Jake questioned if a supernatural force had brought the news but pushed the speculation from his thoughts to clear his mind.
“Technically,” he said, “that doesn’t change anything. It’s just a set of orders from a different master to complete our mission.”
“But odd that they’d kill their own crew.”
“Maybe not,” Jake said. “Sounds like they convinced a crew to hijack the North Korean submarine just to set them up for a secret kill. Some guy in Beijing is going to carry that guilt to the grave, but it still might be a sound strategic move, depending on your assumptions.”
“Shall I call the officers together? To discuss those assumptions, perhaps?”
“No, not yet. Let me brood over this. Since nothing has changed in our mission, let’s let this sink in. We’ve got time to digest this, and I plan to use it.”
Chan ran his finger over the navigation chart. The path the Burke destroyer had carved into the sea irked him. He considered asking Gao’s opinion, but he judged his thoughts too radical to share.
He wondered if any of the other officers had noted the peculiarity. If they had, he realized, they would avoid sharing their observation for fear of ridicule. And Chan ridiculed himself as wonderment took root in his mind and drove the peculiar concept to fruition.
The Burke had driven the perfect path to avoid Chan’s Romeo and the closest Song submarine to the northeast. Like Ulysses bisecting Scylla and Charybdis, the Burke had split equal distances between the Chinese submarines.
He questioned if coincidence had allowed this avoidance of conflict, or if a will beyond his reckoning had spared the destroyer and submarines from mutual discovery.
Keeping his speculation silent, he shuddered when Park appeared at the chart.
“Park? What are you doing here? Did you find our rescue ship?”
Terrified, Park looked misplaced among a room of warriors preparing for a nautical ambush. He uttered a demonic mantra that Chan strained to hear and understand.
“I know I’m right. I know I’m right.”
Chan shook his shoulders.
“What are you right about, Park?”
“I know I’m right, sir.”
“Of course you are, Park. Go ahead. Tell me.”
Park swallowed and glared into Chan’s eyes with horror. His voice fell to a hoarse whisper
“Kilo three-six-six has orders to kill us.”
Jake sought Lieutenant Commander Jin’s perspective.
“I’m trying to make sense of this,” he said. “I’m trying to think about what this would look like if the United States Navy were doing it. It’s almost unthinkable but not quite.”
“A suicide mission?” Jin asked.
“Americans have done suicide missions,” Jake said. “But I don’t know that an entire crew would be willing. It’s possible, but it’s a long shot.”
“It’s more likely in Eastern cultures,” Jin said. “Being part of a community and placing the self behind the good of the common people is respected. The peer pressure would be a strong factor if leaders among the Romeo’s crew agreed that making the ultimate sacrifice was necessary.”
The concept of a volunteer Chinese crew hijacking a North Korean Romeo submarine and expecting to die aboard it settled in Jake’s mind.
“If this is a suicide mission for the Romeo’s crew, why not just scuttle the ship and go down with it?” he asked. “If they signed up for a suicide mission, why go to the trouble of having another submarine sink them?”
“Assurance,” Jin said. “Inevitability. The Romeo’s crew is more likely to scuttle the ship by their own hands if they know a torpedo is pointed at them.”
“Fair enough,” Jake said. “But wouldn’t you give the Kilo the order before it started the mission?”
“You may not,” Jin said. “It would create unnecessary tension for the Kilo’s crew — or at least its commanding officer — to carry that burden until the last minute. Mainland warriors are human, too, despite their adherence to a flawed regime.”
“Okay,” Jake said. “Draft a note to the East Sea Fleet acknowledging the order.”
As Jin departed, fatigue crept up Jake’s torso. He turned to Henri.
“Head to snorkel depth and make sure Pierre knows about this order,” he said. “Maybe he has insights.”
Henri agreed, and Jake retreated to his stateroom. Expecting to be within reach of the Romeo in four hours, Jake slid into his bunk to refresh himself.
As he drifted to sleep, an incongruity pricked at him. An idea sprouted, grew into something concrete, but diffused into a mist before he could grasp it.
Refreshed from his nap, Jake ran his fingers through his hair, waiting, and staring at the navigation chart in hopes of making the Romeo appear.
From the corner of his eye, he saw ear muffs on Remy’s toad-shaped head roll forward. Jake had seen the body language dozens of times, and he held his breath, watching Remy’s ritual unfold.
Fingers turned white as they pressed the muffs to a head. Even on profile, the sonar expert’s scrunching face revealed an agony that Jake recognized as the pain of yearning. He had watched Remy discover many hostile submarines, and pain drove his French friend more than any other motivator. Only knowledge would liberate him — knowledge of his target submarine.
Jake felt anticipation rising with the drama playing out in Remy’s head. His adrenaline surged when the Frenchman twisted, pulled the left muff behind his ear, and opened his mouth to announce his findings.
“Romeo-class submarine, bearing zero-five-nine,” Remy said. “I have blade-rate correlating to three and a half knots on twin shafts.”
“What sensor?” Jake asked.
“Hull array.”
“Can you get a low-frequency tonal on the towed array at this range?” Jake asked.
“I’m trying,” Remy said. “Integrators are processing. Give me ninety seconds.”
“Very well. If you don’t get it, I’m turning to drive bearing rate.”
“I think I can get something from their propulsion system since I know where to listen.”
Jake resisted the temptation to huddle over Remy’s shoulder. He noted the time and toggled his gaze between his sonar expert and the seconds ticking on a digital readout.
“I have it,” Remy said. “Fifty-hertz electrical system, bearing zero-five-two on the towed array. I’m confirming in Subtics.”
Jake pointed his nose to the chart and watched lines of incoming sounds cross inside the Romeo’s loiter area.
“It may be old,” Jake said. “But it’s quieter than you might think. It’s only thirteen thousand yards away.”
“If it has sonar equipment worth a damn,” Remy said, “this may not exactly be the turkey shoot we hoped for.”
“Easy, Antoine,” he said. “We hold every conceivable advantage over it, and everyone in the world wants us to sink this thing. Fate has already ordained the outcome.”
Jake inhaled as he pondered and then ignored the warning from his brother about redirecting his anger into senseless slaughter.
“It’s a done deal,” he said. “We’re putting this thing on the bottom.”
CHAPTER 30
Focusing on information flow instead of letting fear consume him, Chan scanned the control room to verify nobody else had heard Park.
“Are you sure?” he asked.
“I know I’m right,” Park said. “It’s impossible to break their encryption and produce the words I did.”