While the commandos reached for the next subdued sailor, Jake stood and tried another breath. Feeling fine, he faced the control panel and flipped a switch to raise a radio mast. He then walked around the central navigation table and stepped up to the elevated conning platform. He adjusted dials to line up a high-frequency voice transmission at its lowest power.
While the medics drew courage from him and risked unaided breaths, he lifted a radio handset to his lips to give the formerly Malaysian submarine Razak its new name.
“Pilar,” he said. “This is the Wraith. Over.”
He waited for the frigate commander’s voice over the loudspeaker.
“Wraith, this is the Pilar,” the commander said. “I assume the atmosphere is clean. Over.”
“Clean enough,” Jake said. “Send my team in.”
“I will have them sent in.”
“Thank you,” Jake said. “How long until you can send the replacement hatch and get it installed? I don’t like being on the surface with a big hole I can’t close.”
“Thirty minutes to get it to you. An hour for install. I first need to complete five round trips with the helicopter to evacuate the prior crew.”
“I understand the priorities,” Jake said. “We’ll still be working in darkness by then, right? Over.”
“Correct, but just barely. My best men are on it. Over.”
“Thanks. Hurry. Over.”
“I will,” the commander said. “And on the last round trip, I’m sending you a bottle of champagne. No matter how long it takes to replace the hatch, you have your submarine, and you need to christen your new ship.”
CHAPTER 3
Pierre Renard choked back doubt. Duplicity had caused his previous client’s betrayal, but he blamed himself for having believed that he could master the Argentine president as his puppet. The South American leader had escaped his control, embarrassing him and placing his protégé, Jake Slate, within a whisker of death aboard Renard’s personal French-designed, Taiwanese-built Scorpène-class submarine, the Specter.
Renard had precedent to believe he could manipulate regimes. He had developed his decades-entrenched intelligence network, defense community connections, and gifted wisdom in military planning by bending boundaries between nations. Assuming his few failures behind him, he had expected to impart his will in Argentina, but instead he now suffered nightmares of stumbling as he had tried to orchestrate the return of the Falkland Islands to South American ownership.
Failure had taken its psychological toll, but Renard had survived. As had his protégé. As had his crack crew of submarine operators pilfered from the French Navy, where he had learned his art as a submarine commander. As had the Specter, which rested atop the deck of its transport barge en route towards the Philippines.
Alive and with his arsenal of resources, he had distracted himself from his Argentine miscue by seeking his next opportunity. His intelligence sources had identified the Spratly Islands, a collection of islets, rocks, atolls, and reefs sprinkled atop the world’s fourth largest oil reserve, as a hotbed of political activity. Of the half dozen nations vying for dominance in the region, the Philippines fit the mold of his ideal client.
As a Christian democracy standing against Islamic Malaysia and communist China, located adjacent to his favored clients in Taiwan, the Philippines offered him fertile soil for business. With the nation’s weak leader and undersized navy, he had wedged himself into a lucrative military planning operation.
After Jake stole the Malaysian submarine, Renard had claimed success in the first phase of that operation, doubling his fleet and enabling him to use it against the neighbors of the Philippines. He inhaled from his Marlboro to calm himself.
After faltering in Argentina, he feared treachery, poor judgment of character, and outright bad luck. But Jake’s theft of the Malaysian submarine — now his Wraith—inspired him, and he drew confidence from his protégé’s success.
He crossed his leg over his knee and angled himself in the wooden chair to face the rosewood desk that spanned the floor of the Presidential Study. The Philippine president kept his face stern, but Renard noticed the flushness. He had impressed his newest client, and hope shone through the façade of indifference.
“President Andrada,” Renard said, “I wish to thank you for the commitment and professionalism your military showed in the first phase of our operation. The report from my team contained immense praise for the effort of your nation’s finest men.”
Andrada abandoned his sham of coolness and flashed bleach-white teeth.
“I had my doubts that you could do it until I heard the report for myself. Very impressive, Mister Renard. I was happy to clear the latest installment of payment for your fees, and you have my confidence in moving forward with your plan.”
“I do appreciate prompt payment,” Renard said. “All is prepared on my end for the next phase. The Malaysians tended well to their submarine, and my staff has deemed it fit for use.”
“It’s your submarine now, Renard. Please — call it by its proper name.”
“Of course. The Wraith is ready for the next phase of the operation. Other than replacing the hatch that was used to gain entry into the vessel, no repairs were required.”
“Your team is familiar with all the ship’s systems?”
“Yes. It’s several years older than the Specter, but it’s of the same design. The vessel is a gem, as expected.”
“You’ve rid the waters of an adversarial submarine, you’ve taken that submarine as your own, and now you have a dozen of my navy’s men aboard with your team for training. You surely know how to demonstrate your abilities.”
“My crew could handle the next phase by themselves, but your men will gain vital learning from experts in preparation for the arrival of your nation’s first submarine of its own.”
Andrada lit a thin cigarette and inhaled. His enthusiasm waned, and he furrowed his brow.
“Your intelligence gathering has been masterful,” he said. “It has been a cornerstone of your success. But do you have the information you need to outfox the Chinese?”
“I do. In fact, I anticipate that within two days, the Wraith will be able to engage Chinese combatants.”
“Two days? That hardly gives me time to mobilize my assets.”
“You have ample time,” Renard said. “The Chinese will believe that it was the Malaysians who wronged them. You will enjoy secrecy in erecting your defenses while your communist adversaries are focused elsewhere.”
“You have not yet led me astray in delivering what I considered unthinkable. I see no reason to doubt you. How long do you think I have?”
“After the Wraith engages the Chinese, I expect at least five days before the Chinese will recognize it as a diversion and be able to react to your real movements. After the ruse I intend to inflict upon them, they will be blinded by rage and looking elsewhere for vengeance.”
Renard suppressed a smile as he reflected upon the markup he had charged Andrada for the advanced weaponry he had sold him to defend his new island in the Spratly archipelago. The Philippine operation promised to be his most profitable.
“And the Wraith will keep Chinese surface ships from harassing my forces?” Andrada asked.