“There is no Chinese Special Forces on the ice. And I think your base at McMurdo has done enough.” There was no warmth in the response.
Chilton frowned. “I caution you about placing your navy in that area. Maybe we should come and join you — lend support — make it an international effort. Make sure other people down in that region don’t see a warship as being… provocative.”
“Provocative?” Banguuo sounded like he growled. “What is in Area 24? What is so valuable that it is worth making our people disappear over? These are the things that are seen as provocative, General Chilton. These are the things that lead to… a dark place. We should all think very clearly.”
Chilton’s frown deepened. “Area 24 is a contamination zone, to be avoided. That warning is for everyone — us included.”
“But you enter it. And we now know that you have been intruding on our Antarctic bases territory. We also have sophisticated satellites, General. Following your intrusion, our people are missing, but you warn us to stay away from our own base.”
Chilton held up a hand to the secretary of defense, stopping him from interrupting. He knew Banguuo, and could sense the tension in his voice.
“General, believe me, I don’t know what you’re talking about. We don’t know anything about your people. As for Area 24, it is off limits to everyone — because of contamination. Please stay out of that area, for your own good.”
“Now you threaten us? You overestimate your global authority.” Banguuo’s voice rose in pitch.
Chilton waited, feeling the tension in the air, like it was adding weight to the atmosphere. He wondered who else was in the room with the Chinese general.
“General Banguuo, we don’t — ”
“I suggest, General Chilton…” The strange new voice that had come onto the line was nasally and cutting. “If anyone should stay out of the Southern Ocean, for their own good, it is you.”
The line went dead. It felt like all the oxygen had been sucked from the room.
“Who the hell was that?” Chilton finally asked.
“That…” James Carter exhaled, “… was a damned nightmare, and why your man acted like he had a rod up his ass. It was Mr. Chung Wanlin, both the Minister of National Defense and Biological Research, and also a fervent nationalist.”
Chilton sat back slowly as General O’Gorman leaned forward, one fist clasped in the other. “Did he just threaten us?” He snorted. “Stay out of international waters?” He smiled to Chilton. “When it comes to those type of messages, I don’t hear too good. You, Marcus?”
Chilton smiled. “Well, kinda just makes me all the more interested. I’ve dispatched a Seawolf down for a little look-see. It’ll be there in a few days.”
“I’ll need to brief the president. He’s not going to like it,” Carter said.
“He’s going to like it less if we get pushed out of the Southern Pacific.” O’Gorman’s expression was flat. “Or if they get their hands on our leading edge submarine technology.”
“And what do we do if they fire on us?” Carter turned to him.
“Sink ’em — we’ve got the firepower to take ’em to school.” O’Gorman’s smile had little warmth.
“Or they sink us.” Chilton stood and paced for a moment. “As a kid I remember watching this great boxer called Jersey Joe Walcott — best boxer alive. He took on this flash new kid who was small, with a short reach, and had this funny way of moving around the ring. His name was Rocky Marciano. Walcott had the height, the reach, and the experience. Then Marciano stopped his funny way of moving, planted his legs, and caught Jersey Joe off guard with a big surprise uppercut — sank him — game over.” Chilton came around the table. “Either way, we sink them, or they sink us, it could mean all out war.” He paced again. The room was now silent, watching him. “We need to get in front of them. If they’ve got a path to our sub, then I want to use it — with or without an invitation.” He stopped moving. “I need more time and more options.” He turned, searching for one man, and finding him.
“That means you’re up, Jack.”
Colonel Jack Hammerson, who was seated at the back of the room, stood, saluted, and left without a word.
Jack “Hammer” Hammerson skimmed through the reports and images, stopping at the signal analysis of the buried pulse. Naval Comm-Sec had identified the unique frequency signature as that belonging to an experimental sub that vanished in 2008, and Naval Command wanted it back, or obliterated — either was fine with Hammerson. But first they wanted line-of-sight confirmation… and that’s where he came in.
Hammerson knew the location well — Area 24 — a labyrinth of caves leading down to a primordial world. It was his office that had recommended designating it an international forbidden zone. He knew there was absolutely nothing else down there that could send a signal of any shape or form. Hammerson had sent a team there five years ago. Of the twenty men and women that went in, only three walked out. The reports from the survivors told of a place that was alien to a human being, as if they had set foot on Mars… except perhaps a thousand times more hostile. Humans didn’t belong down in those cave systems.
Hammerson had no idea how an American submarine had found its way in there. But he was damned sure that the question about the crew’s likelihood of survival should be answered with a conclusive deceased. Whether command realized it or not, he knew his job was not rescue, but location, confirmation, and probably destruction of the American asset — nothing more, nothing less.
Chilton needed to thread a team in there. Enter the Chinese Antarctic base, locate their tunnel system, and then use it to find the submarine. If at all possible, they were to minimize lethal action against the Chinese nationals. Hammerson snorted — like the PLA were going to let them just walk in there. He knew they’d be fighting the Chinese all the way to hell, and given their recent attack on Aimee Weir’s house, that might be just how he’d like it to be.
Hammerson sighed, dropping the folder. The other complication was that by the time they got there, managed to work their way in, and down the shaft, the Chinese would be days in front — way too much ground given. He needed another option. Something a lot faster and more direct.
Hammerson opened another folder, covering other nations’ work on the frozen continent. He stopped at the British section — Project Ellsworth. It was one of theirs. The funding company, GBR, was a US military research arm.
Jack Hammerson refamiliarized himself with the project and personnel, and then sat back. Looks like we’ve got an elevator, he thought, and smiled as he lifted his phone.
CHAPTER 9
“What’ve we got, seaman?” Alan Hensen was Chief of Boat, known as the COB, and second in command of the USS Texas. He stood behind the communications officer with his hands resting on his hips.
“They’re hailing us, sir. COB to COB.” The comms officer, Schwab, turned briefly to Hensen first, and then swung to Commander Eric Carmack. “Commander Chen Leong.”
Erik Carmack folded his arms and planted his legs, looking at the banks of screens, focusing in at one in particular. It showed a satellite image of the Kunming, and approximately 1.3 miles to its south was a computer representation of the outline of the USS Texas below the water. The destroyer was dwarfed by the huge deep-sea fish, both in physical size and firepower.