They needed to be at the top of their game. If they weren’t, then a crushing death awaited them.
Chapter 12
“LAUNCH, TUBE TWO, LAUNCH.”
“Launch tube two. Fish away and hungry.” The Mk 48 sped off east for its quarry.
“Good launch. Running in. Enemy turning to starboard.”
“Fish, range point seven miles. Enemy has flooded a tube. Fish range point three miles, closing. Enemy has opened outer doors. Fish range point one five miles pinging, pinging, cutting wire. Closing, fish terminal.”
“Sonar. Hot datum on Tango three. No fish in the water, he didn’t make it. Hull break up sounds, massive gas escape. The hull is tearing. Detonation. Secondary detonation. One of his own fish just blew. Hull break up. Tango three is terminal.”
“Weaps. Sir, I’m wiping her from the threat board.”
“Planesman come to one four five, speed 18 knots.”
“One four five at 18, aye sir.” Nathan put his hand over his forehead. They maybe an enemy but they were fellow submariners; it always got him. It was a sorrow to have to do it, but needs must.
“XO, we’re going around the outside of the Archipelago in a big right hand hook. Let them think we’re in there and after them. They’ll be chasing shadows. Every time they hear a whale humping it’ll be us.”
“What’s the next rock up, Kaminski?”
“Sir, when we clear south of Passu Keah, head four five degrees to come south of Bombay Reef; it’s 50 miles away.”
Hours later, they rounded Bombay Reef.
“Come to four zero, let’s get in there with ‘em.” USS Stonewall Jackson headed for its launching point north of Vuladdore Reef.
“Keep a big ear out Benson, we have two Tangos in here.”
It had to be discussed and decisions taken. It was the 500 pound Gorilla in the room. Nathan had waited for too long now.
“XO, Kaminski. Wardroom.”
THE THREE OF THEM SAT with their coffees.
“Our orders authorise nuclear release if necessary. When is that necessary?”
“Nukes?” said Nikki. She squirmed and shook her head. “Fuck.”
“I guess when we think we’re going to be destroyed. Then, it’s now or never,” said Larry.
“That would count, Larry. Anything short of that? Any other reason we release W80-1 warheads? Weapons six times more powerful than the Nagasaki bomb?”
Nikki stood and paced the room. Larry just shook his head.
“Failure,” she said, finally.
“Failure?” Larry repeated, frowning.
“Yes, we were told to take out these sea skimming drones. If we can’t do that with conventional weapons, either because of imminent threat to us, or a lack of capability on our part, that’s failure.” She looked at her two colleagues with a fixed stare. “We launch on failure.”
Nathan nodded. “I agree. Larry?”
“I agree. Reluctantly, but I agree.”
The three sat back and drank their coffee. Nathan felt better about the discussion he hoped he’d never have to make.
The intercom sparked into life.
“Battle stations, battle stations. Commander to the control room.”
Nathan rushed to his Conn.
“Sir, it’s Tango one, we are under attack by anti-submarine mortars.”
“Emergency deep, emergency deep. Direction of mortars?”
“To our port and starboard sir, that goddamn Destroyer was hiding north of Bombay reef.” Nathan knew it must have been a guess on the Destroyer’s part. A good guess, unfortunately. “All ahead full.”
As Stonewall Jackson sank into the black depths, to the left of the hull was a blast. The hull metal groaned and the boat was pushed to the right.
“Full speed down, depth 1,650, sir.” Another blast to the right. Nathan felt his eardrums flex as the boat pushed to the left.
Stonewall Jackson found herself caught in the devil's drum set, and the bastard was pounding away.
IT WAS HIS TURN TO do a sweep across the south side. The cabin was 150 yards back. He walked to an outcrop; the woods were quite thick but with a number of clearings, there were plenty of spruce in the forest. As an assignment he’d had worse with the CIA, it beat watching some half assed politician in Afghanistan or Pakistan. Babysitting a Chinese broad in West Virginia was a top posting. He took out his binoculars and swept the arc of control. He brought up the thermal sight and swept again. He took out the walky-talky.
“Cal from Walt. All clear south sweep, over.”
“Cal. All clear north sweep. Any sign Tigress is going out again?”
“Not so far, she was sat eating breakfast twenty minutes ago.”
He advanced down to the creek and swept along the far bank. He heard a noise, it sounded like a bear, not impossible but unlikely. Cal unshouldered his Remington ACR just in case. Presently the waterside bushes parted. A figure in green parka and trousers not unlike his own pushed forward. He wore a brown woolly hat, his face was covered in CAM cream, and he had a Colt M4 assault rifle over his shoulder. He held up binoculars and started a sweep. Cal pulled back. Who the hell was this?
He took out the walky-talky. “Walt, we have an intruder wearing the kit, far side of the creek. Colt M4 assault rifle. The way he’s moving, he looks like he’s been in the game.”
Cal watched him for a few minutes, steadily slowly moving forward, and he looked like he’d been a player.
“Walt from Cal. I have one here, too. Mother’s sweeping, advancing. Like you say, ex green. This one looks like a Ranger, I can tell by that shit way they come on to you.”
“Cal. Yeah, well they’re taking on the Corps now. Must be in the pay of some bad guys. I’ll call Guard and let him know. Let ‘em get to line three then pull back a line. Over.”
Cal picked up his secure backpack mobile secure encrypted line.
“Guard this is Backstop over; come in Guard. Guard this is Backstop over; come in Guard.” Cal waited two minutes.
Paul Wicks saw the light flashing on his comms pack in the office at Langley.
The two men he’d put out into the field to cover Zhi were regular CIA operatives. Both were Ex USMC and knew their way around field ops. They’d picked up the close person protection issues through experience.
“Backstop this is Guard. Over.”
“We have two players advancing on our position. Armed and wearing CAM, look like possible Rangers.”
Fuck, fuck, thought Paul. It must be an FBI Op. What the hell?
“Do not allow yourselves to get into contact. If you need to, evacuate Tigeress. Over.”
“Copy Guard. Evacuate Tigeress if contact likely. State your orders if contact underway or inevitable.”
It can’t come to that thought Paul, just as he realised it might. Shit, the FBI and the CIA battling it out in Virginia, what a clusterfuck that would be. Some oversight committee would have his ass in a sling. He could hear some anal-retentive congressional representative now.
“So let me get this right. You deployed CIA personnel to protect an agent of the Chinese Ministry of State Security?”
Paul could only think of one option. “In that situation, evacuate Tigress, avoid contact. Over.”
Cal watched the foliage for a time, it moved; his man was moving forward.
Bastard.
“Walt, movement ahead, I’m withdrawing to line two.”
“Copy. Line two.”
Walt started his withdrawal to defensive line two; he moved carefully, this bad guy had an assault rifle. He turned and served the trees, looking for tell-tale movement. All clear. He kept low and moved back across to the next line of foliage.
The FBI operator spotted his leg and caught sight of the Remington ACR.
“Charlie one, Charlie two. I caught sight of one of the Chinese guards. He has an ACR. Over.”