“I see,” the translator said.
“A helicopter dispatched a dive team over the submarine to attach a cable to its external communications connection. The cable runs three miles to the fishing vessel here.”
“The fishing vessel was fishing outside the minefield prior to the mainland laying it?”
“Indeed,” Renard said. “And it has been pressed into service. The helicopter delivered electronics and radio equipment. It is through this connection that I will control the submarine — the submarine that I cannot hail despite the expected time for its response having passed twenty minutes ago.”
“I understand,” the translator said. “I will speak to the flag watch officer immediately.”
Alone, Renard tormented himself with worst case scenarios. The communication line had severed, the fishing vessel had mutinied, or Henri had suffered defeat with the Hai Ming being lost at sea.
This time, the crinkling pack reached his mouth, and he wrapped his lips around a cigarette. His Zippo lighter approached the butt when a sound distracted him.
Henri’s voice.
He stabbed the Marlboro into his breast pocket and darted for the console. A grainy image of his friend against the backdrop of the submarine’s control room flickered. Renard fumbled for a boom microphone and headset and slid it over his silvery hair.
“Yes, Henri,” he said. “I see you. Go ahead.”
“I hear you, Pierre.”
Henri’s face was an unreadable ghostly rendering.
“How are you, my friend?”
“Say again, Pierre. Poor reception.”
“I hear you rather well. Can you report a status?”
“I’m not sure what you’re saying,” Henri said. “I have contact with a hostile submarine. I need your guidance.”
The news surprised Renard, but he rationalized it.
The Chinese had uncountable spies in Taiwan pointing telescopes and binoculars at the water. The Chinese must have noticed the migration of patrol craft from one naval base to another in preparation for the egress. He found the lurking hostile Chinese submarine presence logical.
“Henri,” he said. “Tell me everything. Target range, target bearing, your true bearing. Your speed, target speed if you have it. Any identification of submarine class?”
Henri’s face flickered as Renard heard the unintelligible static of his mutated voice. Then the screen turned black.
“Damn!” Renard said.
He whipped off his headset and tossed it on the keyboard. Shifting in his seat, he lowered his head toward his knees and rubbed the bridge of his nose.
“Mister Renard,” the translator said.
“Yes, man?”
“The commander in the console across the room is in communications with the fishing vessel. He has learned that the dive team had to be dispatched to tighten a loose connection at a cable interface. They expect communications with the submarine to be reestablished soon.”
“Thank you,” Renard said. “Please inform me of updates as you learn them. And tomorrow, have the console next to me staffed with the officer in charge of communicating with the fishing vessel.”
“I will see to it.”
“Also, let the watch admiral know that I am going to update the tactical scenario with the presence of an enemy submarine that the Hai Ming has detected.”
Renard returned to the navigation chart, grabbed a touch pad, and wiggled his thumb across it. A red dot framed by an inverted semicircle appeared atop the blue semicircle of the Hai Ming. Renard slid his thumb, and a circle of uncertainty stretched from the red dot.
Considering that the Hai Ming had deployed drones into the edge of the minefield, Renard reshaped the enemy submarine’s circle of uncertainty westward, morphing his circle into an oval.
On the chart’s opposite side, the smallish man in a white one-star admiral’s uniform clasped his hands behind his back and nodded.
Renard turned and paced an arc behind the backs of seated officers. Hoping for Henri’s reappearance, he kept his dark monitor in sight.
A door to the antechamber opened, revealing a face puffy with sleep. Admiral Ye slid into the center, and the junior admiral sprang to him to offer a report. Ye bobbed his jaw up and down and then dismissed his underling.
He and Renard closed distance, and the Frenchman smelled the scent of halitosis and armpits.
“Mister Renard, I understand the Hai Ming has discovered a hostile submarine.”
“Yes, my friend. But I have no data beyond the known presence. I await communications being reestablished to bring you better information.”
“Do you intend to engage?”
“No. Not unless the hostile is a threat to the Hai Ming. I cannot even verify there is adequate targeting data or if the hostile is in range.”
“I’ve been told you will have communications soon. If you decide to engage, wake me. Otherwise, I will rest. Tomorrow is a momentous day.”
“Of course, my old friend. Get your rest.”
“You, too, Renard. I need you alert, especially with the absence of Slate.”
“I will get adequate rest, I assure you.”
Ye departed, and Renard hovered over his console, urging it to life. As minutes gnawed at him, he yielded to the nicotine odor and reached for his unlit cigarette.
The officer at the console next to him stood, distracting him. The commander from across the room responsible for communicating with the fishing merchant appeared in his place, flanked by the translator.
“I’ve taken the liberty of shifting the fishing vessel communications here now,” the translator said. “It will also be here tomorrow morning as you requested.”
“Thank you. Any news?”
As Renard slid the cigarette back into his pocket, the seated commander fired urgent words in Mandarin into his headset microphone boom. After a rapid exchange, he updated the translator.
“The connection is repaired,” he said. “You should have visual within seconds.”
Renard curled his hips around his chair back and landed in the seat. Before he could slide on the headset, Henri’s clear image appeared.
“Henri?”
“Much better, Pierre. I can hear you clearly, and I can see you this time.”
“Excellent! Where am I situated?”
“I’ve taped a laptop with the webcam to the captain’s chair,” Henri said. “Right where you belong.”
“Do I have a tactical feed?”
“Yes,” Henri said. “Antoine saw to it with a pair of electricians. He said it was easy with the Subtics design. The user guide had a procedure for tapping into the central data. You can access any screen you want.”
Renard looked at the blank monitor above his and then to the translator.
“Can I get a tactical feed from the Hai Ming displayed here?”
“I will see to it.”
Renard looked to Henri’s image.
“Is the hostile submarine close?”
“Antoine doesn’t think so. We can’t hear it now.”
The news calmed Renard.
“That simplifies matters. How did you detect it?”
“The starboard drone. Lieutenant Commander Jin has proven his skill at deploying and using drones. It was a flawless swim two miles ahead and five miles abeam.”
“I see,” Renard said. “You’ve fully deployed the drones for tomorrow’s exercise.”
“Yes. We heard the hostile submarine bearing three-five-two from the starboard drone. The drone heard the submarine’s blade rate, correlating to four knots, Song class, but the sound is now gone, over two hours ago. We’re not hearing it on any shipboard intrinsic systems.”