“Pierre led the mission from Keelung.”
“You led the crew in every aspect except tactical decisions,” Jake said. “In my absence, they follow you.”
“It’s your absence that bothered me.”
“I was gone for less than three days, and I left because the mission parameters were so concise that you didn’t need me. Now you need me.”
Jake replayed his words in his head and admitted that they sounded brash.
“That remains to be seen,” Henri said.
“Whether or not I need to make a tough decision, I need to be here in case something unexpected happens.”
“I understand that you have the experience and intuition,” Henri said. “But let’s be candid about recent history. This ship and crew have been through two tight combat situations. We survived one without you, and we survived the other because I told you what to do.”
“That’s a dangerous perspective. There’s no hydrazine line out there, and you won’t be in connection with Pierre. I understand that you and the others may think I abandoned you, and I agree that there was a degree of selfishness on my part. But in the ultimate judgment, I left when I was unnecessary, and I’m back now when you need me. If you don’t see that, you’re going to be a liability.”
Jake sensed he had cracked through the Frenchman’s indignation, but nagging doubts lingered. Henri seemed stoic at best.
“I’m no liability,” Henri said. “I will have Jin announce your command at noon.”
“Very well.”
“Will you excuse me?”
“Of course.”
The door closed behind Henri, and Jake turned to his digital chart. Minutes unfurled as he sketched and assessed the Chinese ambush on the Reagan that he would sabotage.
The ship’s speaker system crackled, and he heard the voice of the formal Taiwanese commanding officer.
“Attention. This is Lieutenant Commander Jin. I retain formal command of the Hai Ming, but as of this moment, I grant advisory command to Mister Slate. I order each member of this crew to join me in following his orders as if he were your commanding officer. I will now repeat this in Mandarin.”
Jake waited for Jin to repeat himself and then picked up the phone and summoned a sailor. When the sailor arrived at his door, he handed him a jump drive from his computer.
“Have this uploaded into Subtics and schedule a tactical briefing for all officers and Subtics operators in two hours. Have someone wake me fifteen minutes before the briefing.”
Jake locked the door, stripped out of his clothes, and slid into his bunk.
Hours later, he awoke with the rapping at his door, and he sought the shower. Revitalizing himself with the hot water and steam, he washed away a day’s worth of travel.
He dressed and headed forward to the control room where he found familiar figures stooped over a charting table. As he anticipated, the tactical data overpowered his return to the ship in capturing his men’s interest. It also gave him a chance to greet them with authority.
“Let me verify the data,” he said.
Bodies shifted, creating a gap for him to press his palms on the table. Five upside down red semicircles represented a hostile submarine wolf pack. Blue squares marked the Reagan and its escorts.
“Looks good,” he said.
He pointed at the square of the aircraft carrier.
“The Chinese have hacked into a communications network that the Seventh Fleet uses to communicate with the Reagan strike group. The Reagan has leeway to maneuver to complicate torpedo targeting from potential submarine threats, but the general course and speed is established by the Seventh Fleet. And the Chinese know it. We learned this from the damaged Kilo submarine.”
Jake shifted his finger to an inverted red semicircle.
“This submarine was North Korean when it left port two weeks ago,” he said. “But thanks to data taken from the damaged Kilo, we know it’s now under Chinese control. It’s over a hundred miles from us now.”
He tapped the screen to advance time into the future.
“But it will be stationed five miles from us when the Chinese submarines form this funnel to trap the Reagan. There are two Songs with a wider spread, and then two Yuans with an even wider spread. The Songs and Yuans have air independent propulsion and can cover ground submerged.”
Jake ran his finger in a V shape over the chart.
“Per the Chinese plan, the Yuans are designed to box-in the Reagan,” he said. “If the Reagan veers far enough from the center of its projected course, one of the Yuans will have a shot at it. If not, the Reagan will steam right between both Songs, deeper in the funnel. If it turns, it’s going to run into one of the Songs. And if the Reagan blows through the center of it all, that leaves us and the Romeo to strike it first.”
Jake welcomed his first question from Antoine Remy, his sonar ace.
“The Chinese then expect to encircle the Reagan after the first torpedo hits?”
“Yes,” Jake said. “They know one or even two torpedoes may not cripple the carrier. They’ve designed their mission to send it to the bottom.”
“And that explains the Korean Romeo and Korean weapons on the Chinese submarines? So that even the acoustic evidence suggests Korean weapons?”
“Yes. We don’t have all the details, but we know they’re going to let the Romeo be found, whether on the surface or on the bottom. It’s too risky politically for China to attack an American carrier in international waters. America would at least retaliate in Taiwan, ruining everything they’ve worked for. But if they can plant evidence that a North Korean submarine got lucky, well, then they’ve kicked our asses and made us look stupid.”
“So, what’s our plan?” Remy asked.
Jake tapped the screen, working through menus to bring up a new chart.
“The real scenario will be slightly different from the Chinese plan. It begins with our charade as the Kilo. They believe they sank the Hai Ming outside our underground pen, and they also now believe we are their sunken Kilo. Isn’t that right, Henri?”
Respecting caution, Jake pulled the Frenchman into the conversation with the simplest question. Henri had no choice but to answer or reveal hostility.
“That’s correct. We’ve sent two messages to the Chinese East Sea Fleet headquarters using the Kilo’s radio equipment, and we have received standard responses. We’ve also confirmed that the captain of that Kilo was the senior officer in this wolf pack and in charge of the attack on the Reagan.”
“Excellent,” Jake said. “Just as Pierre had reported. The plan now is to continue the charade until the point of attack. But instead of shooting at the Reagan, we will be shooting at a helicopter-dragged acoustic broadcast of the Reagan’s sound signature, as will our Chinese victims.”
Bodies around the plot stood straight, and sailors exchanged knowing glances.
“Well that answers one thing that didn’t make sense until now,” Remy said.
“Right,” Jake said. “The real Reagan will lag thirty miles behind its recording so that its anti-submarine aircraft can still have the flight range to engage the Songs and the Yuans. We will also have P-3 Orion anti-submarine aircraft support from airstrips in Japan.”