“Yes, they checked out,” Renard said.
“And her stories of world travel are pretty impressive. I’ll ask her to tell one tonight.”
“Those could be memorized. Perhaps we should—”
“Perhaps you should just back off,” Jake said. “I hope you didn’t call me over here just to talk about her.”
Olivia heard Renard flip the gears of his lighter.
“Of course not. I just received word from Admiral Khan that a Pakistani Agosta class submarine is missing.”
Olivia’s pulse accelerated. From her research she recognized Khan as the Pakistani Navy’s chief of staff.
“Lost at sea?” Jake asked.
“No, the Hamza, the third Pakistani Agosta 90B hull, is four weeks late returning to Karachi. Khan has admitted that the submarine is outside of Pakistani control and has been so for at least a month.”
“That’s nuts,” Jake said. “What’s it doing?”
“If the Hamza has indeed gone rogue,” Renard said, “it has an unknown agenda.”
“If I were a renegade Pakistani submarine commander,” Jake said, “I’d launch a sneak attack against the Indian Navy. You could take control of the food sources and trade routes. It would cripple the Indian economy.”
And kill thousands, Olivia thought.
“Perhaps,” Renard said. “But you assume a commander of sound mind. Such a man does not take his submarine rogue.”
“I did,” Jake said.
“Proving my point.”
“You’re hilarious. Who’s the skipper?” Jake asked.
“Commander Hamid Hayat. He’s a brilliant man, the Admiral tells me. He earned a master’s degree from Harvard and learned western submarine techniques at the U.S. Naval Submarine School before exchange programs were restricted. Khan is scared and wants the Hamza stopped.”
“Stopped?” Jake asked. “You mean sunk.”
“Khan has sent assets to patrol the Arabian Sea and the Bay of Bengal in case the Hamza attacks Indian ports.”
“Why’d Khan tell you?” Jake asked.
“Because when I take command of the Hai Lang, I will be on an exact replica of the Hamza. It is vital that I know that at least one nation is hunting my twin and that my twin is hostile with an unknown agenda.”
Take command of the Hai Lang, Olivia thought, the official name of the Taiwanese Agosta. Renard’s no sideline consultant. He’s right in it!
“So what are you going to do?” Jake asked.
“Nothing different for now. My debt remains with Taiwan. Beyond that is mere conjecture. I will make haste, however. I’m taking my crew to Taipei tomorrow. We’ll meet the Hai Lang at Keelung, familiarize ourselves with the vessel, and begin hunting Chinese submarines.”
“And this is where you ask me to go with you.”
“You must join me. You will before this is over. Damn it, man, I swear you will.”
Olivia noted that Renard sounded less afraid of Slate than afraid of being without him.
“You threatening me, Pierre?”
“I never would. You just leave me with no choice but to trust that you will realize where your loyalties lie.”
The rest of the tape held no intelligence. Olivia dropped her headphones and picked up her cell phone.
“I heard it. I already woke Robert,” Tommy said. “You just blew this wide open. There’ll be some action in Islamabad and Taipei tomorrow. This is huge.”
“There’s going to be plenty of action right here,” Olivia said. “Renard’s still trying to recruit Slate.”
“Renard owns him,” he said. “Slate will join him.”
Her confidence spiked.
“Except that Slate’s falling in love with me, and I’ve got him off balance,” she said. “We can play this out for some prime intel. The fun’s just getting started.”
CHAPTER 8
Hayat placed his teacup on a podium and aimed a laser pointer at a wall-sized monitor. Square symbols represented surface ships of the Japanese convoy and its Taiwanese escort frigates. Inverted triangles represented submarines. Color differentiated friend from foe.
“The Hamza was on its third day of a seven-day patrol with your commodore onboard for observation,” he said. “Intelligence suggested that a large convoy of Japanese tankers was loaded with fuel and possible weaponry with the ultimate destination of Keelung, Taiwan.”
Beside him, the same interpreter who had accompanied him on patrol translated his debrief into Mandarin.
“The Taiwanese frigates Kang Ding and Hung La left port two days prior to the event,” Hayat said. “Chinese maritime reconnaissance aircraft spotted the Japanese convoy a day prior to its rendezvous with the frigates.”
He surveyed his audience while the interpreter translated. The captains and executive officers of China’s East Sea Fleet submarines were jammed into the small auditorium. The most capable officers — the half of the dozen who commanded China’s state of the art Russian-built Kilo class submarines — sat in the front row with the commodore. The other half dozen were at sea enforcing the blockade.
Interspersed with the Kilo commanders sat half of the ten captains of indigenously-built Songs, respectable submarines less capable than the Kilos, and one commander each of the pre-commissioning crews of the anticipated stealthy and capable Yuan diesel and of the next-generation nuclear attack submarine, Shang.
A few captains of the older Ming and Romeo submarines, younger and of lower rank than the leaders of the more capable vessels, sat behind the rest. Hayat realized that the young captains, who appeared eager and sharp, had been recalled to port for his training session.
Very wise, he thought. With my enlightenment, these capable men may soon join the world’s elite.
“The maritime aircraft estimated the convoy’s course, and the Hamza was summoned to the surface so that the commodore could broadcast the strike plan.”
The interpreter’s translations became a drone as Hayat relived and taught his tactics to attentive listeners.
“Five submarines were within range to intercept the convoy — the Hamza and four Romeo submarines, commanded by Commanders Sun, Chin, Xiong, and Hou. But Hou needed to snorkel, and he could not take part in the attack.”
As Hayat mentioned the names, he swept a laser dot over each submarine on the monitor.
“Sun took a position to the north, followed along the convoy’s track by Chin, me, and Xiong at eight-nautical mile intervals. We knew American submarines had been reconnoitering the area and that interference was possible. Knowing this, I was able to respond when the La Jolla revealed itself by launching a weapon at Sun’s boat.”
The crowd stirred, and he realized those present were reacting to the two lost Chinese submarine crews.
“I used the knowledge of Sun’s position, Doppler effect, and knowledge of American torpedo speeds to solve the La Jolla’s position. I verified the position with the hole-in-ocean display in the lower broadband frequencies. Targeting was adequate to engage with a torpedo, but I opted to employ a Shkval rocket to reduce time-to-target with hopes of pre-empting the attack against Chin.
“My weapon arrived too late for Sun, but it flustered the La Jolla as it targeted Chin. Stop play here.”