Then, all at once, he did.
After consulting with Chief Van Gogh, he hoisted the November flag. Negating whatever the other’s hoist had been. He held course and speed. The destroyer slowed some distance off, then edged in. Dan expected him to slide into position off Savo’s port side, on the other hand from the freighter. The first indication otherwise was when Pardees murmured, “Cap’n, this dude’s got his rudder over. He’s coming right, fast.”
From the starboard wing, he saw that it was so; the other warship was canted far over in a radical turn. Its heel increased as he watched; they were cranking even more rudder on. Extending its relative motion, it would slip in not on Savo’s port side, but to her starboard. “What the fuck is this maniac doing?” he muttered.
“Sir, looks like he’s planning to grease in between us and the freighter.”
Dan glanced at the sea between with a critical eye. This sort of thing had happened decades before, in the Black Sea. As a result, the U.S. and Russia had rules in place to prevent incidents. There were no such agreements with the Chinese, though. “He won’t have a lot of clearance in there.”
“Should we close up? Come right and get in closer to Patchooli?”
He half wanted to, but doing so would risk collision. “Not now, not while he’s in this maneuver. Whatever it is. Hold course and speed. And get on bridge to bridge, interrogative his intentions.” He bent to the pelorus, taking a bearing on the pyramidal mack. Then Mytsalo came on the line. Dan ducked inside to take his call, but kept a close eye on the rapidly closing destroyer out the window.
The boat officer reported he’d started inspecting in the forward hold, but what was the ship that was closing in astern? Dan brought him up to date, without saying what he suspected. He was sure now part of the cargo was weapons, or other contraband. There could be no other explanation for the interest the Chinese were showing. Pakistan was notorious as the take-out window for everyone who wanted to end-run the nonproliferation regime.
Wuhan didn’t answer his call. Its heel increased still more, then lessened. Its bearing ticked left. Headed between him and the freighter, all right. He had to admit, though, it was being jockeyed with a panache the U.S. surface force had long lost. When it matched his speed, and an officer came out on the bridge wing with a microphone in hand, it was only about a hundred yards away.
He ambled back out when Branscombe reported a hail. The ship opposite stretched across his field of vision, gleaming and complex, sparkling white and light gray. Crewmen gazed curiously up from its boat deck as Savo’s men and women drifted out to observe as well. A few essayed tentative waves. Nuckols held out the portable loud hailer.
Dan tried to recall what Barbara Tuchman had said about harbingers of war. Some had started with meetings on the high seas, not unlike this. HMS Leopard’s unprovoked attack on USS Chesapeake off Virginia had been one trigger of the War of 1812. FDR’s dangling of USS Lanikai as bait in front of the advancing Japanese fleet. The capture of the Pueblo.
More than one senior officer had told Dan he had no sense of diplomacy. He rubbed his mouth with the back of his hand, hoping they were wrong. Or at least that he’d learned something since.
Across from him an officer in spotless whites, including white gloves, raised a microphone. “This is People’s Republic of China warship Wuhan,” a stentorian voice stated. “You will cease your illegal activities and retire.”
Staurulakis, beside him, murmured, “Shouldn’t we be at general quarters?”
“No hostile displays, Cheryl. And shut down the starboard SPY-1 arrays, so they don’t get irradiated on their bridge. Check the open channel to Strike One, and get the tape rolling on the cameras, all right? Make sure Matt’s feeding them what’s going on. Minute by minute. And log everything.”
He considered once more, then raised his megaphone and clicked it on. The portable amplifier sounded puny compared to the enormous power of the other ship’s loud hailer. Well, that was fair. Savo Island was almost four thousand tons larger, and he was looking down at the opposite bridge. Speak slowly and clearly… “This is United States Navy warship Savo Island conducting boarding and search operations on the high seas. You are interfering with navigation, risking collision, and hazarding both our vessels. Request you reduce speed and increase your standoff distance immediately.”
Deliberations on the bridge opposite. The speaker seemed to be deferring to a shorter man with gray hair. He came back with “This merchant is not a U.S.-flagged vessel. The master has refused welcome. What is the rationale for your boarding?”
Dan said, “I am investigating reported drug-smuggling activities under the United Nations Convention Against Illicit Traffic and Section 7 of the UN Law of the Sea. What is your rationale for interfering with me?”
“Satcomm secure phone, Captain,” called the OOD, inside the pilothouse. “Dark Horse. From Fifth Fleet. Actual, it sounds like.”
“Oh, goddamn it,” Dan muttered. He was tempted to blow it off, but reluctantly accepted the handset extended from inside. “This is Savo Actual. Over.”
“Dan, this is Fifth Fleet Actual. What the hell is going on there? You have a Chinese destroyer intruding on your board and search?”
“That’s correct, sir. Type 052B, Wuhan. He’s close alongside, actually between us and the intercepted merchant. Which still has my boarding team aboard. We’re discussing it by loud hailer. I suspect because he doesn’t want any electronic record if things go south.”
The Chinese opposite was reeling off a long spiel Dan hadn’t followed. He caught something about the U.S. not being a party of the Law of the Sea, and something else about Article 89. But Fleet was asking, “What exactly is your reason for this search? This is a Pakistani flag merchant, right? And he’s refused permission to board?”
What in the…? It was Fifth Fleet that’d directed the search. Obviously, someone hadn’t gotten the word. Unfortunately, that someone seemed to be the vice admiral. “Sir, no one’s been able to confirm that.”
“Who have you asked? Did you bother to inquire?”
Okay, keep your cool… He set the megaphone down and waved a give me a second gesture at the ship opposite. “Sir, we’ve been in constant comms with your staff over the past twenty-four hours, seeking confirmation of registry. Both Bangladesh and Pakistan have been requested to confirm, and neither could.” He crooked a finger impatiently at Staurulakis, who frowned, then fetched the clipboard hanging by his command chair. “Sir, I have your N3’s message here stating that Karachi returns ‘no response’ to inquiry about registry. It directs me to carry out a hostile boarding if necessary. I have the date time group here if you—”
“Don’t quote me my own date time groups, Captain Lenson.”
“Ah, no sir. Over.” He cradled the handset between shoulder and neck and lifted the megaphone. “Stand by, please,” echoed back, reverberating between the hulls that rolled together, as if welded, over the sea. On the opposite bridge the gray-haired officer was on a handset as well.
Just… fucking… great. He was probably talking to his own Higher. One on one, he and the other skipper could probably have arrived at a face-saving modus vivendi. A joint inspection team, for example. But with the upper echelons giving them contradictory orders, they might very well manage to start a fucking war, or at least an international incident, over this decrepit freighter.