“Is Li Chen going to make it in time, Brit?”
“I just got off the phone with Secretary Kodlick over at the FAA. She’s personally monitoring the situation, and right now, it looks like Li’s plane should be touching down at Kennedy around 9:15. I know it’s going to be tight for the Queen’s midnight departure, but barring any further delays, the Chinese delegation should make it in time.”
“By the way, they’ve done wonders with this room,” noted Thomas, whose glance remained locked on the CNN broadcast. “The resolution on that display screen is awesome.”
Brittany led Thomas over to one of the vacant workstations and addressed the keyboard. As a result, the center screen filled with a nautical chart of the North Atlantic ocean. The eastern coastline of North America was displayed on the left side of the map, with Western Europe the right boundary. A red digital line linked the two continents. This sea route started at New York City and extended to the northeast, roughly paralleling the coasts of Maine, Nova Scotia and Newfoundland.
As it passed over the Grand Banks, south of St. John’s, Newfoundland, the line made a wide arcing turn to the east, terminating on the southern tip of Great Britain, at the port of Southampton.
“As I’m sure you’ve surmised, that’s the QE2’s intended route. At an average speed of twenty-eight and one half knots, the crossing is scheduled to take four and a half days. Of course, this is subject to change as weather, the possible presence of icebergs in the region of the Grand Banks, and mechanical integrity are factored in.”
“Icebergs?” Thomas muttered.
“It’s not something that we’re losing any sleep over, Thomas. Iceberg activity is heaviest in the spring. But to be on the safe side, the Canadians are closely monitoring the Grand Banks with both surface-ship observations and constant air patrols.
“The same aircraft that will be on the lookout for this ice, will also be responsible for providing air support all the way out to the mid-Atlantic ridge, where British Nim rods will take over. The commanding officer of the Canadian 404 Maritime Patrol Squadron, 14 Wing, paid us a visit last week. They’re based out of Greenwood, Nova Scotia, and fly CP-140 Aurora aircraft that are basically heavily modified P3-C Orions. Though their specialty is ASW, the Fighting Buffaloes, as they’re called, will also be on the lookout for any air threats, and be available for ocean SAR as well.”
“Too bad you can’t send along a carrier battle group,” remarked Thomas.
“Tell me about it, Thomas. When we first learned about the possibility of this summit at sea, our original security plan centered around the close presence of just such a carrier battle group. I was with the CNO when he showed the President the plan. It was shot down in the first five minutes of our briefing. The President was afraid that the presence of an armed task force in the immediate vicinity of the QE2 would give the world the wrong impression, and he left us with a long list of restrictions. With a bit of arm twisting, we were able to negotiate an arrangement that suits both the President’s public relations needs, and more importantly, our own security concerns.”
Brittany readdressed the keyboard and a blue star began flashing in the waters directly north of Bermuda. “That’s the location of our nearest task force. At no time are we allowed to get within a hundred nautical miles of the QE2. The amphibious assault carrier USS Iwo lima is the lead combatant. She’s carrying a full load of helicopters, and a specially trained counterterrorist unit comprised of members of SEAL Team Six and Delta Force.”
“There sure is a lot of open water between Nova Scotia and England,” said Thomas, who remembered well the strict internal-security constraints that he and his brother had to work within.
“We practically begged the President to cut the hundred mile limit in half, but he wouldn’t budge. So, at the very least, we’ve got the Canadians and Brits providing constant air patrol, and our task force less than an hour’s helicopter flight away,” said Brittany, who added, “Of course, satellite coverage is still our ace in the hole. Our eyes in the sky will be closely watching the QE2 throughout the crossing.
And though they can only warn us of an approaching threat, we’ve been able to incorporate yet another unique reaction force. Unfortunately, that I can’t discuss with you at the moment.”
“Commander Cooper, I’ve got that met report you’ve been waiting for,” interrupted Lieutenant Tolliver.
“Let’s see it,” ordered Brittany.
Thomas followed her glance as it returned to the three elevated screens.
He watched as the map segment displayed on the middle monitor suddenly shifted its focus southward. The eastern coast of Florida filled the far-left portion of the screen now, with the majority of the map’s coverage extending further east to include the northern section of the Bahamas island chain.
Tolliver was able to interface a satellite-relayed weather scan directly over this map segment. He then used a digital cursor to outline the heaviest area of cloud cover that lay to the northeast of the largest of the islands.
“This is the latest NOAA satellite picture taken less than a half hour ago,” informed Tolliver. “The area of suspect cloud cover that they’re focusing on is approximately one hundred eighty-five miles east-northeast of Great Abaco Island. It’s still showing minimum rotation, though they’ve officially upgraded the formation to a tropical depression. A NOAA Lockheed Electra has been scrambled out of Mac Dill and will notify us the moment additional data is available.”
“Do you believe it, Thomas? As if we don’t have enough to worry about, now we’ve got a possible tropical storm brewing.”
“I’m afraid when Mr. Murphy wrote his infamous law, this was just the type of situation he had in mind,” Thomas reflected. “So enough of this worrying. Let’s go grab some chow. I’ve got a feeling you’re going to see nothing but this op center these next four and a half days, and that we’d better take full advantage of this lull before the storm. Because once that ship sets sail, our personal life is history.”
BOOK TWO
WEST WIND FIERCE
West wind fierce, immense sky, wild geese honking. Frosty morning moon, horse hooves clanging, bugles sobbing.
Tough Pass, long trail like iron. Yet with strong steps we climbed that peak; green mountains like oceans, setting sun like blood.
8
“Thick ice … thick … thick ice,” reported the rote, flat voice of the navigator.
For an entire hour now, these monotonous words were the only ones to escape his lips. The occupants of the Lijiang’s control room anxiously anticipated the moment when the sub’s upward scanning Fathometer would finally report a change in the treacherous conditions topside. Until then, their fates were entirely in the hands of the navigator.
Of all those gathered inside the cramped, red-tinted compartment, the sub’s commissar was growing the most impatient. To have traveled this incredibly far distance through waters that no PLA Navy submarine had ever dreamed of penetrating, and be unable to broadcast a simple, yet all-important, pre scheduled radio message, was extremely frustrating.
Such were the humbling circumstances they currently found themselves in.
From his normal watch position beside the vacant firecontrol console, Guan Yin nervously scanned the nearest bulkhead-mounted clock. The digital timepiece was rapidly approaching 2400 hours: this gave them a bare thirty three-minute envelope in which to find a clear lead, surface, raise their antennae, and broadcast the message that Command was awaiting.