Sacramento, California
August 24
There was no mistake. Commander Nicolaou had gone over the data with Lacey and the team. Based on the radar tracking from the Shiloh, Lassen, and McCampbell of the missile used in the first attack, and radar data from a circling AWACs that tracked the second missile, the conclusion was irrefutable.
His secure desk phone rang; the call was expected. “Commander Nicolaou.”
“I need answers, Commander.” It was Colonel Pierson. “I’m sure I don’t have to remind you of the gravity of the situation. And it seems to be deteriorating by the hour. President Chen vehemently denies any involvement in the sinking of either ship, and has publicly accused the United States of fabricating the incidents in order to justify a military buildup in the South China Sea. We are tracking an increased level of troop movements, not to mention a flotilla of nine Chinese warships that is steaming for the Spratly Islands. Satellite photos show that fighter aircraft have already been transferred to the three operational airfields in that island chain.”
“We’re working the problem, Colonel. This is our top priority… Hell, our only priority.”
“Talk to me.”
“There just isn’t much to go on. We’ve tracked the two missile launchings to two separate locations near the Spratly Islands. Since we see no evidence of missile launch facilities on any of the islands—even those enhanced in land area and further improved by President Chen’s government with airfields and missile batteries—it is very likely that we are looking for a submarine.”
“With ballistic missile capability?” In a rare display of emotion, Colonel Pierson did not hide his surprise.
“Yes, sir. Based on the work by Lieutenant Lacey’s team, that’s the most probable explanation. Both China and North Korea possess submarines with ballistic missile capability.”
The phone line was silent while the colonel considered the implications. “Then we’re looking for a needle in a haystack, and for all practical purposes we’re blind. The only way we’ll find that missile boat is if one of our ships stumbles across it.”
“Sir, I recommend that the Navy deploy sonobuoys at every choke point in and near the Spratlys.”
“That’ll take some time.”
“Yes, I understand. Which is why it’s vital to start ASAP. Both the Chinese Jin class ballistic missile submarine and the North Korean Sinpo class are relatively noisy, and we should be able to detect and track them from a great distance. The commercial shipping traffic will create a lot of background noise, but that can be filtered out with computer software. How many fast attack boats do we have in theater?”
“Not enough. The New Mexico is presently on station, and two more Virginia-class submarines are scheduled to arrive in the South China Sea within thirty-three hours. Carrier Strike Group 5 left the Sea of Japan over a day ago. They’re making thirty-five knots for the Spratly Islands.”
Jim heard a muffled conversation in the background, then Colonel Pierson addressed him again. “I just instructed my aide to advise the Navy to get every P-3 and P-8 they have from Canberra to Manilla in the air and seed the South China Sea with sonobuoys. If there are any Chinese or North Korean submarines lurking in that vicinity, we’ll know within forty-eight hours. I’ll relay your assessment to the Joint Chiefs. Keep me updated if you have any new developments.” The colonel ended the call.
Jim had a nagging concern that he hadn’t been able to shake. If the Chinese were using the ship-killer weapon, they had to know they were risking all-out war with the only super-power navy; a fight they were sure to lose, and at great cost. Could it be that North Korea’s Supreme Leader—a reckless ruler who many considered to be mad—was trying to implicate China? But what would that gain for his regime? After all, China was the only benefactor of the isolated and poverty-stricken country. If China were to suffer a blow at the hands of the U.S. Navy, what good would North Korea derive? And if the Supreme Leader was, in fact, receiving the hardened and ultra-dense warheads from China, didn’t that make China culpable? It has to be China—but why? What do they hope to gain?
At the heart of Carrier Strike Group 5 was the modern aircraft carrier USS Gerald R. Ford. Recently commissioned and temporarily based out of Yokosuka, Japan, there was no match for her battle capability and firepower. Soon, she would be within aviation range of the Chinese airbases and naval ships in the South China Sea. Approximately 15,000 men and women from both sides were about to come face-to-face. Would one side blink? Or would someone pull the trigger and fire the first shot inaugurating a Sino-American war?
Jim leaned forward, resting his chin on the palms of his hands, elbows firmly planted on the desktop. Stress and lack of sleep were conspiring against him, and he closed his eyes. He saw the USS Gerald Ford steaming into the wind, his vantage point above the carrier and to the side, but keeping pace perfectly as the warship sailed at thirty-five knots.
Super Hornets were taking off, one after another, from the massive flight deck. And then, from the Heavens, a bright streak reached down and connected to the center of the ship. It was like a lightning bolt, only it formed a perfectly straight trajectory. At the point of connection with the flight deck, a massive hole instantly appeared, followed a second later by the horrendous noise—a combination of sonic boom and the bending and renting of steel as the hardened, hypersonic projectile tore a path of destruction through the ship, exiting through the keel. A heartbeat later, secondary explosions added to the cacophony. A huge fireball erupted from the impact hole, fed by almost a million gallons of aviation fuel. Flame ejected through the aircraft elevators, fiery tongues lapping out the side of the hull.
The aircraft carrier seemed to slow. The wake behind the ship as well as the bow wave were diminishing in size. Men were scurrying across the flight deck. A new sound rose in intensity to be heard above the roar of fire and both large and small explosions from ordnance cooking off. The mournful sound rumbled from deep within the ship as the steel groaned and bellowed, fighting against the uneven stresses of blast-furnace heat, and compromised bulkheads and deck plates. Then suddenly, the mighty carrier, pride of the Navy, buckled and separated in two. The cleaved sections quickly slid under the waves, leaving behind a burning slick of fuel.
Jim awoke with a start. He rubbed a hand across his face and then rose from his desk. A walk around the facility would do wonders to relieve his lethargy. He entered the cafeteria and was pouring a cup of coffee when his phone rang, the caller identified on the screen.
“Hello, Peter.”
“Jim, hope I didn’t catch you at a bad time. Do you have a minute?”
“Just grabbing a coffee and stretching my legs. What’s up?”
“I need your help.”
“Okay, if I can.”
“A friend has been kidnapped, and I need some help to find her.”
“This sounds like police business. Domestic crimes are not within the charter of SGIT, or the Defense Department.”
“Look, I know that. Just hear me out—please.”
Jim listened as Peter recounted the events leading up to Jade’s kidnapping.
“Jade’s mother,” Peter explained, “received an anonymous note demanding she stop searching for an oil exploration ship that apparently is missing.”
“Go on,” Jim said.
“How can we search for this missing ship? We know what it looks like, so I’m wondering if high resolution satellite images can be used to identify it?”
“Sounds intriguing. You have a real-life mystery on your hands.”
“So it can be done?”
“Yes, it can be done. Assuming the ship’s not sunk or hidden by cloud cover, that is. But searching and screening images is a tedious and time-consuming task. And depending on the angle of the sun, a ship’s super structure can take on different appearances. Unless you have a computer doing the work. And before you ask, no… I can’t authorize MOTHER to search through satellite images for you. Besides, my entire team is focused on another priority at the moment.”
After a brief pause, Peter said, “I understand. Actually, Jade’s family is very well connected. I’ve no doubt they can buy the computer time as well as the satellite images.”
“They’ll also need to hire a programmer to write the code, a short program that instructs the computer to examine each image against the specifications and design of the missing ship…”
Jim’s voice trailed off as another thought entered his mind.
“Where are you?” he asked.
“Brunei. Jade is a niece of the Sultan.”
“And this missing oil exploration ship—where was it last seen?”
“The South China Sea, in waters Brunei lays claim to.”
Jim fell silent as the possibility registered in his brain.
“Hello? Jim, can you hear me?”
“This could be important,” Jim said. He suddenly lost interest in coffee and was striding back to his office. “I’m gonna call you back. I want to get Lacey in on this. Are you in a private location where you can talk?”
s
Barely five minutes had passed when Peter answered his phone. “I have you on speaker. Where are you?” Jim asked.
“I’m at the Istana Nurul Imam Palace.”
“Palace of the Faith Light.” Lieutenant Lacey recited the English translation.
“It’s the Sultan’s palace in Bandar Seri Begawan. A mouthful, so the ex-pats here just call it BSB.”
“Are you in a private location?” Jim asked.
“Yes, I am. Jade’s mother—Eu-meh—has invited us to stay in a guest apartment at the palace. I’m there now.”
“You said ‘us’. Who’s with you?”
“A guy named Robert Schneider. Ex-Navy. He’s Jade’s bodyguard and driver.”
Jim noticed that Lacey was typing the name into her tablet. “I’ll have Sergeant Williams run a background check,” she said.
“Good. Now, you mentioned an oil exploration ship. Do you know the name of the ship?”
“Eu-meh said it’s the Royal Seeker. It’s owned and operated by Hua Ho Holdings.”
Lacey was entering the information. “Got it. Here’s an image of the ship.” She turned the screen so Jim could see it. With the superstructure placed far forward, the middle and stern of the ship was low and relatively flat. Towering above the middle of the ship was a grid-like structure; a crane was farther aft. Beneath the tower was the moon pool, an opening in the hull to allow pipe and drilling equipment to enter the water beneath the ship.
“What do you think, Lieutenant?”
Lacey raised her eyebrows. “I think you are suggesting an intriguing theory.”
“See if Williams can run the numbers. I want to know if it’s possible.”
“Latitude for modifications?”
Jim nodded. “Tower and crane. For now, assume no change to the hull or superstructure.”
“Hello? I’m still here, you know,” Peter said.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Savage,” Lacey said. “But this line is not secure.”
“Look, I called asking for help. And now you’re playing the security card on me?”
“Relax, Peter.” Jim locked eyes with Ellen Lacey as he finished his thought. “We can help you. I believe we now have reason to task MOTHER with your quest.”