The political officer squinted at him and nodded slowly as he removed the hand from inside the slicker. “We are making the ultimate sacrifice,” he said.
“No,” Lu said. “You are.” He grabbed the man’s nearest hand and squeezed with all his strength.
The political officer’s eyes bugged outward. His mouth opened and a bellow began. Lu yanked the political officer against him and clamped his free hand over the man’s mouth. He took a two-handed grip around the man’s head, laying his right forearm against it so part of his arm lay over the man’s right ear. Then he twisted his arms in opposite directions, hard and fast. The political officer shuddered as his neck broke. The cracking sound was quieter than Lu would have imagined. He felt the strength ooze from the dying man. He released. The political officer thudded onto the deck, banging his head. Lu knelt and withdrew the police automatic.
“What have you done?” cried Wang.
“Increased our chances for survival,” said Lu. His heart pounded as a great sense of exhilaration flowed through him. He noted Wang’s shock. Standing, with the gun pointed negligibly at Wang’s belly, Lu said, “I must ask you a question, soldier.”
Wang glanced at the gun and into Lu’s eyes. He nodded without fear.
“Are you my brother,” asked Lu, “my fellow Commando?”
“I won’t tell anyone…how the political officer lost his life in service to China,” Wang said.
Lu shook his head. “That isn’t what I mean.”
“You must speak to me, brother, and tell me what I should do.”
“Do you still have your knife?” asked Lu.
“…yes.”
“Then go below and kill the third political officer.”
“What about the second Dong Dianshan with the captain?” Wang asked.
“I will kill him myself.”
“Then?” asked Wang.
“Then we will lower the T-9s, don wetsuits and scuba gear—”
“What about our mission?” Wang cried.
“Calm yourself, Fighter Rank. We will complete it after we’ve readied our escape.”
“The others on the trawler—”
“Are under deep cover and will still take their inflatables to shore and blend in among the mongrel hordes of America.”
Wang hesitated several seconds, glancing a second time at Lu’s gun. Finally, he nodded.
“Good,” said Lu. He hadn’t wanted to kill Wang, but he couldn’t trust the man unless Wang helped him murder the rest of the East Lightning political officers and thereby comprised himself. “Let’s go,” Lu said. “We don’t have much time.”
The High Commander of the White Tigers hadn’t explained the strategic importance of the mission to Lu. He hadn’t needed too. Lu understood perfectly.
The American Navy had six supercarriers. Twenty years ago in 2012, they’d had eleven such ships. Money had been tight for the American Defense establishment and cuts had been made all around. During the bleakest years, the American Navy had decommissioned carriers, along with other vessels.
The Chinese Navy, on the other hand, had known massive growth. China presently boasted eight supercarriers, meaning any aircraft carrier over 70,000 tons. If the White Tigers could destroy these two American carriers, that would give China a two-to-one advantage. And the short-term advantage would be even larger. Two American supercarriers were on the other side of the continent in the Atlantic Ocean. It would take time for them to reach the Pacific and then Alaska. During that time, China would have a four-to-one advantage in carriers.
The Chinese carriers were newer, with state-of-the-art fighter-jets. The pilots had also logged three times the flight hours as their American counterparts. Taken all together, it should grant nearly total sea superiority to the Chinese Navy during the Alaskan Invasion.
However, these things could only be achieved if the American carriers sheltering in San Francisco Bay were destroyed. The importance of the present mission was critical, the reason no doubt why the High Commander had wanted his best warriors performing the operation. Lu wondered if that had been the reason for the wrestling and martial arts matches.
First Rank Lu Po helped Wang struggle into his wetsuit. Using heavy-fiber rope, the other White Tigers splashed the two T-9s into the water beside the trawler.
“If we fail because of this…,” whispered Wang.
Lu laughed grimly. He’d shot the second political officer in the gut. The policeman had actually asked him why. For an answer, Lu had finished him with a shot to the heart. Lu had then explained the new order of procedure to the trawler captain. The deep-cover Chinese aboard ship acting as crew were not going to be a problem.
“We will destroy the carriers and live to earn our rewards,” Lu said.
“Someone on shore or in a nearby boat might have noticed our actions and radioed about us to the Americans,” Wang said.
“Look around you. No one is near, and we’re kilometers from the carriers.”
“Do you think a submarine will really be out there for us?”
Lu paused. He hadn’t thought about that. A second later, he shrugged. “There’s nothing I can do about the rescue submarine. We will proceed with the plan and hope that the Navy possesses men of honor.”
“You mean proceed with your altered plan,” Wang said.
With one arm, Lu hoisted Wang’s scuba tanks. He used the other hand to slap his comrade on the back. “You’re a worrier, so worry if you want. I’m telling you, though, that we’re about to turn ourselves into legends.”
“How can you be so calm about this?”
Because I’ve just improved my percentages of survival. Lu didn’t say that aloud. Instead, he told Wang, “This is China’s hour, and the Americans are living on borrowed time. Didn’t they borrow our money for decades?”
Wang laughed, nodding.
“Let’s do it,” Lu said.
In their wetsuits, the two moved to a large tarp. The knots had already been undone. Wang gripped the tarp and dragged it off, revealing a missile-launcher. Inside the giant tube was a Dragon Claw missile. It had a turbojet engine with solid propellant fuel. The warhead was two hundred and thirty kilograms of CHKR-57 explosive. Its wingspan was one point seven meters, and the missile was a ship-killer.
Lu unclipped a walkie-talkie from his belt and pressed a button. “Are you ready?”
“Roger,” came the reply.
Clipping the walkie-talkie back to his belt, First Rank Lu Po went to the firing location. He’d practiced this in Taipei Harbor over one hundred times on a simulator, and two times with live missiles. He put his eye to the rangefinder, locating the massive carrier several kilometers across the bay. The Americans had once called the destruction of the Japanese Navy during an air/naval battle off the Marianas Islands during World War Two a “turkey-shoot.” This would be a Chinese turkey-shoot.
Lu’s palms became unaccountably moist. Now was the moment and he had become nervous. It troubled him. The High Commander had told them they were the best soldiers the world had ever produced and were therefore superior to normal men. Normal men shook and sweated under stress. A White Tiger calmly went about his duties. The truth was otherwise, it seemed. Lu wiped his moist palms on his wetsuit as he said, “Turn it on.”
Wang clicked on the radar, and in three seconds, it beeped. “We have lock-on,” Wang said excitedly.
Lu nodded, stared at the huge carrier through the rangefinder, reveling in the feeling in his stomach. It fluttered with butterflies, with nerves. He rather liked the feeling. It told him he was alive, on the edge of life. Ah, life was indeed precious and to risk it, what a keen moment this was. He would never forget this. Slowly, he pressed the firing button.