Each man nodded in apparent trust of his intent.
A quick series of leaps brought the Frenchman to the top of the stairs where he passed through a door. The observatory brought privacy and reduced background noise. He dialed Olivia’s number and heard the background whine of jet engines.
“Miss me already, Pierre?” she asked.
“Woefully. Separation from you is agony.”
“You’re too cute.”
“I am when it suits me.”
“You didn’t call me just to flirt, did you?”
“No, young lady. I am carrying out the wishes of my client. I don’t imagine you feel comfortable reopening the dialogue with the Australian Minister for Defence?”
“Reopening a dialogue? You mean asking him to change his position about allowing the Rankin to shoot weapons at the Chinese?”
“Precisely.”
“You’re not letting another one of your missions get out of hand, are you?”
“The Chinese response is extreme but still within my foreseen parameters.”
“But you sound anxious.”
Decades of conditioning allowed him to mask his emotions under pressure, but he believed she possessed abnormal perception.
“The combination of factors is challenging,” he said. “The entirety of the Chinese task force’s surface combatants has committed to attacking the railgun module. They have an advanced nuclear submarine with them, they have optimized their jamming defenses, and a full squadron of bombers with fighter escort appears ready to join the attack.”
“Make that two squadrons,” she said. “I just got an update. You really know how to piss people off.”
“Damn.”
“No, Pierre. I’m not reneging on my agreements with the Australians just because the shit is hitting the fan. You assured me that you had planned for all contingencies. Now that you’re facing them, face them.”
“Fair enough, young lady. However, I could use one favor from you, something well within your reach.”
“Name it.”
“If you have in the region a satellite capable of detecting surface wakes made by submarines, please use it. I suspect the Shang submarine will be making twenty knots or greater in Jake’s general direction. It may be detectable from above.”
“I’ll see what I can do. No promises.”
“There are no promises in submarine warfare. I appreciate the help. Enjoy your flight home.”
Sliding his phone into his pocket, he faced the control room. Through the glass, he looked at the main monitor.
Consuming the entire front wall, the screen showed an overhead view of landmasses, military machines, and merchant craft spanning across Thitu, the Second Thomas Shoal, and the nearest Philippine mainland. Three-dimensional artwork showed unambiguous representations of the moving parts.
Signifying the lead railgun round of the latest volley, a projectile-shaped icon embedded within a shifting ballistic arc drifted to the northwest. Renard’s hope rose as it approached the icon of the Chinese destroyer, but the projectile disappeared from the screen.
Five seconds later, another shell disappeared, followed by the next. Eleven shells splashed into the water around the destroyer before a red pulsating orb rose from the screen.
He darted back into the control room and heard the admiral announce the success.
“Very well,” Torres said. “I have acoustic confirmation from a merchant observer with a sonar system. One round, and one round only, has impacted the Chinese destroyer.”
“No sign of secondary fires or loss of speed?” Renard asked.
“No,” Torres said. “Radar tracking data shows the destroyer is maintaining its speed.”
Renard felt grateful that the defense of chaff no longer concealed his adversaries since they needed speed that precluded staying under the clouds of slivers. Plus, the chaff magazines were finite, and a prudent task force commander would reserve them for closer proximity to the stronghold.
“Still,” Renard said, “one well-placed round can make a difference. Your team is doing well to get the hit and should be able to land more, even at this extreme distance.”
“The railgun module reports that its ammunition is down to seventy-five percent,” Torres said. “I am ordering its rate of fire reduced by a factor of four until the targets are within forty miles and yield higher chances of hits.”
“I understand,” Renard said. “I was perhaps hasty in recommending that you fire at will. I admit I had considered your magazine to be large enough to ignore its capacity.”
A mid-grade officer seated beside Renard’s empty console waved him over. The Frenchmen descended steps and sat.
“Yes?” he asked.
“The Rankin is hailing you.”
He slid an earpiece over his head.
“This is Renard,” he said.
“How’s your evening, mate?” Cahill asked.
A clock revealed that time had slipped past midnight.
“Another day in paradise has just begun,” Renard said.
“It looks like you’ve angered every mongrel in the Chinese military. The scene looks really busy in me tactical data system.”
“Busy, yes. But within foreseen parameters.”
“You know, mate. I think I could be of better use if I repositioned meself a bit to the northwest.”
“What’s on your mind, commander?”
“I thought I could get a bit closer to those buggers.”
“Dear God, man. Why? You aren’t permitted to release weapons.”
“I can still help the cause.”
“How?”
“Let’s say I get meself discovered. I can give the Chinese a submerged target to deal with. A little confusion. A little distraction.”
“No. You’d have helicopters hunting you down to seal your doom. You might also get the Shang trailing you as well, for good measure. It’s suicide. I won’t allow it.”
“Do you have any better ideas on how I can help?”
Renard sighed and reached in his blazer pocket for a fresh cigarette.
“Don’t be a hero,” he said. “I won’t let you kill yourself and your crew.”
“There’s too much firepower coming down on Jake and the others. You have to admit that you expected the Chinese to run away when railguns struck them. You may have contingency plans, but you really didn’t expect them to turn straight towards us and fight.”
“What’s your point, man?”
“I’m not sitting by idly and doing nothing.”
“You’re observing the scene and sharing intelligence.”
“I’m gathering nothing where I am. I need to get closer.”
“You could make a mistake, upset the balance, compromise the effort.”
“How could I do that?”
“Damn it, I have no idea beyond generalities and conjecture. I just don’t want you taking foolish risks.”
“Make me a promise, Renard. Just one.”
He exhaled smoke from his fresh cigarette.
“What?” he asked.
“If you notice a Chinese helicopter that looks like it’s getting ready to drop a torpedo on a submarine, assume that I’m the poor bastard underneath it, and send a round or two into it for me.”
“What about the surface combatants? What about the Shang? I can’t do anything about it to protect you.”
“Leave it to me. I know how to hide from their kind.”
“You won’t listen to reason, will you?”
“No, mate. Me mind’s made up.”
“Very well. I have a good idea of their helicopter anti-submarine search patterns. If I recognize an aggressive attack maneuver by one of their helicopters, I’ll see that you’re protected.”
“Thanks, mate.”
Renard switched frequencies and hailed Jake.