“I was afraid yesterday, Jake,” she said.
He wanted to hug her, but she seemed content wrapped within herself.
“It’s time,” he said. “We’re letting a small group aboard the ship this morning. One of them is a CIA bigwig. They’re coming. They’ll be here within an hour.”
“I was afraid,” she said. “I wanted to hug someone when it was over, and you were the only one in my entire stinking life I could think of that I wanted to hug me back. But you were busy.”
“We’re okay now,” he said.
She looked up.
“You mean we’re safe,” she said. “I sure as hell don’t know if I’m okay. You know what I mean?”
He sat beside her and put a tentative arm over her shoulder. She leaned into him.
“You hardly talked to me for two months,” she said.
“I didn’t know what to say. I kept it superficial, I guess. This was no time or place for romance.”
“Well how about simple manners? I know we started under a ton of lies, but can’t we at least be friends now?”
“I’d like to be,” he said. “But for all I know, I’m facing a Court Martial. There aren’t enough well-wishers to give us enough fuel to make it back to Taiwan. I suppose Taiwan could commission another tanker, but that’s a lot easier for the coast guard to stop than water skiing boats.”
“I don’t know if I want to go back,” she said. “I don’t know if I can.”
“You know,” Jake said. “My father was CIA. I lost him on a blown intel drop in China.”
“You haven’t had good luck with the CIA, I guess.”
“Shitty,” he said. “But according to my mom, my dad was gung-ho. He would have found his way into danger, no matter what. He loved what he did. It’s hard to blame the CIA for it.”
“You’re saying I should get over it, too?” she asked.
“It’s all you can do,” he said.
Jake heard clinking above him that indicated a small boat had mated to the Hai Lang.
“And our guests are here,” he said. “You know who the CIA bigwig is?”
“Rickets,” she said. “Give him twelve hours’ notice and he’s halfway across the globe.”
Olivia popped her head through the forward hatch and felt like a mole afraid of sunlight. She raised her hand to her brow and squinted. A couple of Taiwanese sailors knelt by a cleat while Commander Ye and Lieutenant Wu, in their dress whites, faced a skiff that was being mated to the submarine.
A senior enlisted Taiwanese sailor stood beside Ye and Wu in his dress whites, and to his side were two topside sentries in their best uniforms.
Olivia inspected her faded jeans and white blouse and feared she had underestimated the formality of the boarding. She glanced at the skiff where a full bird captain accompanied an admiral dressed in American khakis.
At least they’re in a working uniform, she thought.
A wide silhouette in a three-piece suit stared at her. She tried to focus on the man, but her eye was drawn to several men in dark windbreakers huddled over assault rifles that dangled at their sides.
The senior enlisted sailor raised a silver whistle to his lips and blew. As the high-pitched whine carried over the deck, all sailors, even those who had worked mooring lines over cleats, saluted. One of the sentries barked in accented English.
“Chief of Staff, United States Seventh Fleet, arriving!”
Olivia didn’t know how to react and decided it was best to just stay still.
The tall, lean admiral returned the salute. When he dropped it, the whistling died, and Olivia overheard the conversation as Ye stepped forward with his hand extended.
“Vice Admiral Jenkins,” he said. “I am Commander Danzhao Ye, commanding officer, Republic of China vessel Hai Lang. I welcome you aboard.”
Admiral Jenkins accepted the handshake but scowled.
“Commander Ye,” he said. “From the testimony of assets I had in the area, I understand you did my nation a service yesterday. But we’ve got ourselves an international situation, and the world is breathing down my neck for a resolution.”
“Of course,” Ye said. “Please come below, but I must insist that my engineering spaces remain off limits.”
As Ye and Wu led the admiral and his aide into the torpedo room, the man in the suit stepped forward. Olivia recognized him as Rickets.
“McDonald,” Rickets said.
He looked fatigued. Olivia guessed he had been traveling and receiving briefs for the last twenty-four hours.
“Gerry? What sort of jurisdiction do you have here?”
“You,” he said. “I told the admiral a CIA operative was serving as an intelligence specialist aboard.”
“So I’m not facing charges?”
He blushed and flashed a rare smile.
“I know what happened,” he said. “And I’m pretty damned sure you made it possible. I still want you back, but no matter what you decide, I’ve covered your trail. You’re no criminal.”
He extended his hand.
“Are we okay?”
She turned her head and let the rising sun’s reflection mesmerize her. Then she shrieked and whipped her palm across his face. The impact cracked so loudly that one of the sentries had to grab the other to keep him from falling over. Rickets reeled with the impact but managed to stay standing.
He blinked and raised his hand to his mouth. As he wiggled his jaw around and realized nothing had been broken, his face softened.
“Damn, woman,” he said. “You’ve got some power.”
“You deserved it,” she said. “And you’re lucky that’s all you get before I forgive you.”
“Then you forgive me?”
“I guess I just did.”
They shook hands.
“Even if you don’t come back to the CIA, at least I’ll be able to sleep better now.”
Olivia felt like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders.
“You didn’t come here just to talk to me, did you?”
“No,” he said. “We have a lot to assess, you and me, but I also want to see Slate and Renard.”
“You’re not going to force me to play stupid, are you?” she asked.
“I’m sure they’re hidden somewhere on this ship hoping to hitch a ride back to Keelung,” he said.
“And if they were?” she asked.
“If you’ll come clean and verify their roles in this,” he said, “I would tell them it’s not necessary for them to hide. What’s going on here is messy enough without anyone having to find out that there are two fugitives and a handful of French submarine veterans aboard. I’ve got a plan.”
CHAPTER 37
Jake placed his feet on the main electric motor. While conserving fuel, the Hai Lang would need only the smaller cruising motors tucked deeper toward the stern where the ship tapered. His legs stiffened as he crouched on the motor with his back against the hull.
“How long do you think we’re going to have to hide back here?” he asked.
“I have no idea,” Renard said. “The boarding party will leave when it leaves.”
The French contingency was sprawled with Jake and Renard between the inline electric motors and other crannies in the rear of the engine room.
“This should help pass the time, though,” Renard said.
He pulled a bottle of cognac from his jumpsuit. A round of cheers followed.
“Where’d you hide that?” Remy asked.
“In the executive officer’s stateroom, of course.”
“I didn’t even see it,” Jake said.
“No doubt, mon ami,” Renard said. “I am far more familiar with this class of ship than you, and that includes hiding spaces.”