Jack nodded but didn’t answer. She saw his knuckles turn white on the paddle.
And what the hell were they supposed to do with a Chinese? Had he been part of the crew responsible for directing the submarine to attack them? Had he fueled an aircraft that now flew over Hawaii, or loaded the weapons that had killed so many already?
She could tell that Jack was going through the same thought process. Finally, he sighed, and laid his paddle down in the boat. “Hold me steady,” he ordered.
Adele dipped the paddle into the water with delicate sculls, holding position on the man in the water. Jack leaned over the rubberized side and grabbed the man by the back of the personal flotation device. She saw him jerk upward, drawing the man partially out of the water, the corded muscles along his back and arms standing out like iron. With one final, massive heave, he pulled the man into the lifeboat.
The man was on the smallish side, even for a Chinese. His eyes were half closed, his face badly burnt and blistered. He was talking quietly, mumbling, incomprehensible in his native language. Jack ran his hands over the body, checking for breaks or wounds. Finally, he leaned back on his heels and said, “He’s been out here a couple of days, I’d say. Amazing that the sharks didn’t get him. Nothing seriously wrong that I can find with him, other than exposure and dehydration.”
“I wish the sharks had gotten him,” Adele said bitterly.
“I know.” Jack gazed off into the distance, as if wrestling with his own conscience. Finally, he sighed. “Well, they didn’t. And he’s here now.” He reached behind him and drew out a water bottle. He uncapped it carefully, then tilted the mouth of it up to the sailor’s lips.
Fresh water cascaded across the man’s burnt and swollen lips, and the sensation appeared to revive him slightly. His eyes were slightly wider open, and with an effort, his eyes focused on them. He tried to lift one hand to assist and hold the bottle, but he was too weak. Jack shook his head, said, “No, just drink.”
Jack held the bottle at the man’s lips and gently sloshed the water into his mouth. The man started coughing, deep, chest-wrenching spasms that kept him from drinking. Finally, when the last cough subsided, he drew in a deep, shuddering breath and motioned for the water bottle again. This time, he was able to take small sips. Jack held the water back when he tried to drink too deeply all at once.
“Slow at first, fella,” Jack said. “You drink too much too fast and it’ll all come back up again.”
The man reached for the bottle again, this time taking smaller sips. Jack poured some onto a cloth and wiped it gently over the man’s face. Then he applied an antiseptic ointment to treat the sunburn. “He needs medical care,” Jack remarked. His gaze drifted away from the man and back to the Jefferson, still so far away. “And there’s only one place to get it.” With a sigh, he picked up his paddle again.
Adele picked up hers as well, already feeling the blisters rising on her palm. The man said a few words in his own language that she could not understand. But the meaning was clear from the tone of his voice. Thank you sounded the same in just about any language, no matter what words were used. She nodded in response, but refused to look at him.
“Do you speak English?” Jack asked him.
“Yes.” The word was soft and hesitant. “I understand better, but I can speak.”
“Which ship are you from?”
The sailor rolled over to a sitting position and pointed at a ship in the distance. It was the massive vessel that Lab Rat had called the Rising Sun.
The room boiled with seething frustration, coming equally from Batman’s staff and the pickup crew Tombstone had brought along. Tombstone stepped to the head of the table, greeted the two senior flag officers, then said, “All right, people. We need a plan, and we need it now.” He briefly sketched in the details reported by the SEAL team on the ground and concluded with, “I want some options. Everything from soup to nuts, people. We don’t know what we’re going to be ordered to do, and I sure as hell would like to have a plan that doesn’t require me to send MiGs down in flames right over the city.”
There was silence for a moment, then the army general spoke up. “Sooner or later, we’re going to have to put troops on the ground. Air power alone never wins a war, regardless of what you’ve been told about Kosovo.”
Batman nodded. “Point well taken, General. But before we start transshipping troops, we’re going to want to have air superiority.” He pointed at Tombstone. “My old lead is going to have to worry about the bigger picture, along with the rest of your team. My question at this point is how do we most effectively use our air power under these circumstances?”
“Where is the amphib ship, Batman?” Tombstone asked. “How many days before we can have troops in the area?”
“They should be in area tomorrow,” Batman replied. He glanced over at his Marine commander to confirm the information, who nodded. “How and when we deploy them is another matter altogether.”
General Haynes chimed in with, “The Marines can take the beach, but we’re going to have to have regular Army to secure the rest of the island, I suspect.”
“Maybe, maybe not,” the Marine countered. “As long as we can keep the division from getting ashore, we ought to be able to handle it. The airport is the key, along with the communications center. Once we control the airport, we can bring in your additional assets as needed.” He paused for a moment, then admitted grudgingly, “Sure wouldn’t hurt to have some of your urban warfare folks, though.”
Haynes smiled grimly. “You’ll get them.”
The discussion that followed centered on the logistics involved in first securing air superiority and simultaneously denying the Chinese amphibious forces access to the beach. Tombstone was struck by the cold professionalism that developed so quickly. Just hours before, they’d been strangers, but in almost no time, when confronted by an operational problem, they’d melded into one of the finest fighting teams he’d ever seen.
And he’d picked them. Along with General Haynes, of course, but it was essentially his team, his planning that brought just the right combination of characters, specialties, and training together. He was the one who led the problem solving, drawing out opinions from the quiet special forces intelligence officer they’d picked up, tamping down the exuberant Air Force KC-135 pilot when he got out of hand, mining the depths of Hannah Green’s seemingly bottomless wealth of information, guiding the discussion and making the decisions at the key points. He had been the one to give Coast Guard Captain Henry full go-ahead on what had seemed like a risky scheme. In the end, although he was drawing on the talent of the men and women he’d assembled, it was his war.
He felt a surge of vindication, and wondered a moment at its source. Then it came to him, dawning gradually with a sweet feeling. Tomboy’s comments about needing a combat pilot rather than a planner had cut deeper than he’d thought. Yet, he had to admit, she’d been right. And now, looking at the results of his work, he knew that what he did was just as valuable — more so, in the long run — than strapping his ass into the cockpit of a Tomcat and howling off toward the horizon with his hair on fire.
Finally, Tombstone cut off the discussion with a wave of his hand. He leaned forward over the cheap metal table, his elbows planted firmly on it, his dark, somber eyes burning in his tired face. “I don’t see any way around it, Batman,” he said softly. “The Chinese are using our desire to avoid collateral damage against us. As long as they think we are afraid to act, our hands are tied. So, at least in this room, I think we need to come to a conclusion about that. In the end, it’s going to be sheer, brute force air power that wins the day in this one.”