Honorable Enemies (1994) (26 page)

"I was married," he said matter-of-factly, "but my divorce was final about five weeks ago."

Susan felt a strange sense of relief sweep over her.

He gave her a friendly smile. "You'll have to bring your files up-to-date," he teased and sipped his beer.

"If you don't mind telling me," she asked delicately, "what happened?"

"I'll make a long story short." He chuckled and slid his empty glass to the edge of the table. "She was a flight attendant for Pan American, and when the airline went under, Becky had a hard time dealing with the loss of her job.

"She finally managed to get another flight attendant position with TWA, but she had to start at the bottom of the seniority list. After she had become adjusted to starting from the bottom again, the airline started downsizing and she was laid off."

"That would be tough on anyone," Susan commented with a concerned expression. "Is that when the problems began?"

"Yes, basically. She never liked my career choice, so when she left TWA, she wanted me to quit my job and move out west with her. I didn't want to do that, so things escalated to the point where we decided to go our separate ways."

"Do you have any children?" Susan asked as their meals arrived at the small table.

"None that I'm aware of," he replied in an attempt to lighten the conversation.

Susan gave him a look of mock disgust. "I'd kick you in the shin"--she laughed softly--"if we weren't in a public place."

"This crowd would love that," Steve responded, then stopped dead cold when he saw the familiar Oriental man with the crew-cut hair and mutilated ear. The tall, ruggedly built hit man was standing about 150 feet down the concourse, pretending to read a magazine.

"Susan, look at me," Steve insisted, "and don't make any sudden moves."

She went rigid as the color suddenly drained from her face. "He's stalking us, isn't he?"

"Yes," Steve uttered under his breath and observed the small kitchen at the back of the restaurant. "Go into the kitchen and see if someone can contact security."

"Okay, but please be careful."

"Susan," Steve quietly went on, "stay in there and cover me if something goes down."

"You can count on it." She reached for her purse, gracefully rose from her seat, and walked in the direction of the kitchen.

When Susan reached the back of the restaurant, Steve looked away from the hit man but kept him in his periphery.

What's that bastard going to do? he had just asked himself when the man tossed his magazine to the side, pulled a handgun from his jacket pocket, and headed toward the restaurant.

Steve glanced around. I can't wait for security. The place is crammed with people.

He was reaching for his Beretta when Susan yelled a warning. "Steve, watch out!"

He jumped to his feet and aimed his Beretta at the hit man. "Freeze! Drop to your knees and put your hands over your head!"

The man stopped and raised his gun.

"Now, goddammit!" Wickham ordered and fired a round over his attacker's head. "Drop your weapon!"

People started screaming and running in every direction while others dropped flat on the floor and scrambled for any cover they could find.

The hit man turned and raced down the concourse, knocking down passengers and visitors like bowling pins.

Steve started after him and then stopped. It was too dangerous to get boxed into a position where he might have to exchange gunfire in the middle of a crowd.

He returned the Beretta to the small of his back and walked over to Susan. "This guy is crazy."

"Or very stupid," she said as she watched the airport security personnel hurrying toward the restaurant.

"If he's this overt in public," Steve said as he reached for his identification, "he isn't going to give up. Anyone who would try to kill someone in a busy airport is either a complete mental case or really desperate."

"Or both." Susan frowned. "That's what concerns me."

"Same here," he openly confessed. "It's like someone is telegraphing him our every move."

Susan couldn't conceal her ire. "You're right. We're traveling under assumed names, and only a few people know where we're going."

"And even fewer"--Steve paused to slow his breathing--"had access to our flight itinerary."

"Someone," Susan fumed, "is setting us up. There's something bigger going on than what we see on the surface."

"If we're careful," Steve said with a look of concern, "we might be able to trap this nutcase--which could possibly lead us to the person behind the attack at Pearl."

"And to the person who is selling us out," Susan added bitterly.

"That's right," he agreed. "We've got to set a trap for this psycho."

She reached for her badge as the airport security team surrounded the front of the now-empty restaurant. "Which one of us is going to be the bait?"

Chapter
22.

USS Kitty Hawk and her carrier battle group slowed to a leisurely pace and entered their assigned patrol area southeast of the Nicobar Islands, near the northern mouth of the Strait of Malacca.

This hazardous strait, 550 miles long, varies in width from 155 miles in the northern section to 40 miles in the south. Named after the port of Malacca on the Malayan coast, the crowded strait provides the shortest sea route between the Persian Gulf and Japan.

Located between Malaysia and the Indonesian island of Sumatra, the strategic waterway connects the Andaman Sea in the Indian Ocean to the South China Sea. The shallow, pirate-infested bottleneck, which is the main shipping route connecting Europe and the Mideast to Eastern Asia, narrows tightly near the port city of Singapore.

Along with the English Channel, the Bosporus Strait in Turkey, and the Strait of Gibraltar, the Strait of Malacca shares the infamous reputation of being one of the most dangerous, collision-prone channels in the world, and the congested channel is a natural chokepoint to stem the constant flow of raw goods and petroleum that Japan so desperately needs.

A constant stream of giant petroleum tankers traverses the waterway during around-the-clock operations between the Middle Eastern oil fields and ports in eastern Asia. The twentyone-hour journey through the main section of the strait is difficult to navigate and features tricky tides, unpredictable local traffic, and the ever-present gangs of modern-day pirates who board ships to rob and sometimes kill the crews.

An airborne warning-and-control aircraft orbited high above the Seventh Fleet carrier and her six escort ships from Cruiser Destroyer Group Five. The Grumman Group Two E-2C Hawk-eye provided the radar eyes for the warships and the fighter planes. The "Hummer" rotated with three other Carrier Air Wing 15 Hawkeyes to supply around-the-clock surveillance for airborne threats. If the early-warning aircraft spotted unidentified planes, the "bogies' " position and altitude would be sent by digital link to Kitty Hawk and to the air-warfare officer aboard Chancellorsville, one of the carrier battle group's two Aegis cruisers.

Miles from the center of the carrier group and operating in separate quadrants, two Lockheed S-3B Viking jets patrolled for submarine activity. The pair of antisubmarine-warfare aircraft, known as Hoovers because their engines sound like vacuum cleaners, also provided the capability for visually searching the surface of the ocean. The crews of the jets from the VS-37 Sawbucks took pride in knowing that they were the best of the best in the ASW business.

Beneath the choppy waters leading to the Strait of Malacca, a Los Angeles--class nuclear-powered attack submarine quietly prowled the depths in search of stealthy threats to the battle group. Limited by the shallow waters of the southern end of the narrow strait, which varies from 90 to 120 feet in depth, the submarine had to stay in the northwest area, where the bottom gradually deepens until it reaches approximately 650 feet at the boundary of the Andaman Basin.

With the threat from Soviet ballistic-missile submarines now history, the American attack-submarine community had shifted its focus to detecting and countering diesel subs in shallo
w c
oastal waters. The challenge is particularly difficult because the latest generation of diesel-electric boats is extremely quiet and has the endurance to "sleep" on the bottom of the ocean for extended periods of time.

In the crowded Strait of Malacca, the problem of detecting enemy submarines is exacerbated by the mixed propeller noises generated from the multitude of vessels plying the busy shipping lanes.

The commanding officer of La Jolla acted primarily on his own and seldom communicated with the battle group. Like all fast-attack skippers, he didn't like any type of communication that might reveal his presence and location. His mission, like the responsibility of the commanding officers of the surface ships, was to protect the vulnerable aircraft carrier. He would quietly attempt to find and kill any submarine that dared to stalk the battle group.

On the massive flight deck of Kitty Hawk, two Grumman F-14D Tomcats from Fighter Squadron 111 were sitting on the bow catapults in an Alert Fifteen status. They were armed with Phoenix long-range missiles and Sidewinder heat-seeking air-to-air missiles.

The Tomcat pilots and their radar-intercept officers were resting in their squadron ready room, waiting with a degree of apprehension for the order to scramble. If any type of threat materialized, the "Sundowner" crews would have to be airborne in fifteen minutes or less.

Like everyone else, the pilots and RIOs weren't sure why they were in the strait, but they suspected that it had something to do with Japan. The escalating tensions caused by the fractured relations between the two countries was the lead story on every news program beamed to the ship.

Seated at a chart table in the flag bridge, the battle group commander, Rear Admiral Isaac Landesman, fully understood why his ships were taking up station in the Strait of Malacca. The order to raise the group's defense-readiness condition from DEFCON FIVE, the level of normal peacetime activities, to the status of DEFCON FOUR was a surprise for the entire battl
e g
roup. The upgraded defense condition mandated an increased intelligence watch and an increase in security.

The luxuriously decorated hospitality suite overlooking the Marunouchi business quarter was crowded when Tadashi Matsukawa gave the quiet signal that it was time for serious matters. The attractive young geishas silently prepared to leave the softly lighted room. After the quartet of talented hostess-entertainers were politely escorted away by a member of the large-scale security detail, Matsukawa followed the. Prime Minister and Chihiro Yamashita to a small platform and podium.

Yamashita, the resilient chairman of Keidanren, Japan's powerful Federation of Economic Organizations, thanked Matsukawa for providing the entertainment and the spacious meeting facilities for the important business conference.

Afterward, Prime Minister Genshiro Koyama thanked the cartel members for rearranging their schedules on such short notice, and they all adjourned to the large soundproof conference room on the top floor.

The building was guarded by sixty specially selected uniformed guards and forty-five civilian-clad security specialists. The entrances were locked and guarded, and seven men with automatic weapons patrolled the roof. Fifteen people had spent over four hours checking from floor to floor for anyone hiding in the building. In addition, a sophisticated monitoring system relayed television pictures to a central command post, and pairs of armed sentries roamed each floor.

The elevators and stairs were guarded, and the elevator doors could be electronically sealed from the command post. Security was extremely tight for the "brain trust"--the experts concerned with planning the ongoing economic and military strategy of Japan.

When the men were comfortably seated, Prime Minister Koyama stepped behind the lectern.

"Japan," he began solemnly, "as you are painfully aware, has reached another crossroad in our long and proud history." The room was deathly quiet.

"As our country has rapidly approached this historical intersection," he continued glumly, "we have attempted to steer clear of confrontations with the Americans and concentrate on prosperity and growth. Unfortunately, the course we have chosen often finds us at odds with the United States."

The Prime Minister paused a brief moment to make eye contact with many of his friends and associates. "Today, Japan faces an intractable situation. Even though our current relations with the U
. S
. are strained, we must confront Washington and announce our independence . . . and we must be steadfast about our intentions."

Koyama closely studied the audience and saw the looks of understanding. He also saw reactions of doubt from some, including Foreign Minister Nagumo Katsumoto. The short, stylishly dressed statesman, who was perpetually bent at the waist, appeared impassive. As Koyama knew from years of friendship with Katsumoto, the expressionless look on his face meant that he was not pleased.

"Many of you have discussed the situation with me privately," Koyama observed as he gazed at the sea of faces, "and many of you have suggested that it is in Japan's best interest to give notice to the powers in Washington."