“Eleven hundred miles,” Wu said. “At seven knots, that’s how far he could go without refueling. Do you want to see what it looks like at four knots?”
“No need,” Renard said. “I’m certain he could push his fuel reserves longer, but his provisions would expire.”
“What if someone’s waiting to refuel him and give him fresh supplies?”
“In that unlikely event, we hope for help from a satellite,” Renard said. “There’s no sense in planning for such a scenario. We shall focus on what we can manage.”
“Fair enough,” Wu said.
“We know he can reach the Indian carriers,” Renard said, “but let’s assume the maximum range of eleven hundred miles and map this versus the American fleet.”
“Okay,” Wu said as he tapped a few keys.
With patrol radii that offered ambiguous estimates of their location, the positions of American aircraft carriers appeared. None were in reach of the semicircle.
“That’s it, then,” Wu said. “He can’t reach any American carriers.”
A sailor appeared beside Renard and handed him a teletype message.
“Thank you,” Renard said as he took it.
The sailor stepped away.
“You are correct, Lieutenant Wu,” Renard said, “if you ignore that carriers don’t stay in one spot forever. Let’s see which ones are scheduled for transit in the near future.”
Renard glanced at the teletype that held the American order of battle. Most American carriers on station would remain so for at least the next two months, and all those in port would remain in port or deploy to local waters.
One carrier, however, stood out. The USS Stennis was performing a workup in the Pacific Ocean but was scheduled to relieve the Reagan in the Arabian Sea within three months. There was a port call scheduled for Pearl Harbor. Renard glanced at the map.
The Hamza’s range extended to the Hawaiian Islands.
“The Stennis,” he said. “It is within range at Pearl Harbor. Let’s run this by Miss McDonald.”
The Stennis, Olivia thought. In Pearl Harbor.
Renard had mentioned it as a possible target and had left her to contemplate it. As she reflected upon the carrier, it made perfect sense as an ultimate target for a group like HUM.
In addition to being a capital warship, the Stennis had taken part in the war on terror, invading holy lands, and it was the platform from which President Bush had declared victory.
The symbolism compounded itself if the Hamza attacked it in Pearl Harbor, a location of prime American emotion. Finally, nuclear weapons would threaten Honolulu, a city of three-hundred thousand Americans, with fallout and serve as de facto retaliation against the only nation to have used nuclear weapons in anger.
A perfect target, she had thought when Renard mentioned it. She had nearly shot out of her chair, but Renard had calmed her by mentioning that an attack against the Stennis would be suicide.
If the Hamza destroyed the Stennis in Pearl Harbor, it would be depleted of all fuel and rations while floating near the teeth of the greatest and sure-to-be angriest naval power in the world. It would be found and it would be destroyed. To attack the Stennis, the Hamza would have to be partaking in a suicidal mission, most likely jihad.
Nothing in Hayat’s dossier hinted at suicide. His rationale for leaping from successful professional naval officer to hardline fundamentalist radical eluded her.
Olivia sighed.
I haven’t read it all yet, she thought. There’s so much. I need to narrow in on something soon.
She heard a knock, and Renard cracked the door open and popped his head through it.
“If you’re trying to pressure me to go faster,” she said, “it’s not going to work.”
“Actually,” he said, “I came to offer you a reprieve. I’ve calculated my speed advantage over the Hamza, and the worst-case scenario grants me four days before I would need to turn towards Hawaii.”
“Why so long?”
“The Stennis is not scheduled to arrive for forty-six more days,” he said. “Averaging twelve knots, we can reach Pearl Harbor in thirty-five days. If you conclude that the Hamza is indeed targeting the Stennis, there is leeway.”
“Wait,” she said. “How come we can make twelve knots and the Hamza can only make seven?”
“Because we can arrange for underway refueling. Commander Ye assures me a ship will meet us en route. It is a difficult procedure, and it might cost us a day or even two awaiting calm waters, but replenishment at sea can be done. We will also make more noise in transit than the Hamza and risk being detected, but if we are discovered, diplomacy may explain our presence. The Hamza does not have that luxury.”
“So I can be more thorough,” she said. “If I do the math, I should have more than four days, though.”
“Yes,” he said. “We will make for the Straits of Malacca now, because our speed advantage to that point gives us less time. If we need to turn around, though, we will essentially be backtracking. So you get roughly half the time, minus an extra cushion.”
She pushed her chair back and leaned forward.
“If I thought Hayat was suicidal,” she said, “I’d commit to the Stennis right now. But you say an attack on Mumbai is not suicidal, and that tips it the other way.”
“He could reach Karachi after attacking Mumbai,” Renard said, “especially if the commander of a second Pakistani combatant is willing to guard his retreat.”
“I have no evidence that he’s suicidal. So far, all I know is that ISI believes he reconciled with his brother four or five months ago. I don’t know why yet.”
Renard reclined against the doorframe.
“When you determine why he returned to his brother and the HUM,” he said, “I am sure you will know if he’s suicidal or not.”
Two days later, Jake felt the fatigue of submerged underway operations. No sunlight, confinement to cramped spaces, and long hours had always taxed his endurance. He found it particularly difficult on a vessel so small that a Trident missile submarine could have carried it as cargo.
He also disliked the frequent excursions to periscope depth to snorkel. With Renard burning the Hai Lang’s battery to drive its main electric motors two knots faster than the recommended ten-knot transit speed, the submarine came shallow every three days, slowed to ten knots, and sucked in air through its induction mast to run the diesel engine and recharge the battery.
Although he suspected nobody hunted the Hai Lang, Jake disliked the vulnerability of frequent snorkeling. He knew it would be worse if not for the MESMA system augmenting the batteries underwater.
With the reprieve of a four-section watch shared between himself, Renard, Wu, and Ye, Jake took a moment to explore the Hai Lang. He wanted a closer look at the technology he had studied, and he also wanted the relative privacy of the engineering spaces where less than half of the crew bothered to travel.
He passed through the after battery compartment and the after auxiliary machinery room that contained the oxygen generator and carbon dioxide scrubber.
He entered the extra hull section that extended the Hai Lang nine meters but permitted air-independent propulsion through the ethanol-liquid oxygen MESMA plant. The familiar hiss of steam filled the section, and Jake felt heat waft over his body as he passed through.