Shattered Trident - Страница 27

The attacking sub turned away from its target and headed west. It was still in the UUV’s patrol zone when the playback ended ten minutes later.

Jerry had just watched what could have been a simulation in the attack trainer, or a video game. He was chilled by the destruction the attack had caused, but also felt detached. He had to make a conscious effort to remind himself that this was real.

“Four weapons, four hits. It must be—” He corrected himself. “—must have been a big one. Do we know who it was?” he asked.

“Thanks to the intelligence update, yes. It was MV Hai Tun Zuo, 43,718 gross registered tons. She’s a tanker last known headed for Tianjin, China, with over 75,000 tons of refined petroleum products. Chinese-flagged, too. You were right, Skipper, for a target that big they would have used four torpedoes. She sent out an incomplete distress call less than an hour ago, and her emergency-position-indicating radio beacon has been activated. There was no information on survivors, or even her crew size.”

Jerry tried to estimate their chances of survival. A big ship like that could take a lot of damage. Depending on where the weapon hit, the crew could be hundreds of feet away from the impact point. But the crew quarters were right above the screw, if the weapons were Russian wake-homing torpedoes…

That wasn’t his problem. “Did the update from squadron include anything about this?”

The XO answered, “No, which is why we’re doing the analysis. They got Fargo’s sensor log the same time we did—” Thigpen glanced at the time. “Fifteen minutes ago.”

Jerry almost laughed. “So do you think they’re taking this any better than we are?”

“This isn’t the only thing they’ve got on their plate, Skipper. If this is the local situation, here’s the big picture.” He gestured toward the starboard VLSD. Jerry saw the image zoom out from the local area to include the entire South China Sea. The shipping lanes were marked by dozens, perhaps over a hundred symbols for merchant ships moving along the coast, and through the different straits. A heavy band of traffic moved straight across the middle, cutting from southwest near the Vietnamese coast and heading northeast, passing south of Taiwan.

Dotting the shipping lanes were red circles, each with a time. Jerry could see four, including one that corresponded with the loss of Hai Tun Zuo. He checked the times.

“All in the past eight hours?” Jerry asked incredulously. The circles were scattered all over the South China Sea and just south of Taiwan. He shook his head sadly; the attacks had already claimed twelve ships. Resigned, he said, “It’s become a war. Twelve ships lost while we sat here and watched.” Thigpen heard his CO’s frustration.

Jerry started looking at the information on the ships that had been sunk. Maybe there was a pattern he could squeeze some data out of.

He didn’t have to work too hard. “Look at this. They’re all tankers, and all bound for Chinese ports.”

“Which means they’re loaded,” Thigpen continued.

“At least we know their intentions,” Jerry remarked. “Shutting off Chinese oil imports. This is going to get very bad.”

31 August 2016

0415 Local Time

Georgetown, Washington, D.C.

Ray Kirkpatrick had called Joanna at her home. There was no need to explain, nor could he give her details over a cell phone. And it didn’t really matter that it had been 3:30 A.M., after a very long day.

By the time Joanna had dressed and given her happily sleeping husband a good-bye kiss, the car had arrived. The streets were empty, of course. She used the ten-minute ride to check her smartphone and clear away the last of the cobwebs.

She was in the situation room ten minutes after that. Kirkpatrick didn’t even bother greeting her. “We went to DEFCON III in the Pacific an hour ago. All exercises have been canceled. Detached personnel recalled to their units, the whole banana. The president gave the order and went back to bed. I doubt he’ll get much sleep, though. There have been three more sinkings since you left.”

“Have there been any attacks on U.S.-flagged ships?” she asked.

“No, only Chinese-flagged and -owned tankers bound for Chinese ports. It’s probably the only thing that will keep oil prices from tripling tomorrow morning. They’ll still go up somewhat, of course, but that’s somebody else’s problem.

“And frankly, I’m glad we’re at DEFCON III,” Kirkpatrick remarked almost casually. “It means we’re better able to react, and the rest of the world knows it, too. But there’s more bad news: the Indians have joined the party.”

Joanna was pouring coffee and almost dropped the pot. She did spill some, and had to force herself to carefully set it down before answering. “I don’t suppose the Indian government’s issued any statement about the South China Sea lately.”

“Not a one,” Kirkpatrick said calmly. “We should be so lucky. The latest sensor dump from North Dakota’s UUV shows Chakra sinking a Chinese tanker. You can pull it up and watch it later, if you have the time. You probably won’t. Squadron Fifteen says they are ninety-five percent certain of their analysis. Commander Mitchell’s crew came up with the same conclusion. That isn’t why I woke you up, though.”

Patterson had just started processing the implications of Indian involvement in the crisis. “What could be worse than that?”

Kirkpatrick pointed at the screen displaying the South and East China Seas. It was overlaid with the four subs’ patrol zones. “Commander Dobson’s boat, Oklahoma City, is up in the East China Sea, and he sent in a disturbing contact report that Squadron Fifteen just forwarded. He picked up a very faint submerged contact and spent almost an hour trying to close and get a better look. It moved off before he could identify it, but he is convinced that it was quieter than any Chinese boat or a Vietnamese Kilo.”

“He lost contact?” Patterson was surprised. Los Angeles subs had very capable sonar suites, and could maneuver quietly at speeds that would exhaust a diesel’s batteries in a few hours.

“Oh, he’s still looking,” Kirkpatrick explained. “In fact, according to Commodore Simonis, he’s pissed. He’s not used to losing. More to the point, this was the first indication…”

A naval officer, almost breathless, came up to the pair, stopping short, but then offering Kirkpatrick a sheet of paper. “Another sinking,” the officer explained, “the tanker Da Ming Hu, 84,855 GRT, Chinese flagged, near Wenzhou, north of Taiwan.”

“That’s in Dobson’s patrol area,” Patterson remarked.

“The first one that far north, as well. Look,” he said, pointing to the Chinese fleet boundaries, “and the first one in the East Sea Fleet area.”

“So the Vietnamese… and the Indians have the southwest, and somebody else the northeast?” Patterson asked.

“Does Mongolia have submarines?”

“Don’t joke about it, Ray,” scolded Joanna.

“India seems about as likely,” Kirkpatrick countered. “And now somebody else? We don’t even know why Vietnam is fighting. The only thing India and Vietnam have in common is that they both see China as a threat. So who else doesn’t like China?”

“That’s a long list,” Joanna replied.

“Good point.” Already frowning, Kirkpatrick asked, “How do we know it’s only one more player?”

She didn’t bother giving the obvious answer. Patterson felt frustrated by being so clueless, and fearful for the future. If you don’t know where you are, it’s hard to know where you’ll end up.

She thought about the latest tanker to be sunk. The printout said 84,855 gross registered tons, deadweight tonnage 160,000 tons. Deadweight tonnage was a measure of a merchant ship’s carrying capacity.

Years of working on environmental issues kicked in. At a little more than seven barrels per ton, that meant something over a million barrels of crude oil was spreading though the East China Sea. The prevailing winds would carry the slick into the Pacific Ocean…

“Now you know why I called you in,” Kirkpatrick observed. “I’m forming a crisis team. You’re in charge, of course. I’ve already notified State, DoD, and CIA to send reps, and not low-level ones either. Also, you’re getting someone from the council of economic advisers. We have to know just how much pain China’s feeling. If you think of anybody else, don’t even bother asking me first, just grab them and fill me in when you can.”

She’d done this before, Joanna reminded herself. But she still felt chills. War was breaking out, and they didn’t even know who was fighting, or why. And she had to find answers.

“My charter is to give the president options to guide U.S. policy. I believe the best U.S. policy right now is to find out what the hell is going on.” Kirkpatrick sighed and took a long drag on his own coffee cup.

“You haven’t slept yet, have you?” she asked.

“No, and I have to brief the president at 0700 hours this morning. That gives you,” he glanced at his watch, “less than three hours to come up with intelligent suggestions for me to offer the president. Don’t be subtle. The rest of the world is going to start reacting to the sinkings very soon. Wake people up, reach out to anyone in the government you think can help. I’ll be back here at 0630.”

“Are you going to get some sleep, I hope?”

“No, I’ve got a few bodies of my own to exhume. If they have anything useful, you’ll be the second one to know.”