“They refueled it, and within an hour, a Navy bus arrived with about twenty Chinese Navy personnel, who boarded the aircraft. It took off right away, heading north.
“Then, we get another report into Fort Meade about two hours later. The Russian has landed at Hongqiao Airport, Shanghai. Another of our guys sees two large Navy buses arrive — about 1300 their time — and this time sixty to seventy guys get out and board the aircraft.
“Then at 0500 our time, we get another call reporting that the Russian military aircraft has shown up in Beijing. Came in direct from Shanghai. And fifteen more guys joined it. These were fairly senior officers. In uniform. Right after that it went quiet until midday, when a CIA guy from the embassy got a message through to Fort Meade that a Russian military aircraft with about a hundred Chinese Naval personnel on board had landed at the Sheremetyevo II airport in Moscow shortly after 1900. That’s unusual for a military plane, but the embassy guy says there was quite a serious welcoming group of Russians at the airport.
“Anyhow, I ran the routine checks, aircraft numbers, time of journey, etc. It was obviously the same aircraft — and, equally obvious, crew for the two Kilos which we have known were nearing completion at Severodvinsk.
“Now, Joe, I took this matter very seriously. I made a report detailing how important I thought this was. But I think my predecessor as National Security Adviser did not recommend any of my concerns to the President. Not even when we confirmed the hundred-Chinese crew had in fact arrived in Severodvinsk and were beginning to work on the two submarines.”
“Jesus, my predecessor left me nothing on this.”
“Joe, I actually find the whole fucking thing unbelievable. I have been going on about this crap for months, and my reports are getting shelved by some goddamned political shithead who doesn’t know his ass from his fucking elbow. Nor does he know how dangerous these Chinese motherfuckers actually are.
“Anyhow, mid-October, the two Kilos remained alongside, probably doing harbor exercises and trials we think, and the next thing I’m hearing is the overheads have picked ’em up heading out of the White Sea apparently going home. We tracked ’em up toward Murmansk five hundred miles to the northwest. They were obviously getting the hell out of the White Sea before it freezes and locks ’em in there for five months.
“Well, then I really blew the whistle. I actually called the President, the hell with fucking protocol, and told him these bastards were on the move, and if we were not damned careful, by my count, the Chinese would have four Kilos bang in the Taiwan Strait, in the very foreseeable future. He was extremely concerned and told me to keep him personally appraised of the situation.
“And this did not take long. The two Kilos headed right into the Russian submarine base at Pol’arnyj — that’s the one close to the head of the bay, before you get farther down to Severomorsk and Murmansk.
“And that’s where they’ve been ever since. Just doing harbor exercises. They’ve never dived and never been out for more than about forty-eight hours, which means to me they’re probably going home sometime in the near future, on the surface. I have suggested to the President that we may have to arrange for them not to arrive home. Not ever. Devious Chinese pricks.”
Admiral Joe Mulligan did not smile. “Now I know why you recommended Commander Boomer Dunning join us this morning. I’d like to bring him in now, if it’s okay with you?”
“Absolutely. Get him in here. Because today there’s been another development, which I think all three of us should discuss.”
Joe Mulligan picked up a telephone and summoned Boomer into his office. The nuclear commanding officer entered and awaited permission to be seated.
Admiral Morgan was succinct. “Boomer,” he said, “you may know that China has taken delivery of two of those Russian Kilo submarines. They have ordered eight more. Two of these are right now being worked-up in the Barents Sea near Murmansk and are expected to leave for China quite soon. We are fairly relaxed about this because neither boat has ever dived, and they seem to be preparing to make the journey on the surface, which is good, because we can watch the bastards. And then act when we’re good and ready.
“However, today, December fourth, a new situation developed, which we are now watching with considerable interest. The overhead just picked up, in the last twenty-four hours, a suspicious-looking freighter making her way through the Malacca Strait. We apparently spotted her before, off the west coast of Africa, heading south. So we kept an eye on her. Couldn’t quite work out her cargo or destination. We have now established she’s Dutch, and under that big cover on her main deck is what looks like a submarine. Her course on clearing Singapore looks like she’s bound for China.”
“Christ,” said Mulligan. “Are you going to tell me how you found out about all this?”
“Too fucking late is how we found out. You wouldn’t believe this, Joe, but I had not vacated my chair at Fort Meade for more than an hour and a half when some brain-dead asshole gets a hold of a report from the satellite that suggests a Kilo Class submarine is on the move, on a freighter, from St. Petersburg. They alert the Defense Secretary, and the office of the Secretary of State and presumably someone here or hereabouts.”
“Not me,” said Admiral Mulligan.
“Anyway they have a very high level conference and decide the Kilo is probably going to the Middle East or Indonesia, especially as they seemed to think the freighter carrying it might be Dutch. Decided there was not much we could do about it anyway, and let the matter rest.
“Do you guys know what they shoulda done? They shoulda said ‘CHINA’—and gone out and sunk the motherfucker. That’s what they shoulda done.”
“Yeah. Good idea, Arnie,” said Admiral Mulligan. “That is what they shoulda done.”
“Delivery of these bastards is a goddamned absolute. The Chinese either get ’em, or they don’t get ’em, right?” The Admiral was not pleased.
“Without telling you the whole story,” he continued, “we then had to track the damned thing right across the Indian Ocean. We watched her enter the Malacca Strait, which as you know is a darned long bit of water — divides the entire thousand-mile-long coast of Sumatra from the Malaysian Peninsular. It’s really the gateway to the east, and we have a kinda sentry right in there. You don’t need to know exactly who, or how, but we have friends…well, employees anyway…guys who specialize in this type of stuff.”
“Couldn’t be anything to do with the requirement for pilotage past Singapore, could it?” asked Admiral Mulligan, an eyebrow slightly raised.
“In this case, the least said, Joe…Anyway, once she gets through there, and steers northeast, she’s into the waters of the South China Sea. It’s fifteen hundred miles, around four and a half days for a big freighter making fifteen knots, and she’s right off the first Chinese Naval Base. That’s Haikou, on their southern island of Hainan. We’re guessing that’s the freighter’s first stop, and it’s too damn late for us to do anything about it. We can’t just take the fucker out, not in front of the whole goddamned world, right on China’s front doorstep. I told Fort Meade this morning they should expect some kind of a Chinese escort from the Southern Fleet to come out and meet her, and then accompany her right into Haikou. Devious Chinese bastards.”