Batman sat silent for a moment, then nodded. “We’re going to take some civilian casualties,” he said heavily. There were a few groans around the room, and Batman quelled them with a harsh look. “I don’t like it any better than you do, but until we come up with another plan, there’s no choice.”
“We wait until the nuke is neutralized, then we pound them out of the air.” Batman slammed one hand down on the table. “If I get enough tanking support, I can run every one of those little bastards back all the way to the mainland. And by God, that’s just what I intend to do.”
“We have to consider the possibility that the nuke may be detonated as well,” Lab Rat said. A horrified hush fell over the room. Lab Rat shrugged. “We’re trying to consider all scenarios, right? Well, I’d say it’s a little premature to assume that the SEALs will pull this off.” He held up one hand to forestall protest. “I’m not saying they won’t, mind you. God knows that particular team has pulled off the impossible too many times for me to count them out entirely. Still, we’re dealing with an enemy that may not hesitate to waste that many of its people to prove a point. When it comes right down to it, we have to be able to take the hit and keep on ticking.” He glanced around the room, meeting everyone’s eyes with his own stern look. “What I mean is, we need to completely assess our EMP hardening. Take the precautions now that you would in the event of an actual detonation. Be ready for it, people. I’m not going to say it’s going to happen, but if it does and we’re not prepared, it’s too late to do anything about it.”
Tombstone sighed heavily. Had it come to this? Contemplating the detonation of nuclear weapons on American soil? He shook his head, trying to pretend he didn’t believe it was possible, but he’d dealt with the Chinese too many times in too many scenarios to believe otherwise. In the Spratly Islands, they’d killed their own people just to make it look like they were under attack. In too many theaters of war around the world, he’d seen the difference in the mentality between the Chinese and the American forces. The use of the manned torpedoes, for instance. Even the Russians were more understandable than the inscrutable Chinese.
“Perhaps,” a small voice said from the back of the room. Tombstone turned to see who had spoken. It was his Air Force tanker toad. “Perhaps, sir — Admiral, I mean — well… I can coordinate the tanking problem for you,” the Air Force guy continued. “I speak the language, sir. I’ll put gas in your sky all day long if you want. But on the other thing — well, the Chinese are new to this whole carrier aviation thing, aren’t they? And they’re flying VSTOL aircraft, not conventional launch, right?”
“Stating the obvious, young man?” Batman asked.
“Maybe so, sir,” the Air Force officer said, his voice gaining confidence. “But a lot of this is foreign to me. Right now, I’m the best example of ignorance you’ve got on this boat. Ship,” he corrected hastily when another Navy officer jabbed him in the ribs with a sharp elbow. “Anyway, I was thinking about the last time Pearl Harbor was attacked, and some of the strategies used then. I think, knowing what I’ve heard about your ships and your aircraft, that there might be a way to lure them out into the open.”
Tombstone and Batman exchanged incredulous looks, then Tombstone said in a suspiciously mild voice, “Why don’t you tell us what you’ve got in mind?”
The Air Force officer did, sketching in a broader plan, then filling in details as he went along. Soon other staff members were chiming in, and a murmur of excitement grew in the room.
Finally, Tombstone cut off the discussion and turned to Batman. “You know, we pulled something like this before. It worked out then, didn’t it?”
Batman nodded. “Damned if it didn’t. But what makes you think it will work twice in a row?”
“Because it has to.” Tombstone turned back to the assembled group. “It’s a go.”
As the minutes turned into hours, their passenger steadily regained consciousness. By the time she could tell that they were finally making some progress toward the aircraft carrier, Adele could tell that his eyes were focused, he was paying attention, and he understood what they were trying to do. He took small sips of water, carefully rationing it, and offering it every so often to one of the others. He’d made motions as though he would take her place in rowing, but he was clearly too weak to be able to do so. Adele thought she detected a note of relief in his face when she refused his gestures.
The aircraft carrier seemed to grow larger all at once, and she could see the fine details on the side of it, the rivets holding the plates to the strakes, men moving around inside the hangar bay, and the discharge of water from scuppers located along the edge of the flight deck. How had they managed to gain on it so fast? And then suddenly the explanation struck her. Jack must have known it all along. Of course, the aircraft carrier was not stationary in the ocean, waiting for their poor little life boat to make its approach on her. She’d been maneuvering the entire time, at first steaming away from them, and now coming at an angle toward them. How stupid of her not to have figured that out — no wonder it had seemed that they were making no progress toward the carrier. Now, however, it was a different story.
“Got the flares out?” Jack asked.
She held up one for his inspection. “Right here.”
He took it from her, and started to light it. “No guarantee that they’ll break off what they’re doing and come pull us out of the drink,” he said, watching her face carefully for any trace of fear.
“I know that.” Involuntarily, her eyes strayed to their passenger. Not everyone was as diligent about following the rules at sea. But dammit, they were American citizens, and they had lost their boat while trying to protect the aircraft carrier. Surely that ought to rate some consideration for pulling them out of the drink.
But the aircraft carrier didn’t know that the two — make that three — occupants of the international orange lifeboat on their beam were the same ones that their intelligence department had been speaking with earlier. The cell phone had been one of the casualties of the sinking.
The helicopter that had been trailing behind the aircraft carrier now took a slight tack toward them. It maintained its distance, hovering in the air approximately six thousand yards away. Adele could see the glint of sunlight off the canopy, off binoculars peering out at her.
Jack put the flare aside and picked up the flashlight. He blinked out SOS, the international signal for distress, and then the Morse code word for medical. There was no response from the helicopter.
For a moment, Adele despaired. Then, as she watched, another helicopter launched from the deck of the aircraft carrier.
Of course the plane guard helo wouldn’t conduct SAR, not when flight operations were under way. Safe recovery of the air crew was the helo’s first priority. The helo had vectored over to take a quick look at them, and then had clearly reported its findings back to the carrier for dispatch of a second helicopter.
Fifteen minutes later, a second helicopter was hovering over them. The air crew lowered a horse collar, and a swimmer dropped into the water beside them to assist them into it. One by one, they were winched up into the belly of the helo.
“Anyone hurt?” an air crewman shouted at her, striving to be heard over the noise of the helicopter.
“Exposure,” she shouted back, pointing at their passenger.
The air crewman did a double take as he noted the identity of the sunburned, exhausted passenger. She saw his lips form into an O, as if he were whistling. “Friend of yours?” he asked.