U.S.S. Seawolf (18 page)

“You are treating my men as if we were at war.”

“Perhaps a different kind of war, Captain Crocker. Be ready to meet our exalted Commander-in-Chief, Admiral Zhang Yushu, in one hour. I think you will find him…persuasive. In terms of pure science, of course.”

1800
.
Office of the Southern Fleet Commander
.
Canton Navy Base
.

Admiral Zhang Yushu occupied the big chair and desk normally reserved for the Southern Commander, Admiral Zu Jicai. Gathered around him in this great carpeted military office, seated on huge, carved wooden antique “thrones,” was the very backbone of the Navy of China. To his right sat his friend Jicai, under whose command
Seawolf
now fell.

Admiral Yibo Yunsheng, the Eastern Fleet Commander, had just flown in from Shanghai. A former commanding officer of the old strategic missile submarine
Xia
, Yibo was a wise and tested warhorse of the Chinese Navy, and Zhang put great trust in his words.

The Chief of Naval Staff, Vice Admiral Sang Ye, had arrived from Beijing. He and Zhang had known each other for many years, and neither would tolerate a wrong word about the other. Sang Ye held great influence over the purse strings of the Chinese Navy, and this was an operation that might require the spending of big money.

The Chief of the General Staff himself, Qiao Jiyun, had flown to Canton on the same private jet that had brought Sang Ye, because it was plainly not merely a matter for the Navy. This was a national military matter that might, if improperly handled, suck China into a headlong confrontation with the USA.

To stress the strong political ramifications of the situation, the Paramount Ruler had insisted that the newly promoted Political Commissar of the People’s Liberation Army/Navy, Admiral Xue Qing, attend this strategy
meeting in company with a full staff of deputies, who now waited in an outside room.

The main office, in which now sat the most senior figures in the Chinese Navy, was not really an office at all, but much more of a room of state, as if transplanted from the Great Hall of the People. It seemed to be a thousand years old with its massive 100-foot-long antique Persian rug, which had once been transported with Marco Polo all the way along the old Silk Road.

But the room was only four years old, constructed especially for great meetings such as these in one of the buildings of China’s new Senior Service. Only since the turn of the twentieth century had the colossal importance of the Navy been recognized. It had plainly superseded the Army as the front line of China’s military ambitions, and indeed defense.

For several years, visiting politicians and commanders had sat in plain functional Navy-base rooms until, one morning back in 1999, the Paramount Ruler himself expressed disgust that the most exalted and trusted people in the entire country were somehow sitting in a military slum attempting to solve the destiny of one and a quarter billion people.

“I like coming to Ghuangzhou,” he had said, using as ever the modern Chinese name. “And I am always honored to talk to my commanders here, and to see our great ships. But please, will someone provide us with a comfortable room in which we may speak—something commensurate perhaps with the expectations of those who occupy high offices of state, and from whom much is expected.”

Thus the great room was constructed, with four towering round columns decorated with deeply patterned red silk. Exquisite ornamental lacquer ware, inlaid with gold, from the Ming dynasty of the mid-fifteenth century, was placed upon the most spectacular carved tables from the same period. Upon the wall, behind Admiral Zhang, was a giant painting of the procession of the Ming Emperor
Wuzong, his ornate carriage of state pulled forward by a team of elephants.

Two paintings of similar size, each 10 feet in height, were set above the door, one of the former Paramount Ruler Mao Zedong, the other of the Great Reformer Deng Xiaoping, who had once occupied the chairmanship of the Military Affairs Commission. It was he who had promoted Zhang Yushu to C-in-C of the Navy.

And now Deng’s protégé sat at the enormous 12-foot-square carved desk, flanked on either side by two traditional high blue-and-white Ming vases, placed strategically, port and starboard, upon the scarlet leather. They were there as a testimony not only to the grandeur of Chinese culture, but also as a reminder to visiting foreign commanders and dignitaries that China invented fine porcelain in the seventh century, or, as the Paramount Ruler preferred to state it, “
One thousand years before Europe, porcelain that has never been equaled
.”

Staring happily out from between the vases, Zhang looked like an emperor himself. He called the meeting to order and quickly outlined the story of the captured American submarine.

“Frankly,” he said, “the submarine is an embarrassment. Its presence here will infuriate the Americans, who will, first, want it back, second, invent ways to punish us economically and third, may even carry out military action against us, which would be unfortunate in the extreme.

“The USA is very powerful and very vicious when it has a mind to be. And they would have a case against us. Whatever we may say diplomatically, their submarine was in international waters, where they had a perfect right to be…and we have effectively stolen it.

“However, that will not of course be our argument. We will concentrate on how shocked we are that the USA should have brought such a weapon of mass destruction that close to our coastline—as close as the Cuban mis
siles were to theirs in 1962 when President Kennedy was happy to risk starting a world war.

“Gentlemen, I should like to clarify our purpose. In our great quest to create a modern, blue-water Navy, we lack one thing—the knowledge to build world-class submarines, which is the one boat that will always keep us safe from attack, allow us to blockade and retake Taiwan, and provide us with control over the world’s shipping routes to the east. But despite all of our careful acquisition of the secret computer formulas and discoveries of Western nations, we have not been able to copy them adequately. There are subtleties in the systems that we do not understand.…”

Admiral Zhang quite suddenly stood up. And he paced behind his chair in front of Emperor Wuzong’s parade, and then he stated very simply, “Gentlemen, the answer to all of our prayers is currently parked on submarine jetty zero-five.”

He paused to allow the full effect of his words to settle on his colleagues. And he added, “Working from plans and documents is one thing, but it is not nearly so effective as working from the real thing, which you can touch, and dismantle and restart, and strip down and examine with the finest available minds in China, and even beyond. I have already sent for a team of twelve senior submarine engineers and scientists from the Russian Central Design Bureau of Marine Engineering in Saint Petersburg.

“They were of course reluctant to come at such short notice, but we are, as you know, their biggest customers these days, by a very long way. And they felt they had to oblige us. I sent a military aircraft to bring them in, in the hope that my friend and colleague Vice Admiral Sang Ye will not object to the expenditure.”

“I am honored to write the check in this instance,” said the Navy Chief of Staff, smiling.

“I am also flying in two other Russian sonar engineers
in another plane from Gorky leaving tomorrow…and I hope that will be agreeable as well?”

“So long as it’s not a Boeing 747 for two people,” replied Admiral Sang, smiling-again.

“Oh, no. Most certainly not. It’s just a military aircraft of ours, based out on our far western border. It will refuel there, on the way back to us.”

“And the fee to Central Design for the technicians?”

“Er…two million American dollars.”

“Expensive people.”

“Yes, Admiral. But for this we must have the best. Can you believe our good fortune? We stand today on the brink of building underwater ships that can compete with the Americans. In my view,
Seawolf
has saved us twenty-five years of research, by which time we would still be behind.”

“How long, Admiral Zhang, do we need the submarine?” asked the Political Commissar, Admiral Xue Qing.

“We could make limited progress in two months. We’d need years to make a complete examination and copy.”

“And what do you propose to tell the Americans during that time?”

“Oh, that the submarine sustained very bad damage in the crash, and our wish is to repair it to the point where it can safely leave for California. We’ll tell them we have a major problem with the reactor and have no wish to release it if there is any form of danger.”

“What if the Americans say they’ll come and pick it up, and repair it with their own technicians?”

“Oh, that would not be acceptable to us. That ship has been quarantined because of suspected nuclear activity, and may not leave the jetty until it is safe. I am afraid we would never allow a foreign warship into the Pearl River Delta.”

“In fact, you just wish to fence with them until you are good and ready to release it?”

“Correct. Of course, it will hurry things along if we get some cooperation from the crew.”

“They will tell us nothing.”

“Oh, they might, with some persuasion.”

“And where will you keep the crew during all of this?”

“I have already instigated the reopening of the old jail on Xiachuan Dao, about eighty miles along the coast from Macao. It will hold, if necessary, three hundred people including staff and guards, and I’m hoping to have it functional by Sunday. There’s electricity and water on the island—originally installed by the Japanese, but still working.”

“Do you regard this as a place to
hide
the Americans?” Admiral Zu Jicai was asking the question.

“Yes, in a sense I do. Because I believe the advantage is with us, so long as Washington does not know where these men are.”

“How long do you think it will take the Americans to find out?”

“With luck, two to three weeks. They’ll organize satellite searches, heat-seeking infrared, and they may finally notice some unusual activity on an island that is virtually deserted, as it has been for centuries. Also, the CIA has a very effective spy system.”

“What will the Americans do if and when they find out where their crew is being detained?”

“Nothing, because they will be too late. I intend to move all the prisoners away from the coast within sixteen days to a new jail deep in the interior, which even the Americans will never find. That buys us another twenty-one days with
Seawolf
…and then with profound sympathy we will tell them there has been a major nuclear accident on board, such that the whole area has had to be sealed off.”

“And the crew?”

“I am afraid they cannot be permitted to return, either, because by then they will know a great deal too much. We are going to interrogate them, vigorously, under the pressure of time.

“All of their senior operatives will know we are plan
ning to copy
Seawolf
, and it will not take the Pentagon long to work out that we intend to achieve total domination of our own coastal waters, plus the oil routes of the Middle East to the Far East.”

“But Zhang,” protested Admiral Xue. “We cannot just execute them. There would be a world outcry.”

“We also cannot let them return, because then there would be an even bigger world outcry, perhaps at some of the methods we may be obliged to use in order to recreate that submarine and secure their…cooperation.”

“Then what do you propose to do with them?”

“There will be a military trial, held behind locked doors. Each member of
Seawolf
’s crew will be charged with treason against the Chinese people, and with bringing illegal nuclear weapons within striking distance of the peace-loving people of this Republic. They will be charged with endangering life on the high seas, and with the reckless operation of a nuclear submarine containing weapons of mass destruction, entirely against the spirit of the Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty of 1991.”

“But we did not even sign that treaty,” interjected Xue Qing.

“That does not preclude us from understanding it,” replied Zhang, uncharacteristically haughty. “And there may be further charges leveled at the Americans, involving lying to the Chinese military authorities while we struggled to make safe their lethal weapons, in order that the good people of Guangzhou may continue to lead their lives without fear of nuclear radiation in our ancient and historic city. Furthermore, we will charge them with sabotaging the reactor and deliberately causing a major nuclear accident in our port.

“Gentlemen, I would suggest that a prison term of perhaps thirty-five years per man would not be unreasonable for such crimes. And during those years, they will of course quietly disappear. But none of them will ever leave China alive. It is already too late for that.”

Each of the six men in the great room nodded assent to
the master plan of the Navy’s Commander-in-Chief. This was unusual for China, because civilized talk and discussion is an art form in that country. But the men involved today were wise and experienced. And each of them was aware that the moment Colonel Lee had conferred on the satellite with Admiral Zhang and taken the American ship prisoner, the die was cast. They had done it. And there could be no going back now.

In 10 minutes, the C-in-C would be in the cell block, informing the Americans of precisely what was expected of them as military prisoners of the Chinese government.

1930
.
Cell Block Mao
.
Canton Navy Base
.

Admiral Zhang Yushu kicked open the door and strode into the dirt corridor in front of the six occupied cells. He wore full dark blue uniform, with sidearms and high black boots. In his right hand he carried a slim wooden officer’s baton. He was accompanied by Commander Li and four guards, all of whom saluted the Navy Guard lieutenant, with three stars on his shoulder, already on duty inside the door.

As Zhang made his entry, the lieutenant stood to attention rigidly, all five feet two inches of him, and literally screamed, in English, “STAND UP NOW! EVERYONE…STAND UP IN THE PRESENCE OF THE MOST EXALTED COMMANDER-IN-CHIEF OF THE PEOPLE’S NAVY!”