“You’re scared,” Kye said. “Fear is acceptable. In fact, if you weren’t afraid, I would consider you incompetent. But I note your courage in being able to see our weakness against the overpowering threat of the enemy’s aircraft. I commend you. And to answer your question, I have already summoned Igla missile teams to join us. A fishing ship will bring them to us.”
“I see, sir,” the lieutenant said. “May I ask what your plan of attack is against the enemy submarine?”
“We will be where their commander will least expect us. If he’s lucky enough to escape the rest of the fleet, he will let his guard down once in his own airspace. And we will be there, ready to pounce.”
CHAPTER 9
Jake Slate stood outside the briefing room in the Donghae naval base. Pierre Renard’s steel blue eyes glistened as he inhaled smoke from his Marlboro.
“How were your travels, my friend?” Renard asked.
“Fine,” Jake said. “What’s my name today?”
“Mister Johnson.”
“That’s pretty boring.”
“They won’t challenge its veracity.”
The Frenchman tossed the expended butt into a standing ashtray and kissed the air beside Jake’s cheeks. The scent of musky cologne and nicotine lingered.
“I regret that we have little time for pleasantries, but there’s a special sense of urgency about rescue missions.”
Jake stuffed away the sadness of fleeting time with his friend and mentor.
“How long do we have together?” he asked.
“A couple hours at most,” Renard said. “I’ll be with you on the helicopter ride to the Specter.”
“The Koreans seem happy to offer you whatever resources you need. Helicopters, submarine communication bandwidth, access to their military leadership.”
“They don’t quite trust me as well as my Taiwanese clients, but they are committed. And once a Korean team is committed to a plan, there’s no derailing them.”
“I guess not.”
“But for all their efficiency and resilience, they can surprise you.”
The comment felt like a foreshadowing.
“What’s happened?”
“Our clients tried to handle matters on their own, and nothing good came of it. They tried to tow the Kim to safety with another of their submarines.”
“I get it that they’d want to save their shipmates.”
“But they didn’t have complete understanding of the structural damage,” Renard said. “The depth excursion apparently weakened the hull enough that the creaking noise created by towing is detectable by even the most rudimentary sonar system.”
“So they knew it might create noise, but they couldn’t predict how bad it would be. They took a gamble and lost.”
“Right. They’re lucky that both submarines weren’t lost. Escaping the North Koreans required heroics and aggression by the Gwansun.”
“That’s un-Korean to play cowboy like that. They’re not natural risk-takers. That’s what they hire guys like me for.”
The Frenchman lowered his voice.
“It wasn’t about risk management,” he said. “It was about fear of shame. They consider it shameful to be dependent upon us.”
“Shit, Pierre, there’s nothing shameful about renting our services. You have a transport ship to cart your diesel submarines across the globe. They don’t because they have no reason to build one. It’s basic trade economics.”
“I agree. But they don’t see it that way. So be wary of it.”
“Sure, I will. Who’s in the briefing room?”
“Staffers. All officers with seagoing experience, but the dozen men in the room are now serving on fleet staff. They’re the core of the team that’s running the rescue operation.”
“Okay. Lead on.”
He followed Renard into a stark, three-tiered briefing room of unfamiliar faces. An admiral stood on an elevated stage by the front screen, which showed an overhead view of the Korean Peninsula’s east coast. A tall commander beside the admiral translated his boss’ greeting.
“Mister Johnson, Mister Renard speaks very highly of you. Admiral Cho welcomes you.”
The translator hesitated, and Jake noticed a sense of expectation from the smallish admiral beside him. Having learned politesse over years of military service and mercenary missions, he recognized his obligation.
He marched up the stairs on the stage’s edge and sensed Renard behind him, confirming that he had made the right move in approaching the admiral. He extended his hand and offered a slight bow before repeating the gesture with the translator.
“Admiral Cho is pleased to meet you,” the translator said. “Please, be seated.”
The translator extended his palm to the two empty seats behind the long desk that separated the front row from the stage. Jake followed Renard behind the backs of seated officers and then sat facing the screen. Sinking his buttocks into the seat, he absorbed the information on the wall display.
He assumed that a white X marked the location of the stranded Kim, but the lack of English characters befuddled him. He leaned into Renard.
“It’s all in Korean,” he said.
“The translator will explain.”
Jake glanced around the room. Every person other than Renard and himself wore a South Korean Navy uniform, the rankings dropping in proportion to the distance from the screen. He noticed a few young lieutenants in the back row and remembered having been their American equal a decade earlier.
The translator diverted his attention to the room’s front.
“Mister Renard, Mister Johnson,” he said. “The X you see sixty-five nautical miles east of the adversary’s fleet headquarters in Wonsan represents the Kim.”
Finding it obvious, Jake nodded out of decorum as the translator continued.
“The blue inverted V you see twenty-eight nautical miles west of the Kim is the Gwansun. The Gwansun is risking aggressive maneuvers and outright attacks against adversies to divert attention from the Kim.”
Jake considered the Gwansun’s actions brave. Red icons that represented North Korean warships encircled it, scant miles outside of detection distance.
The translator continued.
“There are almost two hundred and fifty hostile military vessels searching for the Kim, and there are countless unknown merchant vessels looking for visual signs of it. The Goliath must deliver it to safety as soon as possible.”
Stepping aside, the translator lowered his palm towards an inverted blue V stacked on its twin.
“The double blue V represents the Specter and the Goliath. The Goliath will carry the Specter to the drop off point, approximately fifty nautical miles north of Kosong.”
The passivity of the Korean officers told Jake that they had heard the brief, and since Renard had crafted the plan, he realized that he was getting a special Jake-centric English version. Raising his finger, he interrupted.
“What’s special about that location as the drop off point?”
“It’s the limit of our air superiority,” the translator said.
The admiral stirred beside the interpreter and exchanged words with him in Korean.
“Admiral Cho states that the drop off point may be extended deeper into hostile waters if radar information shows hostile ships and aircraft to be distant at the time of the Goliath’s arrival on station.”
Jake nodded and whispered to Renard.
“Whose decision is it going to be about shifting the drop off point?”