“This is madness. This isn’t how you hunt a submarine! How can we accomplish our primary goal—”
“Who said that hunting a submarine was our primary goal? I don’t know what the admiral told you, but I have my orders, and you have yours. We’re taking Mariveles Reef from the Malaysians. Submerged targets are secondary. I’m landing my troops, and your ship will support. Do you understand, commander?”
Wong grit his teeth.
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. One other thing, commander. I will give the order when you can fire. You will hold your fire until I say. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, sir. May I ask one thing, sir?”
“Make it quick.”
“Why did you broadcast our movements to the Vietnamese?”
Wong heard an arrogant chuckle.
“Because, commander, I want that forward base on Mariveles Reef as my own, and I can’t use it if I have to destroy it. I expect the Malaysians to know we’re coming, and I expect them to realize that there’s nothing they can do about it.”
“You don’t expect their submarine to challenge us?”
“I have sufficient assets to oppose any submarine, at least long enough for the assault team to land. And don’t you consider this a perfect opportunity to lure out this submarine you seek?”
“If by luring out, you mean offering it easy targets for its torpedoes, then yes.”
“Sarcasm doesn’t become you, commander.”
Nothing Zhang said registered as sanity for Wong, but he needed to try to understand.
“What of the garrison then? Don’t you expect them to sabotage the garrison with explosives?”
“These are reasonable men with no motivation to lose their lives defending a rock. I let the Vietnamese see our approach so that they would warn the Malaysians, as I’m sure they have.”
“Why? Why did you want the garrison warned?”
“To give adequate time for escalation to the highest echelons of Malaysian command. To give Kuala Lumpur a chance to show its real intent in defying me.”
“Defying us, you mean. Defying our nation.”
A moment of silence proved that Wong’s accusing barb had struck Zhang, but he expected the man’s conceit to compel him to ignore the comment.
“Look at your tactical picture, commander.”
“I did just before I called you, sir,” Wong said.
“How many Malaysian surface combatants and aircraft did you see rising to the garrison’s defense?”
Wong felt foolish for missing the subtlety.
“Zero, sir.”
“You see. We have Kuala Lumpur’s answer. No matter what missteps in logic or assumptions led them to attacking your brother’s ship, we now know they are willing to concede landmasses.”
“It doesn’t make sense, sir.”
“Precisely. It’s an inconsistency I exposed by my challenge. Prepare for naval gunfire support, commander, and remember to keep your weapons tight until I say otherwise.”
CHAPTER 7
Standing atop the surfaced Wraith, Jake Slate squinted in the darkness. Restricted from civilians, the black shoreline offered no orientation. He trusted his GPS data and the dim green and red lights atop channel buoys to guide him. A wide, forgiving channel simplified his navigation, and a turn past a jutting rock revealed a concrete waterfront.
The Philippine Navy’s newest construction project was an infrastructure to house its future submarine fleet. Cliffs backstopped the property, separating it from unwanted visitors. Jake expected to be the fledgling base’s first tenant, ensconced with the Wraith under a covered wharf.
Seen through binoculars, the first pier supported little beyond shack-like buildings. It lacked the life support systems for naval vessels, such as cranes, fuel oil tanks, electric cables, and mooring cleats. Undernourished by the rocky land, the installation appeared to be growing behind whatever schedule governed it.
As the covered wharf’s four-story opening came into view, he confirmed his hopes of seeing pier-side facilities under the roof. But he glared at a dark mass in the water that shocked him — a submarine tied to the first berthing area.
Honoring radio silence, he resisted the urge to hail Renard on his cell phone, but as he passed the surprise vessel, he saw the Frenchman standing on the concrete pier, a cigarette hanging from his mouth. A smallish Philippine man with a shiny scalp stood beside him, and a uniformed Caucasian man with an athletic build flanked the Filipino.
Men wearing white Philippine sailor uniforms trotted along the pier towards cleats and motorized capstans. A quick glance across the basin showed nothing but barnacle-covered wooden pillars holding up a sheet metal wall, reminding Jake that he wanted for tugboat support.
He lifted a sound-powered phone to his cheek.
“Henri, send line handlers topside.”
“Well ahead of you, Jake.”
The blended crew of Philippine sailors and mercenary Frenchmen appeared atop the Wraith’s back. They fielded rubber balls tossed from the pier and then pulled the thin lines wrapped around them. Nylon mooring lines followed, and Jake’s crew wrapped them around the submarine’s cleats.
Capstans bolted to concrete twirled slow coils of rope, spitting water from two tight lines and drawing the Wraith towards its berth. An overhead crane crossed the roof’s network of inverted tracks and dangled a steel walkway above the vessel. Seeing his exit, Jake raced down the ladder rungs of the musty, confined conning tower, and then he ducked, stooped, and twisted his way to the back of the ship.
Supervised by Henri, two of his sailors guided the walkway to the deck and then knelt to bolt it into place.
“The brow is ready, Jake,” Henri said.
Jake trotted across its girders, his steps echoing off water and steel. On solid concrete, he felt the odd disorientation of stability. As he moved towards his reception party, he took slow steps to familiarize himself with terra firma.
Learned habit compelled him to grasp Renard’s shoulders and kiss the air beside his cheeks. The Frenchman stank of body odor, nicotine, and expensive cologne.
“Leave it to you to steal yet another submarine, attack a Chinese combatant, and comport yourself as if it were a mundane week at the office.”
“The adrenaline rushes came and went. You know how it goes. I assume there’s a bar around here?”
“Of course, my friend. All in good time. I’d first like to introduce you to my new associates. I believe you know of President Andrada’s chief of staff, Mister Virgilio Navarro.”
Jake shook hands and noticed a glint of shrewdness in Navarro’s eyes.
“And this is Commander Terrance Cahill,” Renard said, “commanding officer of Her Majesty’s Australian Ship Rankin.”
“Call me Terry,” Cahill said. “Ready to help with the cause.”
Though much less muscular than Jake, Cahill offered a firm grip and an air of boldness. He sensed that Terry Cahill would do things Terry Cahill’s way, and he wondered if he had encountered his Australian clone as he shot a sideways glance at Renard.
“I’ve briefed him of your background,” the Frenchman said. “He knows your real name.”
“Seems like everyone knows what’s going on except the guy who just brought home your new toy,” Jake said.
“Slight change of plans,” Renard said. “Nothing to be alarmed about. Mister Navarro is investing in joint operations with the Australians, and Commander Cahill is here to oblige.”
“So I’m a diplomat for rent now?” Jake asked. “I didn’t sign up for this.”
“Well, mate. How do you think I feel, having to interact with mercenaries?” Cahill asked.
“Nobody’s forcing you,” Jake said.