U.S.S. Seawolf (9 page)

He read it aloud to Admiral Zhang, whose scowl became, if anything, darker. “That’s it,” he said through gritted teeth. “It’s
Seawolf
. The question is, where?”

“Why are you so sure about the ship?”

“Oh, I’m not that sure. But the coincidences are strong. We took the reactor critical in
Xia III
and within twenty-four hours we have America’s top nuclear boat leaving Pearl in the middle of the night. According to our sources on the island, her destination was unknown. She’s out there, Yibo. Trust me. She’s out there.”

“But what harm can she do us?”

“Aside from unlocking all of our systems, finding out the
Xia
’s capabilities in every respect, and gauging the power and effectiveness of her missiles, it is not beyond the bounds of possibility that the
Xia
could just disappear in deep water. You don’t know those devils in the Pentagon like I do. They’ve done it to us before, and they’ll stop at nothing to retain their position as the world’s dominant power.”

Zhang, a man known as the supreme pragmatist of the High Command of the Chinese military, actually changed physically at the very prospect of conflict with the Pentagon. His stern but passive expression grew immediately dark and vengeful, as if someone were threatening his immediate family.

It was not so much the advent of an obvious opponent, it was this particular opponent, the all-powerful United States of America. It seemed that whenever there was a standoff, China came off worse, especially in matters naval. The big American Carrier Battle Groups, forever prowling close to Taiwan, Japan and the Philippines, were literally the bane of his life, always too strong, too fast and too threatening.

And how could he ever forget the terrible weeks two years previous when the U.S. Navy decided to eliminate
seven
of his new-built Russian submarines, the elusive diesel-electric Kilo-class boats? The colossal cost of trying to protect them, the sheer helplessness he felt in the face of the pitiless underwater marauders from the Pentagon—no, Zhang would never forget those days.

He would never forget the ultimate humiliation, the
ruthlessness of the U.S. Navy. And he would never forgive either; not for the gigantic cost in losses to China’s military, nor for the loss of so many of the PLAN’s leading submariners. Worse yet, he, Zhang, would
never
forgive the U.S. for the loss of face he had suffered, both before his peers and in his own warrior’s soul.

“Zhang, would you sink
Seawolf
, if you could?”

“I might. I just might.”

“But how?”

“I think two Kilos might do the job very satisfactorily. Should we ever locate her again.”

271801JUN06
.
33.00N 128.10E. Depth 150. Speed 5
.
Course three-one-five
.

“The satellites have her, sir. The Chinaman is steering zero-nine-zero, running north of Cheju Island…that’s about seventy miles to our west-nor’west. Still heading straight toward. We just need to hang around right here, she’s gonna come right on by.”

Pearson spoke in the certain navigational tones of a man who was guiding the destiny of
Xia III
. But Judd Crocker understood that. They’d come a long way, and their quarry was about to fetch up over the horizon.

Personally, Judd was kind of impressed with himself that he had called her course out several days ago. All on his own, studying the chart. But he tempered that self-congratulatory mode by telling himself that any submariner on earth knows you head for the deepest water, whether you come from Massachusetts or Manchuria.

And now they could only wait, stay dived and silent, and keep a weather eye out for escort ships. His orders were rigid on that one point: Don’t get detected. He just had to make sure the sonar room stayed on high alert, listening for a rise in the levels, listening for the throb of the
Xia
’s propeller, watching for her engine lines on the screen, staying well off track, and then falling in quietly behind, tracking her until she dived. And then sticking to her like a limpet.

If the
Xia
dived, they would have no more help from the overheads. The next satellite pass was not due for another couple of hours. By then
Xia III
would be long past. At least she should be. And Judd checked his watch again—1900 now—and, echoing the plaintive cry of his ultimate boss, he muttered, “Well—where the hell is she?”

The answer was, close. At 1900
Xia III
was still on the surface, just clearing the northeast headland of Cheju Island, and setting a southeasterly course that would take her within five miles of the waiting
Seawolf
at around 2010. She had made an even more direct beeline for the deep water than Judd Crocker had expected, and he smiled quietly as his sonars picked her up, steaming toward him at 25 knots.

“Conn-Sonar. I’m getting something, sir…just a faint mark on the trace…”

“Hard left rudder…resolve ambiguity…”

Seawolf
swung left, permitting her towed array to reveal whether the approaching ship was to port or starboard.

“Right off our port bow, sir. Bearing three-four-five. Designate track two-zero. Checking machinery profiles right now.”

The control room was silent as everyone listened for the verdict from the sonar officer—almost the only sound in the entire ship was that of Frank’s fingers punching the keyboard of his computer. Then he called it.

“Conn-Sonar. Right here we have a twin-shafted nuclear ship with shrouded props…the engine is Russian, big GT3A turbines…profile fits the engine lines of a Russian Typhoon ICBM.”

“So that’s how they did it,” murmured Judd Crocker.
“They doubled the size of the old
Xia
to cope with their new stolen missiles—but they used a Russian engine for propulsion. They sure are buddy-buddies these days. I know one Admiral Morgan who is not going to love this.”

Seawolf
Locates the
Xia

The
Xia
came on toward them, passing to the east about 7,000 yards distant, still on the surface.
Seawolf
fell in behind, about two miles off the Chinese boat’s stern, and together they proceeded through the deep trough of ocean that runs west of the Japanese archipelago of small islands.

Captain Crocker twice made a sharp 15-minute move to periscope depth for a visual check on the big missile submarine from Huludao. But his chances were limited. Right on the 32-degree line of latitude, 62 miles off the western coastline of Kyushu,
Xia III
dived, driving down to a depth of 200 feet, her speed dropping to 12 knots, the first time she had ever been below the surface.

Seawolf
tracked her, adjusting her own depth and speed, very occasionally pinging the
Xia
with the very latest disguised active sonar, almost impossible to detect, even by the Americans and the Brits. The trouble was, no one on board the American spy ship knew whether the Chinese were using the same system, despite the fact that they had acquired it under the most suspicious circumstances.

The uncertainty concerning China’s ability to actually use what they had hijacked was unsettling to the officers of
Seawolf
. Were they being located by a silent satellite probing the waters from space? Were they being unknowingly pinged with a disguised active sonar, as they were pinging the
Xia
?

“Generally speaking, Linus, my policy is that no news is good news. It’s my belief that if the Chinese could locate us, they’d do it right away, and then act immediately to clear us right out of the area. Or at least try to. So far, no one’s done anything. Which means we are almost certainly undetected.”

“Can’t argue with any of that, sir,” said Clarke.

But at that moment, the peace of
Seawolf
’s control room was ruffled.

“Conn-Sonar. The Xia’s turning…”

Frank’s operator was watching the turbo alternator, and on the 60-hertz frequency it had been showing for some while it had moved to 63 hertz, which meant the
Xia
had shifted the range rate from zero to some 18 knots closing.

“JESUS! She’s coming almost straight at us…speed six knots…”

“LEFT FULL RUDDER,” snapped Crocker. “Make your course zero-nine-zero. I’m going clear to the east of her…make your speed six knots.”

Seawolf
swung away, toward the Japanese coastline.

“Sir, have we been detected?”

“Does she know we’re here, or what?”

“Christ, I bet it’s that satellite system they stole. Are these guys watching our every move?”

“Easy, gentlemen,” said Judd. “She’s probably just clearing her baffles, checking her stern arcs, making sure no one
is
following her. Put yourself in her place…you’re on the maiden voyage of the last word in Chinese missile submarine technology. You’re running south down this lonely sea to find deep water to conduct your trials. On board you probably have, or at least you will have, intercontinentals powerful enough to knock down a major American city.

“You
know
the U.S. is more than just interested. You
know
they will at least try to take a look. You
know
the U.S. is light years ahead in all submarine technology. Would you take the occasional look over your shoulder? Sure you would, just to check.”

“Conn-Sonar. Range rate now opening…the
Xia
has probably resumed her course, sir. She bears one-eight-zero…speed twelve knots like before.…”

“Excellent,” said the CO. “She was just checking, and I expect she’ll do it again before we’re much older. Stand by, Kyle, it could happen anytime.”

They ran on south for another 100 miles before the
Xia
turned again, and again Captain Crocker evaded, moving east and waiting for the Chinese captain to return to his course.

But the pattern changed as they approached the 26-degree line. The
Xia
, now running south-southwest in line with the islands, made as if to turn, but then took an even more westerly route, heading quite suddenly for the northern waters of the Taiwan Strait.

Judd attempted to follow, at least up to the line of the Japanese current, where the water was still 3,000 feet deep in places. But beyond there it began to shelve right up to 150 feet.
Seawolf
could not go into the Strait without being immediately detected, because of the surface wake.

And to no one’s surprise,
Xia III
came suddenly to the surface 30 miles off the northwest coast of Taiwan, before proceeding down the much-disputed stretch of seaway that separates mainland China from her wealthy independent neighbors.

Seawolf
was stranded, and with mixed feelings Captain Crocker turned around and headed back into the deep water east of the island.

“Gentlemen,” he said, “we’re going to plan B. My guess is that the
Xia
is heading for one of their bases, maybe with a problem, or two, or ten. I expect she’ll make for Xiamen. From there when she continues, I think she’ll go south and exit the Strait at the far end. We, meanwhile, will make a fast run around the seaward side of Taiwan in deep water, and then creep up the south coast to wait for her.”

Wednesday evening. June 28
.
Gulangyu Island, Xiamen
.

Admiral Zhang’s summer home, with its curved red roof and lush trees and flowers, was situated across the narrow Lujiang Channel, on the Isle of the Thundering Waves.
Tonight, he and his wife, Lan, enjoying the soft sea breezes, sat quietly sipping white wine with their great friend Admiral Zu Jicai, Commander of the Southern Fleet.

Both men had flown into Xiamen by Navy aircraft that morning, Zhang from Shanghai, Admiral Zu from his Fleet HQ in Zhanjiang way down in the south.

“And so, my friend Yushu, you really believe there is an American submarine out there in the China Sea tracking the new
Xia
?”

“I do, and I dearly want to do something about it. But I don’t know what I can do. I know they’re out there, but heaven knows where.”

“It’s a big ocean, and we don’t really know where to start, huh?”

“No. We don’t. But I am wondering whether that slight valve problem that has caused our submarine to put into Xiamen tonight might, in the end, be good for us.”

“How do you mean?”

“Well, if you were the American Commander and you were quietly following the
Xia
down the Yellow Sea and she suddenly broke off and headed down the shallow Taiwan Strait on the surface, what would you do?”

“I don’t know, really, but with a big ship like
Seawolf
, I obviously could not follow her.”

“Correct. So what would you do? Wait…I’ll tell you. First, you would guess there was a problem and that she was heading for one of our bases on the far shore, right? And you, my friend Jicai, driving that very fast American attack submarine, would race right around the outside of Taiwan and try to pick her up again when she exits the Strait at the south end.”