“It is sad irony that a submarine’s submerged stealth advantage can preclude its distress calls,” Renard said.
Renard reexamined the folders. The pile was thick.
“May I smoke?” Renard asked.
Khan nodded. Renard withdrew his Zippo and massaged the end of a Marlboro with its flame.
“Let’s assume the Hamza has gone rogue,” Renard said, “and the primary target is the Indian fleet. Why now?”
Malik emptied his teacup and set it on the tray.
“China,” he said. “Our allies of necessity have turned their attention toward Taiwan, opening the opportunity for the Indians to redeploy forces from the Chinese border.”
“China is far from diverting troops for a possible assault on Taiwan,” Renard said. “The blockade scenario would have to fail, followed by missile strikes, before they would attempt the amphibious assault. Even then, China still would have enough manpower to threaten the Indian border.”
“It is less a matter of resources than a matter of diplomacy,” Malik said. “International sentiment tolerates China’s aggression against Taiwan, but with that aggression comes extra scrutiny. While being hostile towards Taiwan, China cannot move against India, and India is now free to turn its attentions towards us.”
“I see,” Renard said. “Then if India chooses this opportunity to claim land to which they believe they have rights, Kashmir for example, you face a discouraging land campaign with no hope of Chinese support.”
Khan stood and walked to an antique desk upon which rested a model of the thirty-year old Pakistani frigate, Shahjahan, a second-hand British unit serving as Pakistan’s frontline major surface combatant. The admiral ran his finger across the model’s rakish lines.
“If unrestricted in my actions,” Khan said, “I would consider crippling the Indian fleet. Blockade their ports, deny their fishing havens, halt their trade. Their army would starve and their economy would crumble. This would prevent a land campaign that could only end in terrible bloodshed and embarrassment.”
“Embarrassment?” Renard asked. “History has proven your army competent at taking ground.”
“Against the numbers we face, the outlook is grim.”
“Perhaps you have a point,” Renard said. “I also concede that international sympathies would favor your adversary.”
“My nation is held responsible for terrorism,” Khan said, “and until the extremists who protect and support them can be contained, it is a stigma Pakistan will bear. India is free to move against us, and I believe the best hope to stave off their aggression is to weaken them from the sea.”
“Yet why do you see yourself as being restricted?” Renard asked. “Why not act?”
“I serve the president,” Khan said. “And he has chosen diplomacy and restraint. Commander Hayat, however, appears to have chosen the unrestricted route.”
“And you would have him destroyed before carrying out that which you might otherwise see done?” Renard asked.
“It is my duty as much as it is his folly. One submarine’s conventional attack against a fleet is a tactical victory but a strategic failure. If he attacks — alone and without a crippling coordinated effect — he will incite the world’s seventh-largest fleet against us and erase any shred of international sympathy we may have.”
“But it would destroy the president’s rule and open the door for the fundamentalist regime,” Malik said. “And that is likely Commander Hayat’s intent.”
“Then you’re doing all you can by searching for him on the approaches to the Indian coast,” Renard said. “Why would you need my help?”
“Intelligence is a tedious business,” Malik said. “As tedious as it is ambiguous. We have evidence that Commander Hayat has ill intent, and we can conclude with confidence that he targets India. But we may be wrong.”
Renard blew smoke.
“This sounds like where I come in,” he said.
“If we are wrong and you find the Hamza outside the Indian Ocean,” Malik said, “we will pay you twenty-five million euro to destroy it.”
“You are approaching my price range,” Renard said, “but I fear you’ve spotted me a submarine I do not have.”
“We are arranging to lease the Hai Lang after you enable Taiwan to break the blockade. They paid enough for the vessel so that we have a surplus for such an arrangement.”
“What business would the Hamza have outside the Indian Ocean?”
Khan turned his back to the model frigate.
“Japan, Singapore, Australia, maybe even America… use your imagination, Renard,” he said. “Because if Hayat has intent beyond the subcontinent, we have nothing else to go on.”
Renard awoke the next day as his Gulfstream jet touched down on a runway at the Keelung naval base. He felt numb after taking off in Pakistan and landing in Taiwan with only a vague sense that it was before noon.
Henri bumped him while reaching for his sea bag.
“Time to earn your pay, Henri,” Renard said.
“For adventure on a solid submarine, I would have done this for free.”
“You jest.”
“Yes, old friend. I do.”
Renard hoisted his sea bag over his shoulder and descended into sunlight. Heat from the tarmac lifted moisture and the scent of salt air to his face. He lit a fresh Marlboro and squinted.
White naval vehicles pulled beside the aircraft. A black limousine darted between them, and a thin man in a three-piece suit stepped out.
Renard recognized Young Li, the Deputy Defense Minister for Operations who held his infant son captive. A second man appeared beside him in a Taiwanese naval officer’s uniform.
Li extended a hand. Renard thought for a moment and then accepted it.
“Welcome to Keelung, Mister Renard,” Li said.
“Anything to get my son back,” Renard said.
“This is Commander Danzhao Ye, commanding officer of the submarine, Hai Lang.”
Ye stepped forward and extended a hand. He wore thick glasses, and Renard thought his head was shaped like an onion. He smiled and exposed crooked teeth.
Renard shook Ye’s hand.
“It is an honor to meet you,” Ye said.
“I thought I was the commanding officer,” Renard said.
“You are in command once the vessel is in international waters,” Li said. “For appearance and matters of diplomacy, however, Ye is in command.”
“Logical,” Renard said.
“Did you bring an executive officer?” Ye asked.
Renard lamented that Jake had held firm in his decision to stay in France.
“No, Commander Ye, I did not. At least not yet. I suppose you’re the top candidate.”
“My anti-submarine warfare capabilities are probably inferior to those of your experts,” Ye said. “But I am capable in anti-surface warfare and basic seamanship. And my English is strong. Masters in Physics from University of Washington.”
“You’re hired,” Renard said.
“Commander Ye is being modest,” Li said. “He circumnavigated the route from Karachi to Keelung spending eighty percent of the time submerged.”
Renard exhaled smoke.
“Impressive,” he said. “You personally saw to the sea trials?”
“Yes, quite rigorous,” Ye said. “I’ve run the ship through its testing.”
“And the crew?” Renard asked.
“The best from the Sea Dragon and Sea Tiger,” Ye said. “We could only spare eighteen men, though — half the standard crew. I was hoping your men could help.”