria at the stick.